#the design is so striking absolutely love them

[hplonesomeart]

Heyo swiftly going to post some rushed Loop fanart here and the return to solitude! :)

Was interesting figuring out the position of all the head spikes so it stays relatively on model

Actually this was my first attempt at it, but realized the eyes where looking in the wrong direction compared to other reference images whoops

[pirateprincessblog]

cosmos

18+ nsfw content ahead, approach with caution. if a minor, I ask you to not interact.

🌌𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫.: centuries ago, humans detected a signal from an asteroid with a collision probability of 1-in-1,200. unwilling to gamble with humanity's future, they decided to evacuate. thus, kang yeosang finds himself aboard a spaceship, nestled in a sleeping pod among thousands of other slumbering passengers. the destination appears distant, and everyone remains asleep. just why is the young man awake then? ☄️𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: kang yeosang x f!reader ☄️𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 17.7k ☄️𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: angst, fluff, smut, slowburn, space travelers, space themes, plot twist, smut with plot ☄️𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: masturbation, voyeurism, praise kink, hair pulling, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, fingering, choking, hair pulling, oral (both receiving), multiple orgasms, biting, marking ☄️𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: Interstellar Main Theme (extended version)

🌠𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: swearing, light violence, existential crisis (me lol), depressing themes, mentions of death, slight blo0d (like two drops), mentions of substances 🌠𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: inspired by passengers (2016), i absolutely adore space, i am so in love with it, to the point it scares me how beautiful, enormous and unpredictable it is. i gave my all to this fic, kinda put myself in it, so please do not hesitate to leave a feedback <3 each word means the world to me!

𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫: 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐲.

"calculating remaining travel time... xjlsdja23ky324xii... updated."

"come on, you piece of shit."

"updated estimated time to reach proxima centauri b is nine hundred and twenty eight years, six days and seven minutes."

"fuck!" the man hits the screen with his fist, but the numbers don't budge. "what the fuck?!"

if the man's relatives and friends were awake around him at this moment, they would've been shocked. kang yeosang never swore, nor did he ever strike anyone or anything. him losing his temper is something that only ever happened once, at the entrance of the very ship he stands in. the captain wanted to separate his mother from his family, claiming there is no space for her and that they have reached the traveler limit. she is the last to board, they said, you'll wait for the next one. yeosang stepped down, letting his mother take his space, and said his tearful goodbyes before clearing the way for the captain and the stewards to close the doors.

however, they did not. instead, they waved their hand towards a group of people, keeping the door open for them. yeosang watched with his jaw dropped as a family of five rushed to the doors, dragging their designer luggage, wheels scratching the uneven concrete floor and making the man's ears bleed. blood boils inside his body, and his mother noticed the popped vein on his forehead from the window. before she can make it to the door to stop him, yeosang throws himself at the captain, hate, cussing and violence taking over his body.

once the stewards separated them and his mother's face appeared in front of him, he realized his mistake. the older man seized the woman by her elbow, then shoves her down the silver stairs. the sound of groans and thumps still echo in yeosang's ears, accompanied by the distant rumble of the luggage wheels that had triggered his reaction.

"you want to get on the ship so bad? go!"

he is forced inside the ship, and moved away from the doors so they can close them. through the window, he looks at his tearful and hurt mother through his own blurry eyes, heart ripping apart at the sight. i'll be fine, she keeps mouthing, forcing a smile.

they say the next ship will be ready soon, but after this, how can he trust anyone? besides, the ship could be ready next week, or next year. the danger is inching closer with each day that passes, increasing in speed and destroying everything in its path, until it eventually collides with the green planet, destroying both in the process. if they survive the impact, they will die of starvation. yeosang's heart clenches at the thought. he didn't want his mother to await certain death on this planet. he didn't want her to eat dust and dig for food in the ashes of those who stayed, willingly or forcefully.

but that might just be the price for his actions. yeosang sobs against the window, clawing at it. his lungs hurt, a new realization hitting him with each second that passes and sending him into another fit of wailing. a soft smile on her face is the last thing the man sees before he is pulled away from the window. he recognizes his sister's voice comforting him, even though she is in as much pain as him.

now, yeosang stands before the screen, its numbers blurred by fresh tears of sadness and anger. he walks over to his sleeping pod, eyes examining it and brain struggling to understand what went wrong. he lays inside once again, then closes the glass door. the white sheets are still warm and as uncomfortable as the first time he laid there. nothing changes, no sound is heard, no matter how long he lays there. he isn't stupid, he knows that the buttons on the outer shell need to be pressed in order for him to go into hibernation again. but maybe, just maybe, a miracle happens.

an hour, a nap, and no miracles later, yeosang is awake again. he sighs, chest swelling with sadness and pain once more. not only did he abandon his mother, but he is going to face his end alone too. the blonde man glances at the nearby pods; his sister, grandfather, and a few family friends all peacefully awaiting the end of the long voyage. hundreds of pods are lined up in the room, each person inside it dressed the same, stripped of any makeup, piercings, and earthly clothes, instead dressed in simple white silk sleepwear. from the richest to the poorest, they all share the same fate now; a plain sleeping pod, with no designer marks or gold pleating, barefoot, barefaced, and a desire to keep living. he is so close to them, yet so far. surrounded, but isolated.

until he hears a crash outside the hibernation room.

his bare feet tap against the cold white tiles as he follows the echo of the noise, heart thumping with fear and hope. is he not alone?

yeosang finally exits the hibernation room, eyes failing to catch an empty pod near the exit. he finds himself standing in the middle of what looked like a lobby. the pale colour of the walls hurt his eyes, along with a big number of white led lights scattered on the ceiling. on the first glance, it looked simple. once yeosang's eyes got used to the light, he noticed a great willow tree in the middle of the room. it is surrounded by a few wooden benches, all facing it. a long table follows the curved walls, decorated with plants of all sorts, protected by glass.

he does not speak just yet, instead he further examines the room. all the windows are shut, and yeosang doesn't think to approach one and remove the shade. he continues the path through the door closest to the one of the hibernation room, not knowing what to hope for. is he alone, or is he not? both possibilities are equally terrifying. if yes, what was the noise? if not, what could he expect from the person that was also awake for some reason?

yeosang seems to have entered a tube that served as a hallway, the walls curved and decorated with thin led stripes. yeosang's eyes shine under the lights, like a baby's on their first christmas. the hallway leads him into a somewhat warmer decorated room, soft yellow lights a contrast to the previous strong white ones. he raises an eyebrow as he takes in the space. it looks like a restaurant, with a bar fully stocked. there aren't many tables, all of them made to fit up to four people.

they are simply decorated, with a single electric candle in the middle. the chairs are all neatly tucked in, except one. the man carefully approaches the table, fingers hesitantly grazing the plush backrest. it is a deep green colour, the velvet material soft under yeosang's fingertips. the seat itself has an imprint, and yeosang's heart seems to stop for a moment. he raises his head abruptly, and his eyes lock with another pair.

he steps back, breath caught in his throat. the figure gasps too, eyes widening, before her legs carry her outside the restaurant and into another room. the man stays still, unsure if he should follow. what if it is a trap? for his misbehaviour? what should he do anyway? hide around the ship until the end of his life? could be tricky, but the ship is enormous. with an equally enormous luck, he might just make it.

his eyes catch a few items on the table; an opened book, a marker, cup of brown liquid and a broken necklace. on the floor is a shattered glass, probably the crash he heard. he takes the book in his hands, making sure to remember the page before closing it to view the title. it looks like a steamy romance, and when he goes through a few pages, he has to set it down before his attention shifts to something else.

