#pls keep in mind that this is very unfinished

[myrandom-fandomlife]

Okay I decided I’m just gonna post my cooliver fic as is and if you want more i’ll attempt to provide so ummm here’s my cooliver fic loosely based on wish you were sober by conan gray but title is from illicit affairs by taylor swift because it was supposed to be more than this

Warnings: underage drinking, cursing, making out (???), angst

for you i would ruin myself (a million little times)

They’re at a party they shouldn’t be at, drinking just a little too much, and dancing with girls that look like they came out of a victoria secret advertisement. They’re living every seventeen year old boy’s dream, so why can’t they stop looking at each other?

Oliver knew he was fucked the moment Cooper suggested they sneak out to attend some rich douchebag’s party who lived within walking distance of the Otto home. It goes the same way every time. They sneak out of their basement apartment together (which is shockingly easier than he expected), get drunk, and something happens.

That’s how he finds himself with a sweaty girl rubbing all over him while he’s making blazing eye contact with Cooper across the room. It’s the kind of look that means something more, sparking heat and making his gut twist. It’s the kind of look that should not be shared between two best friends while they’re drunk and dancing with women.

Cooper quirks a brow almost imperceptibly, but Oliver knows what it means: “Cut the bullshit– let’s bounce.”

Oliver gives a small nod and dismisses the girl in front of him with a brief whisper, starting toward where Cooper is already waiting for him at the door. It’s clear to him already that Cooper is much more intoxicated than he is. His cheeks are flushed, his hair is curling and sticking to his forehead with sweat, and his eyes are shining in a silent plea to hurry so they can get home. Oliver thinks he’s never seen anyone more beautiful in his life.

Oliver has an arm around Cooper’s waist, supporting him as he stumbles along. Oliver is more of a lightweight, but Cooper likes this. He likes not drinking so much that he forgets everything, but just enough that he can lean his head on Oliver’s shoulder without overthinking too much. He likes the way it makes him feel weightless, but there’s something a little sultry about him when he’s just the right amount of tipsy.

When the two boys arrive at the front door to the Otto’s house, Oliver gives Cooper his usual spiel on sneaking in quietly. He places both his hands on Cooper’s shoulders, forcing him to make eye contact, “Keep quiet until we are in the basement, okay? No stumbling, talking, giggling, anything that could wake mom.”

“I’m not that drunk, mi amor, I know the drill,” Cooper says lowly, and Oliver’s cheeks flush at the nickname.

Cooper smirks and Oliver rolls his eyes with a huff, “Really?”

“Really,” Cooper says faintly, because he’s leaning in and closing the distance between them before Oliver has the chance to react. When he does react, he’s kissing back enthusiastically, tongue poking out slightly to brush against Cooper’s lips.

This happens often now, when one or both of them are drunk. They make out sloppily, get themselves worked up, stop before it can do further, and then go to bed like nothing happened. They wake up the next day and don’t talk about it.

Cooper starts trailing kisses down the other boy’s jaw, causing Oliver to snap out of the haze he can never avoid when it comes to Cooper.

“Let’s take this inside, yeah?” He says softly, taking Cooper’s hand and leading him quietly into the home they now share.

When the door to the basement is shut, Cooper pushes Oliver into it, attacking his mouth once again. Oliver lets out a small noise of shock before melting into the kiss.

Cooper sighs into his mouth, “Missed this,” and then he starts kissing across his jaw again. Oliver’s head falls back at his words, and Cooper takes advantage of the access to his neck.

“No-” he pants, “No marks, Cooper.”

Cooper groans, “Love when you say my name.”

“Cooper,” he makes another noise at that, “Lets go to the bed.”

By the time they’ve stumbled over, their shirts are off and Cooper is on top of Oliver. He’s peppering kisses down Oliver’s chest and Oliver is trying very hard not to enjoy it so much. Cooper gets to his waistband and tries to tug it down, but is stopped by the other boy.

“Coop, we’re not doing this when you’re drunk.”

“I told you, I’m not that drunk.”

“This doesn’t happen when you’re sober,” Oliver snaps, immediately regretting his words.

Cooper recoils slightly, but doesn’t disagree. Instead, he rolls off of Oliver and on to his pillow.

Oliver starts to get up and go to his own bed but he’s stopped by a hand on his wrist, “Stay with me, Ollie, please?” Cooper says it in a small voice like he knows he’s asking for something he shouldn’t. He also knows that Oliver can’t say no to him.

Oliver stays.

[singukieee]

—my all time favourite bts fics (pt. 2) ᯓᡣ𐭩

consists of my personal favourite bts fics that I've read countless of times. including those from other platforms, such as Wattpad, AO3, and Patreon.

For some works that are cross-posted between tumblr and wp/ao3, I'd only link them to the latters bcs I find it easier to read and navigate the stories on those. but I also tagged all the authors I know are here and linked the rest so you can check their blogs out yourself!

I'll also separate this list into several parts simply because there's too many... So it'd be easier for you guys to navigate!

red means unfinished

blue means finished

🗯️ curator's note

(sorted by alphabetical order)

Dreams of You by seoktishie

You are a theater actress who dreams of becoming a successful Broadway star. You’ve dedicated your whole life hustling for the show, surrounded by a supportive family and friends you never thought you would lose your best friend and boyfriend on the same day. This puts your dreams to a halt, and you decide to take a break and a soul-searching trip to Korea, where you meet a successful artist that reconnects your love for the arts. OR You accidentally meet Kim Namjoon of BTS, and you had no idea of how an amazing person he is nor how he is the leader of the biggest boyband to date!

🗯️ the yearning and pining *chef's kiss*

Epiphany by 2stanornot2stan

Your soulmate mark seemed self-centred to you "I'm the one I should love" Who would ever want to love someone with that as their soulmate mark?

🗯️ this one is painful. but writing's so good, doesn't fail in pulling my heartstrings.

Escapade by bonnehh_

"Where the hell am I?!" He shrieked, stumbling over his feet like a newborn deer. He was a panicking mess, spinning around in circles to see the unfamiliar sight of giant trees and bushy plants covering the land. The forest was heavily rich with greenery, vegetation and strange fruits. Fallen leaves covered the ground, creating a crunching sound after every step he took. "Calm down, Sweets." I calmly voiced amidst his loud screeches. My words cut through his mess of a mind making him freeze on his spot. Turning on his heel, he noticed me. He stumbled back immediately, possibly because I was covered in angry, red scratches and the bandages covering my arms alerted the male. "What the fudge?!!?! Who- who are you??" He shouted, alarmed by my…seemingly beaten-up figure. "I'm Diana. Welcome to the game." I smiled softly. Hoping my excitement can keep a hold of itself for the sake of keeping the man from getting scared. Dumbfounded, He could only let one word out, "Huh?". Oh boy.

🗯️ a cool one! many adventures and mc has freakishly good survival skills. this honestly cured my longing for that one fic that's no more that was also survival, adventure and game themed with slight crack. I think it was called 'Ready Player One'? (not that famous book and movie). but I think it was a translated ver of a chinese ff on another platform. Idk I still missed it very much, it was also very good. (If you know anything abt this, pls dm me!)

Ethereal by @purpleyoonn

After leaving your home in need of a fresh start, you open a bookstore with the hopes that the words you read could bring you solace. You never realized that the books you loved would bring you home instead.

🗯️ I love soulmate stories, this author also has good writing so

Euphoric Endeavours by haveagreatday

Through a series of curious happenstances, the Boys of Bangtan - your campus' most popular and most handsome group of individuals - set their sights on you, a regular student with a stubborn streak and a wayward mouth. Strangely enough, the mere sight of them sets your instincts off, red-lights flashing in your brain - danger, danger, danger, danger. It's too bad that they can't seem to leave you alone, though. They like you too much.

🗯️ enemies to lovers, anyone?

Everything Falls (Into Place) by Hiromi_20 / @blog-name-idk

"I… I might know someone who has a spare room," your brother finally muttered hesitantly. You perked up from where the couch had been swallowing you. "What! And you didn't tell me?" You accused. "You'd be living with a bunch of dudes." "Oh my god Jackson," you groaned, rolling your eyes. "The fact that you're even suggesting them means that you know them all and they're good people, right? It's not like they're gonna murder me and hide my body in the walls or something." "Well, yeah, but…" "But WHAT?" you almost screamed in frustration. "They're all… hot." Silence for several moments. Then you started guffawing uncontrollably, unladylike snorts escaping from your lips. "You are such a dork," you gasped between laughs, tears coming to your eyes. "If I promise not to let them gangbang me, will you please ask?"

🗯️ another really well-written crack fic! goshhh this one's so goood! this one's the real friends to lovers, gosh the pining is just *chef's kiss*

Finding My Pack by @untaemedqueen (paid on Patreon but so worth it)

In which an all-alpha pack unexpectedly found their mate isolated in a sterile room. So the only right thing would be to pamper and love her to make up for all those years she spent alone and lonely.

🗯️ spicyy 🥵 but also cute. I love protective mates

Flaw in The System by Strayberry_

She has 8 moons on her wrist. So do they.

🗯️ honestly Idk what to say about this one. just prepare your tissues for this family of misfits that fit so well together.

Full House by fillomina

Y/N has a steady job and lives alone, that is, until she tags along with her friend to the shelter. Jimin, Hobi, and Yoongi have been waiting to get adopted, and their chance has finally arrived. With the small hybrid pack now living with Y/N, her life never has a dull moment. As Y/N gets used to her new family, she also begins learning more about old friends, making new ones, and getting a very full house.

🗯️ I'd say that I don't like the fact that yn's kinda treated as a doormat at some parts, but it's still good and quite well-written found family fic.

Getting Back Into The Swing of Things by @jellifysh

Hearing her voice now, Namjoon was reminded of the times when she was all he had. How she was his everything, supported him with everything she had, even if it meant giving him the shirt off her back. "Joon?" Y/n sniffled. "I know it sounds crazy, you don't even have to, its been years," "No," Namjoon was agreeing before he could even think, before he could even remember the other people who lived in the house just the next room over. "No, its okay, I mean, we promised each other right? We'd never turn our backs on each other?" "You can stay with us, it'll be fine I promise, I'll handle everything, don't worry at all, it'll be great! Like, old times, okay?" Namjoon was tripping over his words now, he just felt like if he didn't see her now, he would be too late for… something. What, he wasn't sure, but there was an urgent need to have her home safe.

🗯️ just re-read this one again literally yesterday, still as good as the first time. I love strangers to friends to lovers.

Her by untouchablerave

The question hangs between you, and you’re desperate to ask it. Usually, you don’t mind much who is on the other end of the appointment, as you’re so focused on a list of kinks, trying to map out a scene in your head, but this time, the ‘who’ is all you can focus on. Your boss looks at you. “I can’t believe I’m about to say this but… do you know BTS?” Your head snaps up in shock. “You’re fucking with me,” you gasp. “I’m dead serious,” your boss replies. “Jeon Jungkook just came of age. He wants to lose it right away.”

🗯️ spicy but soft soft softtt

Hidden Marks series by Havenesa

❶ Hidden Marks

What does it mean to be soulmates? What do I love about her? What is the reason? Does there need to be a rational reason to love someone? Maybe I love her amber eyes, or the way she tries to hide her smile whenever we get into playful arguments, or her love for just living. Maybe I just love her because she is simply just Han Sera.

🗯️ This one's so angsty yet so good, the writing's also so good at making the characters so human that I'd always end up sobbing at every re-read.

❷ Connecting Hearts

What defines a soulmate? Is it the mark that you were born with, only shared with a selected few? Or a bond which was created through pain and suffering? You'll have to read to find out.

Highlight by Alphathyx

Hana attends Atlas Academy of Arts also known as the AAA to pursue her passions in Hiphop with best friend Hoseok and Prince Charming Jimin. The school gets selected along with other arts schools to compete in an inter-school competition which prize could open doors to any arts students dreams. She along with seven boys, discover what it means to love, but a tragic incident spirals the competition and them into a mystery no one saw coming.

🗯️ friendship and struggle to success <3

Hotel California by Deliebre

You are a badass business guru that works for a huge gaming company. Your home is Korea but you travel often. You are in California for work but keep bumping into hot Korean men, which makes you want to do more than bumping...

🗯️ immediate connection... yes please!

In The Dark by BearPawBeach

"How can that be? I am looking right at you. I am speaking to you right now." "That's the thing. I don't know! That's why I came here today. Yesterday, when you laughed at me, you laughed at me. I almost didn't believe it myself, but the more I thought about it, the crazier it sounded. So I came here to see you and to know if you can see me!" she blurted out. He could not believe the words that were coming out of her mouth. "Look, you don't need to lie to me. There is no need to make up some crazy excuse to meet someone." "I'm not lying! I really am invisible," she argued back. The man just threw his hands up to concede and turned to walk away from her again, walking right out of the building. The girl followed in hot pursuit. "Do you really not believe me? Why would I make something like that up? Yes, I know it sounds crazy. If I were you, I would probably think it's nuts too, but I am telling you the truth!"

🗯️ mc is invisible in this one, story's kinda sad and cute!

In Your Roots by sweetinsanityy

Jungkook is the perfect alpha, a little too perfect. Being the youngest in Bangtan, a group full of alpha's, friction has been happening between him and the boys. He's too strong, too dominating, too wild, and too much for Bangtan to handle. The perfect solution? An omega just for himself. You happen to be the perfect candidate. But the other boys want a taste of you as well. Or, you're hired to be an omega for Jungkook to take care of, and maybe he and the rest of the boys get too attached.

🗯️ another one about the boys being absolute simps!

Iridescent Love by @imnotlauriane

From a fated meeting to a life filled with wonders, the path of discovery is much, much harder than what I had prepared myself for. Especially when my identity, the only one I knew of ends up being a total lie.

🗯️ sad... but it got better. and what did I say abt imnotlauriane's stories? they're all good!

It's a Little Complex? by Infired_Mochi

Starting college and moving into a new apartment with complete independence has been your goal. Due to all the hard work at the cafe during your high school years, and your parents pitching in a few dollars, you can afford to stay in the apartment that is just the right size. However, did you get more than you bargained for? A few other college students occupy the rooms next to yours, seven to be exact. Eight rooms reside on the third floor of the apartment complex and yours is on the farthest right wing, apartment number 308. Just wait until you meet them.

🗯️ sooo it's a little complex... just read it!

Late Bloomer by basicwitch13

Despite growing up in a wolf pack, you were never able to shift nor had a second gender present itself. It seemed, by all accounts, that you were a typical human. So you carried on, burying yourself in your work as a sociology professor—until one of your students introduces you to his pack and changes everything.

🗯️ yes to yearning, pining, and healing.

Like Crazy by @euphoricfilter

The story of seven loves across eight lives.

🗯️ so freakin well-written

Little Do You Know... by @yoongiofmine

In a world where idols and actors can’t date, whether it be because of contracts, lack of time, or the dangers that involve having your personal life leaked, the market opened up for a new work field. Playmate Agencies emerged to supply the entertainment world with highly trained companions for hire. Bangtan is looking for new playmates. And you just happen to be the one all of them choose.

🗯️ another idk what to sayy, just read bcs it's so gooood.

Magic Shop by AriZedd

In which Yn is meeting new friends (and an old one) getting charmed day by day.

🗯️ just read this crack fic, strangers to friends to ... I'm obsessed.

PART 1 | PART 3 | PART 4 | NAVI

[kazucee]

! CALL IT WHAT YOU WANT (to) ౨ৎ

—In which your relationship with Albedo gets broken down into three paradigms accompanied by overarching assumptions, overthinking, and sweet memories.

Pairings: Albedo x gn!Reader

Dedicated to my very Albedo-coded spouse @luvether 𐙚 Dare I say these are my marriage vows to you /lh but in all seriousness, I wrote this with you in mind (because I think the silence between us need no words + all the little silly conversations are worth everything to me)! You mean so much to me and I adore every little thing you do. Guys if you spot any mistakes pls for my honor ignore it.

wc: 1.3k || lovely art by: @/jotto75 on twt !

Painter!Albedo is often described by his peers as closed off, detached from this plane of reality, a brilliant mind with a pair of watercolour eyes muddied with powder blue and hazel hues.

To put it bluntly, you didn't care about the hearsay that surrounded the artist.

To put it bluntly, you can't help the small endeared feeling you'd get when you see how dedicated he was to his craft and how he would go for days without end in his studio whenever he’d paint, how his mind worked like a self-tuning piano—functioning properly without the need for human interference. But what good is a self-tuning piano without a pianist's calloused hands to play it?

You cannot really put a label as to what exactly you are to Albedo, no that would be far too restrictive for whatever type of relationship said or unsaid.

During those days where he'd locked himself in his studio, you were the only one permitted to enter, the only one permitted to stay, the only one he’d allow to make idle chatter whilst he painted the next Renaissance masterpiece (though he hates it when you describe his works as so.)

The best label you could assume would be that your relationship with him were like his often unfinished paintings:

It is chaotic—a flurry of colour, the smear of paint brush strokes, a collage of hues—Like when you and him snuck into the Louvre to admire their newest impressionist collection without the bothersome crowds and flash photography.

That had been the best night of your life, the adrenaline coursing through your veins making your skin prickle in excitement, your heart pumped rapidly and till this day you convince yourself that it was because of the thought of getting caught and not the way his gloved hand had expertly held onto yours as he guided you through the timeless halls of the museum.

Like the mess of his milky blonde locks when he had asked you to cut it, you were terrified, no, mortified, to say the least when your bewildered look was met with his signature blasé expression, the press of the cool metal scissors against the palm of your hand a small request wrapped with ribbons of unwavering faith.

You thought you did a pretty good job despite your only experience being cutting your own bangs during the 7th grade. Whether he liked it or not you could not quite figure out but considering that up until now he’d approached you whenever he felt like his hair was getting in the way of his work, you’d count it as a win.

It is abstract— like his gaze, those irises of his that shifted hues depending on the light of day (if you could chart eye colours under the sunlight Albedo would definitely be the first candidate on your list).

It was abstract like the way he’d stare as you kneaded the dough, like you were an enigmatic puzzle he was trying to solve or take apart piece by piece.

His gaze as intense as it was confusing.

Those times when he presumed you were preoccupied with the novel perched between your delicate hands or the rom-com you were rewatching for the nth time, those times when he’d stare at you as if you were one of the most bewitching pieces of art to ever have caught his fancy, one he'd like to steal away from the world and keep in the alcoves of his person for him and him only.

His stare had a feeling of its own, you could almost feel the caress of his hands against the curve of your cheeks and the soft brush of fingers against the furrow of your brow, his stare felt like an artist memorizing every tendon and every muscle under your skin, piecing together how they worked.

Then you’d turn to catch him in the act only for him to give you the faintest smile, a small quirk of his lips all innocent and beguiling like he hadn't just stolen your breath, soul, and heart with all but one rouge glance.

Oftentimes you wonder how he thought of you; if you were just one of the meddlers in his daily routine who didn't cause him much ire, if you were just another warm body for him to keep as a means to ward off the cold.

But then he’d press tender kisses against your knuckles whenever you’d bake him something sweet, kisses that felt like honeydew and intricate snowflakes falling upon flesh, it had the ability to render your heart to something weak, something soft and plush-like, and make you feel guilty for ever having such thoughts cross your mind.

Him and his soft melodic voice calling you his muse just to see the incipient flush of your cheeks, he smiles at that because he knows how to unlock that small part of your heart you desperately want no one to find.

Him and his habit of sketching you first as an absent-minded practice before starting yet another painting.

Him and his undying love tracing the lines of your figure whenever he has the chance. It’s him and him and him.

It is enchanting—you can’t look away, you can’t stop listening, you can't stop your heart from quickening its pulse whenever he gets closer, from the way your head would tilt in his direction ever so slightly, your movements purely muscle memory when it came to him.

You can't stop from pulling at the seams of the relationship and wishing for it to simply unravel. You often didn't think of yourself as high pride, you're quiet when the world was loud, loud when there was nothing but silence, but with Albedo it was constant silence, a sort of silence that was loud in its own convoluted way.

It was comforting almost, the way you both can sit in each other's orbit and simply be contented with each other's existence, body heat, and soft breathing.

The artist was a silent man in nature but when you'd prod endlessly at him to teach you about the different types of butterfly wings, he'd go on and on without ceasing and you'd let him.

There was something about the way those watercolour eyes turned a little less muddled, a little less murky, more clear and bright whenever he shared his latest fascination with you.

You could feel it, how much he liked to talk despite being classified as quiet all the time. It was one time during autumn with its warm patchwork of colours and cool breezes when you realized, just as he finished explaining the fascinating facts he had learned about honey bees that Albedo liked to speak when he had something to say when he knew that his words had some sort of weight when they meant something to someone.

So you made it a point to ask him about anything and everything because to you hearing him speak was akin to listening to the most well-practised symphony, the way he articulated his words, the brief pauses whenever he had to remember something, listening to him was like entering his world that he had expertly shut everyone out of.

There were times when he'd quiet down and you'd think he had finally had enough of talking but then he'd turn to you eyes sincere as he asks for your own thoughts about the topic. It wasn't that he was done talking, it was that he had wanted to listen, listen to you.

Albedo was an enigma to you.

You understand so much yet know so little at the same time. The blonde had mastered the art of withdrawing specific bits and pieces of himself to keep you on your toes, toeing that invisible line between you two that neither wanted to cross just yet. Call it self-preservation, call it cowardice. All is fair when it comes to love, paintings, and a blonde sun-kissed boy and his kaleidoscope eyes.

Small AN: WOAH A X READER FIC? FROM ME? this is the first one that I've posted and in all honesty I'm bloody terrified hehe~ Actually critiques are super welcomed (in DMS ofc) I swear idk if half of what I write makes sense and connects properly (I struggle with that even in school essays smh.) OH AND SPACING. WHY DO I ALWAYS STRUGGLE WITH THAT. reblogs, likes and comments are much appreciated ♡

[bleed-more]

My Updated Headcanons for Seth Wilson

Since a lot of my attention is on Seth right now, I'm writing some updated headcanons for him with things I've learned over the past 4 years! I'm starting with my HCs with evidence and will write my HCs without evidence later >:3c

HEADCANONS WITH EVIDENCE:

- Seth's dog name is Link (Joseph mentioned in a livestream that's Seth the actor's dog's name so in typical MH fashion I imagine dog actor Link also plays dog character Link)

- Seth is about as tall as Brian (this isn't even really a hc but I used to draw him short so I wanted to clear that up)

- Seth did all the TTA entries that include fried images and red motifs (based off of Night Mind's theory that Tim-themed entries are black and white, Brian-themed entries are stereoscopic, and Seth-themed entries are deep-fried/red. They used these colors to both communicate who's speaking AND to let the recipient know who the message is for.)

- Seth used to be Christian but fell out of it by Season 2 (I think Seth is responsible for all the Christian iconography in the first season i.e. stigmata, ark, deluge, etc. considering neither Brian nor Tim were part of TTA yet, and he slowly abandons that faith because.......)

- ...Seth thinks he is a messiah of some kind (from TTA's "Forecast" where he says "AMIAPROPHET." [TW DEAD ANIMALS & ANIMAL CRUELTY FR PLS READ WITH CAUTION] Forecast uses footage from the USSR's "Experiments in the Revival of Organisms: 1940" in which you see a disembodied dog's lung being inflated and deflated by a machine in an effort to keep a dismembered dog's head alive. I don't think it's a coincidence TTA used a dismembered dog to refer to Seth ((or what Seth has become)) and that Seth is both alive(-ish) and has saved others from death, but only in the same fucked up corrupted way you see in the USSR's footage. Which leads me to...)

[END TW]

- ...Seth is trapped somewhere between the line of life and death and is sticking around for the unfinished business of revenge killing Alex (in the TTA entries, while many things are convoluted and unclear, one thing that is very consistent is TTA's hatred of Alex. Seth is vengeful for the death of himself, the attempted and successful murders of his friends. From TTA's "Decay" where Seth is clearly addressing Alex, he says "HE[Jay] WILL LEAD ME[Seth] TO YOU[Alex], LEAD ME TO DEATH[because his job will be done then], LEAD ME TO THE ARK[salvation and an end to his and Alex's suffering])

- Seth is the one responsible for Brian, Tim, and Jay surviving during Alex's first murder attempt (Alex couldn't bring himself to *actually* kill his friends back in 2006, so he lured them to the park and used blunt force trauma to knock them unconscious hoping leaving them for dead out in the park would be enough. Seth, however, had already caught on that something was wrong after Sarah's disappearance (I am going to write a whole thing about this eventually hehehe) and so he knew to be at the park, and after Alex left them, Seth made sure they were safe (there is also info I have here about a lake but that's worth a whole other post, send an ask if you're curious <3)

- And finally, Seth had been well ahead of everyone else in figuring out what was going on (Seth was the camera and tech guy, so it would make sense he would be the first to see what's happening on these cameras, and investigating what might be causing all of this. Seth was the one who coined the term OPERATOR. He understood Alex's actions were being influenced by this creature Seth was seeing while editing Marble Hornets. And I also think Alex knew Seth was catching onto his murder attempts, and that's why Alex took no chances and shot Seth (the first instance of Alex using a gun in the series) instead of hitting him over the head with a pipe and leaving him for the Operator like the others.)

I WOULD LOVE TO KNOW WHAT YOU THINK AND IF YOU GUYS HAVE ANY OF YOUR OWN THEORIES THIS WAS REALLY FUN TO WRITE AND I CANT WAIT TO MAKE PART 2 <3

[sorcerersseestars]

just like you <3

warnings: Gojo makes inappropriate jokes. Reader is gender neutral but refers to Gojo as “such a boy” once and is called princess by Gojo thrice. (it’s part of the story, I’m sorry ;-;). Kissing, suggestiveness, & confessions! Gojo is wearing his shades but I was too lazy to keep writing that in…

word count: 2.1k

I feel like Gojo and reader are in their late teens/early 20s in this! Also, I think this feels like more of a snapshot of one moment than a complete oneshot…I guess it’s a drabble then?? Not sure haha pls let me know if there’s a term for this

Gojo hates classical music. Growing up, his parents would drag him to so many ballets and operas, especially around the holidays. He can’t count on both hands how many performances of the Nutcracker he has seen, which was always such a snooze fest for him—he used to point and laugh at the poor child who had to play the rat, which is usually how he got out of seeing the rest of the performance, since the ushers would quickly kick out him and his family for his behavior.

In essence, Gojo has always gone about his life convinced that classical music is horribly boring and that he abhors it.

That is, until you reintroduce him to it. When you ask him if you mind listening to a piece with him, he’s a bit surprised—and of course, apprehensive. How is he going to break it to you that he hates something you hold so dear? But it’s you, so he relents—how could he ever say no to you?

“It’s called Scheherazade,” You say, shyly tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “It’s based on a Thousand and One Nights, y’know, the really old story. Do you know it?”

You’re both sitting on your bed. You are sitting cross-legged, while Gojo rudely stretches out his legs (manspreads!), leaving little room for you. You don’t complain, though—you like being this close to him, even if you can’t admit it to yourself.

“I haven’t heard of it,” He admits. He feels so relaxed with you that he yawns even though he isn’t necessarily sleepy. You seem to take this the wrong way, though.

You become embarrassed. “Oh shit, this stuff is kinda nerdy, huh? I don’t want to bore you-”

“You won’t,” He says immediately, firmly. His blue eyes seem to look right through you, making you nervous under his persistent gaze. Maybe if this was music history class, he’d sigh and moan, but since you’re the one telling the story, there’s no possible way he could get bored.

“Oh, r-really?” You stammer out, quickly looking away from his bold gaze (does he always look at you like that?) “Okay then. Uh, so basically, this king found his wife in bed with another man, so he uh– killed her and all of her servants. He kinda went crazy after that and took revenge on women by summoning one virgin to his chamber every night and executing her before the night was up.”

He shifts from his position, leaning in toward you to whisper, “I don’t think he was a very nice king, but don’t tell him I said that.”

You laugh at his lame joke, which makes him feel warm inside.

“Well, one night, a woman named Scheherazade volunteered to be the virgin to go to him one night. Her family was distraught, thinking they were going to lose their daughter to their insane king. But after the first night was up, everyone was surprised to see she was still alive in the morning. This repeated on and on. She was really clever and told him an unfinished story every night, telling him that he would have to wait until the next night to hear the ending. And she did that One Thousand and One times, hence the name of the story.”

“So you’re telling me that she edged him with the same story for one thousand and one nights and he never noticed? Seems kinda gullible, if ya ask me.”

“Why do you have to put it like that?” You say, flustered by his wording. “Ugh, you’re such a boy sometimes.”

“Am I wrong, princess?” He smiles. Your heart skips a beat at his use of a pet name, but you try not to make it obvious.

You roll your eyes. “W-whatever! Anyway, he eventually fell for her and made her his queen. That’s what this piece is based on—or that’s the simple version of it, at least.”

“So, let me get this straight—she tamed an actual virgin-killer?”

“Satoru!” You try to sigh, but can’t hold back your laughter. “That’s not the point!”

“It kinda is though, isn’t it?” He playfully argues. “Actually, I’d argue that’s the climax of the story. After that, everything gets resolved!”

You make a face when he calls it the ‘climax’. In turn, he pokes your cheek.

“What, you don’t like my literary terminology? C’mon, that’s literally what it’s called!”

“You’re such a perv! Virgin killer this, climax that,” You wrinkle your nose in semi-faux disgust. “Just shut up and listen, I’m going to turn it on.”

“Oooo, you’re gonna turn it on!” Gojo says, waggling his fingers and doing jazz hands.

You cross your arms and put on your sternest look. “Do you want to listen to it or not?”

He holds up his hands in surrender. “I’m sorry, officer, I’ll behave now!”

You giggle. “Okay, enough. I’m gonna start it now, for real. It’s kinda long, so sit tight.”

You press play on your device, fiddling with the volume for a bit since classical music has such high highs and low lows. You’re still nervous if he’s going to like it or not, so you aren’t as immersed in the music as you usually are. You keep glancing at Gojo out of the corner of your eye, praying you’re not boring him to death.

As the music plays on, you begin to relax and imagine the story in your head. You close your eyes, savoring the colorful tones of the different instruments and the singing melodies.

You open your eyes at the start of the second movement, and are surprised to find Gojo’s eyes completely on you. The solo violin sings beautifully iand the harp tugs at your heartstrings in the background, making the sensation of his eyes on yours all the more evocative. You lose your breath; neither of you look away. It should be awkward, but it isn’t.

“D-do you like it?” You stupidly ask.

“It’s beautiful,” He says softly, eyes still on you. Just like you are the words left lingering on his tongue, right there yet left unsaid.

“Really?!” You answer excitedly—but again, stupidly. “I- uh, I’m gl–”

You cut yourself off with a yelp as the mood in the music suddenly changes. You had turned it up during the quiet opening, since you could hardly hear, so this loud and sudden start to a stormy section catches you off guard. You instinctively flinch and grip the nearest thing around you for comfort…

…That ‘thing’ being your friend, Satoru Gojo. You’re holding his thick biceps tightly, not realizing your blunder in your haste.

He smirks at you but doesn’t move away. If anything, he leans in to you. “Aw, did you get scared? It’s just vibrations wiggling the air, there’s nothing to be scared of.”

You instantly let go. He laughs at how quickly you back away, and you can only hope he doesn’t sense the heat on your cheeks. So embarrassing.

“You–! Ugh! I was just caught off guard!” You say, brushing your hands off just for show. "It just suddenly got so loud that I got startled.”

“That sounds like an excuse to me,” He jests.

“Think whatever you like,” You sigh, exasperated. “But c’mon, we have to finish it! We’re only halfway and we just missed some.”

“Okay, okay, let’s keep going then.” He says, motioning for you to continue. “Just so you know, it’s fine if you need to hold onto something—or should I say somebody—at the next ‘scary’ cymbals crash…”

You glare at him and harshly press the volume up button. You smile as the music returns to your ears, and you slightly sway to the melody. You’re too into the music to notice how Satoru gazes affectionately at your gentle swaying, a small smile gracing his lips.

By around the middle of the third movement, The Young Prince and the Young Princess, you check back in on Gojo. This movement is calmer and slower, not as exciting as the first two, so you worry he may not find it engaging enough.

“What do you think about this movement?” You ask him quietly.

“This one?” He responds, and you nod. “I like it, maybe more than the others. It’s very romantic. And it’s kinda fitting.”

You have no idea what that could mean. You freeze, worrying that it’s a joke that you’ll fall for and get hurt over.

But you ask anyway. “Fitting?”

“Mmhmm,” He rumbles. “The Young Prince and the Young Princess. That’s the title of the movement, isn’t it?”

“It…it is,” You confirm hesitantly, afraid to misunderstand him. “A-and…?”

“Well, princess,” He says, and you again practically melt at the pet name. “I think this movement is very pretty.”

“Pretty?” You echo back. “Yes, I guess it is.”

“Yep, pretty,” He says. “Just like you.”

“I–huh?!”

He said it so casually and with so much ease that you practically missed it.

Just like…you?

“What did you just say?” You ask with wide eyes. You’re trembling and your face feels so hot.

He inches closer to you. You have to fight not to react—whether that would be to lean in or back away, you do not know. You like him so much that it scares you—he practically holds the reins to your emotions.

“I said that this movement is pretty, just like you,” He says, eyes flickering down to your lips then back up to your eyes. “Is there something wrong about that? You can’t crucify me for telling the truth.”

You brain cells start to fizzle out. All you can think to say is, “Crucify you?”

Gojo chuckles. “I call you pretty, and you’re focusing on my wording?”

“Well, I- you’re talking like it’s biblical times or something!”

“Maybe your story reminded me of that. You were the one talking about executing virgins,” He says, then comes closer still. “Pretty.”

He’s so close that you’re sure he can feel your quick breaths fanning his face. You’re so nervous that your breathing comes fast and shallow.

You swallow your fears. It’s now or never.

“Satoru,” You start shakily, then steady yourself with a big breath. “I think…I think you’re pretty, too.”

He blinks. You blink.

You’re so sure that he’s about to make fun of you for what you said—is it weird to call a boy pretty?—and you’re so sure that he’s going to boisterously laugh in your face and reveal that it’s all one big joke that everyone else was in on.

You’re so embarrassed. You cover your face with your hands, mortified by your own actions. The laughter is coming, you know it.

And it does. But it’s different than you imagined.

He’s laughing softly. You peek through your fingers. He seems to be…amused?

“You’re so cute,” He says. “So pretty. So endearing, d’ya know that?”

Your voice comes out so small and vulnerable. “Really?”

“Really,” He affirms. “And I…I really want to kiss you, pretty.”

Your eyes meet his. You’re electrified by the genuine want and need in his gaze. He’s serious.

“Then kiss me, Satoru.”

Ah, so there’s the sassy tone you usually have towards him. He chuckles and traces your jawline with his fingers. He savors in the way you squirm and how your breath hitches when his fingers reach your neck.

He leans in and circles his arms around your waist, pulling you into a deep kiss. You hold onto his biceps again for support, which flex under your palms as he takes the kiss deeper. You feel even hotter than before, if that was even possible.

He finally breaks the kiss, and you’re surprised to hear his equally shaky breathing. “I really like you, princess. I really like you.”

You laugh softly, pressing a hand against his firm chest. “Satoru, I like you too. If it wasn’t obvious.”

“Maybe it was with the way you practically fell into my lap when you got scared–”

“I did not!!” You bury your face in your hands again.

“Kidding, princess!” He kisses your cheek. “You’re so easy to rile up…Oh, by the way, did you know that I hate classical music?”

“You do? Really? Oh, god, you must have been so bored the whole time, I knew it–!”

“No, no I really enjoyed this. Seriously.” He says with conviction. “I wasn’t faking anything. Ever. It just feels so different with you…”

“Satoru…” You whisper.

He starts leaving kisses on your jawline, causing you to shiver. “You just drive me crazy, princess. ‘Couldn’t stop thinking of you while we were listening. I wanted to kiss you so bad the whole time.”

“Then we gotta make up for the lost time, huh?” You say, pulling him into another kiss.

“You’re gonna be the death of me.” He sighs, letting himself get lost in you.

Scheherazade continues playing in the background, but it’s on neither of your minds now. You barely even hear it, even though you had been so insistent on listening to the whole thing through before. Even when the ending chords fade out, both you and Satoru are trying to catch your breath, craving more.

Fin.

Thank you for reading!! I don’t feel like it’s my best work, but i hope it’s still a little enjoyable! 🥹 I got the urge to write this out of NOWHERE and wrote it all today…I never do that haha so that was quite the surprise for me.

Note: To all the fellow classical music nerds out there, I’m aware that Scheherazade isn’t actually classical, but…let’s just put that aside, shall we? :) I’m just using layman’s terms so that everyone can understand and enjoy!

[linearao3]

Do you have any recommendations for the best fanfics you’ve read? Reylo or Six of Crows

Thanks so much and happy thanksgiving

Thank you! Sorry to be late answering but I hope you also had a happy Thanksgiving/Thursday.

As to recs— well, I am waiting to travel so I will try to keep things brief. Reylo favorites: Tactical Surrender by @destiniesfic has A+ action and very faithful characterization, as well as very fun OCs and excellent chapter structure. the Sword of Prince Hector by @englishable brings to the surface and wrestles with some of the latent moral questions of Star Wars as well as larger questions of punitive justice and atonement. (Their modern AU, Janus, is also what brought me around to modern AUs in general.) @again-pls has an unfinished canonverse AU, Ego Eris, that is wonderfully light on its feet and has some of the best depictions of the Force I’ve seen. (I don’t believe there are currently plans to finish it, but it remains a very enjoyable reading experience and there are elements of this fic I have genuinely mistaken for canon.) Take Me by @slipgoingunder makes excellent use of country music, both lyrically and as a scene, to create an immersive AU. Honestly, the reylo fanfic pool is so enormous that sheer numbers dictate an excess of writing talent. I do recommend bookmark-hopping over sorting-by-kudos for finding what you want.

In Six of Crows, I must of course immediately mention @whatanybodygets; I was slow getting to Adagio but now I blab about it to people who aren’t even in the fandom, and save the undone years is also absolutely smashing and makes me weep. (I also really like how the AU translation of Inej’s relationship with Heleen focuses on sexual control as the violation of autonomy.) @darol’s The DeKappel Heist (and other tales) does a truly delightful job of reminding us that Kaz and Inej are streetwise, savvy, talented, and also idiot fucking teenagers, god bless. @rainstormdragon has many excellent fics but I will call out in particular Wraith, which looks directly at the ugliness of the violence that Kaz and Inej inflict and throws it into relief by changing the balance. There are a number of fics by @alltheworldsinmyhead expressly designed to fuck you up but I’m very partial to pour away the ocean. Often fanfic relationships can find themselves falling into preset lines of behavior and reaction, and I love the rawness of Inej’s jealousy. I could go on, but I’ll just wrap up with @pyrrhlc’s fic hybrid signal, which features some wildly inventive and evocative magic, and a Kaz who can have his feathers stroked.

I don’t know why Tumblr won’t let me add the Tactical Surrender link! But I hope you find some good reads, and I’m sorry if you’ve already read all this; it’s kind of just what was top of mind.

[dykekarkat]

hey I’ve seated myself on your couch PLEASE tell me more of your ghost andreil au it is beautiful and Oscar worthy to me

omg hi yes pls be seated im sorry this got slightly long and also took a bit!! also unsure if this even makes sense or is smth u will like but alas, i just kinda went wild. anyway thank you so much for the ask :)

i love getting a chance to talk about any and all of my aus. ghost andreil came about bcus im not a huge fan of the ghost x human relationship trope thing so i thought what if instead they were both ghosts...love beyond living is just so perfect for andreil...anyway long ramble ahead so ill put it under the cut <3

basic world building in my head is that ghosts are basically humans who are living on the Wrong Layer of the universe because they refuse to let go of their lives or have some unfinished business (normal ghost things). the supernatural isn't widely known about or believed in but there are ppl aware (like renee for instance). ghosts can touch other ghosts but not humans (duh) bcus i want andreil to fist fight and also to eventually have a physical relationship bcus it is important to me. too much interaction w physical objects depletes their energy, but the more will a ghost has the more energy they have (and by god are andreil willful little assholes).

renee and jean are both mediums! renee's been involved w the spiritual realm forever (gang related) while jean just thinks he's losing his mind slowly ^-^ renee is on a quest to help andrew move on (he hates this) but theyre still besties. meanwhile neil is desperately trying to prove that no he's not a hallucination (lol) and no jean should Not kill himself to join him. tbh idk if i want the moriyamas to be in the know or not, heavily debating over whether neil should be able to escape them through death or if he's forever cursed to be in debt to the mafia (depending on how angsty i want this to get).

NOW ON TO THE RELATIONSHIPS AKA THE FUN PART

- aaron is NOT having a good time in the beginning of this au. actively going through hell after losing a brother he just found and his mother. he's getting high most of the time, barely going to school, fully given up on himself, and Super Fucking Angry at Andrew. To Be Clear andrew didn't commit suicide but his normal canon i dont care about what happens to me attitude led to him dying while killing tilda. aaron DOES NOT KNOW that andrew killed her on purpose, but he's suspicious and angry as fuck anyway because andrew broke the deal (of staying together for high school). nicky still takes aaron in but nicky hadnt met andrew before his death so the tragedy for him is that andrew never rlly got a chance. andrew himself doesnt mind being dead (in his opinion its the same monotonous apathetic existence as he had living. which changes once he meets neil) but he's Pissed bcus he thinks aaron is throwing away his life. which in Andrew's opinion he did the hard part by getting rid of tilda (the problem). so andrew takes to haunting him by hiding his drugs and being a general nuisance to try and get him to school. i have not quite figured out how to get aaron to kick the drugs and get on palmetto w/o andrew ngl ^-^

- neil dies at the same time kevin broke his hand. riko snapped and neil pushed his buttons and refused to agree that riko was the best, so riko basically beats him to death and kevin gets his hand broken trying to stop it. a very tragic skiing accident indeed :(. kevin feels Extremely guilty over neil's death and jean practically forces him out of the nest, jean himself is basically resigned to joining his partner in death (smth neil is Not About). at this point andrew's been dead for two years? ish? and aaron is on the foxes as a freshman. neil splits his death time between trying to make things easier for jean and keep him from dying, and thwart kevin's attempts to go back to the nest in increasingly comical ways. meanwhile andrew is pissed about kevin bringing danger to aaron, so andreil are Fighting, i mean full on ghost fights where shit is levitating and lights are flickering and ppl are screaming because andrew wants kevon gone. eventually they do that line drawn across the center of the room to try and stay civil.

- eventually kevaaron start bonding and processing their grief over the loss of their brothers and fall in love at the same time, while andreil are also falling in love through asshole ghost mating rituals. major plot point would be renee using her séance powers to make kevaaron aware of their ghost protectors and a lot of drama unfolds from there (andrew reveals the murder stuff, aaron gets more pissed he died, aaron wants to banish him exorcise him in anger etc etc). the catalyst to andreils romantic relationship occurs bcus riko brings drake into the picture to hurt aaron(similar to canon), and neil basically almost ghost kills himself stopping him (expends too much energy in a short period of time) --> their relationship still doesnt start until a few months after this but it is the turning point for andrew being able to trust neil.

other small things:

lola is a contracted demon to nathan (unsure if moriyamas are aware).

nathan kills riko for killing neil (its a pride thing) and basically starts a war within the moriyamas. that neil Really does not know how to feel about, still terrified his father will be able to hurt him due to his knowledge of the occult (which may or may not be reasonable)

mary died trying to escape w neil so he went to the nest at 10 as planned. when he died and realized he was a ghost he looked for her immediately but she had moved on. it was probably more crushing to see that she could've stayed and watched over him and didnt than to witness her actual death.

tilda and mary moved on immediately after death (does heaven exist in this world??? hell?? dont ask me idk either)

pre andreil reveal nicky starts a channel to document their haunted college dorm. its one of the first things andreil bond over bcus they love starting shit nicky is so reactive. post andreil reveal nicky stops posting on it bcus it feels too weird to him, until neil is like hey i wanted to spell dick with the ouija board again :( and then nicky brings it back with gusto

[st4rry4543]

Okay, so there's something I want to share with you all. An au of mine that I have been working on for quite a while now( since chapter 3).

POPPY'S NEIGHBORHOOD AU❗️

So I mentioned this in a previous post, but I'm finally sharing some info on this au with you guys

Warning: lots, and I mean LOTS of yapping, which makes me think no one is really going to read all this, but oh well.

Quick summary of this au:

Basically, this au is focused on the cartoon adventures of the playtime co crew. The only difference is that they are all human in this au(or at least have a human appearance) and that they all live in a neighborhood together in what I think I'm going to the call the city "playtime city" but I'm unsure right now.

Roles:

•Miss delight(teacher)

• Mommy long legs(daycare Attendant/ volunteer)

• Huggy wuggy( security guard at the playtime toy factory)

• Yarnaby( zookeeper)

• Doey the doughman( babysitter)

•The doctor( Scientist/ surgeon)

• The prototype( stay at home dad lol)

(Some) critters info:

All the critters( smiling and nightmare) are 8-14 years old in this au, but their ages are really close to each other's.

•Catnap and dogday are best friends

•Simon smoke and kickin chicken have a small rivalry

• Hoppy and kickin are both very competitive

Family info/ tree: The catnap was originally adopted by the prototype and mommy long legs at the time mll, and the prototype had two kids already( huggy and boxy) long legs and 1006 divorced and shared custody of ( formally) Theodore( his name was changed after adoption) but huggy and boxy stayed with the prototype. Harley then moved in with the prototype, and Miss delight moved in with long legs. Catnaps family (on the prototypes side) are kind of all goth or emo idk😭. The prototype & Harley live in this really big metal like house with goth(ish) decor and in some rooms brightly colored walls toy, etc for the kids. Baba chops is catnap's emo Cousin.

Everyone in this au is an adult apart from poppy, boogie bot, catbee, candycat, the smiling critters, and the nightmare critters.

And also just for my ahh yarnaby and doey are roommates bc yeah ig.( keep in mind these are human cartoon versions)

Anyways, art for this au will be coming soon(hopefully). Thanks for reading this whole thing if you did, lol

Oh, and here's a sneak peek of a draft for this au I'm working on( I have no idea how to write, so pls don't come after me, lol. Also this is a very, VERY unfinished draft)

I'm thinking of doing animations for this au, but idk. BYE GUYS

[fatuismooches]

I'M GIGGLING SO HARD LOOKIGN AT WHAT I CAUSED JUST BY SAYING YOU NEED TO WASH DOTTORE😭😭

But this also gave me a brainrot aboit bathing with harbingers

YES PANTALONE IS A RICH BASTARD and uses tons of skin and hair caring products. He enjoys being taken care of and will do the same in return, that's a fair exchange. Just wash his hair and listen to him complaining about his co-workers asking for budget raise for 10th time this month I think he's very stressed and tired by the end of the day, he might even doze off right in bath, since it's warm here and you gently stroke his hair (he looks cute-but wake him up please or he'll end up with sore neck)

Columbina gives me vibe of a person, who uses a lot of silly stuff, like bath bombs or salt. She's playful and will splash you, which will turn into a war with water being all over the floor (poor people who'll have to clean it up..). She's another one to possibly fall asleep in bathtub, so wake her up too. She also sings in shower

We should stop slandering only Dottore, bc Childe is also a type of person to give you a biiig hug, while covered in blood. But, well, he's easier to get to wash himself. Like Bina, he's also playful and will summon small water animals to entertain both of you (he will create a small narval and gently bup it on your nose... Before breaking it, so you'll have water over your face, bc you're so adorable when flushed!! You're allowed to splash him for this)

I think Sandrone forgets about bathing, drowned in her work and if you invite her, Sandrone will say she'll take a quick shower to return to her work. Please convince her to come with you, she needs rest. In bathtub, all of her thoughts are about unfinished projects :(

YEA STINKYTTORE IS SOMETHING ELSE 😭😭💀 AND OMG THANK YOU FOR THESE BRAINROTS💖💖💖

Hehe YES it's obvious Pantalone only uses the most exquisite, high-end products (have you seen his hair? absolutely LUSCIOUS) He probably made a deal with the company to have the stuff delivered to him regularly so he doesn't need to keep buying it lol, but YES he lovesss to pamper you but he also adores being pampered in return. But you gotta make sure you're a pro at it, don't tug or pull on his hair too roughly, be gentle when washing him, you know what I mean. Make sure to sympathize with him and be very soft as he complains to you about how that doctor is using up his funds with no progress. Make sure to give him lots of kisses when he decides the perfect napping place is laying on your chest in the middle of the big af bath tub 😭 (Also get him out of there because a sore Pantalone is a grumpy Pantalone) But he'd also be the kind of guy to be romantic as hell and put candles around the bath and have a book to read in there too :3

AND OMFGG 100% AGREE ON COLUMBINA SHE LOVES TO DO STUFF LIKE THAT. You two always try out new things to put in the bath, I feel like she's really one of those self-care people so your skin is gonna be ultra soft. Though she is extra silly and loves to set you up for literal ATTACKS by her (throw the rubber duckies at her pls) And yea she can fall asleep literally anywhere so try your best to get her out 😭 OMG the singing in the shower😭😭 I love her she definitely gets the best song ideas in there with you... it's brainstorm time

I HATE TO SAY IT BUT YOU'RE 100% RIGHT ON CHILDE...😭😭 Bro comes back after destroying multiple Hilichurl and Treasure Hoarder camps and is ready to hug you to death... baby i love u but CLEAN UP FIRST. But at least he actually loves the baths/the water in general so it's actually quite fun (you're just sad for the person who needs to wash his clothes 💀) He's actually so cute after a shower because his hair is all damp but then you get to see it fluff up back to life with that long ahoge 😭 He's also extra cuddly and won't let go of you <3

SANDRONE BABY NO... get her robots to turn against her. Don't let her leave until she's had a long, warm bath. Her mind will still probably drift to her robots and incomplete puppets... but give her a really good scrub and wash (she won't admit it but she feels way better after working nonstop) (she dives back right into working nonstop again though) Though i feel like she secretly likes to be pampered, lol she doesn't even walk by herself, her robot carries her. So though she doesn't express her gratitude much verbally she is thankful deep down.

[ilovestupedarts-lol]

WELCOM IN MY BASEMENT!!!1111!!!

(I hope I don't lose the asset after pinning this post.... DON'T LOSE THIS, PLS-)

-Hi, I'm Kolob0k! :3 (or Glyast/Millie/squeaker/pishalka(?))

-You've entered my basement where I just draw doodles, writing lot of shitposts and of course... I KEEP KIDS IN THE BASEMENT, HAHA!!! XD

(my account may contain mentions of NSFW, guroart and all sorts of weird stuff... So, I am not responsible for further viewing of my basement, ok?) (And don't ask me why I reply to comments by reblogging my posts because for some reason Tumblr doesn't let me reply to comments lol)

My fandoms - sonic/sonic exe, smile guide (kraina Grzybów), fnf(?), wednesday infidelity (fnf) (?)

I mostly like things related to old stuff (2000s, retro works, etc.)... My favorite of them is Hedgehog in the Fog (1975) (Yuri Norshteyn), Alenka's Dream (1988) (Jan Švankmajer), Sonic OVA (1995)... There will be a long list further, so I'll prefer to recommend the rest later... - (09/04/25 - damn, forgot to add something... The thing is that for communication here I use a translator to translate into English (English is not my native language... How "surprising"... (I'm just not very good at ENG)), I can sometimes say something here in Russian (it's slightly noticeable in some posts), so here I speak RUS/ENG... (I write this so there are no questions, ok?)). - (update again, oh yea) I don't mind if someone asks me questions, I like to answer them! :3 (At the moment it's better not to ask questions to my OC/EXE (except for glyast and "TEILZ"), since almost most of them are unfinished or at a very early stage of development)

My Mascots! :3

Glyast (Mostly just comfort oc, but sometimes it can be that way) (Inconsistent design (one of his tricks(?)):

Squeaker (Millie (?)), character for "thetrystoryaboutfreak" :

WIP

Kolob0k. Mp4 (its MEEEEE!!!! XD):

WIP

[candycrypt1d]

Please share the beef between Kyouya and Yaalon again. It's one of my favorite dynamics of your ocs. Like I can see them fighting in my head constantly. They're awful /aff <3. What is up with these two lmao

ohhhh my god them. the guys ever. yeah they sure do have A Thing huh

for those unaware yaalon is my beyblade oc. this fella

he’s very angsty and emo if you couldn’t immediately tell and he has a lot of lore that I won’t get into for this post (tho pls ask if you want to Know 👀)

anyways the actual answer to the question is under the cut!

To make a long story short, Yaalon is a sub member for Team Starbreaker, though he’s not really a part of Hades Inc. He’s trying to stop Ziggurat’s plans from within basically, but he’s not an undercover agent or anything either. Like I said before it’s a whole thing. Anyways Yaalon has a very abrasive and loud personality when you get him riled up. Otherwise he seems very reclusive and quiet, mostly keeping to himself.

Yaalon and Kyouya meet each other during Metal Masters. Wild Fang is leaving for Japan and Starbreaker happens to have a match in the same city. Yaalon and Kyouya are walking down the same street and they run into each other, Yaalon mumbles an apology and starts to walk away.

Though Kyouya’s interest is piqued because, in all of the battles so far though, Yaalon hasn’t fought in any of them. His other teammates clean up the competition so quickly they don’t need him, so his abilities and skills are all secret. Which means Kyouya is like “if I fight him then I will give myself a tactical advantage and this isn’t an excuse to battle someone new, what do you mean?” so being the person is he challenges Yaalon, half expecting to be ignored. But to his surprise, Yaalon accepts.

They have their battle but it ends up being unfinished for some reason, haven’t worked out those specifics. Kyouya doesn’t like having unfinished battles so that ticks him off, but also the two of them just…have very similar personalities so they don’t play off each other well at first lmao.

I can see them actually getting along when they do sort out their differences, but when you have two very anger-prone people in the same room it’s only a matter of time before they get pissed off. Yaalon’s attitude in general just makes Kyouya mad because he acts so aloof and uncaring and Kyouya can’t stand not getting a reaction out of him.

And Yaalon doesn’t like being bothered in that way so when Kyouya pushes his buttons, he *really* pushes them. I think they’d get into useless arguments or just be like “ugh I can’t STAND him” while actually not minding each other’s company all that much. They’d just have to sit in silence for things to work fjfnsng

They have a begrudging respect for each other but that doesn’t mean they like it. I can absolutely see them riling each other up and picking at each other’s nerves like siblings LMAO. theyre so dumb i love them.

thanks for the ask and thanks for letting me ramble about my oc <3 and thank you if you read this far lmao

[dawngyu]

I'VE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS TRYST FOREVER, AND I KNOW IT'LL BE BEYOND WORTH IT. TROCYJ IS IN MY TOP THREE OF ALL TIME, SO MY EXPECTATIONS ARE THROUGH THE ROOF!

beware of spoilers below the cut, i did some pretty silly live reading/feedbacks because this is what this deserves.

first of all, choi beomgyu's story in trocyj feels kinda… unfinished. and you’re a genius for writing this. i was literally just lying in bed, but the second i saw this posted, i jumped up and ran to turn on my laptop (silly).

how could i not leave feedback after the very first paragraph? that opening scene about the change yeonjun went through—boy, that is love. and because beomgyu doesnt know it, he thinks it’s stupid, like it’s for the worse. (shaking)

The CHOIs. god again, you did such a good job on building the world on trocyj and this fic is reaping it!!!

But why him? Beomgyu wasn’t the one who’d changed, they changed, not him.

SERENE. I can't. T^T

how is it possible that every reader/mc you write is such a well written character? i love how you introduce her in beomgyu's perspective. this gives the tension for me istg.

Without that tall friend of his, looming behind his back, or Yeonjun’s authoritative status, Choi Beomgyu was really nothing.

i screamed. sorry. this is masterpiece.

TAEHYUN. a taehyun mention. i can finally rest easy. LMAO I’M SO NORMAL ABOUT THIS, I SWEAR. but seriously, i love you for making this even better. the convo between her taehyun and beomgyu really builds the tension (once again) and i'm getting kinda…. scared???

I SCREAMED. SHE MET HIM AT THE FIRST DAY AND NOW IM GETTING SCARED. And the sweet flashback???

the irony of choi beomgyu thinking change is stupid… when he was the first one to change. (silly me for getting emotional over this, but stories about change—and the pain of being left behind because of it—always get to me. and you nailed it.)

I saw the tag and yeah. MEAN BEOMGYU. GOD HE PISSES ME OFF.

His attention suddenly shifts from the device in his hands and you follow its direction, eventually landing on a table not far from his. — Occupied sparsely by a mere three students, three students whom you easily recognized. Choi Yeonjun leans forward, his arm wrapped around a girl you recognized as his girlfriend. He looks to be in deep conversation with the third of their small party, Choi Soobin.

I SAW THIS AS A TEASER BUT I STILL SCREAMED. THE OGS. THE SOULMATES.

It felt almost surreal. Two years of being strangers in the halls, two years of constant insults, two years of hatred. Yet here he was, so close to you, just like he had been before everything changed, before he changed. But now, the two of you were doing something so mundane together.

I feel for the reader. It's really really hard to feel that you're left behind. :((((

A FRIENDSHIP BRACELET CHOI BEOMGYU HOW DID YOU FUCKED THIS UP.

“It’s more like..” He hesitates, biting the inside of his cheek as his gaze strays by the bracelet in your hands: “Like a piece of me.” Your eyes widen when he suddenly takes a step forward, reaching for the accessory as he plucks it from your fingers. “So that, in a way, I’ll always be with you”,

SERENE OMAYGOD. HOW CAN HE CHANGE SOMUCH.

You keep it for two years, tucked inside the top drawer of your bedside table where it resides, waiting for the day where you might finally be able to look at it without bursting into tears.

don't mind me… i'm just crying here.

The silence that follows echoes through your small dorm. And you remain on your bed, motionless, staring ahead as your fingers reach up to touch your lips. — Still burning with the fire he’d igninited.

The fact that I was silent the whole time till I reached this part was because it was intense and I couldn't breath the whole time??? What the fuck did just happened. god-tier writing pls.

OH GOD KAI MENTION, I STILL HAVENT MOVED ON. taehyun is the best boy, no questions asked. i love him, i’d give him my whole heart. HE’S NOT JUST A WANT, HE’S A NEED.

the conversation between beomgyu and yeonjun… idk, it feels so ugh!! i know i should be focusing on the story, but i can’t help getting emotional over how defensive yeonjun is for the trocy mc. it’s so reassuring, like solid proof that he’s still so fucking in love with her. and honestly, that healed something in me because i know how badly she was bullied and everything she went through. (what are you doing, baby???)

Tomorrow he would not speak of this. He would act as if it never happened, he would bury it as deep as he could. He might think that this is his only solution today, that this will be his solace for whatever might’ve set him off. But it isn’t, and when this night morphs into dawn, he will realize that. — You don’t want him to.

I FEEL SO BAD FOR THE READER OMG. SHES STRONGER THAN ME.

“I love you.”

this is what i’ve been piecing together since i saw their flashbacks—the bracelet, her craving for revenge. it’s all because she loves beomgyu. :((((

The bed was empty that following morning. The only trace of Beomgyu were the rustled sheets where he’d slept. And you spent nearly an hour tracing their patterns with the tips of your fingers, following every crease of duvet carefully as you memorized the shape of him.

Girl if this is not love I've lived in a lie my whole life.

“Hey uh..” He scratches the back of his neck rather awkwardly, his eyes darting around the empty hallway. “You don’t happen to know if there’s someone with keys to classroom 017? - My girl forgot one of her books in there before the break you see..” —

MY GIRL. CHOI YEONJUN TROCYJ PLEASE, I’M STILL THIRSTING FOR HIM!!! AND YOU WROTE THIS SO VIVIDLY, I CAN SEE HIM BEING ALL AWKWARD AND SHY??? THE FACT THAT HE’S CAREFREE AND SMILING—UGH, LOVE LOVE LOVE. 😭💖

My heart hurts so much that to this point Yeonjun completely given up on… Beomgyu. :(

“It changes everything, alright?” His chest heaves when he exhales, his eyes flaring with the same fire they had that night, the night when he wasn’t thinking straight. He probably wasn’t right now either. — “Because”, he swallows, tongue darting out to wet his lips as he regains his composure. “Because I don’t know how else to change things.”

MOM I CAN FIX HIM. crying

“I fucking hate the fact that you’re always on my mind, much more do I hate that I never even try to will those thoughts away.” Beomgyu bites his bottom lip, chewing on it for a good five seconds before letting it go as he sneaks a glance your way. “But I…” He sighs as he finally comes to a conclusion after his long battle with himself. — “I don’t hate you. I want to, but I can’t”

I can breathe now. I wanna sob (still).

In the pale winter air it became clear. Beomgyu was lonely, just as lonely as you.

how can you write something this… beautiful?

WHAT'S WITH YOU AND BRACELETS??? FIRST A MOMMY'S BOY AND NOW THIS??? I WAS NEVER EVEN A FAN OF BRACELETS, BUT NOW I CAN’T THINK ABOUT THEM THE SAME WAY. THE FACT THAT HE KEPT IT ALL THIS TIME—LIKE HIS OLD SELF WAS STILL THERE, TUCKED AWAY. THIS IS IT. THIS IS EVERYTHING. I’M HONESTLY SOBBING. THE BEST WAY FOR HIM TO REDEEM HIMSELF. 😭💔

and just so you know, i cried during the scene where he and yeonjun reconciled. you did it again. the emotional impact you left on me here… i can’t even put it into words. i love this fic so much. i love you. and i’m just so, so happy that beomgyu’s troubles are finally resolved.

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐈 𝐁𝐄𝐎𝐌𝐆𝐘𝐔

𝓓𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌 𝓔𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐘 ⸝⸝ And you don’t know why you took a step forward, why you let your hands brush against his, why you didn’t stop when you saw the bewilderment on his face. You don’t know why you leaned in closer, when you should be pulling back. — And you don’t know why you couldn’t look away, why you couldn’t tear your gaze from the flames dancing across his eyes. 

You don’t know why you kissed him. ⸝⸝

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ wc, 25.5k ་༘࿐

𝓹airing bully!beomgyu x fed-up!reader (f) 𝔀arning friends to enemies to lovers, bullying, implied violence, violence, beomgyu's a dick, reader's also mean at times, college au, kissing, fingering, mutual masturbation, unprotected sex + pullout, angsty confessions, hmm um um what else, I have no clue..

#serene adds ✎... HAPPY BEOMGYU DAY !! (because it's still the 13th here) ⎯ and oh my god have you guys been waiting for this fic... how long has it been, 6/7 months? maybe even more... I have no words. I feel like this fic is a little all over the place, you might notice the inner monologue changing and so on, but that's because I've been writing it over 6 months roughly, my view on the story has changed with each month... I hope it'll still be worth your while >.< happy gyu day, my love <33 - rain says I need to mention her

This story is a sequel to, The Redemption of Choi Yeonjun ⎯ It's advised that you read said fic beforehand !

People change for the stupidest of reasons. At least Beomgyu thinks so. He’s been told that his view of the world is narrow, that change is something good, something that everyone goes through. That change is important. What a load of bullshit. Look what change had done to his best friend. — Ever since Yeonjun had gotten together with that stupid nerd he’d changed. Changed for the worse. And it seemed as if Beomgyu was the only one who could see it. 