"good evening, sir. ready to order?"

yeosang jumps, dropping the just acquired blue marker on the table. the voice is robotic, yet the face is human. it is an older man, with wheels instead of feet. his hands look human too, holding a tray with a single glass of water on it. it is when yeosang takes a sip that he realizes just how parched he was. he downs the glass, a few drops escaping and rolling down his chin and neck.

"what are you?" he finally speaks.

"i am a human made robot, created to be at your service during your stay at the ship. would you like to sit and take a look at the menu?"

yeosang sits down on the other chair, curiosity taking over him. shortly after, a thin menu is handed to him. it has a few usual choices, and a few more fancy ones. his stomach grumbles as he reads the ingredients of a certain dish, mouth almost watering when he sees the picture of it on the next page. but he has other things to worry about.

"made for our service, right?"

"indeed, sir."

"then, can you activate my pod again?"

"oh, sorry sir. that is beyond my program."

the blonde haired man sighs, dropping the menu on the table. he intertwines his fingers and rests his elbows on the edge of the table, his chin on top of his hands. he looks at the robot's smiley face, and then scoffs.

"it's just a few buttons."

"i'm sorry sir, but-"

"you're programmed to make dozens of cocktails, but not to press a few buttons?" he raises his voice, annoyed with the situation.

"it is dangerous, sir. i cannot just press any buttons, there is a whole procedure. your pod might implode, and you might endanger other pods, even the ship itself."

"bullshit."

"perhaps the young lady can help."

yeosang follows the robot's gaze, and his eyes lock with those from moments ago again. a female figure stands at the doors where she once disappeared, with no emotion on her face. at first, yeosang thinks that it is another robot. but all of her seems human enough.

"i'll be at the bar if you need me." with that, the robot slides behind the bar, busying himself with cleaning.

the girl approaches, carefully. when she reaches her once abandoned table, she slowly smiles. the look on the man's face makes her smile fade quickly, pure anger written all over his features.

"you." he says through gritted teeth.

"uh... hi. my name is-" she holds her hand out as a greeting, ignoring the sudden hostile demeanor.

"i don't want to know your fucking name."

"w-what?"

yeosang replays the image of the captain pushing him out of the way, only to invite a whole family inside after he said there is no more space left. he saw you, carrying that foolish designer bag over your shoulder, the weight of it pulling your body to the side. he remembers locking eyes with you for a split second, just before he went berserk on the captain. you looked like you hadn't worked a single day in your life, and like your world was only flowers and waterfalls.

"you're holding me accountable for your mom, aren't you?"

"do not talk about my mother."

"you know, before assuming something, you should try thinking a bit harder. how do you-"

"i don't have to- no, i don't want to think harder. you rich bastards waltz in here like it's nothing while us poor people have to scrape every corner of our house for the last penny to get a chance for a ticket." he stands from the chair abruptly, making it fall on the floor and you flinch.

tears gather in your eyes, and you feel frustrated that you cannot control it. why do you always have to cry, no matter the emotion? who cries from anger, for god's sake?

"oh, no no. you do not get to cry. that is my mother that stayed down there, and-"

"you think i just waltzed in here? just like that? you think i didn't pay for my own goddamn ticket? you think they let us in just because of our status and wealth?"

"you paid for your ticket? who told you that, your daddy?"

you stay silent for a moment, before confirming. yeosang laughs sarcastically, offending you even more.

"right." he scoffs.

"you think he would lie to me?"

"did you see the tickets? do you know what they look like? how much they cost? where they're taking us? do you even know where you are going? tell me any of these things, and i'll believe you."

you sit down, staring at the broken necklace. you did not know any of those things. you did ask your father to show you the tickets multiple times, you were excited. but he delayed it, even at the entrance, he didn't have to show it to the captain.

"that's what i thought."

"but... why would they let us board?"

"because your daddy is an important minister. you should try thinking a bit harder." he repeats your sentence from earlier.

you sit still, anger stirring inside of you. anger no longer directed at the gorgeous man, but at your family. your father specifically. the stranger picks up the chair, then sits on it. he sighs, shoving his face in his hands.

"what happened to your pod?" he asks, not yet looking at you.

"i don't know. i suddenly woke up, couldn't breathe, and had to break the glass to get out. next thing i know, it had smoke coming out of it so i pressed a bunch of buttons until the thing shut down completely. what about yours?"

yeosang removed his hands from his face, finally looking at you properly. he feels his ears and cheeks warm up, noticing just how beautiful you are. he looks at your book instead, unable to maintain eye-contact.

"no difficulty with breathing as far as i remember. i woke up like i did on earth every day, and it felt natural too. the lid was open, no smoke or cracks. the digital board seemed normal, the vitals still showing up until i had to rip the cables from my wrists." yeosang looks down on his hands, remembering how gently he yanked those tubes from his flesh. "then i was confused as to why i was the only one awake. i went to the main screen in the hibernation room, might've hit it, and then heard a crash. you, assuming?"

"yeah. i knocked it over while trying to fix the stupid necklace."

yeosang nods, eyeing the necklace that now rests in your fingers. it has a simple butterfly pendant, and yeosang fights the urge to ask if it holds any meaning.

"how long have you been awake?"

"about three weeks."

"it doesn't sound like a lot, but when you're alone, assuming it feels like three months?"

you laugh, "more like three years."

"have you tried sending a message back to earth?"

you frown, remembering all the video and voice messages you have sent the first day you woke up and met your new fate. you abused the poor system, sending a tearful plea for help almost every hour.

"i have."

"and?"

"it takes approximately nineteen years for them to receive it, and more than nineteen for me to receive the reply, depends on the speed we are moving at. in that time, the asteroid is expected to strike. they'll have it worse than i do, so i am at least grateful that i get to live to an old age. hopefully."

silence envelops both of you for a while. he seems to be thinking, eyes squinted and nose scrunched cutely.

"do you think... you can try activating my pod again?"

he sees your smile fade. must be horrible to be all alone, especially knowing that you won't reach the set destination. nine hundred years is a long time after all. barely any human lives past a hundred.