He glares at his classmates, but his once sharp gaze seems to have lost its touch. They whisper, talk, murmur, gossip, they speculate about him. Because everyone knew that something had happened between The Choi’s, that something was no longer the same. — But why him? Beomgyu wasn’t the one who’d changed, they changed, not him. Yeonjun was the one who…He was the one who became infatuated with that good for nothing nerd, and Soobin he…he just accepted it? 

Beomgyu almost snorts at the thought. Fine. If they wanted to give everything up just like that, they could, why should he care? But the lingering glances he receives as he pushes through the crowded hallways are near impossible to shake off. So what if he was walking alone? He didn’t need his friends, they weren’t his friends anymore, they were just side pieces in a much bigger pictur– 

“Hey! Watch where you’re going freak!” He seethes as a small boy crashes into his chest, a freshman probably. Beomgyu’s eyes narrow as he seizes the kid. The younger male swallows as he scrambles to gather his belongings, clearing his throat awkwardly as he pushes his glasses further up on his nose. — “I-I’m so sorry I wasn’t looking where I was going and I..” 

What a pathetic being. Beomgyu grimaces at his petty apology, “stay out of my way next time, alright? You weak piece of–” 

“Why don’t you pick on someone your own size?” 

The voice is familiar as it pierces through the crowded hallway and suddenly the previous buzz of students surrounding him diminishes as Beomgyu’s gaze flickers past the small boy in front of him. — You. 

His teeth grind together at the sight of your cocky figure, that smug grin you always wore, as if you were better than everyone else, as if you were better than him. What a joke. Ever since him and his friends broke apart, you seemed to have been actively plotting against him, singling him out now that he was alone. — Beomgyu would die before admitting that your schemes ever proved successful. Because if there was one thing he hated, it was people who meddled in his business. And you seemed to know nothing else. 

The young freshman scurries off before Beomgyu has the chance to grab him and he bites back a frustrated groan. Instead his attention shifts to your approaching frame. With the small squeak of your sneakers against the floor, you stop inches from him, your eyes near level with his. — Blood rushes within his body like never before, anger soaring through him at the mere sight of your pestering face. 

“Pick on someone my own size? And that would be what, you?” He scoffs, eyeing you with disdain. The grin on your lips only widened further and he refused another grimace. Then it clicks, and Beomgyu has to hold himself back as he feels his jaw twitch. — “You.” The acknowledgement is a short huff of air, it hits your face and you squint as your eyes pierces his. “You’re the one who’s been running their mouth about me all week.” 

Suppose you had been mentioning his name a little here and there. A few comments, nothing crazy, nothing that wasn’t true. It wasn’t exactly unwarranted either. Choi Beomgyu was a nuisance. And without his friends to protect him, you were finally able to sharpen the knife that had been so diligently resting behind your back for three years. — You had longed for an opportunity to get back at him for all the shit he caused you through freshman and junior year; and finally, the universe presented you with one. 

You glance over at him, it would merely take a small raise of your heel for your eyes to become leveled perfectly with his. Without that tall friend of his, looming behind his back, or Yeonjun’s authoritative status, Choi Beomgyu was really nothing. — That didn’t change the fact that you absolutely loathed him. And you would be sure to have him know. 

“Why, has something interesting caught your ears?” You drawl, feeling the grin on your lips threatening to bloom into a smirk. Beomgyu’s face morphs into a scowl, undoubtedly familiar with the rumors of him you’d conducted during the past weeks. — “You must think you’re so smart, sitting on your ass all day and spewing nonsense”, he grits as he takes a charging step forward, chest colliding with yours and you almost stumble backward. 

It takes some effort but you manage to remain fairly unfazed as you eye him with indifference. It only serves to make him angrier. Beomgyu was like an open book, a book in which you only had to read the paragraph on the very back to understand exactly how it would end. He was predictable, and without his friends, he was an easy target for someone who’d been studying him for so long. 

“I do”, you chirp, hands clasping behind your back as you sway on the spot. Beomgyu scoffs, giving a small roll of his eyes before his firing gaze centers on you again. “Just stay out of my way.” — His attention drops to the uniform you wore, the one school handed out at the beginning of each year, much different from the designer one he had tailored each semester. It was subtle, but different, and Beomgyu’s grin widened as his eyes raked across your worn out shoes and old bag. “Think you’ve got other things to worry ‘bout.” 

Without another word, he continues down the hallway, though not before giving your shoulder a harsh shove. — Your lip twitches into an uncomfortable grimace and with a small huff you readjust your backpack. Fucking asshole. Your tongue prods against your teeth, tsking slightly as you watch him disappear. 

⸝⸝ 

“Oh come on, do you really think it’s that bad of an idea?” You whine as your cheek rests against your forearm, eyes trained on the words being written out on the paper before you. — “I do”, Taehyun states without lifting his pencil from the sheet, brows slightly furrowed as he focuses on his work. 

With a small huff you peer up at him, the glasses on the bridge of his nose are crooked and you resist the urge to snatch them from his face. “And what does Mr. Class President presume I should do then?” You sarcastically wonder; though the question makes him raise a disbelieving brow as he glances toward you. “I suggest you stay out of trouble.” — Just as you open your mouth in objection, does he cut you off; “and not spread rumors about him.” 

Your expression contorts into one of disagreement but you remain silent. In a way, you suppose you should feel thankful for him. Taehyun was your only friend, if friends were even what one could call you. — The mutual acquaintanceship consisted of you sharing the latest events of your quite dull life, recapping the drama you’d picked up on your way to the school cafeteria, and most importantly; Choi Beomgyu. 

Though he was originally opposed to the friendship, Taehyun had begrudgingly come to accept your persistent presence as you lingered by his desk between classes. And by your senior year, he knew everything that was to know about Beomgyu and why you so loathed him. — “Shouldn’t you let go of him? We’re about to graduate next year”, he states, his voice monotone as always but you could clearly decipher a hint of pleading as he urged for you to stop fawning over the guy. 

“Let go?” You scoff, sitting up a bit straighter as you eye him with a frown, “I do not need to ‘let go’, I need revenge, besides, Christmas break is coming up, I need to act fast.” — Seemingly unimpressed by your enthusiasm, Taehyun merely shakes his head as his focus returns to the piece of paper in front of him, scribbling down a few lines before he sighs; “and how exactly do you plan on doing that?” 

The way your face lit up was unmistakable and you could practically see him regret his words as you shuffled closer. “Well, I happen to have a plan–” But before you can finish, the classroom door swings open and your professor enters. With a small scowl, you lean back in your chair as Taehyun immediately disregards you, turning his full attention to the lecture about to take place. Jeez, what a try-hard.

History was far from your favorite, but the mention of a group project sparked your interest. Your professor was old, a tall and lanky man, and as he announced the presentation you were to hold regarding a historic event, the class groaned. — Immediately turning to Taehyun with hopeful eyes, you’re met with a small glare before he sighs and nods, announcing that the two of you could partner up. With delight you open your mouth to thank him when your history teacher’s raspy voice suddenly interrupts you. 

“Though seeing as your parallel class is taking the very same course, I thought it’d be a good idea to merge the two of you. – It’ll save me some time when grading as well”, he huffs as a small grin tugs at his wrinkled lips. — It doesn’t take long for the room to be drowned in a chaotic murmur. Your brows pull together in a confused frown and you twist in your seat, “what’s that supposed to mean?” — Taehyun merely shrugs as his eyes flicker between you and your professor by the board, and for once he seemed equally lost. 

A quiet cough makes your gaze snap back to your old teacher as he rummages through his bag for a small piece of paper. “Now I know you aren’t too acquainted with the other class, so I’ve taken the liberty of pre-arranging partners for you.” His statement is met with another wave of complaints and displeased groans as students leaned back in their chairs and shook their heads. 

“Wait, does this mean we won’t get to work together?” You wonder to which Taehyun gives a small nod, “most likely.” — You felt your heart drop at least ten floors as you watched your old teacher fasten the small piece of paper to the board. The sound of chairs scraping against the hard floor fills the classroom as everyone scurries toward the front, eager to see who they’d been partnered up with. 

Without thinking you, too, rise from your desk as you pull Taehyun by his arm, yanking him toward the board. It takes a few shoves to get through the crowd that had formed, but soon enough, you’re standing in front of the list. — Your eyes fervently scan the names, going over the rows at least twice before you find yours. It was as if all air had been sucked from your lungs, your throat uncomfortably dry as you eye the jagged scribbles. Next to your own name was ‘Choi Beomgyu’. 

Behind you, Taehyun lets out a short huff, his lips pulling into a menacing smirk as he eyes your expression. — “Was this also part of your ‘plan’?” 

⸝⸝

“I’m doomed!” You exclaim, hands feverishly tugging at your hair as you cling onto Taehyun’s shoulder. Met with a shrug from your friend who trudges forward, you pout, jutting your chin out as you whine in his ear. “What do I do?” — Taehyun sighs, pushing his glasses further up on his nose as his eyes scan the nearly empty hallway. “This is exactly why you shouldn’t have gotten on his bad side”, he scolds and you huff. 

“Come on now”, you mutter as you release your grip on him, “a rumor here and there has never hurt anyone.” — “Besides, aren’t you supposed to be taking my side?” You finish with a small frown, the crease on your forehead only deepening when he doesn’t say anything. “You told everyone that he threw up in one of the school bathrooms”, he then states and you snort, a small grin seeping onto your face. “So? He might’ve.” 

Taehyun shakes his head, “my point is, you’re already off to a bad start.” — His statement makes you slow down, the shift in your pace causing him to nearly stop as Taehyun turns to you with a confused look. “You’re talking as if I’m the one who should watch myself. – Tae, he’s an asshole, if anything, he should feel ashamed.” 

Your friend bites his lip as his gaze flits between the floor to the books in his hands, and you wondered if you had said something wrong. Choi Beomgyu had earned himself quite the infamous reputation at your college along with the other Choi’s, everyone knew that they were bad news, so why did no one speak against it? — Why did Taehyun cower at the name? 

You couldn’t possibly understand their unreasonable fear. 

But you don’t have to ponder for long, because mere moments later, an all too familiar voice calls out. — “Hey, class president!” Beomgyu’s nasty drawl echoes off the desolate walls as he nears you. His hands are shoved in the pockets of his expensive uniform, and he walks with an allude of confidence. 

Upon hearing his name called, Taehyun freezes beside you as he hesitantly turns to face the source of the voice. Stopping mere inches from your friend, Beomgyu leans forward with a smug smirk and Taehyun hastily blinks under his glasses. You watch their small exchange with a puzzled expression. — “You got my essay?” Beomgyu asks as he quirks a brow in the shorter male's direction. His essay? 

Taehyun nods as he reaches for the bag swung over his shoulder, undoing the zipper as he rummages through its contents. Beomgyu watches him with a look of nonchalance, seemingly unaware of your presence as he focuses on your friend before him. — “Here”, Taehyun murmurs as he hands him at least four pages worth of paper, neatly stapled together. 

Beomgyu scans through it leisurely before giving Taehyun’s shoulder a harsh pat, making the shorter wince. “What’s the meaning of this?” You spit, unable to help yourself as you witnessed the person you so loathed go after your only friend like that. Finally, he seems to acknowledge you as Beomgyu’s eyes snap in your direction, his hand falling from Taehyun’s shoulder as his face contorts into a small scowl. 

Despite the lack of his friends, he still made do with the reputation he had left. Your rumors seemed to have made an insignificant dent in the power he held. But…Taehyun? Of all people, he wouldn’t possibly… Your gaze flits down to the essay in Beomgyu’s hand and over to your friend who avoided your gaze as he urged for you to come with him without causing a bigger scene. 

“Why don’t you stay out of my business.” Beomgyu sneers as he eyes you with distaste. “Business? You call this business?” You frown as you shrug Taehyun’s hands from your arm, stepping between your friend and the menace before him. — Your nose could practically graze his as you let out a short breath of air, meeting his furious gaze with one of your own. 

“Bullying people into doing your work? How do you expect to make it outside of college?” The comment makes his already angered expression flare up and you catch his hands curling into fists by his sides. — “Worry ‘bout yourself won’t you?” he scoffs, ready to push past you.. until your next words catch him off guard. 

“Well that’s going to be difficult, seeing as we’re partners now.” 

He stops, dark eyes snapping back to yours within milliseconds and you feel Taehyun’s hand urgently tug at your arm as he silently pleads for you to back down. — “What?” The word comes out as a mere hiss and you can’t help but feel a triumphant grin pull at the corner of your lips. Ah, so he didn’t know yet. 

“Haven’t you heard?” — You let your head fall to the side, an amused expression flashing across your features as you take in his puzzled and angered state, so predictable. “Mr. Brown’s class, the history project, we’re partners, you and me.” The dread that had previously consumed you seemed minimal when you with satisfaction watched Beomgyu’s face practically explode in a multitude of enraged questions; none of which you were planning on answering. 

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?” He spits, a look of disbelief presenting itself across his otherwise arrogant face. You shrug, letting Taehyun pull you back as you send him a small wave, “that we’ll be seeing a lot more of each other I suppose.” — Before you can get another word out, your friend has pulled you down the hall in a most hurried manner; scurrying to get away from Beomgyu's piercing gaze as he leans against the wall with a small huff, eyeing you with a mixture of fury and intrigue. 

“What the hell was that?” Taehyun grumbles as he drags you along, walking with determined strides. You merely roll your eyes as you let yourself be swayed down the long corridors. — “I should be asking you that”, you counter, still not over the fact that he had written an entire essay for the scumbag. 

Not late to catch on, Taehyun bites the inside of his cheek as he fiddles with the glasses on his nose. “Nothing you should worry about”, he mutters, intent on disregarding any further questions. “Nothing I should worry about? What are you, his slave?” — “Don’t say it like that”, he groans and you frown, stopping completely as you break yourself free from his grasp. 

With an exasperated sigh, Taehyun turns to you as he runs a hand through his short hair. “Listen, it was a one time thing and..” — “That’s how it always starts”, you huff, rolling your eyes as you shake your head. “Soon he’ll be asking you to write his exams for him as well”, you exclaim, throwing an accusing finger down the hall. 

But Taehyun only shakes his head as he waves his hands in front of him in denial. “I’m just helping him out..!” — Your gaze narrows down on your friend, helping him out? Sure Taehyun was many things, friendly? – was not one of them. And to think that he was willingly helping one of the Choi’s with something so trivial… 

“Does he have something on you?” You ask, watching as Taehyun’s eyes widened, “is that why you’re slaving away like this?” — “No I..” He begins but quickly seals his lips in a tight grimace, “you don’t understand.” Like hell you didn’t. Why on earth would anyone stoop to such a level. For over two years you had watched as the Choi’s ruled your school, and to say that you were sick of it would be an understatement. 

Perhaps your hatred for the small trio was rooted deeper than your peers. Especially your hatred for Choi Beomgyu. — Because you hadn’t always hated him, in fact, at one point, you think you might’ve even liked him. 

⸝⸝ 

“Hey, is this seat taken?” 

The voice is warm, kind and friendly. It makes you blink as you tear your gaze from the small pile of nail polish that had accumulated on your desk, your nervous habit of picking at the paint evident. — First day of freshman year, first day of college, that had been the day. 

With a small nod, you motion toward the chair next to your own. He takes the seat, grinning from ear to ear as he studies you with curiosity. “Nervous?” He wonders as he tilts his head to the side. “Yeah..” Your quiet whisper is near inaudible but he still seems to pick up on it as his lips stretch further. “Me too”, he says and you can’t help but frown, he didn’t look nervous in the slightest as he comfortably leaned back in his chair, fiddling with the collar of his shirt leisurely. 

He was way out of your league. — Yet he reaches a hand out, eyes darting from yours and down to your own intertwined fingers. His palm is soft and warm against yours, his grip unwavering as he shakes your hand. “I’m Beomgyu, Choi Beomgyu”, he smiles, it’s a kind smile, and your heart flutters at the sight. 

Choi Beomgyu. What a pretty name. 

You spend your first week with him, it was nice to have someone you could call a friend. Someone who made you feel less alone, and Beomgyu did, the two of you were friends, you think. 

You ate lunch together… 

“Tofu’s the best when grilled”, Beomgyu hums as he shoves a forkful in his mouth, barely swallowing as he loads yet another one. You giggled as your gaze returned to your own plate, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips. The cafeteria was both crowded and loud, you had dreaded the days you would spend alone in here. 

But as Beomgyu found a nice and secluded table for the two of you, even pulling your chair out with an over exaggerated bow to which you rolled your eyes, you felt hopeful. — Perhaps college wouldn’t be so bad after all. 

And you studied after school…

“If 9 is the value of ‘x’ then all we have to do is replace the variables with such”, you say as you scribble across his notebook. Beomgyu’s frown was nearly dented into his forehead, his bottom lip caught between his teeth in concentration. “But how does nine become ‘x’? Isn’t nine a number and ‘x’ a letter?”He wonders to which you shake your head. 

“Not in this case”, you state before drawing a small ‘x = 9’. Scratching the back of his neck dumbfoundedly, Beomgyu gives a deflated sigh as he slumps against his chair. — “I’m never graduating.” 

You even saw one another outside of school…though only once.. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever been here..” You quietly mumble, eyes flitting across the expensive looking furniture. The restaurant was small but reeked of wealth, the meals here were surely out of your budget but Beomgyu had insisted on you joining him one friday evening. — “What?” He exclaims in bewilderment, “Are you kidding? This is the best place in town!” 

True to his word, he paid for your meal, not hearing you out on trying to pay him back in the near future. — “Spending time with you is more than enough”, he says as a matter-of-factly, arm wrapping around your shoulders as you walk down the empty streets. 

Not to forget that one time he’d asked for your number… 

“I mean it’s just… I think you’re cool and..” He clears his throat, sending you a sheepish smile before continuing. “Just y’know, for staying in touch and things..” — The timidness of his request made your heart flutter as a grin spread across your lips. 

“Of course I’ll give you my number, silly!” 

The relief immediately flooding his face was palpable as he sighs, eagerly fishing his phone up for you to put the digits in. He made sure to add a pink heart next to your name, promising to be at your every beck and call should you ever need him. 

It was friendship, right? 

Doing stuff together, noticing things about each other, like the cute little mole on his left cheek, accentuating his already endearing grin. Or his habit of pushing his hair from his face with the help of his pinky, carefully touching up the dark strands, almost absentmindedly. 

You wondered if Beomgyu noticed things about you too. Did he see things you didn’t, and did he like them? Did he like you? Perhaps you would’ve gotten answers to all of those questions, had things turned out differently. 

It was inevitable, of course, you were all enrolled in the same class after all, they were bound to bump into one another soon enough. But things changed when Beomgyu met Choi Yeonjun, changed for the worse. And it didn’t take long for him to become someone completely different, someone unrecognizable. 

Slowly he stopped showing up to your study sessions. More often he’d make excuses to not walk you to class. You began eating lunch alone, and before you knew it, Beomgyu was no longer part of your life. — Except he was, just as someone else. Someone cruel, someone who didn't care about what others felt, someone who only lived to make others suffer. 

His new friends were no different, and together they earned themselves an infamous reputation as the school’s bullies. It hurt. Seeing them act so nonchalantly when toying with others, with people who’d done nothing to upset them. — And as you catch him in the hallway one day, a much smaller student hoisted up by the collar of his shirt, Beomgyu’s grip unwavering as he spits insults in the younger’s face. 

It was then you grew to loathe Choi Beomgyu. 

⸝⸝ 

Your finger hovers over the block button as you lay in bed that night. Back then, just as you applied to switch classes, as you tried to get as far away from him as possible, you had rid yourself of his number too. Part of you thinks you should’ve deleted the old chats along with blocking him, but something held you back. It felt…oddly comforting, re-reading the old messages between the two of you, a glimmer of what you’d once had, of what he’d once been. How pathetic. 

With a small groan you let your phone fall down onto the mattress next to you, shifting to lay on your side as you prepare to let sleep overtake you. He would have to bring it up, because there was no way in hell that you were unblocking and texting first. — “Fucking piece of shit”, you tiredly murmur, letting yourself fall into a very uncomfortable slumber, plagued by the thoughts of your upcoming weeks. 

Beomgyu did not text you first. In fact he didn’t text you at all. The whole weekend goes by, and not a single word. Taehyun on the other hand, had been paired up with some stuck up bitch, he’d told you her name, something on M…M, M, M… Ah yes, Mimi. She’d dated one of the Choi’s, until he left her for that shy nerd, served her right. — But even the two of them had already gotten together to get working on their presentation. 

You had until Christmas break, but that was a mere three weeks away, and at this rate, you’d be lucky to get done by graduation. — Finally, your gloomy reality sets in, and you heave a loud sigh as you drag yourself down the hallway. History classes had become optional, and without your partner, there was little to be done. You spend the hour roaming the third and second floor, sneakers squeaking against the uneven tiles. 

Upon passing that one peculiar little red door, your ears are met with the muffled sounds of what could only be someone getting their guts absolutely plowed. Your nose wrinkles in disgust, ‘room 291’, you could only imagine how many girls had lost their virginity in there. — Shaking your head, your gaze returns forward, but instead of continuing your eternal journey down the long corridors, you freeze. 

The object of your affection was standing right there. You thought he’d skipped. Anything to avoid the project at hand you’d supposed. But Beomgyu’s eyes meet yours, and though he’s all the way down the hall, you still catch the disgust lingering in them. His lip twitches, jaw clenching for a split second, and then he’s turned on his heel, marching down the hallway faster than you could blink. 

You scramble to catch up, upping your pace to a light jog as you call for him. “Hey asshole!” But he isn’t listening, nor is he stopping. In fact…Was he walking even faster? What a dick. “Hey wait up!” Fuck, was he really going to make you chase after him? How immature. — Thankfully having made the girl’s football team in seventh grade seemed to have paid off, and you managed to reach him soon enough. 

Fingers clasping around his forearm, you yank him backward, making him spin around on the spot as he collides with you. The crash makes you wince and you retreat, blinking to regain focus before turning your attention to him. Beomgyu was already watching you, his lips curled into a nasty scowl as his brows furrowed. “What?” He spits, his voice barely above a hiss.

Suddenly, you realize just how close the two of you were standing, chests nearly grazing one another, and the scent of his cologne invades your senses; it was the same one he’d worn for all of college, at least that hadn’t changed. — You clear your throat, quickly scanning the empty hallway before you turn to him, plastering on the sternest of expression you could muster. “The project”, you say, subtly straightening your back. Beomgyu raises a questioning brow as his hands dig into the pockets of his uniform.

You frown, and only when you add the word “history” does he seem to catch on. “Oh yeah, that one”, his features relax, lips pulling into a small grin, “how’s it coming along?” Your mouth opens and closes again. “Excuse me?” You huff, the anger in your words palpable. Still running with his act of obliviousness, Beomgyu shrugs, it was clear that he enjoyed the easy rise he was getting out of you. How you would practically explode over his mere existence. You think he liked making you like that, perhaps it made him feel in control. 

Well he wasn’t. Not anymore. 

“It’s a group project”, you state, folding your arms across your chest, “there’s no way I’m doing this alone.” — Beomgyu looks almost as if he's considering your words, his lips pursed and head tilted to the side. “So ask your little friend to tag along, I’m sure he’d be more than happy to”, he jeers, flashing you a nasty smirk. Was he talking about Taehyun? Your Taehyun. The same Taehyun that he’d made write his essay. 

Your feet move on their own as you take a quick step forward, jabbing an accusing finger to his chest and Beomgyu’s face contorts into a small scowl at the action. “You’re hilarious if you honestly think I’d let you off the hook this easy, that I’d just let you sit back and take credit for my hard work.” You move to shove him backward but his hand is already clasped around your wrist, restraining any movement. 

“Get your fucking hands off of me”, he spits, yanking you from his chest with a force that was near bruising. — “Why? Scared that I’ll dirty your expensive attire with my grimy hands?” You retort as you gesture toward his clothes. Beomgyu sneers as he shakes his head, his long hair falling in front of his face before he pushes it back again. “You’ve already tarnished my reputation with that dirty mouth of yours”, he barks, eyes flickering with malice, “got nothin’ better to do than spreading shit about me, do you?” 

He shifts on the spot, his gaze wandering down the hall briefly, as if checking for witnesses before his attention returns to you. “I’m not stupid, I know it’s you, and I know you’re behind this whole group project too.” — Woah there, way to get ahead of himself. You scoff, arms falling to your sides as you regard him with disbelief. “You think I set this up on purpose? As if I’d want to be anywhere near you-”

 “Well you sure act like it”, he cuts you off, gesturing toward the two of you and the empty hallway you were currently occupying. “Chasing after me like this, trying to get me alone, and the rumors”, his face flashes with something akin to contempt, a spark of his usually crude and mean demeanor simmering through his facade of hate. “I mean come on, it’s obvious.” 

Your jaw could practically sweep the floor at this rate and you almost wanted to laugh at the near comical situation. “Whatever it is you’re implying, I can assure you, you’re way off”, you huff, quick to defend yourself. His fingers are still locked around your wrist, an almost tingling sensation spreading through your arm. Upon trying to tug yourself free from his grasp, Beomgyu’s hand only tightens around yours, dark eyes boring into your own as he scoffs: “Cut the crap. You’ve been chasing after me for years.” 

The blunt accusation makes you pause, and for a moment every single comprehensive thought completely evaporates from your head. Chasing after him? No. You’d been trying to make his life a living hell, so what if that included knowing his entire schedule and who he hung out with? It was all part of a much bigger picture, a picture his tiny brain failed to comprehend. — But then again, Beomgyu had always had an ego made out of steel. It wouldn’t be the first time he would twist and turn a situation entirely in his favor. 

“What’s it that loser friend of yours said? To let me go?” He chuckles, warm breath hitting your already flaring face. How did he know about that? Just how much had Taehyun told him when doing his essay? — Your usually sharp mind can’t seem to conjure a single witty remark, and you’re left biting the inside of your cheek as you send him a bitter glare. 

His hand lets go of your wrist, and Beomgyu takes a step back. “Perhaps you should listen to Mr. Class Pres, it might do you good.” With a final cruel smirk, he shoves past you, shoulder slamming against yours as he ventures down the hallway with his hands leisurely stuffed into his pockets. 

You want to scream, throw something at him, possibly advocate for murder, but you do nothing, nothing but watch his retreating figure as he disappears down the corridor. Fucking asshole. 

⸝⸝

That night left you in a flammable state. Anger gnawed at your very being as you paced the small space of your dormitory. Who was he to speak to you like that? And how would you ever make this project work? Talking to him was useless, a complete and utter waste of time. — Then it hits you. Like a small lightbulb being turned on over your head. Talking to him was pointless, you knew that. But what if you just didn’t speak? 

The cafeteria is as packed as it could get that following Tuesday, and you have to paddle through the large ocean of students, all eager to find an empty seat. You, on the other hand, couldn’t care less for today’s plain lunch menu, and instead of searching a clear table, your eyes scan for the most crowded one. 

It doesn’t take long for you to spot him. Surrounded by a heap of what you could only assume to be acquaintances, Beomgyu sits perched on a table in the center of the room. Conversation flows around him but his gaze is glued to his phone in his hand, mindlessly swiping across the screen in a bored manner. You wondered if he even knew the names of those surrounding him. You guessed not. Beomgyu had a.. unique way of making friends, if friends were even what they were. They looked more like tokens, perhaps he used them to appear less alone. 

His attention suddenly shifts from the device in his hands and you follow its direction, eventually landing on a table not far from his. — Occupied sparsely by a mere three students, three students whom you easily recognized. Choi Yeonjun leans forward, his arm wrapped around a girl you recognized as his girlfriend. He looks to be in deep conversation with the third of their small party, Choi Soobin. 

They used to be friends, Beomgyu and them. You remember it clearly. The harsh words, the glares, the distaste on their faces whenever they passed you by in the hallway. But something had obviously happened, a small rift in an otherwise unbreakable circle. And you’re not late to pick up on the way Beomgyu continues to glance their way, even when surrounded by at least a dozen others. You recognize the look in his eyes, the longing. It was the same way you’d been looking at him for the past two years. 

Perhaps he had a weakness after all. 

Your fist slams against the firm surface of his table, making everyone around you snap their heads in your direction. Their eyes boring into you suddenly made you waver, but you shake it off, turning your attention to your target, now only inches from yourself. — Beomgyu glances up from his phone, brows immediately furrowing as his lips part. Surely he had an insult waiting on his tongue, but you cut to the chase by shoving a small piece of paper in his free hand. 

His confused gaze flickers down to the note as he begins unwrapping it, only to be stopped by your hand on his as you shake your head. You mouth the words “not here”, and he scoffs, though shoving the paper in his pocket. — His token friends all burst out into “oooo”s as they wiggle their eyebrows suggestively. 

Beomgyu pays them little mind as he rolls his eyes, instead he watches your retreating figure as you push past the crowd in which you had emerged from. A subtle smirk playing on his lips as he mindlessly fiddles with the note in his pocket. 

⸝⸝

You had no idea if your plan was even going to work. Would he show up? Or had he thrown the paper in the trash at the first opportunity he got? — Running a frustrated hand through your hair, you sigh, casting a quick glance at the time on your phone, 5:27 pm. He still had three minutes. 

Gnawing on the inside of your cheek, you start to reconsider the choice of bringing him to your dorm room, was it really such a good idea? Though it was hardly like he’d show up anywhere in public with you. This was your best bet, you think.. 

The minutes tick by and your anxiety levels only rise, heart hammering in your chest as you pace the small space of your dormitory. By 5:47 you realized that he was a no-show. A weird mixture of disappointed relief floods you, it’s strange, you had expected the disappointment but why did you feel relieved? Did the idea of spending time alone with him scare you? No. That was impossible. 

Flopping down onto your bed, you emit a small sigh, letting your eyes flutter closed as you replay today’s scenario in your head. Scared? What a joke, Beomgyu didn’t scare you, he was nothing but an immature, selfish, rude piece of–

Knock knock. 

Your body jolts forward, flying off the bed like a deer in headlight as your head snaps in the direction of your door. He came? He actually came. You didn’t know whether to cry or laugh as you gingerly got up. — As you head for the door, you stop by the small mirror by your clothes drawer to check your reflection. Quickly running a hand through your hair, your eyes scan for a lip balm. You catch yourself mid-act, almost cringing at the way you tried to appear presentable. What the fuck were you doing?

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you twist the handle as the door glides open, revealing no other than Choi Beomgyu on the other side. He’s still wearing his school uniform, and his gaze quickly lands on the loose t-shirt and plain sweatpants you’re dressed in, a glimmer of distaste overshadowing his otherwise expressionless face. You ignore the silent insult as you clear your throat, “You’re late.” 

Beomgyu scoffs, his eyes darting down the hall either side of him before pushing past you as he steps inside. “You’re gonna nag me about that too?” He drawls, hands digging into his pockets as he saunters about, taking in the small space you resided in. You notice that he hasn’t brought along any study materials, and you internally groan. “Yes, I am. If this is going to work out then we’re going to have to work together”, you state, folding your arms across your chest as if to prove your point. 

Your partner merely hums as he fiddles with the papers scattered across your desk. “Cute room you’ve got”, he comments as he points to the entirety of your dorm. Your jaw slacks as you blink dumbfoundedly. Did he just give you a compliment? No, you catch the smugness in his voice, and the small glimpse of a smirk as he turns back to your desk. Asshole. 

“I’m serious”, you huff, “this project is important to me, we need to do well on it.” One thing you couldn’t afford to screw up were your grades. Not that they were anything spectacular of the sort, in fact you were flunking French. But as long as you did well in a few of your best subjects… History being one of them. 

Shoving the pen he was previously twirling between his fingers back into its container, Beomgyu turns to you with a sneer. “If it’s so important then I reckon you’d do better by yourself, I might just slow you down.” He regards you with an apathetic expression, almost as if he was waiting for you to snap, to lash out on him and to yell. You suppose it must surprise him when you instead only shake your head, dragging yourself over to your bed as you flop down with a heavy thud. 