"i can try."

yeosang beams, excitedly standing up. he misses the way your eyes become glossy again, tears threatening to spill any moment. you trail behind him, using the chance to examine him. he is taller than you, with soft blonde hair that falls over his almond eyes, and bright skin. he looks like a prince, more beautiful than any man you've been with or had a crush on. he looks over his shoulder, checking to see if you're following him. his eyes are a warm chestnut brown, and his lips a pretty pink shade. you're jealous of his cheekbones and lashes.

soon enough you stand in front of his hibernation pod, the lid opened and the sheets inviting, no matter how uncomfortable.

"right, then. lay down." you say with a heavy heart.

he wastes no time, laying in the pod with his eyes closed and rolling up his sleeves. you take the discarded tubes, poking the tiny needles back below his wounded flesh and taping them back together. he closes his eyes, and his lips twitch in a smile. you bite the inside of your cheek, wishing for nothing more than for all of this to fail.

you're horrible, yes. but if you have to spend another day alone here, you might just toss yourself out in space without a suit on and die. robots are a good company only for a limited amount of time, before their answers start becoming repetitive and predictable.

"you never told me your name." you mumble, getting ready to close the clear lid.

"yeosang." he says, opening one eye to look at you. "yours?"

"y/n."

"beautiful." he compliments.

"bye, yeosang. i hope a better life awaits you." you say before your voice starts cracking, and a tear escapes your eye.

"bye, y/n." the man says his final words before closing his eyes again and relaxing.

you close the lid, then make sure his vitals are showing on the tiny screen. once everything seems ready, you follow the steps on the screen, pushing the buttons in the right order, until it asks for an authorization code.

"shit."

he seems to hear it, because he opens his eyes to look at you with his eyebrow raised. "what?"

"uh, i'll be right back. i just need the authorization code."

"oh. alright, i hope you find it."

"it should be on the main screen."

after a long time of fooling around on the screen, you do not find the code. if you were to start guessing, you wouldn't know where to start. the keypad offers both numbers and letters, and it could be any combination.

"yeosang?"

"yes?"

"i'm so sorry, but... i couldn't find the code."

yeosang's world shatters once again. it seemed way too easy anyway.

"help me out."

a week later, you still find the man in the same spot. he sleeps in his hibernation pod, and when he doesn't, he sits on the floor beside it and stares at the ceiling. the glass of water you had brought him last night, just like every other night, was empty beside it. it makes you feel relieved that he drank. you don't want him to die like this. you aren't sure how you would handle that, both emotionally and physically.

"yeosang?"

you call, hoping to convince him to come outside today.

"want a tour of the ship? you haven't seen anything yet. besides, don't you have to piss from all this water?"

"thanks for reminding me. my kidneys will kill me." he groans. "which way?"

you lead him out the hibernation room and into the lobby again, only this time you take a different path. there is a door near the restaurant hallway, and you playfully open it up for him.

"my lord."

he rolls his eyes, not yet in the mood for jokes. you lean your head against the locked door, hearing a soft sniff from inside.

"the sooner you accept it, the better it will be for you. i promise."

"you say it like it's easy."

"it's not. i still cry myself to sleep. but i like to pretend that i own the ship, and that all of those people in those pods are my peasants who are coming to serve me on my new planet."

you hear a faint chuckle, and your heart feels lighter.

"besides, once i show you everything, you'll see just how irrelevant our lives are compared to the whole universe. it's beautiful, yeosang."

"you can see outside?"

"yes. i'll take you to the cockpit, if you promise to have a proper breakfast."

you hear water running, and you assume he is washing his hands. "how do you know it's morning? isn't it always dark out there?"

"funnily enough, my digital watch still works. the battery did not run out yet. currently, it is ten in the morning on earth. i even let you sleep in! how generous of me."

he opens the door, causing you to stumble forward into him. he catches you before your head can hit his chest, and it is then that you realize just how big his hands are. you smile awkwardly, stepping back.

"let's go."

yeosang chooses a simple breakfast; cereal and a banana. you order your usual, the blueberry muffin and chocolate milk having you in a chokehold since the first day you woke up. you feel like a peasant who was allowed into his lord's house, eating like a starved farmer while yeosang eats like a sophisticated prince. he taps the napkin on the corners of his mouth every few moments, doesn't graze the spoon against the bowl and doesn't slurp the milk. you, on the other hand, have made a mess not only on the table, but on your lap and floor as well.

"so, uh..." he trails, moving the emptied bowl aside and reaching for the yellow fruit, "what's the plan?"

"are we talking short term or long term?" you also finish the muffin and set the paper wrap aside.

"let's stick to short for now."

"i thought i'd give you a tour of the ship. find you a room, spare clothes and such. the ship is like a city floating through space. my childhood town didn't have this many things to do."

the man laughs lightly, fidgeting with the banana. he doesn't peel it yet, his thoughts so intense they're almost audible. you call his name, once, twice. he doesn't respond. hesitantly, you reach over to put your hand over his. he ceases his fidgeting, his gaze locking with yours. the whites of his eyes are red and glossy again, and being the sensitive person you are, your eyes start burning too. you let out a shaky sigh, trying your hardest not to break down in front of him. he avoids your gaze again, seeing what he did to you.

"i'm going to sound mean and horrible. i know you might have a spark of hope left, and i want to tell you that you should get rid of it right away. hope will only worsen your pain. there is nothing we can do, yeosang. we can't turn the ship around, we are already years away. we will make it just in time for us to die of old age. we can't wake up any of the crew or loved ones, who would put them to sleep again? one of us would have to stay back again. and if you're thinking of the worst... well, i can't stop you there. i'll try, but the ship is huge. i won't be able to keep up with you if you do decide to take that step."

the blonde man sniffles, wiping his cheeks with the back of his free hand. his other one still subconsciously holds onto yours, thumb lightly caressing your skin and comforting you.

"if you, however, do decide... please let me know. so i can prepare to be alone again." your voice trembles, and tears finally set themselves free.

yeosang squeezes your hand, then put his other one over it and keeping it warm. he just now realizes how hard you also have it. he feels selfish, dumping all his sadness on you and not thinking about your feelings at all. you are a stranger, but if you are going to live on the ship with him, might as well try and make friends with you. otherwise, it would be awkward to coexist together.

"so, the cockpit?"

"woah, take me to dinner first."

as you help ryan, the robot you both named, clean up the table, yeosang takes the time to examine the bar.

"so he makes all the food too?"

"there's a couple machines back there, not humanoid though. enough to know a medium rare steak and fries. you'll need all the protein you can get."

he hums, then gets out of the way so that ryan can get the dishes cleaned. you wait near the table, not rushing him yet. he needs time, as much as you still need it. but one of you needs to be the tough one, or you won't last. as soon as he makes his overthinking face, you are quick to grab his elbow and drag him with you.