“Let’s just get started”, you mutter, pulling your computer out as you power it on. Beomgyu cocks an eyebrow in your direction but doesn’t say anything as he leans onto your desk, hands returning to their default position in his pockets. — “How about one of us gathers information and the other one writes it down onto a powerpoint?” you suggest. He looks to be considering your words as he scratches his chin thoughtfully. 

“Fairs.” He shrugs as he pushes himself off the table and before you know it, the mattress dips next to you as he sits down. Your whole body tenses up, your eyes remaining glued to the computer screen in front of you as you avoid as much as peeking his way. You weren’t scared of him. But a part of you felt so oddly on-edge whenever he was around, you couldn’t quite place the feeling. 

His body radiates warmth, a warmth that spreads over to your own, a bead of sweat accumulating on your forehead as you swallow. You weren’t scared of him so why did your heart feel like it was going to beat out of your chest? — The smell of his expensive cologne, usually sickly strong as it tickles your nose, now only feels nostalgic as you breathe in. He’s so close that your hands are on the verge of touching, his pinky inches from yours. 

Beomgyu on the other hand seems unfazed as he peers over at your screen. “I’ll do the research part”, he states as he leans back against the headboard, “sounds less demanding.” You silently exhale in relief as he creates a safe radius of distance between the two of you, nodding as you hum in response. 

The two of you work like that, side by side in silence for a good while. At first you’re so engrossed in your work, doing anything to distract yourself from the fact that Beomgyu was quite literally less than three inches away, on your bed, in your dorm. But as time goes by, you finally dare to tear your gaze from the screen in front of you, and sneak a small peek at him. 

It felt almost surreal. Two years of being strangers in the halls, two years of constant insults, two years of hatred. Yet here he was, so close to you, just like he had been before everything changed, before he changed. 

But now, the two of you were doing something so mundane together. 

Your gaze lingers on him, even though it probably shouldn’t. But you can’t help the way your eyes trail across his seemingly relaxed expression. From the small, almost unnoticeable, furrow of his brows, the subtle pout of his bottom lip and the natural flush of his cheeks. Your attention strays by his dark eyes as they move along the words on his screen when reads. If you tried really hard, you might’ve been able to forget about everything that had happened, if only for a few minutes. 

Maybe. Just maybe. 

Suddenly, you want to reach out and touch him. To run your fingers through his long and unkempt hair, feel the skin of his hand in yours. And you almost do. Until you remember. — Things weren’t like that anymore, they hadn’t been for over two years. You almost recoil at the slip of your thoughts; for having allowed yourself to fantasize like that when reality was far from it. The Beomgyu before you wasn’t the Beomgyu you knew back then. No. You didn’t know this Beomgyu, and it’s with a bittersweet taste in your mouth that you accept said fact. 

You think half an hour might’ve passed when you notice that something’s off. Thirty minutes of radio silence from his otherwise enthusiastic mouth. And as you peer over your shoulder, you find him leisurely swiping across his screen, eyes glued to something that looked far from the information he was supposed to gather. — “What’re you doing?” The question slips from your lips without you actually thinking it through. Beomgyu’s head turns in your direction and he watches you with an expression that said, ‘what the fuck does it look like I’m doing?’

“I thought we agreed on working on the project”, you say as you point a finger toward your open laptop. Beomgyu merely shrugs, his eyes flitting back to the phone in his hand. “I’ve done my part”, he sighs and your brows knit together in confusion. A small tap of your finger leads you to the first slide of your powerpoint, in which he’d copied and pasted in what could only be pages worth of information. 

Seemingly noting your flabbergast expression, Beomgyu huffs, “Why, you can’t expect me to seriously read all of that?” — “So you’re saying we should just cheat our way through it?” The disbelief in your voice is palpable but he doesn’t seem to pick up on it as he gives a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders. “It’s not cheating. The information is out there to be used, doesn’t say how to use it”, he states. You have to bite your tongue in order to not let your words slip as you stare back at the computer screen with a puzzled face. 

He did have somewhat of a point. But you’d rather die than admit that. Besides, his ways would surely land you a ‘barely passed’ at most. And you wouldn’t have that. — Grumbling out a quiet, “whatever”, you turn back to the powerpoint as you begin sorting through the paragraphs pasted in there. You quickly become immersed in your work, and fail to notice how Beomgyu discards his phone on the bed as he glances around your room with curious eyes. 

You swallow a groan as you re-read the same paragraph for a third time, seemingly unable to focus with him around. Perhaps he was right, perhaps you should’ve just bit into the lemon and done this project on your own. — “Fuck, you kept this?” Beomgyu’s almost taunting voice snaps you from the text you were so close to giving up on, and you turn to him with a confused frown. 

Though your eyes quickly widened as they landed on the bracelet Beomgyu was holding between two fingers. Suddenly your heart is racing and your breaths are coming in short. The already thick air feels even heavier and you emit a shaky exhale. The brown leather, interlaced with streaks of blue, immediately sends your mind to places you hadn’t allowed it to wander for nearly two years..

⸝⸝

“A friendship bracelet?” you question as you eye the small piece Beomgyu had just handed you. The fine leather felt expensive and you wondered just how much he’d spent on this. It was braided together with a thinner blue thread, the cold shade a stark contrast to the warm brown leather, and your thumb slowly traces its outline as you bring it to your face. 

Beomgyu coughs into his hand, shaking his head as he rocks back and forth on the sole of his shoes. “When you put it like that it sounds childish”, he mutters, the tip of his ears radiating a warm pink and you feel your lips tug into a grin at the sight. — “It’s more like..” He hesitates, biting the inside of his cheek as his gaze strays by the bracelet in your hands: 

“Like a piece of me.” 

Your eyes widen when he suddenly takes a step forward, reaching for the accessory as he plucks it from your fingers. “So that, in a way, I’ll always be with you”, he says as he wraps the leather around your wrist. — It’s impossible to refrain from smiling and your cheeks heat up as he carefully fastens the bracelet around your arm. — Then your curious eyes suddenly fall on the leather around his own wrist, a darker and cooler brown intertwined with a warm red. 

A weird and tingly sensation spreads throughout your stomach as you swallow. And before Beomgyu can withdraw his hand again, do you stop him, fingers clasping around his wrists as you bring them together. — The blues and the reds, they remind you of the friendship necklaces you wore back in elementary school. Two halves of a heart, a childish but sweet promise to be what makes the other one whole. 

Was it childish? Probably. But it was Beomgyu, and you found that you did not care for such matters when he was around. In fact, you think you might even like it. — No, you did like it. You liked everything Beomgyu did, you liked everything about him. And though you were too shy to even admit it to yourself, you probably liked him too. 

“It’s okay right?” 

His sudden question snaps you from your train of thought and you blink as your gaze returns to his warm eyes. He looks…nervous? You’d never seen him like that. Beomgyu was always so adamantly prideful, and you don’t think you’d ever seen him waver. But you decide that you like this side of him too, the bashful and almost cute one. 

“I love it.” And you do, you really do. You love it so much that you keep it even when he stops wearing his. Even when he no longer represented your other half. You keep it for two years, tucked inside the top drawer of your bedside table where it resides, waiting for the day where you might finally be able to look at it without bursting into tears. 

⸝⸝

“Where did you get that?” Your tone is harsh and snappy but it barely makes him flinch as Beomgyu leisurely twirls the bracelet between two fingers. — You reach for it, but you’re too slow, and can only helplessly watch as his whole fist envelops the leather. “I expected a lot from you, granted that you’re still running your mouth about me and all”, Beomgyu drawls as he leans back against the pillows. “But you even kept this piece of shit?” — “I mean come on, it’s pathetic.” 

His words stung. Pathetic? Did he really think of your time together as that? Did he think of you as that? Of course he did, you idiot, get that through your thick skull. You hate Beomgyu. One half-successful study session in the privacy of your dorm didn’t change that and it never would. 

He probably threw his out, it would make the most sense if he did. Perhaps you should’ve too. You switched classes, blocked his number, and avoided him as best as you could in the halls. So why had you kept that? Why did you cling to something so insignificant? Why did it bring you comfort to feel the cool leather against your palm? 

“Just give it back”, you groan as you meekly try and pry his closed fist open. Beomgyu looks as if he’s going to put up a fight, say something nasty back, but he doesn’t. Instead he lets you untangle the bracelet from his fingers, watching as you snatch it back before throwing it on your bedside table once more.  — An uncomfortable silence falls over the two of you, weighing down like dark clouds on a previously sunny day. You wait for him to say something, but he never does. He only watches you with that nearly permanent half-smirk of his, brows tugged slightly upward as his eyes flicker across your flustered frame. 

“I think we’ve done enough for today.” The statement sounds monotone and gray as it falls from your lips. And even now, you expect a reply. Foolishly so, for Beomgyu merely shrugs, swinging his legs over the mattress as he gets up from your bed. — You don’t dare look up as he rounds your bed, your gaze stays by your discarded laptop. The sounds of his footsteps suddenly vanish and you carefully crank your head in the direction of your door. 

With one hand on the handle, Beomgyu looks back at you, his eyes glimmering with something you can’t quite decipher. His lips twitch into a full smirk, and for a moment, you think he might spit another insult on you. He doesn’t. — “See you in class, yeah?” Is all he says before twisting the doorknob and vanishing down the hall. 

And as the door slams shut behind him, you’re left in an unbearable silence. Carefully you reach for the bracelet, only to find it torn in half.  

⸝⸝

Beomgyu shows up to class after that. It takes you by surprise, and apparently everyone else too as heads turn in his direction when he pulls out the chair next to you. And though his work effort is minimal, he’s still there. You hate the satisfied feeling that blooms in your chest at the accomplishment. And you hate the fact that a small part of you has started looking forward to history class. But you would never tell him that, you would never tell anyone that, not even Taehyun… 

“Come on, it’s just one tiny little essay!” You complain in a distraught tone, dramatically kicking at a few stones on the road in front of you. The small rocks clash together as they roll down the gravel pathway that takes you around campus. — Taehyun squints against the bright sun that shone despite the cold December air. He shakes his head, exhaling a small cloud of condensation.  

“It’s less than fourteen days until Christmas break”, he argues as he shoves his hands deep into the pockets of the large coat he wore. “Well that’s exactly why I need your help!” You whine, throwing your frozen hands in the air. — “With everything going on, you know the history project and all, I’m going to seriously flunk French at this point Tae..” You sigh, turning to him with the biggest eyes you could muster as you stick your bottom lip out into a pathetic pout. 

“Please Tae, isn’t that what friends do?” 

Taehyun merely spares you a quick side glance before his focus returns ahead. “You can’t pull the ‘friend card’ whenever you’re falling behind”, he huffs. Biting the inside of your cheek, you think of another way to persuade him. “But if we study together? Then I’m bound to learn!” You suddenly exclaim, causing Taehyun to flinch due to your unanticipated outburst. 

“Fine..” He begrudgingly agrees, though quickly groaning as you wrap your arms around him in a tight hug. “I knew I could count on you!” You cheer before carefully letting him go again. — It’s when you pull back that you notice the figure by the benches a few paces away. You frown, gaze narrowing down on its hunched posture. It was odd for any student to be outside between classes during the cold and harsh winter months, let alone sit perched on one of the usual summer hangout spots. 

“Who’s that?” You question, your footsteps coming to an abrupt halt on the rough gravel. Taehyun groans as he turns to see where you might be looking, a small noise of disapproval passing his lips. “No one important, let’s go back inside”, he says as he pulls you along once more. — But in the bright light of the early afternoon-sun, the black hair atop the lonesome shadow’s head seemed awfully familiar. 

“Is that…Beomgyu?” Your inquiry is met by yet another groan from your friend. Taehyun tsk’s as he shoots a sneer in the direction of the lonely figure. “Wouldn’t that be even more reason to go back inside?” — Despite his greatest efforts, you ignore him as you venture off the small path and over the grass. Taehyun calls out for you, conflicted as his gaze flits between you and the entrance not far away. 

With a small roll of your eyes, you stop to wave him over. But Taehyun promptly shakes his head. “Fine, then go on inside, I’ll be right with you”, you say as you readjust the bag on your shoulder. He looks puzzled for a moment, lips pressed into a thin line as he regards you with a concerned frown. “What are you going to do?” He asks, albeit somewhat hesitant. You merely smile, and though it didn’t quite reach your eyes, Taehyun chooses not to pry further when you say: “I’m just going to ask about the project.” — He gives a curt nod before disappearing down the graveled path, hands still stuffed deep in his pockets.

Your footsteps crunch against the frosty grass and they fill the crisp winter air. The closer you get the more certain you become. It was Beomgyu. Sitting on the wooden table, his feet rest on the accompanied bench. He’s not wearing a jacket, only the blazer he had gotten personally tailored. If he was freezing, he didn’t let on to it as he remained still, his eyes focused on the ground below him. 

The real question was, why was he out here alone? Surely he should be spending the lunch break in the cafeteria with his friends, and not on a cold bench outside in the middle of the winter. — You stop in front of him, so close that your worn out shoes break the circuit of his limited vision. He knows that you’re there, you can tell by the subtle twitch of his jaw, and the way his fingers curl against one another as his hands mold together. 

“Hey.” 

You greet him. It’s polite, and when you think about it, you can’t recall ever uttering the word ‘hello’ to him, not for the past two years at least. It takes him a moment to finally look up, and when he does you immediately notice how sunken his eyes are, the almost grayish color of his cheeks and the pink tint to his nose. — He looked like shit. 

Part of you wants to say something about it, to finally jab back at him for all the crude comments he’d made about you. But you can’t. And suddenly, you don’t know what to say at all. Why had you even approached him in the first place? The two of you hadn’t spoken in private since… Well since the bracelet incident. Thankfully he had yet to bring it up again, but you didn’t know if you could trust him not to. It was already awkward between the two of you. 

Had you just made things worse? 

Beomgyu looks too tired to bite back himself as he lets his gaze leisurely drift across your frame. “What are you doing out here?” — Fuck, that wasn’t the question you were supposed to ask. Fucking idiot. But you couldn’t deny the curiosity that lingered around you. What was he doing out here? 

“That’s none of your business.” He spits, lips curling into a small scowl, but you can tell that it’s taking him a great deal of effort. And for some reason, you care. You hate that you do. Because you should feel anything but concern. You should be celebrating his downfall. This was what you had been waiting for. So why did it feel so bittersweet? 

You think it must have something to do with the afternoon spent on your bed. Almost an hour of complete silence, no bickering, no insults thrown. You blame yourself for getting too caught up in the moment. For letting yourself view him in a different light. — You hate Choi Beomgyu. And he hates you. That’s how it was supposed to be. 

When you don’t reply, he lifts his head once more. His eyes are dark, lifeless. He frowns, and for a second he looks almost irritated. “Why do you even care?” He grunts, a flicker of disgust tracing his features, as if the mere thought of sympathy from you was enough to have him gagging. It was nice. It felt familiar. It felt like the Beomgyu you knew. 

“I don’t.” You simply shrug, letting your bag fall from your shoulder as you heave yourself onto the bench next to him. He doesn’t move, but you can feel his gaze on you as he studies you intently. — You don’t dare look at him, instead you keep your eyes set forward. Despite the cold and chilly temperatures, snow had yet to fall. And the naked trees now only looked dystopian as you glance around the campus grounds. 

“Where are your friends?” You suddenly ask, the question coming out light, just like any other. You don’t expect an answer, not from him. In fact you’d prepared yourself for him to get up and leave. But he doesn’t. — Beomgyu is silent for a second, you hear him draw in a slow breath, holding it for a moment before letting go. “What friends?” He then says, and this time he actually sounds tired. 

Your stomach twists in an uncomfortable way, a way that was nowhere near satisfying. “What about the ones from the cafeteri..” — “Don’t be daft”, he cuts you off, his voice gaining a sudden sting. “You’re not stupid. Don’t pretend that you are. It’s unattractive.” He jeers, fingers twisting against one another, as if he was trying to crawl out of his own skin. 

“Isn’t that why you’re here?” He huffs, shuffling to the side as he creates a cold metaphorical wall of distance between the two of you. “To poke fun at me? To shove it in my face?” He sounds almost distressed, and before you can reply, he turns to you. “You think it hasn’t been already?” — For the first time since you approached, he’s looking entirely at you. And when you return his wide gaze, it feels like you’re looking at a shell of who he used to be. 

You tell yourself that it’s the cold air. That it’s the already depressing surroundings of the dying nature around you. But Beomgyu looks just as malnourished as the trees, as pale as the sky and as beat as the frozen grass you walk on. It was easy to take pity on him like that. It was almost like he was begging for it. Begging for someone to sympathize with him. You can’t imagine that anyone ever did. 

“That’s not why I’m here”, and your statement is true. You don’t know why you’d come here, but you knew that it wasn’t out of malice. Because even if you did hate Choi Beomgyu, you don’t think you could ever say it to his face. — He didn’t know that of course. Part of you wished he did. Beomgyu scoffs, his gaze returning to the frosty ground as he bites the inside of his cheek.

You’re scared that you might pity him forever. That things might never change. That the two of you might just be stuck in an eternal loop of hatred and unspoken feelings. — You don’t know what you want, but you know that it is not that. Perhaps this history project was the start you had been looking for. Maybe… 

“Are you free friday?” 

⸝⸝

Your study sessions became regular after that. Beomgyu appeared to have nothing better to do with his time, and to be frank, neither did you. And though you were far from friendly with one another, none of the insults lingered. You studied in silence, him by your desk and you on your bed, as far away from each other as you could get. It was quiet, so quiet that you sometimes forgot that he was even there, save for the occasional sigh or click of his tongue. 

At first, he would bring his phone, checking it every other second, like he hoped for something, for someone, to be there. But after four days, he stopped. And your curiosity only grew. 

Now a mere week remained until christmas break. You and Beomgyu had been studying together for the past six days, without fail. Your presentation was nearly completed, and part of you thinks this might be amongst your last sessions together, if not your very last. — It felt strange, almost melancholic. Would you miss him? Or would you miss the company? Taehyun was your friend, sure, at least that's what you called him. But as soon as the bell rang, as soon as class ended, it was only you again. 

So was it really so wrong to look forward to a bit of company after school? Even if said company was a grumpy and quiet Beomgyu who did his best in ignoring you whilst he was there. Maybe. — Maybe it was the slight urgency of losing the temporary comfort these quiet hours had provided you that led to the act of stupidity you were about to perform next. 

The sun had set hours ago, casting your room in a dim glow provided by the small lamps on your bedside table and desk. You and Beomgyu had been working quietly for the past while. Now that the information was gathered and all that remained was for you to edit the last paragraphs, he used his time to decorate the powerpoint, adding relevant pictures and messing with the fonts. It wasn’t hard work, but the fact that he did something, made your stomach flutter in an unfamiliar way. 

“Are you busy next week?” You wanted to ask him if he would like to practice the presentation together. But Beomgyu kills your last glimmer of hope with a small huff, “Yeah.” He doesn’t turn to look at you, his eyes steadily fixed on the computer screen in front of him despite the fact that he was now only aimlessly flipping through the slides. 

Biting the inside of your cheek, you refrain from asking if he was busy all week. You would most likely only receive a half-hearted ‘yes’ anyway. Instead your gaze flickers down to your keyboard, your nails quietly tapping against the keys as you think of something to say. Every second spent in his presence only seemed to pull even more questions from your already curious mind. There was so much you wanted to ask him about, even though you knew it wasn’t your place. 

Just let him go. 

You can hear Taehyun’s voice in the back of your head, pleading for you to not pry, to keep your eyes down and mind your business. It wasn’t that easy. He didn’t understand. He didn't know. He didn’t know Beomgyu like you did, like you thought you did. 

“Are you sure you don’t have time to come by and practice?” You can’t stop yourself, the question slips out anyway, and you watch as Beomgyu’s shoulders tense before relaxing again. “I told you I’m busy”, he repeats in the same monotone and tired voice he’d been using for the past week. — “Right…” You hold your tongue, fingers brushing over the keys on your keyboard, hovering above the space button. Your lips part, then they close, and then they part again. 

“Are you meeting Yeonjun?” 

You shouldn’t have asked that, you know it. Yet you did. Perhaps you wanted a reaction from him, perhaps you wanted to hear him raise his voice for the first time in over a week, perhaps you wanted him to get angry, to insult you, because it was the Beomgyu you knew. 

His shoulders go rigid this time, and though you can’t see his expression, you can still catch the twitch of his jaw. He’s stopped swiping through the presentation slides, now stuck on the first one as he gazes ahead. For a minute, everything’s quiet, you think he might not say anything at all. But when he speaks up, he doesn’t raise his voice, instead he lowers it, until it’s nothing but a low drawl of his tongue. 

“You think this is funny?” The cold words send a shiver down your spine, and even though he isn’t looking at you, you felt as if you were being judged under a microscope. “I… I’m sorry..?” You squeak, your voice nearly inaudible but Beomgyu catches it. — He chuckles, pushing his chair back as he turns to you. 

The fiery brown in his eyes is long gone, replaced with an ashy looking color, like he was drained of all life. His lips, usually pulled into either a scowl or a menacing smirk, remain just as unreadable as the rest of his face. — “Do you enjoy this?” He asks, but it hardly sounds like a question. 

You gulp, fingers pressing so hard against the keyboard that you have managed to insert a whole paragraph of nonsense onto the powerpoint. Quietly shaking your head, you think of a way to salvage the toes you’d accidentally stepped on. “No I, I’m sorry…” You swallow once more, “I just…I don’t know what happened between you…I..” 

Beomgyu’s loud scoff cuts you off, and you watch as he gets up from the chair, kicking it back against the desk. With two long strides he reaches you by the edge of the bed. Though he was barely an inch or two taller than yourself, he somehow managed to appear menacing as he loomed over you. “Has it ever crossed your mind that it might not be any of your fucking business?” He says, his tone remaining indifferent as he glares down at you with those empty and dying eyes. 

You bite your tongue, refraining from intervening and saying that practically everyone at school knew it. Though you were sure he already knew that too. — Beomgyu huffs out a sharp exhale, shaking his head. “Every single fucking day”, he mutters, his eyes narrowing as they linger by your slightly sheepish expression. “Every day, people like you, stick their nose where it doesn’t belong.” 

The way he spoke, grouping you together with the other students, it shouldn’t have made your chest churn the way it did. “People like me?” You repeat the words, tasting them on your tongue, and finding that you don’t like them. Beomgyu, on the other hand, merely sends you a small look of distaste, the only emotion that had managed to pass his features in a whole week. 

“What? You think you’re something else?” He jeers, frowning when you get up from the bed, straightening your back as you come face to face with him. — “I know I am”, you say, forcing your voice to remain steady. You knew that you weren’t the only one who’s thoughts lingered in the past. You knew that he must still think of the two of you from time to time, even if only for a brief moment. 

Beomgyu finally seems to catch on, his brows rising on his forehead when he does. He looks like he’s about to burst into laughter, you think that he might. “Oh that’s right”, he muses, “You think you’re special because I was nice to you back then, because I took pity on you.” He pushes a strand of dark hair from his face with the help of his pinky, “Bet it was the first time something like that happened.” 

You didn’t want to admit that he was right, that it had been the first time someone had ever gone out of their way for you. That it had been the first time someone had ever gifted you something, apart from your own family, that it was the first time someone willingly sat with you during lunch. But your mind gets caught on that one word he’d used. Pity. 

Was that all it was to him? A game of play-pretend, a chance for him to play hero? You shake your head, it couldn’t be, it wasn’t. — For two years, you had blamed Choi Yeonjun. You had blamed him for taking Beomgyu away from you, for turning him into someone you couldn’t recognize, for ruining your only chance at an actual friendship, perhaps even something else. 

It was easy to blame Yeonjun, you didn't like him, you never had. But you could never bring yourself to actually blame Beomgyu himself, because that would mean he was a bad person, and you didn’t want him to be. You wanted him to remain the perfect version you had created in your head, the version you thought you liked. It became clear now, that he wasn’t. 

“You’re a liar.” 

You state, fingers twitching by your sides as you resist the urge to wrap your arms around yourself. Beomgyu’s expression morphs into one of confusion, then he scoffs. “A liar?” He asks, his voice hollow: “Do you hear yourself talk? You sound fucking crazy.” — “If you think for a second that what we have is different from any other piece of shit person in this school, you’re wrong.” He spits, eyes flaring up for the first time in so long, a small fire igniting within them. 

He continues to list reasons, reasons to hate you, reasons to hate him, reasons to hate everything. You weren't listening. All you see is his eyes, burning with rage, with life. 

It’s unexplainable, the feeling that surged in your chest, that pounds against your ribcage and pulls on your lungs as it sucks the air from them. And you don’t know why you took a step forward, why you let your hands brush against his, why you didn’t stop when you saw the bewilderment on his face. You don’t know why you leaned in closer, when you should be pulling back. — And you don’t know why you couldn’t look away, why you couldn’t tear your gaze from the flames dancing across his eyes. 

You don’t know why you kissed him. 

But you did. 

And now it was too late to ever go back. — Though you're not sure you want to. 

His lips feel soft against yours, not that you had ever stopped to think about how it would ever feel. Yet this somehow seemed right. You don’t open your eyes to look at him, you don’t think you could bear that. Still, you’re surprised when he doesn’t immediately jerk backward, when he doesn’t push you away. — Beomgyu hesitates. You think it’s the first time you’ve ever seen him do.  

The moment lasts forever, and somehow it seems to have vanished within the blink of an eye. The bed squeaks when you crash against the mattress, you can still feel the flat of his palms on your shoulders as the force he’d used to shove you away from him lingered. 

When you peer up at him, you find him already watching you. The flames in his eyes seemed to burn even brighter now. His jaw clenches, fingers curling into fists by his sides as he struggles to keep his composure. — Your lips part, but no words come out. What was there to say? Sorry? But you weren’t. I hate you? But you didn’t. 

Beomgyu speaks before you get the chance to, his nostrils flaring as he takes a deep breath. “You’re fucking insane.” It’s all he says, not waiting for a response as he turns back to your desk. He shoves his laptop in his bag with such force that you thought its seams might break.

Then he heads for the door, reaching it in four long strides. He doesn’t turn to look at you, not like he had that day. He rips it open, ignoring the squeaking sound it made when he slammed it shut behind him. 

The silence that follows echoes through your small dorm. And you remain on your bed, motionless, staring ahead as your fingers reach up to touch your lips. — Still burning with the fire he’d igninited. 

⸝⸝

That night was a quiet one, your dorm room basked in the eerie glow of the moon. Nothing but the soft sounds of your hushed sobs filling the confined space. Your pillow is wet, stained with your tears as you cry into the cotton. It was pathetic, really. In fact, you didn’t even know why you were crying. — But as soon as the door had slammed shut, and you had been left alone with nothing but your lingering thoughts, everything had become too much to bear. 

The events of the past few weeks finally catching up to you, breaking the dam of pent of tears you’d been so carefully keeping at bay. It felt as if it would never stop. You didn’t know whether you felt humiliated, rejected or just straight up insulted. Part of you just felt stupid. What the fuck were you even thinking? Kissing him like that. The image itself makes you grimace, and with a heavy sigh you pull yourself into a sitting position. 

After fumbling in the dark for a few moments, your fingers manage to grasp your phone. The bright light of its screen blinds you, and you squint as you scroll through your ridiculously short contact list. — The line rings for almost a whole minute, all the while you anxiously bite on your short nails, chopping the last bits of green polish from your nail beds. And when he finally picks up, it’s silent, save for the deep breaths he emits as he waits for you to speak.

“Taehyun?” 

Your voice comes out a lot more hoarse and strained than you had anticipated, causing you to immediately clear your throat. Taehyun groans, and you hear him shift slightly as he mutters something incoherent. “Do you know what time it is?” He finally asks in a groggy, sleep-laced tone. A spark of guilt blooms in your chest, and you throw a quick glance toward the time on your phone, showing that it was well past midnight. 

“I’m sorry…I just”, you bite your lip, hesitating for a moment. It wasn’t like you didn’t trust Taehyun, it was just different. You and Taehyun were different. Part of you thinks he won’t understand, that he might judge you, no you know he will. Still, he was the only one you could turn to. — “Taehyun, I think I messed up.” 

He doesn’t answer right away, but you know he’s still there. You sit in silence for a while, just listening to his breaths, and for a moment you wonder if he’s fallen back asleep. But then he speaks, this time he sounds more awake. — “How bad?” He asks, and somewhere in the background, you think you can make out a light being flicked on. 

“Really bad..” 

⸝⸝

You had never been to Taehyun’s house before. Two years of so called friendship and you would think that you’d progressed further. But as you heave the last step leading up from the subway, you stop in order to relocate yourself. The neighbourhood looked average, yet inviting. Its quaint little houses, lined up along the dimly lit street, all reflected one another. 

Number 14, that was the one you were looking for. Your worn out sneakers hit the asphalt with heavy thuds, and a small cloud forms when you exhale out into the cold December air. With your fingers stuffed deep in the pockets of your duvet jacket, you make a slight turn, coming face to face with house number 14. 

It looked just like the rest, a small mailbox by the fence gate, its white paint chipped in places. You push it open, stepping up the small graveled path taking you to the doorsteps. Taehyun told you not to ring the bell, but to quietly knock. He didn’t live alone, you knew that much. — He shared the small flat with one of the juniors, you think his name might be Kai. 

You knock once, proceeding to wrap your arms around yourself as you wait anxiously for him to open. It takes him a mere thirty seconds, and when the door swings aside, you're met with the still sleep-laced figure of Kang Taehyun. — He’s dressed in nothing but a pair of checkered sweatpants and a black t-shirt, the glasses he always wore nowhere to be seen. He looked far different like this, it takes you a moment to even recognize him. 

Your silence must’ve been unusual, because he soon cocks an eyebrow, stepping aside as he motions for you to get in.  

Taehyun’s place looks nothing like you’d imagined it. It was far messier. With clothes hanging off the kitchen chairs, lecture material spread over the round table and piles of books crowding the already small countertop. Still, he doesn't seem to mind the slight chaos as he reaches up to fetch two glasses from the cabinet, not saying anything as he fills them both with water from the tap. 

This eternal silence covers you both like a thick blanket, enveloping you in a false sense of ignorance, like the fact that you were currently in his kitchen, at 3am no less, was completely normal. — Taehyun remains quiet as he walks past you and into the joint living room, you trail behind him, eyes lingering on the discarded guitar that rested against the wall. 

The large green sofa takes up a good third of the room, and Taehyun sets your glasses down on the wooden coffee table in front of it as you take a seat. — “Do you play?” It’s the first thing that comes to mind, not a ‘Hello, sorry for bothering you so late at night and barging into your home.” But you can’t help yourself, somewhere in the back of your mind, you hear Beomgyu, clearly remembering the day he’d told you about his love for music, no less the guitar. 

But Taehyun merely shrugs, and when he speaks, his voice is groggy. “Kai does.” The statement doesn’t leave room for further questions, and you thought it was probably wise to not bother him with more small talk. 

Reaching for the glass, your fingers wrap around its cold surface as you bring it to your lips. You sip slowly, prolonging the inevitable confession you were to make. And as the refreshing water slides down your incredibly dry throat, you sneak a glance in his direction. It felt odd, seeing Taehyun outside of school like this. 

Your gaze lingers on his bare arms, something his uniform never allowed even as much as a glimpse of. He leans against the soft cushion of the couch, mindlessly fiddling with a small string which you had no idea where he’d gotten it from. — It might’ve been the late hour, or the change of scenery, hell it might’ve even been the fact that you’d probably made the biggest mistake of your life not even eight hours ago. But had Taehyun always looked this… Good wasn’t the right word… At least you didn’t think it was. 

You suppose he looked… Ordinary. He looked far more relaxed than he ever did at campus, in class or in the cafeteria. This Taehyun resembles little of your class president, right now he just looks like, well him. 