"there's more to the ship than the bar and the lobby."

when back in the said lobby, you release his elbow and continue down a different path. the short, tube-like hallway is the same as the one before, this time leading into a different room.

"this is the storage. spare clothes, towels, hygiene supplies and such can be found here. further down, see that door? those are the showers. but there is a shower in each of the vip rooms. you can pick whichever room you want when we get there."

"sounds nice."

you show him the gym and the small terrarium, before continuing through the main door of the lobby. yeosang watches in awe as you take out a silver card from the pocket of your sleepwear top and scan it.

"where did you get that?"

"found it in the hibernation room when i woke up. it was locked in a little glass box, it said something like break in case of emergency. seemed emergency enough for me. sadly, it did not have any codes to operate the pods."

the circular door opens smoothly in a spiral, opening a whole new hallway. this one isn't like the previous ones. it is wide, and it rotates around its axis. and it doesn't have a floor. it is simply a tube. the door closes behind you when you step over threshold, and yeosang flinches.

"uh..."

"trust me. take my hand."

everything yeosang does recently is with hesitation. and you understand him, truly. but at least he has someone to guide him. you had nobody. once his hand slides into yours, you don't give him time to ask anything before jumping inside the tube. his heavy body floats in the air, following after you. you can't help the smile that spreads on your lips when yeosang looks up. his jaw is dropped, and his eyes shine orange under the sunlight.

he is speechless, face pressed against the rotating glass like a child against a store window. you swim over to him, also pressing your nose against the cold glass. he is witnessing the first sunset on a different planet, and his heart flutters at the sight.

"it is..." he starts, but doesn't finish.

"i know. there's no word for it, is there?"

"not really, no. beautiful? glorious? breathtaking? none of it seems enough to describe it. it is... strange. different. scary."

you hum, looking down at the dense clouds of the yellow planet. "our earth is so much more beautiful, though. couldn't live on such a dull planet."

"do you think anyone lives down there?"

you shrug, not having thought about it.

"do you think anyone lives on the planet where we are headed? just how advanced is our science and astronomy? for all we know, we could get crushed by a single step from some giant as soon as we land. then all of this was for nothing."

it is the first time you hear him talk more, and you don't dare interrupt him. he has a lovely voice, a deep tone with a soft lisp. you smile to yourself, wondering if anyone pointed that cute trait out to him.

"i guess it doesn't matter for the two of us anyway. not like we are going to live to see it."

"such a ray of sunshine, aren't you?"

he chuckles, sparing you a single glance before flying off to the other side. the planet is enormous, even with the distance the ship keeps with it. their home star seems tiny, but you know that it is just very far away. it might be stronger and way bigger than the sun you know.

"how fun would it be if a fleet came rushing to the ship and they imprisoned us? made us work for them and all?"

"yeosang!"

almost half an hour later, you had to peel yeosang from the windows that were now full of face and finger prints. he whines, but doesn't have much power over his body like you do. you learned to navigate the zero gravity spaces, while he is just getting used to them. you effortlessly pull him through the tube, taking one last glance at the yellow giant below the ship before landing on a floor again. he doesn't succeed, instead landing on his hands and almost his face. the door closes behind you, and smoke fills the small hallway.

"pressure stabilized. you may proceed."

"thank you!" you yell, skipping towards the new doors.

"they can... hear you?"

"huh? oh, no they can't. that's just the automatic system. but it is a habit of mine, to talk to these machines. i had to speak somehow, or to something, otherwise i would've lost it."

"understandable."

using the card, you open another door. each time you do, you are amazed at the mechanics. everything is very futuristic, and no door opens with a doorknob. they are either sensor or card activated, and they always open unusually. from those that spirally open, to those that slide up or down. you love the noises they make when they do so.

"these are the vip rooms. we still have to figure out how we will use the card, since there is only one and you need it to move around. i can unlock the room you want so you don't have to look for me every time you want to go to your room, but that's all the card can unlock. i'll check with ryan if we can duplicate it for other doors."

"he was incapable of pushing a few buttons, think he can replicate a whole card?"

"doesn't hurt to try. anyway, pick a room!" you hand him the card, motioning to the sensors near the doors. "feel free to check out each one of them."

he wants to take the first one, without exploring the rest. but you pressure him into seeing others, claiming there might be better ones. truth is, you've claimed the best one for yourself. but he doesn't need to know that.

"oh, wow." he breathes out, entering the last room at the far end.

it has a simple white bed, already made with pillows and sheets, a desk and a few shelves above it. it has a door that leads to his own bathroom, and a small dresser. a circular window just above the bed takes yeosang's attention again. he smiles, then turns towards you.

"this one."

"you sure?"

"positive. i'd love to wake up to that view every morning."

"then, it is settled. you have your own bathroom and shower, so you won't have to go out all the way back to the lobby. there's also a minibar, it gets restocked once every two weeks for now. but i found a way to change it. it's just a few drinks and snacks."

he nods, still taking in the room.

"anyways, i'd like to call it a day. the cockpit will have to wait. you should refresh yourself, there is towels in the drawers under the bed and spare clothes in the dresser. it's only sleepwear, but fresh. the dirty clothes go in that bin by the door, it gets automatically dumped in the washing machine in the storage room every morning."

"wow, you've really done some exploring."

"guess i have. have fun. i'll unlock the room, then i'll be right across the hall if you need me."

"thank you, y/n."

a few days later, a knock wakes you up. you glance at the watch, and seeing that it is three in the morning, you groan.

"yes?"

"are you awake?"

"now i am."

"sorry."

you stay silent, waiting for him to continue. but he doesn't. you hear shuffling outside the door, then footsteps. you roll your eyes before dragging your body out of the comfortable bed. you open the door, only to find him very much awake and dressed in fresh clothes, on his way back to his room.

"what is it?"

"what's the time?" he turns around at your voice.

"three in the morning."

"oh."

you stare at each other in silence for a few moments. you raise an eyebrow, amused with his behaviour. "well?"

"right. i was bored. i don't know what to do. i can't sleep."

"then... go to the gym?"

"i forgot how to get there. is there anything else to do? where did you get that book you were reading?"

"ah, the library"

"there's a library?!"

"um, yes. not many books, though. mostly classics, only a small young adult and fantasy section. a few comics here and there. it is on the other side of the ship, though. want to borrow mine until tomorrow?"

his cheeks flush at the sight of the book, remembering the themes of it. a little reading can't hurt. besides, he hasn't had any activity in a while. not with himself either.

"sure."

"want to hang here while you read? if you start feeling sleepy you can just sleep in that other bed." you offer, gesturing towards the bed across the one you have occupied.

"sure, if you don't mind."