“Why are you here?” His sudden question snaps you from your trance and your eyes immediately snap toward the water in your glass, the clear liquid swirling around slowly. Why were you here? Because you were alone, because you were scared, because you didn’t have anyone else to turn to. — “I… I messed up”, your deflated sigh rings out in the living room. 

Taehyun continues to fiddle with the small string, twisting it around his thumb. “The presentation?” He asks, but you can tell that was not what he’d actually meant. Still, you nod. “Well that one too, that’s for sure..” You didn’t even want to think about having to face him next Tuesday, much less going through with that presentation together, in front of everyone. 

“It’s about him, isn’t it?” 

The question was hardly needed, and you mumble out a quiet ‘yes’ as you set your glass down. Taehyun hums, his eyes trained to his hand. You wait for him to say something, but he doesn’t. Biting the inside of your cheek, you inhaled slowly. It was better to get it out right away, wasn’t it? Besides, there was no way you could sugarcoat it, no way for you to lie yourself out of this. You wanted to be honest with Taehyun, because it was easier to be honest with him than with yourself. 

“I kissed him.” 

There. You said it. So why didn’t the lump in your throat ease? Why did your chest still feel tight and your palms sweaty? Why couldn’t it all just go away, you did what you were supposed to, you confessed. Was that not enough? — Taehyun doesn’t look surprised. In fact he looks almost amused. As if he was betting with himself, ultimately ending up winning as you said what he’d already expected you to. 

“I think he hates me even more now. No - I know he does.” You can’t stop the words from flowing, all your pent up emotions rolling off your tongue in one swift motion. “I don’t think he’s ever going to talk to me again. And I’ll probably have to do the presentation alone. But I don’t reckon he’ll tell anybody, I’m sure he’s embarrassed about being associated with me. Fucking entitled asshole.” The last part comes out with slight distaste. 

“Don’t you agree?” You turn to Taehyun who’s been listening quietly. Finally, he glances up from the string he’s fiddling with. He sighs, “I think you should’ve stayed away from him just like I told you to.” — His words made your chest tighten even further, but they were not surprising. You knew what his response would be, you had known before you even picked up the phone to call him. Still, you did it. Because even if he told you what you’d already heard so many times before, it was something, and something was better than nothing. 

“Why did you do it?” You quietly ask him, your question coming out nearly inaudible. “Hm?” His dark eyes, the ones you used to watch behind the thick lens of his glasses, shift over to you. — “Why did you write his essay?” Your sudden change makes him pause, his fingers stilling around the thin thread he’d been twirling for the past minutes. Taehyun looks at you, but you can tell he’s not actually looking at you. 

“What do you mean?” It takes him almost a whole minute to reply. That had never happened before. Holding your tongue, you consider your next words carefully. You’d been wanting to ask him about that day in the hallway for so long now, it had been pestering you for weeks, like an itch you couldn’t quite scratch. Because if it was one thing you couldn’t understand, it was why someone like Taehyun, would do something like that, for someone like Beomgyu. 

“Does he have something on you? Is he bullying you?” 

Taehyun shakes his head, his jaw clenching as he discards the thread between his fingers. “No”, he finally states, his voice firm. He was lying. He had to be, right? — “Then why?” You knew you were pushing far, too far, but you wanted, no, needed answers. But he only averts his gaze, his attention fixed on something far ahead. You try to follow his line of sight, your own eyes landing on the crowded bookshelves. 

Books. Your lip twitches at the sight of pages worth of study material. But as you survey the shelves closely, you find that they’re neatly organised, unlike the chaos that spread through the rest of the house. From different subjects, all neatly categorized, yet one book remained alone, separated from the rest. You didn’t recognize its cover. 

“Latin.” 

Taehyun’s thoughts seem to align perfectly with yours as he, too, eyes the lonesome book. “I didn’t know you took latin..” You murmur, still not tearing your gaze from the shelf. Beside you, Taehyun hums before going silent once more. That silence lingers for another thick and heavy minute. The darkness of his living room closing in on you, the sounds of your quiet breaths remaining the only signs of life. 

“Hardly anyone picks latin”, he then adds, nodding toward the book on the very edge of the shelf. You nod, even though you don’t exactly understand where he’s going with this. Taehyun sighs, and he sounds tired, “Picked it ‘cause I felt bad.” — “The professor would hardly have a class to teach this semester if it wasn’t for me.” 

You frown, shifting back to him as your lips part in an unspoken question. But Taehyun doesn’t need to look at you to know what goes on inside your head. — He shrugs, “You asked me why.” 

The silence that follows his last words did not feel as heavy as the others. It merely felt…confusing. Your gaze drops to your hands, placed neatly on your lap. Exhaling through your nose, you begin picking away at your already chipped nail polish, watching as the red flakes fell to your knees. Latin… He picked it out of pity? Not because he enjoyed it but because he felt bad? 

But what did Latin have to do with… 

“Did you want to do it?” Taehyun suddenly asks, and it felt weird, because he hardly asked questions about you, and especially not about Beomgyu. — The lump in your throat bounces back twice as big this time, and your fingers still. “Yes.” If there was one thing you were sure of, it was that. You wanted to kiss Choi Beomgyu, and you had.

“I don’t…” You begin but quickly trail off. Taehyun is patient. He waits for you to continue, he waits for two whole minutes, until finally, you say: “I don’t regret it.” — “And I wish I could tell him that.” 

Taehyun shifts on the green cushion, turning so that he’s now facing you. His gaze isn’t the narrowed and sharp one you’d grown so accustomed to. This one’s gentle, almost soft. — “So why haven’t you?” 

⸝⸝

“What the fuck is your problem?” 

The voice is sharp, and you think you might recognize it. It makes you halt, stopping just as you were about to round the corner taking you to the dormitories. With your back now pressed against the cool wall, you freeze, listening to the conversation taking place. You had mindlessly been returning to the place you called home after a long day of classes, when suddenly two arguing voices caught your attention. 

“My problem?”, Beomgyu spits, his tone harsh and defensive, “Fucking hell man, have you even seen yourself lately?” 

The other voice, which you now recognize as Yeonjun's, cuts back with an equal bite. “Oh come on, just admit that you have something against her. – It’s not like you’ve ever tried to hide it.”

Beomgyu remains quiet, the air feeling dense and heavy with unspoken feelings. “I don’t have anything against her.” He pauses and you wonder what his face might look like right now, furious, deflated? He exhales, “It’s you, okay? You’re the issue here.” 

You could almost hear the surprise as it radiated off of Yeonjun, and you manage to get a glimpse of one of his arms as he shifts on the spot. “The fuck is that supposed to mean?” He sounds confused, agitated almost. 

“It means..” Beomgyu begins, though quickly cutting himself short as he inhales. “It means you’ve changed, alright. — And I don’t know what the fuck is going on with you but you..” He trails off, the frustration at not being able to say what he wants, what he feels, is palpable and you shift uncomfortably against the wall as you hold your breath. 

Yeonjun scoffs, it sounds almost like laughter. “Oh, so I get a girlfriend and suddenly can’t hang anymore?” — “Yes.” Beomgyu immediately responds. “You and that fucking good for nothing ner-” 

Thud. 

It sounds almost as if one of them had shoved the other against the wall and your eyes widened as you resist the urge to take just a single step forward, to round the corner and see for yourself. — Yeonjun is the first to speak. “You fucking watch your mouth!” He snarls and you can make out Beomgyu’s low groan as he splutters against what you presumed to be Yeonjun’s chokehold on him.

“Or what?” He counters in a strained voice, the teasing edge evident, the one he used to mask how hurt he was.

The sound of Yeonjun’s fist connecting with what could only be Beomgyu’s face echoes through the otherwise empty hallway and your heart drops to your stomach. But Beomgyu merely chuckles. “She ruined everything”, he grumbles, merely adding fuel to the fire. 

“Shut your mouth.” 

Beomgyu snickers, and Yeonjun’s frustration bounces off the walls. You’d heard enough, and you certainly weren’t going to risk staying and ending up in the middle of it. So you turn around, and just as quickly as you had come, you retreat again. 

⸝⸝ 

You nervously pace your room, mumbling the words to yourself over and over, trying your hardest to memorize them. It had dawned on you that you would be doing this alone, and now what remained was to learn everything. But no matter how many times you circled your bed, you always found yourself off track, needing to double check your laptop over and over. 

You were slowly becoming desperate. Nothing seemed to work in your favor. — You curse yourself for letting your feelings get the better of you. For being naive, for thinking that he actually felt something, anything for you. Had you just restrained yourself, had you just held back… You wouldn’t be in this situation right now. 

Anxiously gnawing on your nails, your teeth scrape their beds as you re-read the paragraphs written on the powerpoint for the fifthteenth time. The sentences had started to blur, the words merging with one another slowly. — You shake your head, willing yourself to stay focused, to not let your emotions get the better of you, again. 

But then there it is. A loud, almost frantic, knock at your door. — Knock! Knock! 

Your head jerks in its direction, the presentation long forgotten about as your eyes narrow on the dark oak. You throw a glance at the time, 8:29 pm, what could anyone possibly want you at this hour? — But the knocking persists. 

Knock! Knock! Knock! 

It’s loud, flaring like thunder through your dormitory and it makes you jump. Naturally, you do the only thing that comes to mind; you approach, with both curious and wary steps. Your hesitant hand reaches for the handle, the other one twisting the lock as you pull the door open. — The sight that greets you on the other side is nothing you could’ve ever imagined. 

Beomgyu looks even worse than he had a week ago. The bags under his eyes were a permanent look now, dark and sunken in. His long hair falls in uneven sections down the sides of his face, a few strands sticking to his forehead, covered in a sheen layer of sweat. Even his expensive uniform was messed up, tie hanging loosely around his neck and his white shirt torn by the seams. 

You can only make out half his face, the rest shielded by his unkempt and dark hair. But what stood out was the large and angry bruise covering his cheek. Its blue and purple hues were a stark contrast to his honey-like skin. You knew where he’d gotten that. His breaths come out ragged, shallow, like he’d ran here. Perhaps he had. Your lips part, but before you can get the question out, he’s barging inside, slamming the door shut behind him. — “Beomgyu what..” Your words fall short as he pushes his hair from his face, revealing his dark eyes to you. 

They were burning with the same fire they had been that night, the night you kissed him. The flames dance across his bottomless irises. You think that if you got too close, you’d end up burning yourself. Another part of you thinks it’s too late to take cover. That you had already walked inside and sealed the door shut behind you, and now you would burn with him. 

He takes a step forward, the fire drawing in closer and you squint against its flames. His chest heaves, it clouds your narrowed vision as he backs you up against the nearest wall. Something had happened, something had made him like this, because this was not the Beomgyu you knew. The Beomgyu you knew would be repulsed to even as much as near you, to even breathe the same circuit of air as you. 

He is not the Beomgyu you know. Because the Beomgyu you know would never kiss you. 

But this one does, and it’s without hesitating that his hands reach for your face, cupping both cheeks in his blazing hot palms as he brings your face to his. — Your eyes widen, alarm bells going off in your mind, screaming for you to push him back, to demand answers from him. So why don’t you? Why do you let him kiss you, why do you let him toy with you like this? 

Beomgyu did not like you. He hated you. That was a fact. Not because he’d said so himself, or because he treated you like he did. But because it was the reality you had been feeding yourself for so long. It put you at ease, knowing that he hated you, because if he did, then he at least felt something for you. You weren’t just another face in the halls, your time together wasn’t just a figment of his or your imagination, it had been real. The two of you were real, and the resentment and hate was a confirmation of just that. 

So when his lips press against yours, warm and wet, his tongue slips inside your mouth without waiting to hear your startled yelp.. The reality you had built for yourself suddenly starts to crumble. Everything was wrong, this was not how it was supposed to be. — You had allowed yourself a slip up last week, a moment of weakness. You had kissed him. For a brief, short and awfully painful moment you had let your own desires consume you. And you had paid the price. 

This time Beomgyu was acting on his desires, not yours. And that scared you. 

His chest is flush against yours, his grip on your face unwavering as he forces your lips to meet in a searing kiss. You don’t understand. You thought you had him all figured out, this wasn’t supposed to happen, why is he… — “Beomgyu, stop!” Your nails dig into his shoulders, tearing him off of you with all your might. He separates from you, if only an inch, the kiss coming to an abrupt stop as you’re left panting. 

His lips are coated in saliva, a small string connecting the two of you before it breaks just a second later. You barely recognize him. “What’s going on?” The question is accusing, your voice laced with confusion and anger. 

Beomgyu remains silent, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he exhales a final heavy breath. His jaw clenches when he swallows, and his dark eyes flicker down to your lips once more. — “Shut up.” It’s all he says, but there’s no malice in the way he does. It sounds almost like a plea. And the fire within his eyes seems to burn even brighter as his gaze meets yours. “Please just shut up.” 

You did not want to shut up. You wanted to ask what the fuck he thought he was doing. You wanted to show him just how it felt when he rejected you just days prior. You wanted to tell him that he was ‘fucking insane’ and slam the door shut in his own face. — You did none of that. 

The next kiss is initiated by you, not him. It’s soft, and it reminds you of the one you’d given him last week. Slow, hesitant, but tender. And Beomgyu’s hands reluctantly drop from your face, gently sliding down your arms and sides before settling on your waist. — You had known for a long time now that you felt empathy for him. That you pitied him. Perhaps it was why you let him use you. 

Tomorrow he would not speak of this. He would act as if it never happened, he would bury it as deep as he could. He might think that this is his only solution today, that this will be his solace for whatever might’ve set him off. But it isn’t, and when this night morphs into dawn, he will realize that. — You don’t want him to. 

You should tell him to stop right now. He’ll only end up hurting you, not that he cares, he never had. But you, you should care. So why don’t you? 

Your fingers tug his already loose tie off, letting it slip from his neck before you work on his shirt, hastily unbuttoning it. Beomgyu follows in your tracks, letting you shrug the torn garment from his shoulders before he reaches for the pajama pants you wore. — You stop him, your hand on his wrist. “On the bed, please”, you whisper against his lips. 

His nod is barely noticeable before he hoists you into his arms. The sudden action startles you and you cling to him in shock as he gently places you down onto the mattress. He just about bothers to shove your laptop to the floor, muttering something incoherent about being able to get you a new one if it broke. You can’t find it in you to care, not when he climbs on top of you, the bed squeaking beneath his weight as he does. 

You feel warm, fuzzy, intoxicated even. Bleary eyes finding his as he hurriedly presses his lips against yours again. It was almost as if he was trying to drown out whatever thoughts plagued his mind as his hands grabbed at whatever part of you he could access. — His fingers hook around the waistline of your pajama pants, attempting to tug them off once more, and this time he succeeds. 

The air of your dormitory is cool against your naked skin, causing goosebumps to flare across it as Beomgyu slides your clothes down your body. He was moving fast, almost too fast. For some reason you let him, even though you know you probably shouldn’t. He was being selfish right now, wasn’t he? Using you like this, only to quiet his own worries, to soothe his own pain. He didn’t care for your feelings and he never would, not even now as his hands hover above your panties, fingers tracing their lining with eagerness. 

Or perhaps you were the selfish one? He clearly wasn’t thinking straight. The Beomgyu you knew would never stoop to this level, he would never go for someone like you, and you would never allow it.. Right? — Were you selfish for using him in this state, for egging him on even when you knew that the two of you were to regret this in the morning? 

Maybe. 

You don’t care. 

His fingers slide beneath the fabric of your pantines, running between your folds, circling your clit once as he pulls a shaky gasp from you. Your hands are still gripping his shoulders, nails digging into the skin there, leaving crescent like shapes in their wake. — He doesn’t wait, doesn’t drag the process out. You can tell that his mind is set on one thing. That’s okay, so were yours. Right? 

You cry out when he pushes two fingers inside of your aching cunt, curling them meticulously as his lips trail down your jaw. Your hips arch off the bed, meeting his movements as you wordlessly beg for more. — “Beomgyu, we… we should..” You didn’t even know what you wanted to say, the feelings swirling within your chest were difficult to convey. 

But he won’t have a word of it. “Shut up”, he grunts, the palm of his free hand pressing against your pelvis as he shoves you back against the mattress. He’s rough, surprisingly so. You’d always taken him for a little bitch. But his strength startles you, as well as sending a shot of heat through your stomach, making you clench around his fingers. 

If he notices it, he doesn’t bother to comment, which is unusual for him. Something bad must’ve happened, that’s all you can think. Something so bad had happened that his only resolve was you. The thought of him using you to get over whatever had hurt, it should upset you. It should make you feel small and insignificant, but it never did. 

Beomgyu tugs your panties down, throwing them over his shoulder as he parts your already spread legs. — Your hands glide over the apex of his shoulders, and you blink up at him expectantly. He doesn’t return your gaze. That hurt. 

Instead he focuses on the zipper of his uniform pants, undoing it with a harsh tug before slipping hand down his pants. His low groan pierces the thick and hot air, the sound is one so sinful, one you could have never imagined coming from his lips. — Your eyes dart down to his cock when he pulls it free, tongue subconsciously darting out to wet your lips as you regard the way he languidly strokes himself.

“Touch yourself”, he says, his voice low and gruff as he eyes your dripping cunt. — Surprised, you hesitantly comply as you reach a hand down between your thighs, fingers experimentally dragging across your core. The small moan that slips off your tongue makes your face heat up as you avoid his gaze. 

You push two fingers inside of your pleading cunt, not even bothering to put on a show for him as you let yourself become immersed in how it feels, how good it feels. In fact everything felt good, a little too good, when you know it shouldn’t. — You watch him through the corner of your eye, catching the bead of precum that slid down his veiny shaft. And your stomach flutters uncontrollably when he squeezes around himself, letting his head tip back with a strained moan.

When he’s evidently had enough, he pushes your hand away, ignoring your cries as you lose any semblance of pleasure. Though your loss is soon replaced by the head of his cock as he slides it between your folds. It bumps against your clit, making you shudder as your fingers twist in the bed sheets. — Your lips part, but Beomgyu’s hand covers them again. 

“Don’t.” He grunts, his attention focused on the way his thick cock gently eases itself inside your warm cunt. Your eyes widen, a small and muffled noise of pleasure leaving you as you squirm beneath him. — “Don’t say anything”, he nearly pleads, his dark and burning gaze flickering to your face for a brief moment. 

Your chest contracts, you didn’t understand.. Yet you complied, sealing your lips off to anything that wasn’t a cry or a moan. — Beomgyu’s pace is rough, leaving no room for you to argue as he snaps his hips against yours. The bed frame rattles against your wall, and you briefly worried that the sound would carry into the next room. Beomgyu doesn’t seem to care. 

His hand slides off of your lips, resting on the mattress just inches from your face as he hovers above you. — Stifling a small whimper, you reach up to touch him, any part of him that you could. This was your chance, no? 

You can feel every twitch of muscle as you drag your fingertips along his arms, letting your hands glide across his tense shoulders. Beomgyu shudders when you reach the nape of his neck. — He complies when you pull him down for another kiss. This one starts out slower, but quickly morphs into something that could easily match the pace he was keeping. His teeth pull your bottom lip into his mouth, biting down with a force that startles you, a surprised moan ripping from your throat. 

He made you feel nearly delirious, like you didn’t exist, nothing felt real. But at the same time, you could feel everything at once. He was so close, closer than he'd ever been to you. Not even back then, back when you considered him your friend. Not even then did it feel like this.. Raw, scorching hot, burning and most importantly, alive. 

Your chest is already hurting, already mourning the loss of him that was to come. Why couldn’t you just allow yourself to live in the moment, to give in to your desires completely, even if they were beyond what you knew to be possible. This was real, he was here, with you. For now, for tonight, everything was different, and you should let it be just that. 

“I love you.” 

The confession slips past your lips. It carries out into the dim room, bouncing off the walls, ringing in your ears and pounding against your ribcage. Beomgyu stills inside of you, his dark eyes immediately landing on yours as they narrow. — Fuck. You shouldn’t have said that. Did you even mean it? Or had you let your flimsy emotions get the better of you once again. 

But this wasn’t just a small peck on the lips. Something you could pull back from, something you could wipe off your mouth and forget about. This was you baring your heart to him. This was you showing your most vulnerable self. — This was you being selfish. 

Beomgyu’s face twists into a scowl, the way it did whenever he tried to mask how hurt he was. Because that’s what he was tonight. Hurt. It’s why he’d come here. To use you. To let himself forget. He’d begged you to be quiet. — And you had done the exact opposite. 

“You don’t.” His statement is cold, and it sends a shiver down your spine. “You don’t know what you’re saying”, he grunts. And his expression hardens when you insistently shake your head. 

“I do”, your lips press into a thin line, determination flickering across your features. That was a lie. You did not know if you loved him. But you knew that you pitied him, that your heart ached for him. It was like every punch to his gut went straight to your heart. — Perhaps the hurt was so strong that you had confused it with love. Maybe your empathy for him got mistaken for real feelings in your mind.  

How should you know? It wasn’t like you’d ever felt it before. 

And he hadn’t either. You were sure of it. 

“I know what I’m..” — “I said you don’t know anything!” Beomgyu’s voice cuts you off, it sounds like a scream. Ear-piercing and deafening. Beomgyu was yelling at you. And it scared you. 

He shifts above you, elbows digging into the mattress and you suddenly remember that his throbbing cock is nestled within your cunt. You think he might pull back, that he will get up and leave. That’s what he should do. But he doesn’t. — Instead he jolts back into action, snapping his hips against yours with newfound force, his jaw clenching as his dark eyes bore into you. 

“You’re confused”, he jeers, and you choke back a wanton moan when his thumb circles your clit. “Lot of girls get confused when they’re stuffed with cock”, he scoffs, “And you’re no different.” — Beomgyu was back to his old self, the cruel and menacing one. The Beomgyu that fronted whenever he tried to hide his true feelings, when the real him was feeling weak. You should’ve seen it coming, really. But his words still hurt, they always did. 

He rams himself into you, making your thighs quiver as they meekly wrap around his chest, drawing him even closer. You screw your eyes shut, not wanting to see him for as much as another second. He doesn’t seem to care, in fact he hardly seems to care about anything at the very moment. 

His fingers are harsh against your clit as he drinks in every moan you emit. And when you finally finish around his cock, your cunt fluttering around him, he doesn’t say anything. You pant, still refusing to look at him as you catch your breath. His thick cock makes you wince as it continues to push into you with demand. 

Beomgyu pulls out wordlessly. Hissing out into the quiet air as he cums all over your spread thighs, his sharp intake of air pounding in your ears. His release is warm, a sickening contrast to the cold sweats that had broken out on your body. It nearly makes you shiver. 

A new kind of silence follows after that. One full of knowing. Because you both knew that what had transpired tonight, was not something you would ever talk about again. The unanswered questions would never be brought to discussion. And you were supposed to be okay with that. You were supposed to be okay with this. 

You don’t know if you ever will be. 

⸝⸝ 

The bed was empty that following morning. The only trace of Beomgyu were the rustled sheets where he’d slept. And you spent nearly an hour tracing their patterns with the tips of your fingers, following every crease of duvet carefully as you memorized the shape of him. 

You knew that this was how it was going to end, as nothing more but yet another mistake. Another reason for him to hate you, and you him. Which is why you shouldn’t feel this melancholic. He sure as hell wasn’t. So why should you suffer? Yet it takes everything in you to drag yourself out of bed that day. 

The water is scorching hot against your skin, and you lean against the cool tiles as you close your eyes. But no matter how hard you scrubbed, how many layers of soap you covered yourself beneath. The feeling of his hands never went away. You almost thought you could see them, the faint outlines of his hands, all over your body. And as soon as you let your mind wander, even for just a second, you could feel him on you again. 

With a shudder you shake your head, promptly turning the water from flaming hot to an icy cold. The warmth reminded you of him, of the fire in his eyes and the burn of his touch. Cold water did not remind you of anything, that was better. 

Part of you had thought, almost hoped, that he would come to you, that he would beg of you to keep quiet, to not utter a single word about the night that had been. But he never did. Presentation day comes, and it passes again. It wasn’t very dramatic, in fact, it was like nothing had changed at all. 

Beomgyu showed up. He didn’t look you in the eyes when he took his papers from you. He didn’t look at you during the presentation, he kept his gaze ahead, fixated on the rest of your joint classes. He didn’t speak to you before, during, or after it. Not even a simple, ‘well done’ or even a ‘thanks’ when you’d offered to take his papers and throw them away for him. 

His indifference hurt the most. Perhaps the night had meant nothing to him. It had been just as you suspected, a way for him to forget. Forget whatever it was that had happened with Yeonjun that afternoon. — It had worked. Beomgyu seemed to have forgotten, but you remembered, you remembered far too much. 

Winter break began a mere three days later. 

A different kind of excitement lingered in the air. No matter how old you got, the joy of Christmas never seemed to dull people’s spirits. Almost three weeks to spend with family and friends, three weeks away from the tortuous hell that was college. Except you would stay right where you were. 

This would be the third Christmas you spent on campus. And while the school offered the remaining students to gather in the cafeteria for present unwrapping and long movie marathons, it was never the same as the warm embrace of home. — But home has long since lost its meaning to you. And Christmas no longer felt like a holiday. 

Taehyun had left as well, leaving you with nothing but your own thoughts to reconcile with. Suppose it was during the holidays you realized just how lonely you were. That hurt, of course. — You would spend your days doing mundane things, like reading, writing, drawing… Anything to get your mind off of the almost depressing reality you faced. It usually only worked for an hour or so. It was like a constant loop of distraction, one where you chased the comfort that slowly slipped from your fingers. 

But you were tired of chasing. 

⸝⸝

Your worn out sneakers make an awful squeaking noise against the polished floors and the sound rings in your ears. It’s all you can hear, which serves to quiet your thoughts for a moment, proving to be quite the distraction. 

The long hallways are eerily empty and quiet, it gives them an almost uncanny feeling. Campus no longer felt like campus, more like a shell of its former self. You knew that it would change as soon as break was over of course, but for now you were forced to make your way down the vacant halls all alone in order to get to the cafeteria and have dinner. 

It was for these exact reasons that the sudden tap to your shoulder made your heart drop. 

With a quick spin of your heel, you come face to face with the person you’d least expected to see. — His dark hair is nicely done, and his eyes glimmer with a kindness that two months ago would have had you doing a double take. Snow had melted on the shoulders of his jacket, and the tip of his nose was a bright red. An almost gentle smile is splayed across his rosy lips, and he gives a nervous chuckle. You almost didn’t recognize Choi Yeonjun. 

“Hey uh..” He scratches the back of his neck rather awkwardly, his eyes darting around the empty hallway. “You don’t happen to know if there’s someone with keys to classroom 017? - My girl forgot one of her books in there before the break you see..”  — You remain silent. You don’t think you’d ever had a decent conversation with Yeonjun, ever. It had all been mean and crude comments, nasty smirks and awfully childish pranks where you became a laughing stock. 

So to say that it felt a little weird to be approached by him like this, well that would certainly classify as an understatement. Your first instinct was to walk away, to leave him hanging like he deserved or perhaps you should belittle him on his obliviousness, did he not know all keys were held in the lobby? You refused an eye roll. — For the first time since your night with Beomgyu, a different kind of emotion blossoms within your chest. 

Anger. 

Your mind easily recognizes Yeonjun as the one who’d taken Beomgyu from you two years ago. It was him who you’d blamed for the way Beomgyu turned out, it was him who was at fault. It was him… He… 

You swallow, giving him a small nod, “Think there should be someone up by the lobby.” The polite words sting on your tongue, your fingers itching as they clenched and unclened. Yeonjun on the other hand, smiles, his grin stretching wide as he thanks you. What had changed? 

“I best head there then.” With his hands stuffed deep in the pockets of his jeans, he turns and begins his journey down the lifeless corridor. You watch him, eyes trailing over his figure for a moment before you call out. — “Hey, wait!” 

He pauses, turning back to you with raised brows. You march forward without giving yourself the chance to think it over once more. The sounds of you sneakers squeaking against the floors becomes almost deafening but you disregard it as you come to a halt before him. Straightening yourself up, you hold his confused but intrigued gaze. 

“You were friends with Beomgyu, right?” It wasn’t a question, but you phrased it like one anyway. The smile immediately falls from his face upon hearing your words, and for a split second, the old Yeonjun, the face you recognized in the halls fronted. His lips twist into a small scowl and his dark brows furrow. “What’s it to you?” His voice had grown sharp, almost snappy, perhaps you’d hit a sore spot. 

Something had happened. 

Yeonjun studies you for a moment longer, his brown eyes drinking in your frame. His tongue prods against the inside of his cheek, and he looks almost thoughtful. Then he huffs a short breath, it sounded almost like a laugh. — “Oh, yeah that’s right. I know who you are.” He stated it like it was an insult, like your name weighed heavy, and for all the wrong reasons. 

You can feel the confusion evolve on your face, he can too. “Why, I bet he’s told you everything. Bet he came running to you like a bitch.” Yeonjun’s menacing sneer is far from unfamiliar and your chest twists at his words. What was that supposed to mean? — “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” It was true. You had no idea what had happened between the two of them. 

It’s silent for a moment, and Yeonjun studies you closely, as if searching for lies. When he finds none his shoulders visibly relax. He lets out a short breath, averting his gaze, as if the confrontation of the subject made him uncomfortable. — “He’s an immature bitch, what do you want me to say?” He doesn’t hesitate as his eyes snap back to you, this time with something akin to fury. 

“Couldn’t accept my girl so why should I accept him. – But come on now, he’s told you that already.” 

You don’t answer. Your fingers nervously fiddles with one another as your hands rest by your sides. What was he talking about? What was there for you to know. — Your silence seems to make the pieces fall together in his mind, finally assembling a large puzzle and Yeonjun’s face lights up. “Oh shit”, he huffs, “He hasn’t told you anything at all.” It’s a statement, one that makes your heart drop. 

He runs a hand through his dark hair, a near sinister grin playing on his lips. “Fucking hell.” — He glances down the hall, which was ironic considering how blatantly vacant it was, then he turns back to you. “I thought– I mean I”, interrupting himself only to clear his throat, Yeonjun looks to be fighting back yet another laugh. “I mean I thought you guys were…” 

Shaking his head, he drags the flat of his palm across half his face. “Fuck, I guess not. That’s sad. Really.” — You want to object, tell him that whatever assumption he was currently making was wrong. You wanted to tell him that you and Beomgyu were exactly that. But that would be a lie. And you’d had enough of those. 

“Do you not miss him?” 

The question takes him by surprise, and Yeonjun pauses as he glances back at you. For a moment he looks offended, taken aback by your bluntness. His lips curl into a small scowl, the one he used to wear in the halls, not anymore though, now it was reserved for only one person, Beomgyu. — “Don’t think that’s any of your business, no? – I mean you guys aren’t even..” He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth in a disappointing manner. 

“Just stay in your own lane”, he then adds, giving you a quick one over. “You’re better off without him anyway. – He’ll only bring you down with him.” 

Without another word, Yeonjun walks away. And you don’t stop him. For some reason, his words hurt. They were never directly targeted your way, so why did it hurt to hear him talk bad about Beomgyu? — Why did you feel the need to take on his pain as well, why did you feel the need to carry a burden that was never yours. 

The walk to the cafeteria feels even heavier than usual, and you barely get any food down that evening. 

⸝⸝

The days sort of blend together when you have nothing to do. They’re rolling on a loop, one after the other, and each one would follow the same mundane pattern. With only a day to spare before Christmas, you finally drag yourself off campus grounds, determined to at least make an attempt at lifting your spirits. 

Stores are beyond crowded, and you get shoved left and right as you swim your way through the large masses. God, had none of these people done their Christmas shopping with at least a little margin? — Supposedly not. 

You didn’t know what you wanted, hardly anything seemed to catch your eye. Still, you scour the near empty racks, even when nothing appeals. A small cry to your right diverts your attention in said direction where a young girl clings to her mom. — “I want this one!” She whines, her tiny feet stomping against the hard ground. Her mom sighs but eventually complies, shoving yet another toy in their already full cart. She looked exhausted.   