"make yourself comfy. the minibar is still stocked, feel free to take anything."

it doesn't take long for you to jump back into bed, warming it up and scrunching the pillow beneath your head. it is just not high enough. with your head turned towards the window, you can see yeosang's reflection. he sits cutely on the bed, back pressed against the slightly curved wall and knees pressed to his chest. his blonde locks fall over his eyes, and he blows upwards every now and then to remove them. you smile to yourself before dozing off.

the second time you are woken up, it is by soft whimpers coming from behind you. a wave of heat washes over your body, seeing the reflection in the window. yeosang lays on the bed, the book halfway finished but discarded on the floor next to the bed. he bucks his hips into his hand, which is wrapped around his pretty pink cock. the veins on his hands are bulging, like the ones on his cock, and you have to fight every urge in you to not jump on him.

you shiver at his moans, getting louder and more... pathetic. carefully, your hand slides from under the pillow and under the blanket, reaching the heat between your legs. he chokes on his own moans, gasping and whining more as he works his way to an orgasm. your other hand sits on your mouth, stopping any noise from escaping. you don't tease yourself, there is no need. you are wet enough for your fingers to slide inside of you easily, and you immediately start pumping.

light squelching is heard in the small room, and you are not sure if it is him or you. either way, the noises are driving you insane, and you hate that you cannot quicken your pace.

yeosang is a gorgeous man, and you found yourself having a crush on him the moment you saw him. but you never thought of him this way. he was just too sweet and innocent looking. now? seeing his veiny hands work on himself, pretty lips creating noises you didn't know men could make, cheeks flushed and hair sticking to his face and neck, you might just be in trouble.

"fuck-" he whispers, hips becoming sloppier with each thrust.

you use the last few moments of his lack of attention before his orgasm to speed up your fingers, inching yourself closer and closer, until a wave of pleasure washes over you and blurs your vision for a moment. you bite into your hand, legs squeezing shut from the intense pleasure. you did touch yourself occasionally during these few weeks, but nothing was as strong and intense as this. and none of it was because of yeosang.

you realize you missed his orgasm, and can't help but frown. you would've loved to see it. his pretty eyes rolling back, and his breathing getting shallow as he loses himself to pleasure. he has already composed himself while you were still getting down from your high. he stands up, puts the book on the nightstand near your bed, then makes his way back to your bathroom.

by the time he comes back, you are already asleep from exhaustion.

"tell me about yourself." he says the next morning.

"ask away." you respond, already out of breath.

the treadmill was never your friend. yeosang had joined you right after you warmed up, and you were the one blushing this time. every time you look at him, you see his sweaty face from last night. not a sight to complain about, but you could've done without it.

"i don't know. favorite colour? movie? song? are there such things on the ship?"

"there is a selection of songs. a couple from each period, as samples to show if there is anyone where we are going. well, they. and a few movies, i think. also some popular ones from each period. they have game of thrones, too."

"ah, i never watched it."

"really? i started it on the ship. didn't know what else to do. i am not watching the godfather or star wars again. so far it seems good. jon snow is to die for."

yeosang looks at you, confused. "i don't know who that is."

"if you want to watch with me, i'll show you. i haven't shown you the theater yet anyway."

you stop the treadmill, jumping off it and sitting on the floor for a moment. your legs burn, but it is satisfying discomfort. you wait for yeosang to dismount the stationery bicycle, not looking at his bottom whatsoever. not fair how it is better shaped than yours. he is speaking to you, but you are busy admiring his body. he always hides under the loose sleepwear, this is the first time you see him properly. he wears a tight athletic fit, showing off his broad shoulders and thin waist.

"is that okay?"

"what?" you accidentally yell, then slap your hand over your mouth.

he laughs, running his fingers through his damp hair and glancing at you over his shoulder. "i asked if you want to have dinner? i know we usually skip it from lack of moving during the day, but i am going to be here for a while. i'm going to need some food before bed."

"of course. i was thinking the same. any dress code?" you joke.

"i mean, you can dress fancy. why not? who's stopping us?"

"what, are you going to wear, like, a tuxedo or something?"

"i'll figure something out." he gets off the bicycle, sending you a playful wink.

you find yourself blushing under his gaze, but you do not look away. he is just too mesmerizing to look at. where has this man been hiding down on earth?

"need help getting up?"

"uh, i think i might skip the bike. my legs are too shaky. i'll stay on the floor for a while."

"you'll catch a cold. come here."

without a warning, his hands position themselves on your waist, and so effortlessly pick your aching body up. you hold onto his shoulders, flabbergasted. there is no motive, other than being helpful, but you can't help the sudden rush you feel between your legs. imagining him manhandling you, throwing you around as he likes, wrapping his hand around your neck as you struggle to breathe and beg him for more.

"i'll help you." he sets you down on the yoga mat, then gently pushes you to lay down. "you have to warm up more and stretch yourself."

"if i start warming myself up more, i won't have the energy for a proper exercise."

"come on, don't be dramatic. i'll show you now, alright?"

"fine."

you lay back, eyes looking up at the open ceiling. millions of white and yellow dots glimmer all across the dark void. yeosang's hands slide from your waist to your leg, gently rubbing the thigh. he puts light pressure on it, and it only increases the muscle pain. but you trust him, so you let him continue. he does the same to your other thigh, and repeats the process with your calves. he then sets his hands on your ankles, slowly pushing your feet across the mat until your knees are propped up. he doesn't stop there, picking your ankles off the floor and slowly pressing your knees to your chest.

"oh, fuck me." you gasp in pain, shutting your eyes and reaching for something to hold onto.

your fingers can't grasp the tight fabric of the athletic shirt, so you resort for digging your nails into his shoulders. he holds you in that position for a few moments, then slowly releases and straightens your legs out again. then again, and again, until you are sweating with pain.

"you're doing good," he hushes, "just a bit more. you can handle it for me, can't you?"

"i guess, yeah."

"good girl."

before you can respond with anything other than a grunt, yeosang presses your knees against your chest one more time, this time leaning his body against you. his body is firm, and big. he hovers over you, his crotch dangerously close to yours. if you moved just a few inches, you'd be grinding on him. he stays still for a moment, not breaking eye contact as he causes delicious pain, and you can't help but think about other ways he could stretch you.

"does it hurt?" he whispers.

"a little." you respond with an equal quiet voice.

"i'll get you used to it, don't worry."

it doesn't feel like he is talking about the warmup anymore. but you decide not to risk it. he could really mean it in an innocent and helpful manner, and you would be the lust driven fool who has ruined the only friendship you are going to have in your life. you remove your hands from his shoulders, then gently press them against his chest to push him away. he doesn't budge, but takes the message and moves himself. he is so much stronger than he looks, and it drives you crazy. such an angelic face, with such a sculpted body.

"i think i'll finish early today. if i continue, i won't have the strength to even dress for the dinner, let alone reach the restaurant."

"alright, then. eight tonight?"

"sounds good. got your card?"

he retrieves the shiny item from his back pocket and flashes it your way. "right here."