Your gaze lingers on the tired moms who rushed about with bags stuffed full, on the dads who checked off lists, on the workers who wiped sweat from their forehead as they tried to get through the long line of customers waiting to pay. 

All this commotion for a single day of the year. As much as the thought itself made you want to snort, there was also an undeniable sense of longing that filled your chest. You, too, wanted to rush about, you wanted to have to worry about what to get people for Christmas. You wanted to stay up late and wrap presents, you wanted to see the joy on their faces, hear their laughs. 

You didn't want to be alone. 

Walking was nice. But it becomes tiresome after a while. With your coat wrapped snugly around your body, you stroll the campus grounds absentmindedly. The cold air made your nose freeze and your cheeks sting, but you refused to return to your dorm just yet. There was something so comforting about being swallowed by the shivers running down your spine, or perhaps it was just numbing, like medicine, only it would never cure you. 

The frosty grass crunches beneath the sole of your shoes, and you trudge forward with heavy steps. There was but a thin and crisp layer of snow, one that could be erased with the swipe of your foot. So much for a white Christmas, you thought with a bitter scoff. — Your fingers are on the verge of falling off, but you clutch the small bag in your hand anyway, swinging it back and forth in tune with your casual strides. 

You pass a most familiar bench, now coated in a thin blanket of white but undoubtedly the same. Without thinking twice you come to a halt, feet melting into the ground as they force you in place. Furrowed brows press against your narrowed eyes as you peer over at the very same spot where you had seen Beomgyu sitting not long ago, all by himself. 

Everything seemed to remind you of him, even when all you wanted was to forget his mere existence. You look away, blinking the hurt from your eyes as you glance toward the entrance leading back inside, leading to warmth and to safety. You should go, you should go there now. But it’s impossible to get yourself to move forward, your legs refuse to carry you and you feel your knees buckle. 

With one harsh shake of your head you pull yourself from the small trance. And finally you move, but it is not the entrance you approach. — The old bench squeaks under your weight, and with the help of a gloved hand you dust the worst snow off. 

Sigh. Everything looked different now, yet it was as though nothing had changed. You close your eyes, and for a second you could almost imagine him as he sat beside you, sharing a laugh and perhaps even melting the cold away with your hand in his. The image pains you just as much as it warms you. 

Had it not been for the cold, the moment out on the bench might have even been tranquil. But the harsh winds soared through your body, chilling you to your core as it forced you to huddle in on yourself. You suck in a sharp breath, the cold air slicing down your throat as you force your almost numb lips together. 

Arms wrapped around yourself and fingers digging into your forearms, you’re so busy keeping the cold out that it takes you almost a whole minute to recognize the soft patter of frozen grass crunching beneath feet. But when the sound does reach your ears, your head jerks in its direction. 

There, on the other side of the once grassy field, without as much as a uniform or school bag in sight, is Beomgyu. You’re taken aback by his casual appearance, much so that you almost completely disregard his even more unusual visit. But only almost. — What was he doing here? He had a lot of people to spend Christmas with, no? What business did he have on campus? 

You shift on the old bench, the squeaking noise of the wood however, catches his attention. You swallow when his dark eyes find yours, even from across the field. For a split second you think that he might just keep on walking, to continue his act of nonchalance, as if nothing had ever happened between the two of you, and that you were crazy for even suggesting such a thing. 

But Beomgyu’s gaze doesn’t harden, nor does it lessen. In fact his expression remains completely impassive, though his actions speak for him. He puts one foot before the other, and it’s not until he’s gotten about halfway across the field that you realize where he’s headed. Your stomach drops as you watch him push his hands into the pockets of his jeans, his shoulders slumped as he approaches. Your gaze flickers to the bag in your hands, swallowing nervously as you tune in to the sound of his footsteps nearing. 

Beomgyu doesn’t say anything when he sits down beside you, and you listen to the squeaking noise the bench makes in protest to yet another element of weight. You peer at him through the corner of your eye. His hair was shorter, the dark strands no longer reached the nape of his neck but stopped just below his ear. Even the bruise on his face had begun to fade, now it was a mere light purple, with splotches of red coating its edges. Lastly, the tip of his nose, which was an uncharacteristic shade of pink, one you found to be almost endearing. 

Your attention travels to the clothes he wore, the jacket looked expensive, undoubtedly more than you could afford even if you saved all your money’s worth. Funnily enough, he doesn’t seem to care for it as his fingers lazily pick at its seams. Beomgyu took a lot of things for granted, you could tell. — Things you could only dream about. 

The silence surrounding you is thick, hugging you tight and keeping you from moving. Your lips part as you attempt to break said silence, despite how dry your throat feels. Beomgyu however, is quicker than you as he heaves a sigh. 

“Why are you out here?” He asks, his gaze still fixed far ahead as his fingers give his jacket a small break. You had expected a ‘hello’ perhaps even a ‘how are you?’, maybe you would even have been content with a sharp glare or a ‘fuck off’. But Beomgyu leads the conversation in a completely different direction. 

When your silence becomes deafening he turns to you. His eyes are filled with something you can’t quite place, something unlike his usual self. He searches your face, as though looking for clues with the help of a magnifying glass. “It’s cold”, he then adds, as if the obvious could not have been made any clearer. 

You scoff, shaking your head as you fiddle with the bag in your hands. “I’m dressed for it”, you mutter without looking at him. Beomgyu hums, and for a second it sounds as though he’s about to say something else, only to stop himself. — The thick silence returns, this time it feels almost claustrophobic. You wanted to ask him about that night, you wanted to ask him about Yeonjun, you wanted to ask him about the two of you, you wanted to ask him…

“Why are you out here?” Your quiet whisper is nearly swallowed by the whirling wind but Beomgyu manages to catch it as his attention jumps from the naked trees and back to you. There were a thousand thoughts swimming within his eyes, things that were just waiting to be said. So why didn’t he? 

“It’s Christmas”, you add, watching as his lip twitches in amusement. — You could not remember the last time you’d made Beomgyu laugh. He shakes his head, tongue prodding against his cheek. “It is”, he nods in agreement, his gaze dropping to the bag clutched in your hands. “Present?” He asks to which you slowly nod. 

Pulling your lip between your teeth, you exhale a deflated sigh, “A stupid one.” You didn’t want to admit that you had bought it for yourself, considering the fact that it would be the only gift you were to receive this year, again. It’s quiet after that and you desperately hoped he would drop the subject again. 

Beomgyu shrugs, “Isn’t that the whole point of Christmas?” When you only frown, he continues, “I mean, wrapping things up and giving them away.” He scoffs as he runs a hand through his dark hair, “Using gifts as condolences, it’s quite materialistic don’t you think?” 

You wanted to argue that it was not, but as your gaze flickers over the expensive clothes he wore, you realized that he didn't seem even a tad grateful for them. Perhaps they had been just that, condolences. — Your thoughts are interrupted by Beomgyu as he shifts on the bench and his hand reaches into the pocket of his coat. 

“I’m not much better”, he murmurs when pulling out a small box. It fit perfectly in his palm, enveloped in silver wrapping with a tiny bow on top. You eye the tiny present with intrigue, your stomach flipping at the sight. — He inhales sharply as he twists the box between his fingers. “Reflecting, repenting all that bullshit..” He mumbles as his brown eyes meet yours, “Suppose that’s what I’m trying to do here.”

Confused, you open your mouth to speak but before you can get as much as a word out, he hands you the gift. His eyes look near pleading as he silently begs for you to accept it, as if it would mean you accepted his apology. Perhaps it would take the guilt off his shoulders if you did. — The frown on your face only grows, but you set your own bag down before reaching a hesitant hand out to grasp the present. 

It feels light in your palm, almost weightless. “Open it”, Beomgyu encourages beside you, his warm breath ghosts across your cheek and you hadn’t even realized just how close he was. — Shrugging your mitten off, your free hand carefully plucks the lid from its container. You can feel his gaze on you, watching intently as you gently tug the rustling paper aside. 

Your breath catches in your throat and your eyes widen tenfold when they fall on the familiar piece of leather. It was the same warm brown, and the contrastingly dark navy blue. The bracelet which you had cherished for so long, the one you had clung onto in the hopes that his matching part would still exist somewhere. 

“I…” You breathlessly begin but Beomgyu quickly cuts you off. “I.. I’m sorry, yeah, that’s what I was…”, he trails off, shrugging as he averts his gaze sheepishly. It’s weird to see him like that, it reminds you of a time long ago, a time before everything. 

The reality of his words slowly sank in, Beomgyu was apologizing. 

You had spent countless sleepless nights, tossing and turning in bed as you prayed and hoped for a time like this. Was it selfish for you to wish for things to be the way they had been? You wanted to bring back someone who no longer existed, a version of him that was but a mere memory, remembered and kept alive only by you. 

Yet here he is, doing just as you had hoped, and for so long. But you hate Choi Beomgyu now. That was a fact. And he hated you too. So this didn’t make sense, no, it wasn’t right. He shouldn’t be apologizing. He should have brushed it off, acted as if nothing had ever happened and given you a shoulder cold enough to bring back the ice age. 

“This is wrong.. — I mean, you can’t just-” Biting back a frustrated groan, you twist uncomfortably in your seat as you avoid his reluctant gaze. You can sense his confusion, and it only fuels your frustration. Did he not understand that he couldn’t just undo everything with a simple ‘sorry’ and a gift. 

Beomgyu swallows, his adam’s apple bobbing against his throat. “What?” He asks, his gaze dropping to the untouched gift still in your hands, “Do you not like it? — I can get you something else.” 

You shake your head, “It’s not about the gift, Beomgyu.” — He frowns, “Then what is it?” 

“Everything.” 

You’re looking at him now, your heart hammering in your chest as you fight your nerves. “It’s everything, okay? You, me–” You motion between the two of you, “Yeonjun, the presentation, us.” It wasn’t just something you drew a line over, something you blurred and pushed back in the depths of your mind as you tried to forget it. 

“But, why does any of that matter?” He wonders with a confused frown, his bottom lip slightly jutted out as he regards you with caution. You have to hold back a scoff, your fingers curl around the small box, knuckles turning white as you resist the urge to roll your eyes. “Because it does! You might not get that, but it hurt me.” 

Beomgyu groans as he runs a hand through his short hair. “Fuck, I already apologized what more do you want from me?” His anger matches yours in a way that instantly reminds you of just how bad you could be together, of how deeply he made you feel. — “What difference does it make?” You snap, blinking away the tears that threatened to spill. 

“Everything.” 

“It changes everything, alright?” His chest heaves when he exhales, his eyes flaring with the same fire they had that night, the night when he wasn’t thinking straight. He probably wasn’t right now either. — “Because”, he swallows, tongue darting out to wet his lips as he regains his composure. “Because I don’t know how else to change things.” 

He drags a hand across his face, like he didn’t know what else to do with himself. “You act like I’m the biggest asshole to walk this earth and next thing I know you’re kissing me. It confuses me and it angers me. But even when you’re mean you’re nice, and I hate how it makes me feel. — I hate that it’s you I want to go to when shit goes wrong, and I hate that I did. I hate how you let me use you that night.” 

He’s barely taking breaks to breathe in between sentences, and you catch the subtle flush to his cheeks as he speaks. “I fucking hate the fact that you’re always on my mind, much more do I hate that I never even try to will those thoughts away.” Beomgyu bites his bottom lip, chewing on it for a good five seconds before letting it go as he sneaks a glance your way. “But I…” He sighs as he finally comes to a conclusion after his long battle with himself. — “I don’t hate you. I want to, but I can’t” 

You swallow, your hand still hugged by the mitten feels clammy and sweaty. Your heart races and your mind jumps between his jumbled words with little coherence. You don’t think you’d ever heard him say so many things at once, and certainly not like that. His usual mean and crude self had completely drained from his system and left was a shell of the Beomgyu you thought you knew. 

It was then, you think, that you realized Choi Beomgyu wasn’t so different from you after all. Your gaze drops to the small gift still in your hands. What had once weighed so little now felt heavy in your grasp, like you were holding all of him, all at once. The bracelet fills you with hope, something you’d long since given up on entirely. 

You glance toward him. His jaw is clenched tightly as his narrowed eyes peer ahead, intent on avoiding you it seemed. His apology was complete and total shit, his reasoning even worse. But Beomgyu was quite shit at most things. So were you. — Your gaze lingers on his pink nose, bitten by the cold. Your own nose stings too, for the both of you had been out here far too long. 

In the pale winter air it became clear. Beomgyu was lonely, just as lonely as you. The slump of his shoulders and the defeated look on his face surely matched your own. You imagine how the two of you must look from afar. It would have to be quite a pitiful sight. How could one be lonely in the presence of someone else? Only two jackasses must manage something like that. 

But you didn’t want to be a jackass anymore, and neither did he. — So you shift on the bench, ignoring the squeaking noise it makes as you turn to Beomgyu. “Do you want to watch a movie?” 

⸝⸝

It’s awkward at first. 

The soft rustle of bed sheets, the untouched bowl of popcorn between you, the flimmer coming from the Tv screen as a cheesy romcom movie plays. Beomgyu, who was usually more than at home in your dorm, was now stiffly sitting on his side of the bed, his back straight as he pressed against the headboard. He appeared almost nervous. 

You weren’t faring much better, in fact your hands were dripping sweat as they remained tightly clasped together. Neither of you had touched the large bowl of popcorn, and they had long since gone cold. — Despite the freezing temperatures outside, your small dormitory seemed to be burning up. 

None of you had said a word since the movie began playing, and before that you had been communicating with fast and hushed murmurs as you avoided each other’s gaze. — Never had you imagined that you would be spending Christmas with Beomgyu, much less on the small and squeaking bed in your dorm. 

Did this mean that things were starting to look up between the two of you? 

Your heart practically leaps to your throat when you feel him shift on the mattress. Everytime he moved, even if it was just a mere centimeter, you tensed up. But the dramatic beating of your fluttering heart was only increased when he suddenly appeared even closer to you. His body feels warm, scorching hot inside the already airless room. 

He doesn’t say anything, and when you steal a glance his way, you find him watching the Tv. His expression would be relaxed if it weren't for the subtle twitch of his jaw when he felt your eyes on him. — Your attention drops to his hands, they were placed on the bed either side of him, his fingers moving absentmindedly against the sheets as he fiddled with them. 

Your lips pulled into a small smile, and oh how you had missed smiling. 

Beomgyu frowns when you suddenly climb off the bed, leaving behind an empty spot that radiates your sweet scent. He looked as though he was about to say something, one of his hands reaching out before stopping himself again. — He watches as you reach for the same bag you’d been clutching so tightly out on the bench, the one that had been completely disregarded in the end. 

You clear your throat, standing awkwardly by the edge of the bed as you hold it in two hands. “I…” Your throat feels parched and your lips dry as your tongue wets them, “I want you to have this.” You reach the bag out toward him and Beomgyu's frown only deepens. — “But it’s yours..” He murmurs as his eyes flit between you and the bag in your hands. 

“I want you to have it. — Besides”, you shrug, “You’re not the only one who’s been an idiot here.” 

His brow raises at your words, a small grin tugging at his lips as he gratefully accepts the token of an apology from you. You take the moment of him peering inside the bag to retake your position next to him on the mattress. Eagerly you watch as his frown deepens, only for it to ease up as he realizes what he was looking at. 

“This is..” He begins, one of his hands reaching into the bag as he pulls out the small bracelet. Beomgyu’s jaw slacks as he turns the cool and brown leather in his fingers, thumb caressing the warm and red embroidery. “You…” He cuts himself off, whether that was because he did not know what to say next or did not dare to. 

Your gaze flickers to the small box placed on your bedside table, perhaps you weren’t complete jackasses after all. 

“Why did you…” He swallows, and though he never finished his sentence, the question swirling within his eyes was obvious. — You shrug, nibbling on your bottom lip as you regard the bracelet in his hand. “It just… felt right.” 

There was no other way to explain it. For as you had trudged forward on tired feet, with heavy and droopy eyes, you had stumbled upon the very thing that had haunted you for so long. 

It has been a small stand, hardly making itself known amongst its competitors. The handmade jewelry however, immediately caught your eye. You recognized the leather, eyes widening even further as they caught glimpse of the warm red braided into it. 

Your stomach had dropped, just the way it would on a rollercoaster before its drop. That was undoubtedly the very same bracelet he’d worn, the one that had wrapped around his wrist so delicately, a constant reminder of what you had once lost. 

“That one,” You had said as you pointed to the accessory. Why? Because it felt right. Words would never even come close to describing the pull you felt, the immense need to have it. — But now, as you watch it lay in Beomgyu’s open palm, his lips parted as he regards the very bracelet, you understand perfectly. 

Things were exactly how they were supposed to be. 

Beomgyu’s hand suddenly drops, and he twists in his seat as he turns to you. The touch of his fingers against your cheek makes your eyes widen, the subtle reaction not passing him by unnoticed as a sly grin pulls across his lips. “What are you doing?” Your brows knit together, the soft confusion on your face only amusing him further. 

His breath is warm against your lips as his own hover above them. The tip of his round nose brushes against yours, the small contact sending a jolt of electricity through you. “What I should have done from the start”, he murmurs before pressing his lips to yours. 

⸝⸝

The agonizing noise of violent video games fill the open spaced living room. Continuous shots are fired, easily drowning out the sound of the doorbell. Completely immersed in his game, Yeonjun doesn’t look up until he feels the cushion beneath him shift as somebody takes the seat next to him. He doesn’t turn his head and look, he already knows who it is. 

“How did you get in?” He asks in a somewhat monotone voice, his eyes still glued to the Tv screen in front of him as he taps the controller in his hands. Beomgyu, who occupies the other half of the cough, shrugs as he spreads himself out on the soft furniture, just like he had so many times before. — As though nothing had changed. 

“Your girlfriend let me in”, he simply states as he, too, tunes in on the violent game. Yeonjun on the other hand frowns, his face morphing into confusion as his thumbs slow down on the buttons. At last, the game comes to an end and he tears the headset from his ears. — “Oh, so you talk to her now?” He retorts, his tone snappy and sharp as he tosses the control onto the coffee table. 

Beomgyu bites the inside of his cheek, his gaze still fixed to the ‘New Game’ flashing on the screen. “I do”, he hums, fingers absentmindedly toying with one another. Yeonjun scoffs as he throws a glance in the direction of his supposed friend. — “Any particular reason?” He queries to which Beomgyu swallows. 

There’s a momenteral silence following his question as the two of them remain quietly seated on the couch. Neither of them move, the air feeling heavy yet filled with a sense of anticipation. Finally, he clears his throat as his anxious fingers come to a halt. “I’ve been acting like an asshole..” Beomgyu murmurs as he pushes a hand through his now short hair. 

Yeonjun looked as though he was biting back a snarky remark, his gaze flickering between the other and his own hands. “No shit”, he mumbles under his breath, unable to hold the comment back as he sucked in a sharp breath. His gaze jumps from his hands and over to Beomgyu’s as he nervously fiddles with the seams of his jeans. He can’t help but notice the oddly familiar bracelet around his wrist. 

It takes him a good minute, but soon the pieces fall into place. His lip twitches as his eyes stray by the bracelet. — “I’m sorry”, Beomgyu quietly adds. It seems apologies were becoming a new habit of his. It took Yeonjun by surprise, making his eyebrows rise on his forehead, all the while Beomgyu avoided his gaze. 

“I haven’t been too good either, I suppose.” Yeonjun reluctantly admits as he gives a small shrug. Beomgyu doesn’t reply but still nods as he purses his lips. Another thick silence follows, it’s not uncomfortable, but it’s not one either of them want to linger in. Yeonjun is the first to break it when he clears his throat. 

“I missed you man”, he says, his words light and filled with sincerity. 

Beomgyu finally finds himself looking at his friend, his eyes widening just a fraction. “Yeah?” He asks, the ghost of a grin playing across his lips. Yeonjun scoffs as he leans further into the couch, “Yeah, yeah. Don’t let it get to your head.” But it’s already too late, for Beomgyu was smirking as he leaned over to grab the discarded controller. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it”, he drawls as he presses ‘New Game’. 

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[mochiwrites]

last life au

in light of third life turning two years old today, I offer a wip I've had sitting in my google drive since february! if any of you remember this post I made a while back, all you need to know is that third life!grian has swapped places with last life!grian somehow. without further ado, here's my very unfinished and very rough last life au wip (pls don't judge it too harshly LOL)

happy two years to the series that changed me as a person! :D (edit: now posted on ao3! read here)

if you enjoyed, please reblog! reblogs do more than likes <3

To Grian, the desert was once a home.

It wasn’t perfect, not really. Perfection is nearly impossible in a game of death, but what he and Scar had came close. The desert was the farthest thing from a good location, all things considered. The days were hot, far too hot, and the nights were so cold that it left Scar and Grian curling up close for warmth. There was nothing but sand for miles, which made gathering materials a constant challenge. 

But they had their home. Their tower, their place of respite. Dogwarts was a constant threat barreling down their door, but together they made it work. Their home was far from perfect, but it was theirs and that’s what Grian came to love about it. 

Except now, as he stands in a ring of cacti, he has destroyed his home. 

His home is filled with lava and craters, a reminder of what they did to survive. Their desert was ruined days ago in what they had hoped to be the final showdown with Dogwarts and The Red King. They blew up their desert for a win they never achieved. 

Maybe that was the first sign that things were going wrong. Their desert, their home, their small temporary sanctuary in this hellish game was blown apart. 

Ends justifies the means, no?

After all, to Grian, their home was more than just the desert. Their home was with each other. The desert never mattered much to him, not when he had Scar, and vice versa. The desert was a symbol, more than anything. Of Grian’s debt, his guilt. He’ll never admit it, but it felt a bit liberating to destroy it. 

And maybe that’s why things went oh so horribly wrong. 

Maybe that is why his fists are shaking, knuckles raw and covered in blood. Maybe that is why he stares down at the bloodied corpse of what was once his partner, his other half. His insides twist and turn, creating a mangled mess of emotions within him. The sun beats down on him, sweat and blood mixing together as one. His hair is in his eyes, but he doesn’t care much. His tank top feels like too much but also too little all at once.

His knuckles ache, his body is sore. He’s hardly covered in bruises and scratches, and yet he still feels like he’s just been beaten half to death anyways. 

He can’t bear to look at Scar, to meet his gaze and see his own brightly shining eyes reflected in lifeless, empty ones. 

“For everything you’ve done to keep me alive this long, you may slay me and take the enchanter.” 

Scar’s words ring in his head, accompanied by his laughter. Grian puts a bloodied hand up to his mouth as a wave of nausea rolls over him. He doesn’t pay any mind to the copper twinge that fills his mouth. He tears his gaze away from anywhere remotely near Scar, instead turning and looking over the mountain. 

Their home is in ruins. Their home is gone. The last of their home has been destroyed by his own two hands, killed for the sake of winning some pointless game. 

His victory feels hollow. Empty. 

He had wanted to win together. Winning without Scar felt… wrong. It feels wrong. After all they’ve been through, after establishing something between them, winning alone just… didn’t look as appealing anymore. 

“I’m getting you! I’m getting you good!” “I don’t think you are!” 

His hands ache. His chest feels tight, as if his ribs have been coiled tightly around his lungs to constrict his air flow. He takes a slow step back, as if trying to escape the scene of the crime. His legs shake from the weight of both his body and his actions. Grian takes a shaky breath. 

“Can we win together?” 

He stumbles as he walks backwards, his world dipping and tilting. 

Grian won alone. 

He doesn’t feel like a winner. 

He doesn’t even want that title. 

The guilt is eating at him. Why? Why is he the one that survived? The point of all of this was so that Scar could win! That’s why Grian stayed with him! 

(He won’t admit to himself that there’s more to it than that. He won’t admit to himself that somewhere along the way his feelings changed. No longer was he staying by Scar’s side out of guilt or obligation. Without Grian even noticing, Scar grew on him. Scar broke through his walls with his ridiculous yet charming nature, and Grian found himself wanting to stay with Scar because he wanted to see him win. Because somehow, somewhere, Grian’s heart had been swayed and stolen. Somewhere, he had fallen in love.) 

For a moment, he’s angry. He’s angry at the blood lusting ghosts for demanding a final fight. He’s angry at Scar for letting him win, for making him win. Frustrated, bitter words lay on his tongue as he turns around to admonish the man, emotions getting the better of him. 

Only to turn and be met with his corpse. Blood pools around Scar’s body, bruises littering his face and chest. Grian had been throwing punches wildly. 

His stomach lurches, and he covers his mouth again. Copper fills his nostrils, heavy and thick. “Oh… I don’t feel good,” he mumbles, but there’s no one around to hear him. 

He tears his gaze away, instead surveying the desert around him. His blood is rushing in his ears, making it hard to hear. His head swims as he stands still, looking over at the rivers of lava throughout the desert. 

Grian’s eyes settle on the cliff face.  

This desert isn’t a home anymore. It’s vacant, empty. Pointless. His home doesn’t exist, not without Scar. 

He walks toward the cliff. 

“Scar, I’m so sorry!”

“I’m sorry too!”

The desert is unfamiliar, morphing and twisting into something dark and unwelcoming. It has become  a monster of Grian’s own creation. It has become something that Grian has ripped apart with his own two hands. Something that once brought him warmth is now cold and barren. The desert is a shadow, a weak imitation of what it once was. 

He stands on the ledge. 

He wonders what was going through Scar’s mind during all of this. What was he thinking? Does he hate Grian for being the one to survive? Is he at peace, having been the one to die? Does he hate Grian for killing him? Does he hate Grian for ruining their home? Or is he happy with the way that things have gone? Grian supposes he’ll never get to know. 

He shuts his eyes and jumps. 

-----------------

Muffled noises surround him.

He can’t quite make out what the noises are, not when it feels like his head has been submerged under water. One by one, his senses return to him and huh, that’s weird. He’s dead, yet he can feel his body? That… shouldn’t be normal. Granted, Grian has never been permanently dead before. Do most dead people still feel their body? Is that even possible? 

The next thing he feels is something soft underneath him. Now Grian knows that isn’t right. The last thing he remembers feeling is his body slamming into the hard ground below, shattering his bones. The pain had only lasted a few seconds before Grian fell unconscious, but it had been excruciating while he could still feel. Darkness had come to claim him quite swiftly. 

But whatever he’s laying on… it feels nothing like the harsh sand. It’s softer, almost silky. Plush. It only serves to confuse Grian more, seeing as once more, he isn’t sure if feeling things still is normal for a dead person. 

Ever so slowly, Grian slowly opens his eyes. His eyes are met with a stone ceiling, which… is that supposed to be there? 

Grian had a few ideas of what the afterlife would be like – if he even has one. An empty void, or maybe the End. Perhaps he’d return to the wasteland that was once his home and haunt it as a ghost. (A kinder part of him had hoped that he’d reunite with his friends, and they could all cry and hug one another. And maybe he could see Scar again, and shake him around for making Grian kill him, and then hold onto the man so that he’d never lose him again.)

Experimentally, he wiggles a finger or two. Yup, there’s still a body attached to him. Alright. Though to his surprise, he isn’t in any sort of pain. Maybe that shouldn’t be surprising, all things considered. 

Something wet touches his hand then, and Grian leaps up with a shriek. He pulls his hand back and looks at whatever touched him, finding a dog sitting on the ground. “Huh?” He looks at the dog, seeing a red collar around its neck. “Why is there a dog here?” The animal simply tilts its head to the side in response. 

It’s then that Grian actually takes the time to look around at where he is, and he pauses. The first thing he notices is that he’s laying in a white bed. There’s a chest and a crafting table in front of the bed, and there are dogs just about everywhere. Ah, so that’s what all the noise was. A furnace is set on the floor against the wall, and Grian finds himself feeling very confused. 

This is… definitely not the afterlife, that’s for sure. 

Did someone rescue him? How? Grian was the only one left on Third Life, everyone else was… 

Lips curling in a frown, he moves to slide off of the bed. Just as his foot touches the ground, he pauses, recognizing the extra weight on his body. Looking down at himself, Grian finds iron armor on him, which only worsens his confusion. Why is he in armor? 

Standing from the bed, he looks around at the room. He’s certain that he’s underground, if the walls of stone and dirt are anything to go by. He watches as one of the dogs (a pup) clambers onto the bed and circles the pillow before curling up and laying down. 

It leaves him feeling very confused. 

He casts a glance around at the stone box he’s in, looking at each of the dogs. Some of them don’t pay him any mind, and others are staring right at him. Who’s dogs are these? And why are they here, wherever here is. They seem friendly with him at least, but Grian doesn’t know if that makes him relaxed or more nervous. He remembers Joel’s pack of wolves. 

While looking around, he spots a ladder tucked against the wall leading down. He doesn’t go toward it, in case it’s trapped. Instead, he looks at the pickaxe he has on him and uses that to cautiously dig a little staircase up. 

It takes him a few minutes to get to the surface, considering he’s trying to dig out and also listen to his surroundings. When he finally pops his head out from the dirt, he does so carefully, peeking out to look around him. There’s no one around him besides trees and mountains. He sighs softly in relief. Though he still has to remain vigilant. 

Climbing out of the hole, he covers it back up with dirt (just in case if he was saved by someone, they won’t immediately notice he’s gone). Standing at full height, Grian takes a look around. The first thing he notices is how the landscape is completely different to Third Life. What is this place, he wonders. The terrain all looks different.

Lips dipping in a frown, he sets his hands on his hips, “Definitely not in Kansas anymore…” he mumbles to himself. If this is the afterlife, it’s quite odd, that’s for sure. 

While looking around, he catches sight of something in the distance. It looks like some kind of cobblestone building with roofs of dark oak. From where he is, he can spot four of them. One is at the very top of a mountain, being the most visible. 

The idea of approaching it leaves Grian hesitant, but maybe a little investigation wouldn’t hurt. He’s going to have to check it out if he wants any answers as to what this place is. So he makes a journey toward the direction of the towers. Trekking through the trees, he uses the branches for coverage. 

And when he gets to the big entrance of the four towers, he pauses. 

Grian stares at the front entrance, watching as pistons move up and down in front of him. Watching it, his eyes follow the movements curiously. Surrounding the entrance are walls of dark oak and cobble, wrapping around the base completely. He considers walking inside, maybe exploring whatever this new structure is. There was nothing inside the chest within the bunker for him. 

His inventory is an assortment of different items, none of which Grian knows what’s important and what isn’t. By now he’s ascertained that he’s in fact not dead. Which is… confusing. How is he alive? And where is he?

“Oh, Grian!” Someone’s calling his name, and the sound of someone else’s voice makes him jump. He looks up, seeing a familiar blue and red jump suit and dirty blond hair. 

Grian’s eyes widen, “Tim..?” The name escapes him with a sharp breath. No longer does his skin look sickly and gray, instead healthy and free of blood. His hair is vibrant, as are his brown eyes. A diamond chest plate sits over his upper body, iron leggings and boots. Grian almost feels like he’s seeing a ghost. The last time he saw Jimmy, it had been in the desert. Right before he died. 

It feels weird to see him again, considering he wasn’t meant to die in that fight. He was meant to stay safe. With Scar. 

Grief and regret crashes into him at once, nearly knocking him over. Images of that battle flicker in his mind, as well as the aftermath. They hadn’t spent long at Jimmy’s grave. 

(Grian paid Jimmy’s grave a visit late that night. He had been fully aware of the risks, knowing that anyone from Dogwarts could attack him. But Grian could bet with certainty they were too busy enjoying a perceived victory against the Desert. 

Jimmy’s grave was nothing fancy. Extravagance was a privilege they didn’t have there. Simple cobblestone walls and a poppy planted in the ground was all Scott could give him. 

Grian sat down, and apologized. He hadn’t even been there for Jimmy’s death. Jimmy wasn’t supposed to die. And Grian hadn’t even been there to help him. He apologized for that. He promised revenge. His death would not be in vain. 