"great. i'll see you tonight, then. with my fancy clothes." you laugh, picking up the items you have scattered around the gym.

"ditto."

you raid the storage room, looking for anything that is not gym clothes or sleepwear. roaming around the ship, you find the luggage room. hundreds of bags, all full to the brim. you're sure they won't mind if you borrow something. not your fault your father made you pack simple childish clothes and only a handful of makeup.

eight o'clock rolls around quickly, and you may or may not be running late. your room is a mess, makeup scattered all over the desk and nightstand, and clothes piling up on the bed. you do not know what you've pulled from what bag. it's not like you'll be alive to hear them confront you anyway. you had heard yeosang's door shut ten minutes ago, and no matter how much you rush, it seems that everything is working against you. your hair was frizzier than ever, and you hated having it any other way than down. tonight, however, you do not wish to look like you just woke up and forgot about the dinner. you resort for a simple hairclip, pulling out a few strands of hair to frame your face. finally, you feel decent enough to leave the room.

yeosang hears the clicking of shoes, then stands up. his jaw drops at the sight, and he almost forgets to talk. he hasn't seen you with your hair up, ever, not in the gym either. you had some sort of a loose braid, but loose and messy enough to look how you normally do your hair. your face is exposed completely, along with your neck. yeosang was never one to gawk at a woman, but the way the deep red colour of the evening gown complimented your skin and the fabric hugged your curves had him stuttering. your lips had a red tint, with a hint of glitter, both matching the dress. the dress sparkles under the lights as you walk over to him, like the stars yeosang looks at all day and night.

"don't you look handsome." you smile.

he wears a loose, slightly see through black shirt, with nothing underneath. your mouth waters at the sight of the outline of his chest and abs. you so desperately want to run your nails down his torso. he also wears black slacks, and polished black shoes. his hair is tamed, falling in soft blonde locks around his face and showing his eyes properly.

"you look... uh-" his gaze roams your body, up and down multiple times. it lingers on your lace up heels, and if you looked at him for just a bit longer, you would see the way he gulped and licked his lips. "you look dashing."

"thank you, yeosang. you're very sweet."

he pulls out the chair for you, and that simple act already gives you butterflies. as you sit and look at the menu, as if it's your first time seeing it, you can't help but think whether this is a date. you fear to ask. two people looking good and sitting down for dinner doesn't always mean a date, right? even when they keep blushing at each other every few moments?

"are those your clothes?" you ask, chewing on the appetizer.

"no, actually. borrowed them from some guy named seonghwa, i think it said on the bag. he has good taste. i might borrow more things from him once in a while. what about you? that dress has to be yours, it looks like it was made for you."

"i borrowed it from some lady. seems that she only took evening gowns with her. from all of this, only the hair clip is mine."

yeosang nods, shoving a bruschetta in his mouth. "you look pweffy wif your hair up."

"what?" you laugh, taking the last appetizer from the sharing plate.

"i said..." he swallows, "you look pretty with your hair up. you should wear it like that more often."

"will do, sir."

two hours of eating, conversing and laughing later, you drag yeosang from his seat to dance. it has to be the prosecco speaking, because you would never ask him such a thing sober. especially because you can't dance.

"there is no music," he stands in front of you, hands resting on your waist.

he is slightly tipsy, but the sober one between the two of you. you wrap your hands around his neck, and call ryan.

"yes, miss?"

"put on some music, please."

"right away, miss. do you wish for anything specific?"

"play something by elvis."

even though you claim you can't dance, your body moves itself to the soft rhythm of the music. you sway your hips and move your feet to match the blonde man. both of you still have hands firmly planted on the others body, and eyes locked with each other. this time, neither of you look away. something about this moment is so beautiful, and so sad. you have each other, but are alone. you try to make the best out of the situation, but both of you are terrified. you have only learned to mask it well so you can keep each other strong.

but tonight, neither of you holds back tears. you let them freely spill, feeling vulnerable in each others arms. you tremble under his touch, afraid to let go. his thumb grazes your cheek, wiping the new tears away and caressing your skin in the process. this time, it is his turn to comfort you. he wraps his arms around you and pulls you into a hug while still swaying to the rhythm of the music. his head rests in the crook of your neck, nose nuzzling against your exposed skin. you have your head buried into his chest, while your hands rest on his back and fingers scrunch the light material of the shirt.

"you smell nice." he compliments softly.

you scoff through tears. "it's a new shampoo."

"macadamia?"

"yeah. was feeling like autumn today."

"i like it. better than my old spice supply."

it feels comforting to silently cry into his chest. after being the one comforting him and staying strong for a long time, it is his turn to cheer you up. he holds your face in his hands, thumbs relentlessly wiping tears away.

"as beautiful as you look even when you cry, i'll have to interrupt with a fun discovery i've made a few days ago."

your cheeks heat up at the compliment. nobody has ever told you anything like that. even at your lowest, he makes you feel pretty.

"a discovery?"

"yeah. i saved it for tonight. come with me." the brown eyed man smiles at you before offering his hand for you to take.

"but slow down, these heels are quite uncomfortable." you accept his warm hand, taking it like you were made for it.

he stays still for a few moments, gaze locked on the black platform heels. a squeal leaves your lips when yeosang takes your body in his hands, carrying you bridal style. you hold onto his neck, and press your head against his shoulder for support.

"wait, the card! i left it on the table."

yeosang makes his way back to the table, then lowers you enough for you to grab the card. you playfully put it between your teeth, then wrap your arms around his neck again. as he walks, you nearly drift off on his shoulder. the soft clicking of his shoes against the floor, his scent, and his occasional humming gives you a sense of serenity. he smells of vanilla and bourbon, and it is a big refreshment from all the ocean breezes and sport rushes. seeing him order the glass of bourbon made your stomach flutter, as you were used to men only ordering beer or a rum-coke. he took small sips of it, a complete opposite to you who finished two glasses before getting to desert. the third one we shall not mention.

you feel him stop, and you open your eyes. you look at a door you've never seen before. looking around, you notice lockers lined up on the wall and a screen hanging in the middle of the room.

"i'll put you down now."

he sits you on the bench under the screen, then crouches in front of you and reaches for the card still nestled between your teeth. you move your head away, sitting on your hands. he scoffs, then reaches again. but you are stubborn. you move your head away once again, causing him to sigh and rest his hands on your knees for support.

"can i have the card please?"

you finally lean in, getting to his eye level. his eyes watch your lips sparkle, just like the card that is stuck between them. the tips of his ears become hot again, and he is glad that his hair is covering them today.

finally getting the hint, the man sighs, playing annoyed. he leans in, hands squeezing your knees, before he takes the other end of the card in his teeth. you almost giggle out loud, not actually expecting him to do that. he takes his sweet time retrieving it, slowly pulling it from your mouth and keeping his gaze locked with yours. you finally let go, accidentally leaving a red lip stain on your side of it.

he then transfers it to his hand, while using his other one to poke your forehead. "you really are something."

"that's right, poke the weak."

"you're going to have to take your heels off for this."

you groan, throwing your head back dramatically. "do i have to?"

"why, too lazy?"

"maybe."

yeosang rolls his eyes, then takes your leg and places it over his lap. his fingers place the card back between his teeth, this time the side with your lipstick on it. something about the whole situation is insanely intimate, and you might beg him to just chain you up on the side of the ship so you don't do anything. he begins untying the laces of the heel, making sure to graze your skin accidentally with his knuckles. you feel his warm breath on your skin, and can't help but squeeze your thighs together. it is only then you realize that he can see up your dress. but he chooses not to.

"you do it so naturally. do you usually take girl's heels off?"

a pinch to your thigh causes you to jump and yelp, and you use your other leg to gently bump his shoulder with the tip of the heel. he doesn't react, only smirking to himself while still looking down and working on the halfway undone lace. you repeat the action, feeling mischievous and set on seeing what he'll do. on the third bump, yeosang grabs your ankle, yanking it forward along with your body and looks up at you.

your legs are now slightly spread, and he can easily look if he wanted to. but he still doesn't. his eyes stay locked with yours, no longer a playful glint in them. his pupils are dilated, causing his eyes to appear darker than usual. a gulp goes down your throat painfully slow, realization hitting you. he might not like this type of teasing and joking, and you might've pushed it too far. after all, he is trying to do a nice thing for you here. he is crouching on the ground for you, for god's sake.

"stay still." he almost growls, voice low and stern.

you nod, your eyes falling down on the leg in his lap. then, you notice the bulge in his pants. he might not be as angry as you thought after all. you stifle a smirk and decide to sit still and make it easier for him.

the man finally takes off one of your heels, and when you want to set your bare foot on the floor, he keeps it still in his lap. the tiles are cold, he says. he works on the other one, taking his sweet time while you admire the room.

you wonder what it is, and where he is taking you. the room gently sways in your eyes, or it might just be you. whatever it is, you trust him.

"feeling better?" he rubs your red and bruised soles. as comforting as it feels, you have to remove them before you drip through your dress and on the bench.

no man was ever this gentle and caring with you. yeosang doesn't even have that kind of relationship with you, and he is already way ahead of all the men you've ever been with. you might've just hit the jackpot with him. spending your life on this ship alone with him doesn't seem like the worst way to live.

"yes, better. thank you, yeosang. you're very sweet. who taught you how to be a gentleman?"

"my sister. that dumbass." he scoffs.

he then proceeds describing how he learned from her horrible boyfriends. they were always selfish, and she always felt alone even when she was in a relationship. she mostly felt used, ignored, and a second choice. yeosang would witness them coming home, doing the deed, then leaving because they had plans with the boys. she cried often, and even though she always slammed the door in yeosang's face whenever he wanted to comfort her, she was grateful that he won't grow up to be like them.

"your sister sounds nice. i've only had asshole brothers."

"well, none of them are in our way now. my sister won't suffer for another nine hundred years, and you won't see your asshole brothers for the rest of your life."

you continue rambling about how strict your father always was, how your mother only listened and rarely ever defended you against his accusations and your brothers' bullying, and how you had to hide every relationship and never got to enjoy them properly. although, now that you think about it, you had the same experience as his sister. you are glad not to be stuck with someone like them.

"now, wear this for me. there's a changing room right there. and don't ask. i promise, it will be worth it."

you feel like a child after coming out of the dressing room, standing up when he tells you, turning around and facing a certain direction. you both wear tight black clothes, and he checks the screen every now and then. once he makes sure that you are wearing the clothes properly, he opens one of the lockers.

"no." your jaw drops in disbelief.

"yes." he says, happily pulling out an astronaut suit.

"yeosang, that- is that safe? i mean, you're not thinking about leaving the ship, are you? this is just dress up, isn't it?" you ramble.

"it is perfectly safe. you told me once to trust you. now, it's your turn to trust me. why do you get to show me the cool stuff around here, but i don't get to do that for you?"

"yes, but... this is outside the ship. it's open space!"

yeosang helps you put the suit on, despite your ranting. you hold onto his shoulders while you put your legs in the boot part of the suit, then your arms until yeosang zips it up. it feels like you already have dozens of layers on you. he stifles a chuckle, and you squint at him.

"what is it?"

"you look like a penguin."

"yeah, well, so do you."

"i know. you just look cute."

he turns around to grab the gloves and helmet, leaving you to blush by yourself while he finishes zipping himself up. he brought back the fear you had forgotten about; fear of the unknown and stranded. at least if something happens, you are not alone.

"head up." you do so, and he connects an oxygen and communication system to the suit, then rolls up the collar of the undersuit so that it protects your neck and head, leaving only your face visible. "good girl."

"you need to stop saying that." you blurt out.

"and you need to stop teasing me every few minutes. there is only so much i can take."

"you're the one to talk! you always-"

"hey." his hand grabs your jaw, turning your head to look at him and stopping your complaining. "behave. or else."

"or else...?" you whisper, the prosecco still pulling the worst in you.

he leans in, noses almost touching and lips close enough to feel his warmth on yours. he looks into your eyes, then down at your lips, still holding your jaw in his hand. "or else i might just have to tame you somehow."

you gulp audibly. he smirks at that, then lets go of you and proceeds to put your helmet on. you feel frustrated. he is playing your game, and he is winning. you are supposed to make him blush and stutter, not the other way around.

"there, all fixed. can you breathe?"

"yes."

"can you hear me?"

"duh."

"through the system, dummy." he laughs, tapping on the wire that connects inside the suit.

"ah, yes. i can."

"good. i hope you don't have to pee."

"don't remind me of that! i had half a bottle of prosecco and am wearing like a hundred layers."

"good. no more pee talk. let's do this."

yeosang slides the card on the door, and enters the small space. when it closes, the space fills with smoke and lots of lights start going off and on.

"pressure stabilized."

"thank you!" he yells, playful smile dancing on his lips.

with a frown, you hit his arm for mocking you. he gently nudges you, as if pushing you away. you both know that if he wanted to, he could've pushed you way harder. and it makes you a little horny.

just in time, yeosang slides the card near the other door, then puts the card safely in the suit pocket and zips it. the round door opens, sliding up and revealing the dark void. instinctively, you grab his hand with two of yours. clinging to him like a sloth, you stand on the edge of the spaceship and look down. it strange that when you step over the threshold, no gravity will pull you down.

"wait!" you stop him before he steps over. "have you done this already?"

"uh... yes? i mean, i didn't go far or stay long. i think i hung for a few seconds from that handle and rushed back in. was scared shitless, honestly."

"you fool!" you hit him again, multiple times.