At some point, someone had joined him. A warmth slotted against his side, and the smell of sweat, burnt sand, and summer heat filled his senses. He relaxed. 

Neither of them spoke for a while. Grian leaned against Scar, letting his thoughts wander. 

“I’m sorry the trap got messed up.” Scar apologized with a low mutter. 

Grian huffed quietly, gently knocking his head against his arm,“I don’t care about that. I mean, I do since the only one it got was me, but — I’m more thankful you survived.” 

“…I’m sorry you died,” was Scar’s response, “But on the bright side, your debt’s been repaid! You’re a free man!” Grian knew Scar well enough by then to know when he was forcing himself to act cheerful. He could hear the underlying sadness in his voice, the way he was holding something back. But most of all he could hear the fear. 

To that, Grian only pressed himself more firmly against him. “Then my first act as a free man is to see this through with you until the end.” 

He heard Scar take a breath; shaky and rough. An arm wrapped around him, and he heard a murmured, “Thank you.”)

Jimmy looks a little nervous as he stands on the other side of the pistons, “What’re you doing all the way over there for? Get in ‘ere already!” he exclaims, gesturing for him to come in. “Mumbo disabled the trap!” 

His body moves as if it’s on autopilot, legs carrying him toward the gate. He clumsily hops over the pistons and line of stone bricks, landing on the other side. His footing is a bit clumsy as he hits the ground, wobbling slightly. Jimmy laughs at him, and Grian tries to process the sound. 

Jimmy isn’t dead. He’s alive. 

What in the world is going on? 

Grian goes over to him, staring at him with something akin to marvel. Jimmy turns to him, still looking nervous. “So uh… I’m not going to be kicked out, right? I know we had the vote and all yesterday but just wanted to triple check you didn’t change your mind overnight,” he rambles to Grian, shifting back and forth on his feet. 

“What?” Blinking in confusion, Grian looks at him. “Why would I be—”

“Oi, Tim! Give the man some space to breathe, would ya?” Another voice joins them, and Grian tenses at the familiarity. “He only just got back last night. At least wait an extra five minutes before you start pestering ‘im.”

Glancing to his side, he spots The Red King’s right hand man approaching them. He’s dressed in iron, a shield attached to his arm. The familiar black bandana peeks out from underneath his hair and his blue eyes are creased with amusement as he looks at the pair. “Martyn?!” The exclamation escapes him before he can stop it. He takes a small step in front of Jimmy, knowing that Scott would be crushed if he lost him a second time (The memory of Scott in his mind would be, anyways). He keeps himself on guard. 

Martyn smiles at the pair, “Good morning to you too, fellow Southlander!” He grins. “How’s it feel to be yellow again, eh Grian?” he questions, which makes Grian bristle slightly. He remembers Martyn taking his first life very clearly.

“I’m–”

“Watch out!” A voice calls out, followed by the sounds of feet hitting the ground. Grian jumps as someone barrels past himself and Martyn, cutting right through them in a blur of black. “Hot lava bucket in my hands!” 

“I told you to wear gloves!” A second voice follows, and Grian catches a glimpse of yellow and black. He turns his head in the direction the two voices went, seeing them both by the entrance of the fort. Almost instantly, Grian recognizes Impulse from behind. But the one next to him… 

Grian feels his entire body freeze. His breath is punched out of him, eyes widening. 

The man next to Impulse is setting the bucket of lava down with a large sigh, shoulders sagging in relief. He straightens up, taking a moment to glance around. His eyes lock with Grian’s, and Grian feels rooted to his spot. His throat feels dry, as if he hasn’t drank anything in weeks. He swallows, but it does little to rid the feeling. 

Oblivious to Grian’s freezing, the man smiles wide at him, hurrying over. “Grian!” he exclaims, “Glad you got here before I reset the trap, mate, “ he greets cheerfully, but Grian feels too stunned to speak. 

Why is Mumbo here? Why? 

A multitude of emotions crash into Grian’s chest at the sight of his best friend. Relief, horror, guilt. They each roll over him, loud and vicious as they threaten to overwhelm him. He can’t look away from the man, the feeling of confusion holding his head above water. 

(“Do you think Mumbo would be proud?” The question had been half nonchalant as the pair ran through the desert, digging deep underground. The true meaning of the question was a secret, one between only himself and Scar.

Scar paused to consider it. He had lifted a finger to his chin as he thought, “Oh! Mumbo would be crying from happiness!”

“Be honest with me.” Grian had said. 

Scar hadn’t been.) 

Standing in front of the man, Grian does not share the thought. Not after the blood staining his hands. And isn’t that ironic? In a game where your aim is to kill and survive, he feels guilty over killing. But maybe that’s because of who his final kill was. Because of how it all ended. Grian had hoped he’d never have to face Mumbo after that, but apparently fate had other plans. 

“Speaking of getting here early,” Martyn’s voice cuts through the fog of confusion settling over Grian’s mind, causing him to look over at the other. Grian forces his gaze away from Mumbo with a painful pang, meeting Martyn’s eyes, “I see you’ve gone and scored another life on your way back from Scar’s.” He wiggles his brows.

Just hearing Scar’s name causes Grian’s stomach to curl with grief, “W-What?” he asks, the shock of Martyn’s statement sending him back a small step. 

“Don’t you try and fool me, G, the last time we saw you you were on yellow life. And now you’re green!” Martyn points at his wrist, and naturally, Grian’s gaze follows. 

His heart squeezes uncomfortably tight as he sees the familiar line of hearts down his wrist. There’s three hearts on his wrist, green, yellow, and red. Nausea rolls over him like a blanket, wrapping around him and tightening around his neck. He feels sick. Why? Why?! He thought he was done with all of this! Was killing Scar not enough? Was winning an empty, meaningless victory not enough?! 

Is this his punishment? Or some sick kind of joke?! 

He clenches his fists, watching the way they shake from how tightly he clenches them. Burning hot anger runs through him like lava, melting his insides. The warmth goes from top to bottom, engulfing him in an angry, vicious flame. He feels too much, yet too little all at once. He wants to scream. To cry. Maybe break something, or blow something up. Blood is pumping in his ears; his heart feels like it’s going to burst. 

This isn’t the afterlife. This is hell. 

“Grian?” Mumbo’s gentle, concerned voice breaks through the anger threatening to overtake him like a light. The sound of his voice snaps him from his spiraling thoughts, and he notices how his fingers dig uncomfortably into his skin. As if his nails can break the hearts on his wrist, shatter them. He lets go instantly, seeing angry red lines left behind. 

Lifting his gaze, Grian sees four pairs of eyes watching him. Yet the only eyes he focuses on are Mumbo’s, it’s been so long since he’s seen the man. His presence is normally a comfort for Grian, something grounding. But right now, all Grian feels is conflict. His grief and guilt is suffocating, and Mumbo’s presence does little to help that feeling. Mumbo looks at him with nothing but concern and kindness, with the way his eyebrows dip and lower, a worried frown marring his face.

Mumbo takes a step closer, hand reaching out to him, “You alright, mate?” Looking down, Grian sees the man’s wrist. Four hearts go down his wrist in a line. Two of them are already gone, looking faded and cracked. The sight of the hearts on his wrist sends his stomach dropping, heart lodging in his throat.  

Grian recoils from his outstretched hand as if it were a weapon, and Mumbo freezes in place. He pulls his hand back. His face falls, and Grian pretends he doesn’t see. 

“I’m fine.” Grian hastily replies, ignoring the burst of pain in his chest. He scans the people around him. Mumbo, Impulse, Jimmy, and… Martyn. He takes a breath. So he’s stuck in another life game. Great. And it looks like these four are his… alliance. 

A sudden thought strikes him. If those four are here then… who else is here?

His communicator pings, and he pulls it up, heart still firmly lodged in his throat.

<GoodTimeWithScar> oh team BEST~

<GoodTimeWithScar> A wizard *never* forgets his promise.

If seeing Mumbo made him sick, then seeing Scar’s message in chat plunges him into freezing cold water. Scar’s name is red (of course it is), and it sends nostalgia and grief tearing through him all at once. Everything suddenly feels like it’s too much, his head swimming. He stumbles slightly, nearly falling if it hadn’t been for Jimmy taking hold of him. “Seriously, you alright?” Jimmy questions, and Grian… Grian doesn’t know. 

All he can think about is his final moments with Scar leading up to that stupid duel. The splashing of water below him as he jumped down to meet him in that shallow pond. 

“Betrayer!” he had screamed. 

Well look who’s laughing now. 

Grian had thought about it very briefly, in his final moments, what it’d be like if he ever met Scar again. He had wondered if Scar would scorn him, or if Scar would pull him into his arms and congratulate him on a battle well fought. He had also considered keeping his distance, as far away as possible, as to never hurt Scar again. 

And yet, just as usual, his heart never listens to his brain. 

Because as he looks at his communicator, watching the others reply in chat, his eyes only focus on Scar’s name. There’s a part of him, a very deep part within, that cries out for him. It sees Scar’s name, and it reaches. It reaches far and wide, and it doesn’t concern itself with the logical side of Grian’s brain. No, it simply sees the fact that Scar is clearly alive and well and it wants to run right toward him. 

Seeing Scar’s name makes Grian’s chest ache with a deep yearning that he knows can never be satisfied. There is an ache in him that he knows will only continue to eat away at himself, until he is rotting and reaching. His soul is crying, begging for Scar at his side, and though Grian knows that he will only be the catalyst to Scar’s ultimate demise, he is weak to the pull of his emotions. 

Grian’s other half is alive! He is alive and that part of Grian feels incomplete without him. Empty. His heart aches at the thought of being with Scar again, of being able to give him the apology he deserves. Just the thought of being able to apologize to him is enough to break Grian down. 

“S-Scar,” he stammers, completely forgetting that Jimmy even asked him a question. “He’s – I have to get to him,” he says, turning to the others. 

He’s met with varying expressions of confusion, though it’s Impulse who says something, “Didn’t you already bring him his stuff after he died?” he questions, and Grian quickly shakes his head. 

“No I just – where is he? I-I need to see him, I–” he stammers, thoughts running far too quickly for him to actually think coherently. 

“Up north dude, where he always is.” Martyn replies, though he’s looking at Grian with… something. If he weren’t so distracted by the thought of Scar, he’d probably look closer into that. However, distraction is the card he’s been dealt, and he lets it play. He spins on his heel for the exit, walking briskly with purpose. “Make sure he doesn’t kill you!” Martyn calls after him, “Remember the guy’s on red!"

Grian knows he won’t. 

-----------------

If Grian is being honest with himself, he probably should have put more thought into this. He didn’t even come here with a plan! He had just heard that Scar was north, so north is where he went. He was moving too fast for his brain to actually catch up. 

It was a bit of a journey, getting from the cobbled towers (the Southlanders, his mind supplies) to the big mountain in the north. But the second he saw the hut on top of the mountain, he knew exactly who lived there. 

Maybe what made the journey so difficult was the thoughts that accompanied him. 

Grian won’t say that he ran to Scar’s — because he didn’t. Not really. He had walked. And his thoughts consumed him with every step. 

He’s stuck in another life game. Scar is here. Mumbo is here. He doesn’t know what it means. This game isn’t Third Life, he knows that much. His mind is scrambling, trying to come up with some kind of plan. A strategy. He’s trying to lay out a safety net for himself but he should’ve known from the start it’d be pointless. 

There are no safety nets in a game of death. There are no “plans”, despite how badly Grian may want to use one. He learned in Third Life that plans don’t work, even the most carefully planned strategy blows up in his face. It won’t stop him though. A plan gives him something to fall back on, a faux comfort. 

A plan keeps him from running headfirst into danger, a plan keeps him alive.  

Which is why he probably should’ve come up with a plan before going to Scar. He doesn’t know what kind of state the man will be in. He isn’t sure how to even approach a reunion with him. It’s obvious that he’s in some kind of… who even knows where. Obviously his friends all know him here, but he isn’t sure if they remember him. Who he is. What he’s done. What they’ve all done. 

It doesn’t help that he’s apparently been dropped right in the middle of this new game. 

He doesn’t know how to handle an approach to Scar. Hug him? Smack him? Ask him if he knows who he is? A no on that last one, Jimmy and the others have already answered that. Besides, Grian isn’t sure if he could handle Scar looking at him like Grian was a stranger in every sense of the word except the literal one. 

He settles on just seeing what happens. Sometimes no plan is the best plan! 

But just — not in a death game. 

His thoughts trail off as he approaches the bottom of the mountain, and he looks up. He grimaces as he gets a clearer view of the hut up top, sighing. “Of course Scar had to put his base in the most precarious spot ever,” he grumbles before beginning to make his way up the mountain. He makes sure to be careful with each step, keeping himself aware of where he’s stepping. 

When he makes it to the top of the mountain, he’s rather out of breath, chest heaving from exertion. This mountain is a lot bigger than the one back in the desert. But he reaches the top, and is face to face with a hut made of wood and dark stone. The roof on top looks like a wizard’s hat, and Grian can’t help his fond huff. 

He focuses his gaze on the entryway, finding it wide open. This is it. Scar is beyond that doorway. Grian’s hands shake just at the thought of seeing him again. Anxiety runs through his blood like water, filling him completely. His heart picks up, beating against his ribcage. He swallows thickly. 

A small part of him wants to run away. A small part of him wants to turn around and head right back down the mountain and forget that he even came here. A small part of him is afraid to look Scar in the eyes. It makes him feel like a coward. 

And yet despite that small part of him, Grian walks forward. 

He walks right into the hut, and promptly stops. Right in front of him is none other than Scar. He’s digging around in a barrel, humming to himself. Grian isn’t sure what the tune is, or where it’s from, but the scene feels familiar. His chest aches. 

“Scar?” he says, causing the man to yell out. 

He jumps up in surprise, letting out the typical fearful scream he does whenever he’s snuck up on. It makes Grian smile softly, and god he misses this man. Scar spins around on his heels, turning to look at Grian. Grian gets a good look at his eyes, and he sees a dark red haze swirling in them. There is not a hint of warmth in his eyes, no kind of recollection or even joy at seeing him. Grian isn’t sure what he sees in Scar’s eyes, but he knows that there is anger in them. Bloodlust. 

(He thinks he might see hatred. And that is a thought that shakes him right to his core. He does not want to live in a world where Scar hates him, even if it is justified. Does that make him selfish?) 

“Oh, Grian,” Scar eventually says, and his voice is cold. Empty. He takes a step forward, something whimsical about his footing. Scar is dressed in dark robes, stark white hair peeking out from underneath. “If you’re here to nab another life from me, Grian, I’m afraid you’re out of luck,” he says, his voice low and dangerous. There is a promise of a threat in his voice. 

Grian frowns at that, chest panging. “I’m not interested in your life, Scar,” he says matter of factly. He’s already taken one (two, if his guilt counts the creeper), he doesn’t want another one. 

A laugh spills from Scar, something lacking any real humor. “Oh, don’t you play with me!” he exclaims, voice sharp and angular. The sound of it causes Grian to jolt in surprise. “You can fool me once or twice! Or…” he trails off, thinking. “Three times, whatever, it doesn’t matter!” 

“Scar…” Grian says, and he quickly realizes that he probably should’ve prepared himself a bit more. He lets the other approach him. There’s something different about him compared to Third Life. Something bitter, cynical. Grian isn’t sure if it’s because of the nature of this new game, or if it’s simply because Scar is on red. 

“No, Grian!” Scar exclaims, reaching for his diamond sword. “You know, I was planning on hitting Team BEST first, give ‘em a real good thrashing. Send a message and all that! Can’t mess with ol’ Scar! Not anymore, no sir!” He takes another step toward Grian. 

It’s the instinct of green life, Grian knows, that has him backing away slowly. He takes a few tiny steps backwards. 

Scar looks at him, something angry and hurt in his gaze, “But I think you’ll make a good first message to the masses. You were the first to take advantage of me, after all.” 

Grian’s back slams into the wall behind him, crushing his wings. He cringes at the feeling, but he doesn’t move. Scar is cornering him, holding the blade to his throat. He easily towers over Grian, putting just enough pressure on his sword to spill a bit of blood. 

Looking at him, Grian doesn’t see a hint of the Scar he once knew. He isn’t quite sure what’s going on here, what the Grian of this game has done to wrong Scar, but what he does know is this. 

He killed Scar. 

And the hatred in Scar’s eyes isn’t misplaced or even misdirected. 

He doesn’t fight back against the blade on his throat, the blade that is spilling his blood. He simply stands there and meets Scar’s hazy red eyes. To Grian, he thinks this is good retribution for the cactus ring. He sees no point in fighting against Scar when this is something he believes he deserves. 

Yet Scar thinks otherwise. 

See, he had expected a lot out of today. He’s on red now, and he had a goal in mind. He was going to make everyone on this forsaken server regret thinking they could just use Scar as they please. He was going to start with BEST, and then work his way to the others. But then Grian just came waltzing in like they were old buddies and Scar wasn’t going to let a golden opportunity slip past him. 

He has a whole separate issue with Grian, after all. 

But as he stares into Grian’s eyes, he sees something odd. Firstly he stares up at Scar with blatant confusion and hurt. It makes him want to laugh. What does Grian possibly have to be hurt over? 

Though that isn’t what makes him pause. No, what makes him truly falter is the guilt he sees in Grian’s eyes. 

He observes the green life in front of him (Wasn’t Grian yellow? Did he swindle someone else out of a life?) and notices that there’s no fight. Grian isn’t pushing back against him. He’s not arguing or drawing his own weapon. Not even as Scar draws blood and pushes the blade harder. 

Suddenly the appeal of killing Grian leaves him. What fun is a kill that rolls over and exposes their weak point? 

Scar scoffs at him before making up his mind and taking a step back. So much for that perfect message in chat. Looks like Team BEST is back as his number one target. He lowers his sword completely. 

Grian watches him with confusion, “Scar?” 

The red life meets his gaze, a deep frown settling on his lips. “Who are you?”

[youareunbearable]

Headcannon that Celebrimbor and Thranduil were childhood Frenemies because I don't like how the Mirkwood Elves were left out of everything that happened so pls enjoy this fliclet

---

Once the Feanorians touched down in Hithlum, Thingol sent his younger brother's brother in law Oropher to be his ambassador. Oropher, of course, brings his son Thranduil along because this is a great chance for diplomatic training

Maedhros, this is during the time Morgoth is sending his own persistent ambassadors, thinks it would also be a great time to start Celebrimbor on diplomatic training, because before this he was just in the forge with Curufin and Feanor. And it doesn't look like the rest of the Sons of Feanor are going to have kids so he'll be inheriting the crown one day.

So Celebrimbor and Thranduil are pushed together on children "play dates"

They hate it, they always fight with each other and have competitions and as soon as they see each other they will throw down and scream new insults they learned since the last time they met. Sometimes they spent entire visits only speaking to each other in their own native tounges and mock the other for not properly understanding what they are saying. This particular game didn't last long, but Tyelpe did become the first of the Noldor to speak Sindarin fluently with no accent and Thranduil enjoys the annoyed tick in Galadriel's typical serene expression when she hears him speak flawless Quenya with a Feanorian lisp

Oropher is concerned, being the youngest of 4 he never had an antagonistic relationship with any of them. But Maglor (the new depressed Noldor High King) just gives a small smile and shrugs. He grew up with 6 brothers and even more half cousins. Little Tyelpe and Thrandy are just playing like boys and future best friends do

And they keep up this frenenimes relationship even after Curufin moves them to Himland. When it gets sacked during Dagor Bragollach and Curufin, Celegorm, and Celebrimbor all flee south to their cousins home, Thranduil sends them some relief supplies. When Celebrimbor disown his father, Thranduil comes to visit and generally be annoying until Celebrimbor can stop feeling like shit

When Thranduil, his parents, and their people leave eastward after Thingol's death but before the second Kinslaying (for Oropher is older then the Sun and Moon, he is not about to be led by a boy not even in his 30th year, Maiar blood or not, and many Sindar agree with him) Celebrimbor travels with them and secures them safe passage through the Blue Mountains.

They both grieve when they hear of the Second Kinslaying, then the Third, and then when the East sinks under the waves. Not many in Lindon support Celebrimbor wearing the eight pointed star again, but Thranduil just rolls his eyes and tells him red looks dreadful with his complexion

During the Second Age when Thranduil gets married, Celebrimbor is invited to the wedding and vis versa when Celebrimbor marries Narvi

(Both marriages involve lots of teasing over their partners of choice. Thranduil laughs over the fact that of course a Noldor would marry a Dwarf, they are basically the same, what with their love of rocks and metal work. Celebrimbor rolls his eyes and snorts that he's surprised Thranduil didn't end up marrying an Ent, what with his love of trees, but he supposes that marrying a lady named "tree maid" is close enough. What next? Will he name his children "sapling" or "twig" or "leaf"? Thranduil shoves him off his chair, spilling wine all over the table and floor and growls that at least his children will have original names, and not share a name with two of his forefathers like Men)

They visit each other a lot during the second age, and Thranduil tries to help him as best he can during the fallout of Narvi's death, and when Celebrimbor is designing his rings of Power with that suspicious Maiar of his (who Celebrimbor SWEARS is helping him craft to work through the grief he has no other intentions) he had Thranduil (or Oropher) in mind when he created Vilya

When Thranduil heard about what happened to his friend and his land during the War of Elves and Sauron he grieved deeply. The only thing he had to remember his friend by was some forgotten blueprints of unfinished jewelry, an Age worth of letters (mostly written in Quenya, he of course had replied in proper Sindarin), a clumsy eight pointed star he laughingly embroidered onto the breast of Thranduil's favourite robe, a set of Sindarin long knives overly embellished with Noldorian swirls, and a box of white gems Celebrimbor hand crafted and left with a promise to come back once he finished his rings and use them to make a matching crown set for Thranduil and his wife to wear whenever he inherited the crown

("There may be even enough left over for a third crown. For your 'little leaf' to grow into whenever you two get around making one." Thranduil's wife laughed with Celebrimbor and sent her husband a leer that set his ears ablaze and Tyelpe's laughter began anew)

And enough regrets to haunt him for Ages. It seemed like bad things always came in three. Celebrimbor, his father, his new homeland. Thranduil led his people north, away from everything he had loved, and kept what remained close to his chest. After his wife was slain shortly after the birth of his son, he refused to lose anyone else. Greenwood the Great began to mirror his grief and became Mirkwood

It was almost another another Age before he decided to commission the Dwarves of Erebor to turn those precious white gems into the crowns Celebrimbor intended. Not for him and his now dead wife, but maybe for Legolas and his future partner. (His little leaf, he could hear Celebrimbor's laughter every time Legolas calls himself "Legolas Greenleaf" with that cheeky grin of his) And if Celebrimbor couldn't make them himself, he would be happy to let his Dwarven friends do the job for him

Thranduil almost burned down the mountain himself when they withheld those gems and one of the last pieces of his dear friend from him

Under the bone deep fear of watching a dragon from his nightmares sack the kingdom, he was a little pleased. Jewel thieves get their due

(He knows that Celebrimbor never swore his grandfather's Oath, but sometimes late at night he wonders if he still carried the curse of it. If that Oath and the Curse of Feanor are the reason his dearest friend died that awful way he did)

It was the beginning of a forth age when those sparking white gems were finally turned into the crowns they were destined to be. And Thranduil could almost hear Celebrimbor's delighted laughter as he watched his only son and heir, his little leaf, marry a dwarf.

When it came time to sail, Thranduil stayed with his people, he has coveted them for so long he now refused to leave unless he was forced too. Legolas, who had somehow made a small boat that could barely withhold the waves of the Western Sea, was greeted with a welcoming and joyful embrace by the Elf he only heard stories about

"Hail Celebrimbor, Lord of Eregion, Crafter of the Rings Of Power, Husband of Narvi son of Vilarvi of Durin's Folk, and most importantly, the dearest friend of my father!" Legolas greeted in flawless Quenya with a very noticeable Feanorian lisp. The gathered crowd twitched a little and Elrond (who was hoping of news of his sons) gave a sigh. "I have much to say, and so does my husband Gimli, but first I must give you my father's message!"

Legolas cleared his throat, and then with mock superior expression, one that made him look just like Thranduil, he said: "Celebrimbor you Spider Spawn of the Shadow, if you worked on my crown instead of those thrice damned Rings like you said, my son would never have married a Dwarf. Once I am reborn you better start running because I am going to burry you in my forest and chop down the tree you become with my anger alone!"

There was a startled gasp of silence on the shores of Valinor, before Celebrimbor burst into peels of joyful laughter. Legolas smiled at his honorary uncle and laughed with him

"As you can see, father missed you very much"

[cecropiacrown]

Reminder this is very unfinished and is most likely going to remain that way. It doesn't end at a very satisfying part either so pls read at your own discretion.

Word count: 4585

TW: descriptions of a self inflicted injury/blood

Hua Cheng is elated to see the familiar shambly vessel anchor itself in the cove. He had been wading in the shallow water, bored, for quite some time, the blistering sun now beating down from its midpoint in the sky. He feels his chest swell with sweet anticipation and it spreads warmth to his face as a sharp smile tugs on his lips.

His Xie Lian has returned.

He mentally chides himself for being so excited, but he truly can’t help it. With as much reservation as he can muster, he stays hidden beneath the water, simply watching the small boat as it bobs up and down with the lull of the sea. He waits, ever patient, to be called upon.

The sight of Xie Lian as he appears at the edge of the boat feeds something in Hua Cheng. He thinks briefly that he could live on this, sustained in hunger and enrichment only by a glimpse of the heavenly beauty who peers down at the waves. Xie Lian reaches his hand down to just graze the water’s surface and Hua Cheng nearly trembles as he watches on. Xie Lian just being here, sharing the same waters as Hua Cheng, is already a blessing in and of itself. The fact that Xie Lian is looking for and reaching out just for him is certainly more than Hua Cheng could ever deserve.

Hua Cheng lets Xie Lian spend a few more moments dipping his fingers into the water before he allows himself to swim over to greet him. He lets his head and shoulders breach the water just near Xie Lian’s hand and smiles up at the man. Xie Lian, ever benevolent, offers a smile right back.

“Hello, sweet one, it’s been a while. I’m so glad to see you.”

Of all Hua Cheng’s accomplishments and accolades, none have made him feel as powerful as when Xie Lian speaks to him. His voice fuels a fire in Hua Cheng’s middle that spreads like rain, ever searching for hollowed out places to settle, filling him up until he’s consumed by it.

The two of them have been meeting like this for many weeks now.

Their meetings mostly follow the same structure. Xie Lian will anchor his boat and reach out to the water to notify Hua Cheng of his arrival; beckoning him to spend some time together. It’s not every day, but it is most, and no matter the day, their meetings are the single most important thing Hua Cheng has the privilege to participate in.

The two spend their time together mostly in silence, just enjoying the other’s presence. Hua Cheng will often pull himself to the edge of Xie Lian’s boat and lay his arms across the wood so that he may have a cool place to rest his face as he watches the fisherman. If Hua Cheng is lucky, Xie Lian will offer him glimpses into his life on shore; detailing peculiar human goings-ons or explaining the contents of a favored meal or just letting Hua Cheng know how he’s feeling that day. Hua Cheng is grateful just to listen and he brings Xie Lian small treasures from the ocean in hopes to retain the other man’s attention.

Of course, he also catches plenty of fish for Xie Lian, which is undoubtedly helping him maintain his relevance. Selfishly, he prays that Xie Lian would come regardless of what Hua Cheng has to offer him. If he was to never gift him another pearl or string him up another fish, would he still return? Is Hua Cheng’s company enough to keep him coming back? Hua Cheng desperately hopes so. And somewhere in his heart he believes it to be true. Xie Lian gazes at him with such genuine affection and interest, the intensity of the attention could dissolve Hua Cheng into mist. Yet, somewhere in his mind, he dreads a future where Xie Lian tires of him. That’s a future he refuses to live in-- so he’s been practicing something else he can offer.

Despite their many meetings, Hua Cheng has yet to use his voice for Xie Lian.

He tries his best to communicate his comprehension with facial expressions and gestures and Xie Lian, thankfully, understands him most times. But other than his small movements and many lavish gifts, Hua Cheng has been unable to convey more intricate concepts to his precious Prince. He tried once, to scrawl human script in the sand, but the characters were difficult to form and Xie Lian had been perplexed at best. Ultimately, his Prince gave him a sheepish smile and admitted that he couldn’t read the merpeople’s language. Hua Cheng practiced daily but made no noticeable progress. He ended up being too embarrassed to try to write for Xie Lian again.

Hua Cheng sighs, pressing his cool cheek further onto his forearm as he stares at the man gathering rope on the deck. Xie Lian has been so patient, so merciful, but his wants are clear to Hua Cheng, clear like a pool of water cradled on a slate shore: when he speaks, he wishes Hua Cheng would respond.

Hua Cheng struggled with using his voice at first. Out of the ocean, the sounds seemed to come out all wrong. Too harsh. Too brash. Too angular. But with practice, he has refined his tone to something he is confident offering up to Xie Lian. He has crafted his voice to fall from his lips in an easy, sultry hum - disarming - not a tone that strikes fear in the soul like he’s used to using beneath the water.

The rope finally coils in a neat pile at Xie Lian’s feet and he leans back against the opposite side of the boat from Hua Cheng to rest. He uses the back of his smooth, warm hand to brush sweat off his brow and Hua Cheng finds himself yearning to reach out his empty palms in prayer, if just for a chance Xie Lian may be gracious enough to offer him a drop.

He wants to drink it from him. He wants to wrap himself in everything Xie Lian is kind enough to offer. His benevolent Prince need only ask for whatever he wants, and Hua Cheng will stop at nothing to provide. If Xie Lian wants the world, then it is his - if he wants the world destroyed, Hua Cheng would burn it all to ash. He would thank the flames that would lay him asunder, as long as that smile was offered only to him.

Xie Lian slicks his hair away from his face and suddenly those amber eyes meet Hua Cheng’s own mismatched ones, and the soft lips of his Prince turn up at him. Warmth roils through his chest and he shivers at the sensation.

His Prince needs only to ask and he shall receive.

“Xie Lian.”

Hua Cheng has said his name many, many times before this moment. Always in secret, secluded spaces, either in his private chambers far below the sea or here on the shore of this cove, a snail or two being his only audience. The sound of his voice as it echoes off of the wood is much more tender than he ever planned for and he can only hope the sound of it is pleasing to Xie Lian’s ears.

Xie Lian’s eyes go wide and his smile spreads unhidden across his face. He scrambles up from the other side of the boat and hurriedly approaches Hua Cheng. He slides on a slick spot of wood and comes down surprisingly gracefully onto his knees near the edge of the boat, putting himself at eye-level with Hua Cheng.

“Sweet one! Your voice is so lovely. Might I be so lucky as to hear it again?”

In a quick instant Xie Lian’s palm finds its way to Hua Cheng’s cheek, cradling it with such care but also with surprising urgency-- as if Xie Lian has no choice but to hold Hua Cheng-- as if holding Hua Cheng came as naturally to him as breathing. The touch is so gentle, like Xie Lian thinks he is something fragile, to be handled delicately. The thought is silly-- Hua Cheng is the King of the Sea, known for his competence, his strength, and his stern rule. But here, in the palm of his Prince, he feels as though he may shatter completely.

“Perhaps, we could start with your name?” Xie Lian’s thumb grazes over Hua Cheng’s high cheek bone and the Sea King can feel his heart hammering in his chest.

He feels breathless, forcing himself to hold Xie Lian’s intense gaze. He hadn’t thought to practice saying his own name and even as the sound begins to curl on the tip of his tongue, a nervousness bubbles in his throat. He swallows it down.

“Hua Cheng.”

Xie Lian’s whole face lights up in response and he absently tucks some of Hua Cheng’s hair behind his pointed ear. The touch is so genuine and effortless, he seems to not even think twice about it.

“Hua Cheng.”

The name comes quietly from his mouth, as if he’s testing the feel of it on his tongue. Then he says it again, this time with confidence and ease, as if the combination of sounds has belonged to him since their invention.

“Hua Cheng.”

If Hua Cheng was to die this very moment, it would be at the happiest he’s ever been and with no regrets in his soul. Hearing his name from Xie Lian’s mouth is like hearing the voice of God. He feels the urge to weep and prostrate before him. To ask for forgiveness for ever being so bold as to want this. His Prince has given him more than a lowly servant such as himself could ever dream of.

Yet, it’s not quite right.

He’s spent so long being called something so tender, so familiar, that having Xie Lian say his actual name almost feels too formal. Like the two of them have reverted back to strangers.

Xie Lian, having been so used to picking up on Hua Cheng’s facial expressions, immediately notices the shift in the merman. His pretty brows knit together and his mouth twists as he thinks. He looks regretful and the sight makes Hua Cheng’s heart pulse in his ears.

“Ah, maybe I'm not saying it right?”

Before Hua Cheng can stop himself, he tries to comfort Xie Lian, his words coming out quickly and his tone laced with anxiety.

“No! No, that’s not it at all! You say it perfectly.” Hua Cheng can’t seem to find his usual composure and inwardly cringes at the animated way his hands move as he talks. “You say it the most correct out of anyone who has ever said it. It's just--” to hear his thoughts fumbling out of his lips and to know Xie Lian is bearing witness to all of it is incredibly overwhelming. Xie Lian is staring at him wide-eyed and mouth agape, his hand having stilled on Hua Cheng’s cheek. Hua Cheng wonders if maybe he would have been better off bloated and dry from death on the beach. Still, he can’t pull back now that he’s begun.

“It’s not as intimate… as when you call me sweet one.”

Xie Lian pulls his hand away from Hua Cheng's cheek and quickly covers his own mouth. Wetness wells up in his eyes and, to Hua Cheng's horror, he recognizes it as tears. Humans shed them when they're sad or in pain. What has he done?

“I've done something wrong.” He states more than asks, “Please, let me fix it. I am so sorry--”

“No!” Xie Lian interrupts, pulling his hand away from his mouth. Hua Cheng is surprised to find that he was hiding a smile. Xie Lian laughs and messily wipes his hands down his cheeks, brushing away the tears.

“You’ve done nothing wrong. I'm just happy. I'm so happy.” He sniffles and gingerly wipes his eyes, smiling brighter now, the warmth of it directed right at Hua Cheng.

“I never thought I'd hear your voice and here you are,” Xie Lian gestures to Hua Cheng with his open palms, his eyes flitting across every piece of him. The gaze makes a warm jolt of pleasure shoot through Hua Cheng’s middle, and he briefly wonders if he's been struck by lightning.

“You're speaking more words than I could have ever expected from you. And I--” he moves to grasp one of Hua Cheng's hands with both of his own. He strokes his fingers over the back of Hua Cheng's cool palm, squeezing ever so gently. “I never doubted that you found our… friendship important. But it's so reassuring to hear you acknowledge the bond between us.” In a fluid motion, Xie Lian brings Hua Cheng’s hand up to his face and affectionately presses his forehead to the Sea King’s knuckles. He pulls away far too soon and commands Hua Cheng’s eye contact.

“For a while there, I was beginning to fear I had imagined it.” A breathy laugh falls from those perfect lips and Hua Cheng is enraptured. He must find every way to make Xie Lian make that sound again.

Xie Lian continues quietly, “I thought maybe I had willed affection to be where it truly had not been.” He offers a small shrug and settles more comfortably on his knees, keeping Hua Cheng’s cool hand in his own warm ones.

“I have a suggestion, if you’re willing.” Hua Cheng nods and Xie Lian goes on. “You and I will both know you are my sweet one, but I think we should each come up with new nicknames for each other now that we are finally, properly introduced. What do you say to that?”

Hua Cheng doesn’t know how he manages to recover from hearing Xie Lian say he is his sweet one, but he does, somehow. The potential meaning behind the words fills him with such joy he has no space to grieve the imminent loss of the title as he agrees.

“Yes, I would like to try that.”

“Perfect! Hml, let me think.” Xie Lian’s mouth twists in thought and Hua Cheng struggles to tear his eyes away from the pink lips.

“Ah, I know! Do you have siblings?”

Hua Cheng nods, “Yes. Two brothers.”

“Where do you fall in birth order?”

Hua Cheng doesn’t know why it embarrasses him but he wills away a blush as he replies, “I am the youngest.”

Xie Lian smiles mischievously at this and tilts his head in thought, scrutinizing Hua Cheng. His eyes light up after a moment and he says excitedly, “San Lang!”

Hua Cheng turns the nickname over in his brain and his stomach somersaults with it. He feels cool and hot all over simultaneously.

“What do you think of that? Do you feel it suits you?”

“If you feel it suits this one, then yes. I like it very much."

[Something about Hua Cheng picking out the name gege and then the two move from the ship to sit at the shore and talk. The majority of Hua Cheng's tail is in the water but he's leaned back on his forearms, lounging halfway in the sand. Xia Lian left his shoes on the ship and has his feet extended towards the water but is sitting back a bit further so his pants don't get soaked.]

Without warning, Xie Lian presses Hua Cheng down, hard, into the sand, and pins his hands above his head. Hua Cheng is surprised at the force of it and he finds he can’t get out of the grasp. Xie Lian is deceptively strong and an embarrassed heat flushes over Hua Cheng at the way his wrists are captured in Xie Lian’s hands. Xie Lian leans down to his ear and murmurs in a low voice, “Stay still. Trust me.”

Xie Lian flips Hua Cheng over so his chest hits the sand, then Hua Cheng is being dragged up the beach by his arms, away from the water, and fear strikes him in the heart. Xie Lian wouldn’t hurt him. He has always believed this. But as they inch further away from the water, his heart and mind swim with dread.

What in the world is going on?

_________________________________

Chapter 2

A warm gust of summer air whips through the jagged rocks that jut out of the water surrounding the cove. The drag of the sand against Hua Cheng’s lower scales is uncomfortable and he almost whines at the sharp hold Xie Lian has on his wrists.

When the two are quite a ways away from the water, Xie Lian unceremoniously releases Hua Cheng from his hold and the merman is barely able to stop his face from crashing into the ground. Xie Lian looms above him and Hua Cheng hears the distinct sound of a dagger being pulled from its sheath. Blood rushes in his ears and even though he’s no longer being pinned, he feels frozen in place on the sand. He is completely at his Prince’s mercy.

He squeezes his eyes shut. The rustle of Xie Lian’s robes fills his ears, then the sound of blade on flesh followed by a seething hiss that passes through his Prince’s lips. He tries to turn to look at Xie Lian but he’s knocked back down gently by the tip of the man’s boot.

Xie Lian is suddenly at his side again, kneeling in the damp sand, and then there is warmth on his back. Xie Lian uses his hand to spread the warmth down Hua Cheng’s flank and then up his shoulder and onto his neck.

The smell is sweet.

The smell is blood.

A fresh wave of anxiety and confusion roils through Hua Cheng and makes him feel dizzy.

Xie Lian’s hot breath hits Hua Cheng’s face and he whispers almost soothingly in his ear, “Please, just stay still. I will protect you.”

There is the sound of tearing cloth and out of the corner of his eye, Hua Cheng can see Xie Lian tightly wrapping a strip of fabric torn from his pants around the mess of bright red on his forearm. The sleeve of his robe is quickly pulled back down to cover the wound completely.

Xie Lian’s hand is in Hua Cheng’s hair now, pressing his face gently into the sand and mussing up the black strands to cover any feature of his face that is still visible. Those deft hands then travel to his torso and Hua Cheng feels the grit of wet sand being brushed over his skin, then up into his hair. He stays obediently still, even halting his breathing for the time being.

As quickly as Xie Lian is crowding his space, he is gone again, kneeling a few paces away. Hua Cheng can just barely see what’s happening through the sand-laden strands of hair that cover his eyes. Xie Lian’s hands curl into the sand and he begins to dig a hole.

That’s when Hua Cheng hears it.

The sound of waves lapping at an obstacle that hadn’t been there previously. The sound of that obstacle sidling up to the shore and pressing into the wet sand to dock.

Another boat.

“You there! Fisherman! Do you need assistance?” An authoritative voice shouts from the boat. Hua Cheng remains deathly still, realization dawning on him. How careless he had been. He was so taken with Xie Lian’s presence and conversation that he hadn’t noticed the ship approaching. If not for Xie Lian’s quick reflexes, they would have surely been discovered and Hua Cheng would have either been captured or killed on the spot. Even worse, Xie Lian could have been jailed or even put to death for treason simply for associating with him.

Hua Cheng’s eyes flutter closed and he remains as still as the dead, playing this role with all the sincerity he can muster. Xie Lian told Hua Cheng to trust him, and trusting his Prince has always come easily to him.

“Ah, General Shi Wudu. I appreciate the offer, but all is well.”

Footsteps approach and the other man’s voice is much closer. He must be standing just behind where Hua Cheng’s tailfin lies limp in the sand.

“Daozhang, what a pleasure.” The General sounds much more relaxed and almost familiar in the way he addresses Xie Lian. He huffs, appearing to take in Hua Cheng’s presence, and spits out in a tone riddled with disgust, “I see you have captured a beast.”

“Killed, actually.” Xie Lian says matter of factly. “ It was injured here in the cove and I mistakenly rammed it with my boat. I anchored here to finish it off with my blade.” Xie Lian’s shadow drapes over Hua Cheng as he stands. He brushes the sand off of his clothes and moves toward the General’s voice, stopping to stand just beside Hua Cheng. The shadow shifts and Hua Cheng realizes Xie Lian is bowing. Just the thought of his Prince feeling the need to subjugate himself to this brute makes Hua Cheng feel sick with rage.

“May I offer to burn it for you?” A boot connects with Hua Cheng’s tail in a half-hearted kick, but Hua Cheng remains motionless.

“Again, your generosity is much appreciated, but as per my cultivation, any creature I kill must be given proper burial. I beg your understanding.”

“Hm. Such is the way of a pious man. Please, allow me to assist.”

The man calls back in the direction of the boat and a second set of footsteps bounds toward them. An item seems to have been exchanged and then those footsteps retreat back to the shoreline.

The ‘shink’ of metal piercing the sand directly next to Hua Cheng’s head nearly makes him flinch. Thankfully, Xie Lian is ever vigilant and has placed his hand on the middle of Hua Cheng’s back, as if to support himself as he reaches across his body for the discarded tool. If Hua Cheng had reacted with any movement, it was surely hidden by Xie Lian’s own.

“This should make digging the grave much easier for you, Daozhang.”

Ah, a shovel.

“Your generosity knows no bounds.” Xie Lian’s reply is cooly measured but bordering on sarcastic. Another shift of shadow dances across Hua Cheng as Xie Lian rights himself, only to bow again. “May I return it to you when I’m back ashore?”

“No need. You may keep it.”

Hua Cheng feels the burning eyes of the General on his back and then it takes all of his willpower to contain his shock and rage as warm spit jets out from the man’s mouth and onto Hua Cheng’s backside. The absolute audacity of the act is infuriating.

The General continues with vicious finality, “Thank you for your contribution to the extermination of these vile creatures.” He plants one more kick onto Hua Cheng’s tail, then swivels on his heel to return to his boat. Over his shoulder he casually adds, “Peace be to Yong’an.”

“Peace be to Yong’an,” comes Xie Lian’s deferential reply.

There are more footsteps that squelch in the wet sand on the edge of the shore, and then the sound of the boat as it trudges back out into the water.

Meanwhile, Xie Lian has made a convincing show of deepening and widening the hole with the shovel. He exhales with each heave of the tool as it sinks into the sand, and then grunts when he flings the sand into a pile nearby.

Several minutes pass like this; Hua Cheng still lying unmoving and dirty on the ground as Xie Lian dutifully moves shovelful after shovelful of sand from the hole.

The shovel tucks back into the sand again but there is no sound of it pulling out.

Xie Lian’s quiet voice draws Hua Cheng back to the moment and he finally dares to open his eyes.

“I think they are far enough away now.”

Xie Lian kneels beside Hua Cheng’s head and carefully brushes his hair away from his face. Hua Cheng rolls to his side and peers up at Xie Lian, surely looking every bit as pitiful and disheveled as he feels. Xie Lian grimaces.

“I am so very sorry I had to do that. I acted on instinct as there wasn’t time to form another plan…” He strokes Hua Cheng’s sullied cheek and smiles sheepishly down at him, “I do hope you forgive me.”

Hua Cheng pushes himself up into a sitting position and slowly shakes his head. Xie Lian looks startled and a deep frown tugs at his lips. Many emotions swirl through his eyes before finally settling on unflinching sorrow. He starts to pull his hand away from Hua Cheng’s cheek, but Hua Cheng delicately seizes his wrist and pulls his arm closer to inspect it. With reverent caution, he tugs the sleeve up Xie Lian’s arm and stares at the blood soaked cloth that binds his wound.

Hua Cheng painfully tears his eyes from the vivid red of Xie Lian’s injury and looks up to meet the man’s broken gaze.

“Do not ever hurt yourself for my sake again.”

Xie Lian searches Hua Cheng’s eyes and then nods numbly. A thick swallow rolls down his throat.

“I forgive you. Of course I forgive you.” Hua Cheng’s voice is hoarse with something bordering on grief, “But I could never forgive myself if you were to come to harm because of me. Call me selfish-- but I must have you safe at all costs. Do you understand?”

Xie Lian smiles woefully at this and nods his head, “Yes, I understand. I’m sorry.”

And then, his tone low and serious, “But the same goes for you. I also need you to be safe at all costs. I did what I had to do to ensure that today. I hope you can understand that.”

Hua Cheng’s heart is a throbbing, rattling thing in his chest.

He squeezes Xie Lian’s wrist tenderly, keeping his eyes glued to Xie Lian’s. He glides his hand up the backside of Xie Lian’s forearm and unwinds the makeshift dressing with care. He lets the piece of fabric fall between them and then allows his eyes to drift down to take in the damage.

He sucks in a breath and winces at the sight.

At least the blade was sharp.

He cradles the back of Xie Lian’s forearm with one hand and steels himself. He wipes off his free hand on Xie Lian’s clothed calf, ridding himself of all the sand and grit. The action feels wrong, but Hua Cheng has to make sure his hand is clean before he continues. He then takes his clean hand and presses it cautiously over the wound. He breathes out and closes his eyes, bending down to press his forehead to the back of his palm overtop the wound. Slowly, he filters in restorative energy; trickle by trickle as to not cause Xie Lian anymore pain or discomfort.

Xie Lian gasps at first, surprised by the new feeling, but does not act as if the touch hurts him. All is still between the two of them save for Hua Cheng's quiet whispers as he guides the energy to the cut. After a few moments, Xie Lian sighs pleasurably, and the sound curls in Hua Cheng's chest, tugging at his heart.

I have an incredibly self indulgent Hualian mermaid au that will probably remain unfinished forever, but maybe I could post what I have of it here for the end of mermay 👀 just a heads-up that Hua Cheng is at such an unprecedented level of simp for Xie Lian that he's been lost to sea in ooc territory lmao

[lilyrachelcassidy]

Brawl Over Hallucinogens [1]

A/N: IT IS DONE!!! Oh, and btw, happy HP22 Event everyone! I’ve been anticipating the finals of your team project for so long, and they are finally out. And I cannot be any more proud of all of my mutuals who engaged in writing this non-smut content for our lovely Draco community! A big thank you to @draconisxcaput​ who was a chief organizer of the event and arranged everything so wonderfully! Also, @drawlfoy​ and @war-sword​ who came up with the idea and pulled it all together to make it look all fancy and professional;) I hope we’d be able to repeat such a huge project, and yeah, that’s all about the event as for now...

A new series I came up with. And I know, I know, I leave Summer Nights unfinished and so forth, BUT I have a very good forecast for this series because I have the whole thing planned out in my head and I just know that it’s gonna flick. I’d be posting the second part of BOH in 4 days I think, for the next day of HP22E. But I also thought of posting every new chapter once a week, so that’d be able to breathe, squeeze some fic writing into my schedule, and still could keep up with my school stuff, etc. 

Okay, so not prolonging too much, let’s dip into some Draco-non-smut fiction!!! Pls, also, don’t forget to check out other wonderful masterpieces prepared by my friends for THE EVENT! I’ll be reblogging them, however, in the link you’ll find the whole index for each of the pieces!

Enjoy:)

Index

Warnings: No specific, I think?? Just some langauge but you’ll survive;)

Wc: 3.1k 

Tags: @draconisxcaput

“Have you heard?” Susan entered their mutual room and, without preamble, started off with a question. Sparing her a glance, Y/N could easily detect the exhilaration and curiosity all over her face, which was a typical reaction of Susan’s at every mystery-involving news, as Y/N thought about it. She bit her cheek, preventing herself from letting out an amused giggle.

“No, I wasn’t at the feast today.” Y/N turned her sight back to the magazine she had been reading previously, somehow not expecting her roommate to say anything up to the minute. “So what’s that?”

“Today’s pre-meal speech belonged to Snape actually,” said Susan, and Y/N made deer-in-the-headlights-like eyes, diverting the attention back to her friend. “He said some vials of potions had been missing from the storeroom, and no matter what a thief’s purpose was, the consequences will be dragged out. And they’ll be severe.”

Y/N gulped. “And did he mention what kind of potions are missing?”

“Just mentioned a few of them. But I can only remember the tranquilizer and… —um— a sleeping potion.” Flipping on one of the pillows next to Y/N, Susan sighed and took off her auburn slip-ons as to locate herself comfortably on a bed. “I don’t get it really, why would anyone steal those? I mean, you can easily get them without such an effort, in Hogsmeade, for instance, right? Or simply ask Madam Pomfrey for some. It’s not like they aren’t available or something…” Still getting no response from her friend, she continued. “Do you think that it could have been Ron Weasley, perhaps? Or his siblings? The rumors say their father had recently dropped off the work in the Ministry. So now they have to behave on the cheap.”  

“The Ministry is the rotten place, but Weasleys would have to be out of their mind to cut off their only source of income. You shouldn’t be judging them by their wealth, you know?” Y/N peeked at her friend from the corner of her eye, simultaneously flipping the page of her ‘Weekly Witch’ magazine. “I think it could have been anyone. And besides, you know how rumors can be — depending on nothing more than lies. Do you remember the one time when a Gryffindor gal accused you of being a Squib just because you couldn’t operate with your wand properly?”

“I hexed her for that.”

Y/N laughed at Susan’s sudden gloom. “Yeah, but you know what I’m going for.”

“I agree, but it still bothers me, like…” She threw herself in the pile of pillows and imitated the angry yelp, causing Y/N to continue with her laugher. When Susan didn’t stop with her act-out after a while, Y/N grabbed her by the shoulders forcing her to lift up, all hair ruffled and soaring in different directions, and she looked her straight in the eyes with a serious mien.

“Don’t you bother your pretty head with all those thoughts, alright? The Slytherins organize a grand party today as to celebrate, you know, the opening of another year of tortures. Same old drill. And I think we could visit at least for an hour…” Noticing the idea didn’t quite appeal to Susan, she proceeded. “Oh, come on, that’s our only chance to get ripped throughout this semester. And we haven’t seen our friends in forever. What do you say?”

“Under one condition.”

“And what’s that exactly?”

Sudden mischief appeared in Susan’s eyes, and it instantly occurred to Y/N that she wasn’t up for too much good with her inventory of ideas. Something in terms of a smug smile appeared on Susan’s lips, and before she could utter a word, Y/N interrupted. “Okay, just an FYA, I’m not going for some crazy-ass shit if it’s that what you’re thinking of.”

“No, it’s not that,” Susan chortled, wiggling her eyebrows in an opposite-suggesting manner. “I- I mean, we could kick off with the investigation about those potions. You know, to find out how’s snicking them out and what for. Satisfying the curiosity is one thing, but how many points we’d be able to obtain for Hufflepuff, can you imagine?”

“Susan…” Y/N sighed, rolling her eyes.

“Before you say anything,” she covered her friend’s mouth, apparently finding it the best way to mute her down. “I know that the House Cup doesn’t really matter to you, but it’s such an honor to finally get it for the first time in a few decades. It was always either Slytherin or Gryffindor to get it, and for once we’d get some fame out of that. Merlin, we would even go down in history for something like that.”

“Don’t exaggerate it.” Quite a pause there. “But if it’s that what you want, yeah, sure we can do that.”

“Really?!” Susan’s loud squeak carried over the entire room, which got Y/N very startled with her roommate’s sudden change of heart.

“Sure.” She smiled, nodding. “The key question, though — how are we supposed to, you know, find the suspect?”

“We will find our way. Looking at the clues, observing people, and so forth.” Frowning, she shrugged her arms, jumped off the bed, and walked over to her wardrobe. “I presume, I’m going to choose this glittery dress you gave me on my birthday. Can you do the curls for me? I’d appreciate that.”

XOXOXOX

As much as Y/N tried to make an impression of insouciant, she couldn’t get the taboo topic about the potions disappearance out of her head for days. Obviously, Susan broached the subject as well, not once nor twice, but numerous counts of times, which made Y/N reflect even more on the case. Why would anyone need those vials? What was the use of them? Has Susan really remembered all the relevant details back from the feast speech that she hadn’t bothered enough to attend to? She now contemplated how matters would have been different if she could change her past life decisions, and in lieu, go on the fucking feast that night. Things could have been different by now — she could have caught much more out of Snape’s diatribe than could Susan; she could have noticed other students reacting to the news. Maybe not so new to some after all. But that didn’t matter anymore…

She had attempted, in various ways, to pursue her detective-like role and, following Susan’s advice, tried to look out for any kind of hints that could help out in their common investigation. Until now, however, everything was for no use because every piece of information that was found only led to a blind alley. One time she thought she had even caught a suspect in the act, as she espied the widely-opened door to the Potions Stock and found a black-haired Slytherin inside it, however, as it later turned out, he was only collecting the ingredients for his lessons with Snape.

So that was the next failure on her account, unfortunately.

Currently, Y/N was bracing herself to go for her night shift as a Prefect she was involuntarily elected to be (her parents forced her to submit herself), and she put on several layers of clothes due to a freezing temperature in the corridors, especially in dungeons. She was supposed to meet up with a Ravenclaw boy who would be making rounds with her in a few minutes on a third floor, and she hadn’t yet left her dormitory, much more made her way to the appointed spot. That’s why she tried to gather herself in a great hurry, causing tremendous mayhem all around.

But she couldn’t care less at that moment, because she finally tracked down the pair of shoes she was looking for, thus she swiftly put them on, and almost sprinted out of the room.

‘I’m not gonna make it, I’m not gonna make it…’ Y/N thought to herself, criticism swirling in her head. ‘I’m not gonna mak—‘

“You don’t fucking understand, do you?” Y/N halted in her steps. Breathing like a sore rhinoceros, she succeeded in reaching the fourth floor with her best speed time yet. She didn’t have enough audacity, however, to think about her achievement because the conversation she happened to overhear particularly gripped her interest. “I needed to have them.”

Y/N recognized that voice. Harsh. Bold. Very masculine. Derogatory. She had encountered it too many times in her life as not to detect who the person was — Draco Malfoy, it deemed to her instantly. From what could Y/N detect, he sounded very agitated and vexed, even for himself.

“Watch your tone, Mr. Malfoy,” a man, apparently Snape, scolded him. He too seemed to be a little over the edge, however, could master his temper much better than his interlocutor. “If you needed my help, you should have given a sign. That would provoke much less trouble for both of us. Dumbledore and other professors are getting suspicious, Malfoy, so the next time you try to pull something like that, contemplate twice.”

“I don’t need the advice from you!” Although he lowered his voice a few timbres, Draco huffed and made an impression even angrier than before. “I told you, I’m perfectly capable of doing the whole thing by myself. I don’t need you leeched to my glory.”

“Say that again, and you are going to lose my assistance for once. I pay no interest in acquiring the glory whatsoever,” Snape warned him, sternly. "If it wasn’t for me, everything would have leaked out already. Dumbledore is not foolish. I had to offer him a very far-fetched story to clean you up from the suspicion after the last turn of events.”

Y/N peeked from behind the wall, and indeed, got a hold of a very perplexing scenery. Draco bristled and, with a scorn on his lips, stood with his back pinned to the cobblestone wall whilst Severus Snape, hovering over him with his bat-like garments and greasy hair, stared him blankly in the eyes, disclosing no rage nor irritation. No emotion, really. Draco, on a contrary, had a death-lust painted all over his face.

Wanting to get a better view of the whole situation, Y/N wriggled a little more to get a more favorable position. However, Draco’s gaze suddenly snatched in her direction, and Y/N could only wish that it was too dim for him to perceive her in the cheaply-lit corridor.

‘Don’t move, just don’t move,’ she repeated to herself, withdrawing her breath and deeply praying to come off unnoticed.

His eyes were piercing through her mind, pupils dilated, and what could have been said even from afar was that he wasn’t the same mocking, adolescent Slytherin he had been a year ago. He had the oddest air rising up around him. And his posture was slightly but noticeably hunched, with his ink-black suit hanging on his slender arms. Truthfully saying, he looked more than sick in her opinion and probably must have skipped a few nights of sleep, judging by the bags under his eyes and the extremely pale complexion.

Try as might to suppress it, Y/N felt a cold shiver run down her spine.

“I’m not sure whether you are aware of a weight of the task you have been given, Mr. Malfoy.” Snape turned Draco’s attention back to the conversation. “Dark Lord expects you to perform the task to the nines, and from what I have heard, the progress of your work is hardly perceptible.”

“I told you, I’m handling it,” said Draco with his jaw tightly clenched.  "I’m trying to mend a fucking cupboard up. But I need more time.”

“I can be patient Draco,” said Snape. “However, the Dark Lord won’t be.” And with a swift sweep of his cloak, he vanished into the vast darkness of the corridor, leaving flustered and annoyed Draco behind, who had an apparent influx of anger because he hit a wall with his fist with the greatest force he could gather.

Using the advantage of a momentary lack of Draco’s attention, Y/N tried to escape a place of witnessing the scene between a platinum Slytherin and her, what she had reckoned in the beginning, not so innocent Potions teacher.

Thoughts were swirling in her head like a tornado. What were the two of them talking about? Was their conversation related to the latest potions pilfering, and if so, why would Snape make such a fuss about it during the feats if he had had a clue of a potential robber? Why wouldn’t they use more secluded area to talk over such matters?

Nothing made a coherent answer in her head.

Y/N acted as quietly as she could, withdrawing her breath and hoping that Draco was far gone in the other direction of the school so that she could reach her room with no disturbance. However, before she could make a second step, a voice carried over, leaving a great echo behind. “Come out. I know someone is out there.”

What she could say was an act of desperation, Y/N collected herself to the fastest dart she could manage, feeling a little bit jittery and panicked. She couldn’t be caught by him. She wouldn’t bear standing with him eye to eye, especially after what she had overheard. Her plan was to run over back to the Hufflepuff Tower. But if she couldn’t make it, she would hide behind one of the old tapestries (after wandering alone around the school at night, she had discovered a lot of interesting spots she could make use of). Then, after waiting a while, she would return to her dormitory and, in the following day, she would offer a far-fetched lie to the Ravenclaw boy about not being able to make it to her Prefect shift due to the sudden flu. Or a cold?

Yes, that was a good plan.

His hasty footsteps were approaching her from behind, and Y/N couldn’t be less surprised — he was a head taller over her. With this height, he could beat her up in the race three times, if not more. Not yet losing her determination, Y/N ran further with an unsteady breath and an extremely high heart rate. She had bunked off her Quidditch lessons many times in her life, and she had never thought she would wish to participate in them again.

Y/N could swear her run prolonged from minutes to hours. But she couldn’t stop. Not now, when her destination was finally so close — the tapestry next to the Great Hall that she was the only one who knew about.

A few more steps.

A few more steps.

Y/N felt a sudden yank, and before she could get a grip of what was happening, she was pinioned to the wall by an unimaginable strength she hadn’t known Draco owned. She gasped from bewilderment. Draco was holding both of her hands above her head, and the approximation of their faces made Y/N startled because their noses were almost touching, and she could smell his sandalwood cologne from a little distance. With his breath puffing on her skin, she could feel her cheeks burning from the blush and, suddenly, she was very thankful for the darkness that surrounded them.

“Why were you running away?” he asked, his buzzing eyes inspecting her every flinch.

“Why were you chasing me?” Y/N couldn’t articulate the reason she was running away because she had no particular one. It was her common sense telling her that what she had done, eavesdropped, was inappropriate and should act as she had never witnessed anything. Apparently, that didn’t work out.

“Don’t give me that shit,” he said, huffing. “How much have you heard?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about…” Somehow, Y/N felt even tenser than before, and she had an instantaneous urge to kick him in the guts and flee.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about. I saw you peeking.” A next sneer. “Nosy Hufflepuffs, can’t just mind their own business, can they?”

“It’s not that I did it on purpose!” she defended herself instantly, knitting her eyebrows together. “I was only doing my rounds as a Prefect. It’s not like you couldn’t go to the more private area or something.”

“Again, how much have you heard?”

Y/N deflated, sinking in her chest becoming sharper every minute. “I-um... Not much, all right? I only heard something about the task. Nothing specific… I swear, I didn’t know someone was there! I was only patrolling, you know, with my Prefect duty.”

“Yeah, you’ve said that already.” Draco removed his hands, releasing Y/N from his grip and, try as might to suppress it, she felt partly wistful because she oddly enjoyed the heat radiating from Draco’s body. He, however, didn’t seem to notice her swift change of mood, and with a little sigh, he continued. “You can’t tell anyone about this.”

“About what?”

“About this night. The quarrel, this conversation. Nothing. Understood?”

“Bu—“

“Please, just don’t make me explain that,” he cut her off. “I know this might be confusing but believe me, you don’t want to be mingled into this shithole. Just keep your nose out of it, and nothing bad’s going to happen.”

What did he mean? Did he view her as that oblivious as to not ask questions?

“I—“

“Y/N?” A different voice rang from the opposite side of a hall. Stamps approached Y/N and Draco in surprisingly fast time, and out of nowhere, Terry Boot was standing right in front of them, staring at them in awe. “What are you doing here? We were supposed to meet with each other an hour ago.”

She scratched her head nervously. “I overslept. Took a too-long nap.” Avoiding any eye contact, she let out a neurotic laugh, wishing to have this whole chatty-chat situation behind her.

“And him?” Terry took a suspicious glance at Draco.

“Oh, um — he was just walking back to his dormitory, I assisted him.”

“A little late for a stroll, ain’t it?” Terry asked, folding arms and directing his suspicious gaze back to Draco.

“That’s why I was walking back to dungeons, Boot,” Draco sent him an in-verbal warning, the intensity of his upsetness hovering around. “And now, if you’ll excuse me, I have early classes tomorrow.”

Uttering nothing more, he ambled away from the pair of them but not before sending Y/N the last caveat with his wary eyes over his shoulder. She should be feeling relieved, but instead, even more conflict arose in her head after her conversation with Draco. What she finally realized was that something much more dangerous than a student’s frolic was standing behind the potions' disappearance. And Draco could be one of those reasons.

“Are you sure you are alright?” Terry inquired when he had an assurance Draco disappeared off the horizon.

“Hm? Oh, ye-yeah, I’m fine…” she stuttered out, still gapping at the black void of darkness where Draco had been standing a few minutes ago.

XOXOXOXO

A/N: Thank u sm for reading and hoped you liked it!! yes, yes, our Terry Boot is returning back to the scenery [spoiler: ‘Turn’]. I’m sure that at least @drawlfoyknows what i’m alluding to hehe.. Idk what’s with the bad, secret boys but i always liked that image of Draco, so... I MADE IT. There’s not too much steam going on rn since, yk, it’s only the beggining. But expect some more heated-up scenes very shortly;) If you want to stay up-to-date with the series, don’t hesitate to ask me to be added to the taglist!