"ow! hey, what, what?!"

"you went to test it alone? you could've- you could've injured yourself! or worse! something could've gone wrong, and i would be all alone again!"

"you didn't think i'd bring you here before seeing if it's safe, did you? what if only one of us survived, the other would have to live with that guilt until the end of their life." he explains, holding you by your shoulders and gently shaking you as he speaks. "i know we've known each other only for a little over a month now, but i'd never do that to you. we only have each other, and i'd never do anything to leave you alone on this thing. i promise."

"promise?" your bottom lip quivers.

he sighs, closing his eyes and leaning his helmet against yours, as if leaning his forehead. "i promise."

"i believe you."

"good. otherwise, this would be a very bad idea."

with that, he pulls you over the edge, holding onto the handle on the outer surface of the ship. you squeal, legs wiggling in the unknown and arms firmly wrapped around his free one. he holds you close, not yet moving until he is sure that everything looks fine.

"i'll let go now, alright?"

"what if we drift away?"

"we won't, i tied us up to the ship. we can get back whenever we want."

you give yeosang only a few minutes of silence, before bombarding him with questions again. he answers every single one he knows, assuring you that he has everything under control. using the moment when you are focused on something on your space suit, he slowly lets go of the handle. as soon as you feel yourself drifting away, you glue yourself to his side, even going so far to wrap your legs around his.

"y/n, you'll have to let me go. i can't move like this."

"i'm scared."

"you want to go back?"

"no."

"then," he peels you away from himself, instead holding your hand properly in his. "let go."

you now float in the void, holding his hand and admiring the ship from the outside.

"you're looking the wrong way, doll. turn around."

due to the strange and spine-chilling situation you are in, you miss his little nickname directed at you. with his help, you slowly turn your back to the ship, and focus on the newfound space.

"look, down there." he points to the side.

"oh my god!" you exclaim, fear and excitement mixing inside of you. "what is that?!"

it is a bright, giant cloud of shiny dust. it has a light pink hue and a faded purple in the center. 

"it's a nebula." he simply says.

"aren't they more colorful? i mean... that's just looks like a space cloud. it's nothing like the photos they send to us."

"ah, those images are taken with long exposure to capture all the lights, and edited later. our eyes cannot process all of those colours, so they sometimes add them on later."

"oh. well, nevertheless, it is stunning. it looks so glorious. i want to touch it."

"no, y/n, you can't touch the remains of a dead star."

"but why not?" you play along, acting like the spoiled child.

both of you laugh, holding onto each other and staring at the beauty of this frightening place.

"how did they calculate the trajectory? what if they missed some asteroid or something?"

"please don't talk about asteroids while we pathetically hang from a space ship in the void. i beg."

"sorry," you smile sheepishly.

"had enough? want to go back?" he asks, checking on your suit.

"not yet."

"want to go a bit furth-"

a snap interrupts him, coming from the ship. before you can look that way, yeosang pushes you away from him just in time, and you scream. a white object passes between the two of you, close enough to hit you. another snap is heard, then another. you finally look at the ship, right before more objects start flying at you. one of the smaller debris hits you, right in the helmet, sending your body further away. a few moments of silence pass, both you and yeosang going through shock. until you hear slight wheezing, and feel cool air on your face.

one of the boards on the surface on the ship must've come loose and broke into pieces. you gasp, body and soul reaching for the man now far away from you.

"i'm coming!" he man yells, panicked. but the communication starts glitching. it cuts off his words, and soon enough, you can't hear him anymore.

the air becomes harder to breathe, and lack of oxygen could kill you, if fear doesn't do it first. your vision becomes spotty, and yeosang's figure slowly starts blending in with the nebula behind him. you try covering the crack with your hand, and it helps for a short amount of time. you accidentally apply more pressure on it, causing the helmet to further break and wheezing intensify. the system begins to go crazy, sending you signals and urging you to get back on the ship. dozens of beeping noises, red lights and whatnot going off in your suit, yet all you can focus on is yeosang's failed attempts to reach you.

"yeosang..." you call, hoping he might answer.

but he doesn't, instead working with his arms and legs to get to you.

"keep... eyes... open... please..." his voice echoes inside the helmet, broken and mixed with robotic sounds. "take... hand... try... reach..."

"i can't," you breathe out, eyes closing. it is the last thing he hears from you.

"no!"

your vision blackens, and you stop the squirming, instead letting your body in the control of the cosmos. maybe that's how it was supposed to be from the beginning. no escaping doomsday, no ships, no wandering in the void, no claiming other planets. maybe humans were supposed to be the ones with limited knowledge. they weren't meant to go this far. or maybe the human race is simply that insignificant, compared to everything else. just a small, useless percent among the stars. the universe will stand, and continue being terrifyingly beautiful and endless, with or without us.

it feels like the right way to go. a punishment, for escaping your fate and leaving others to die a terrible death.

"i'm sorry, i'm so sorry, god i'm so sorry."

you couldn't have known, yeosang.

"i should've known, i should've stayed inside."

there was no way for you to know, yeosang.

"i should've died the first time i went, so you know not to do that."

don't speak such things, yeosang. maybe it was meant to be this way from the beginning.

"you don't deserve this, i do."

if you knew what i did, you would know that nobody deserves this like i do.

"please don't die on me, please. what do i do without you?"

you'll make it. you'll just have to do what i did. but you'll hate yourself for the rest of your life.

"none of it makes sense without you."

you'll hate yourself every time you look at their face. like i hate myself when i look at you.

"i- i think i love you. i don't think i'll make it without you."

i wish i could say it back without the guilt eating up my heart. i wish i could say all of this out loud to you, and not in my head. and yes, you will make it, yeosang.

kang yeosang hasn't eaten in days. the restaurant remains empty, as does the gym, and the discovered library, although with a few empty shelves. he sits on the cold floor of the emergency room, books scattered around him and one nestled in his hand.

"it is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife. however little known the feelings or views of such a man may be on his first entering a neighbourhood, this truth is so well fixed in the minds of the surrounding families, that he is considered the rightful property of some one or other of their daughters." he reads, voice raspy and tired.

there is a pile to his right, and a smaller one to his left. he reads from morning to night, even though the stars and moons do not show it. he sits there, reading page after page, all to you who lay on the bed in the middle. he lowers the book after a while, glancing at your sleeping body.

"you know, if you've already read pride & prejudice, i can skip it. now that i think of it, you might've already read everything i read to you these days. sorry. must be torture."

already used to not getting replies from you, he sets the book down with a sigh. he folds the corner of the page, marking where he stopped reading. if you were awake, a poke to his forehead would be guaranteed, if not worse. he laughs, remembering the first time you discovered he did that.

"i'm sorry, are you ill? what the hell are you doing to my books?!"

"first of all, they're not yours. second, it's just a book. and third, to answer your question: i'm folding the corner."

"my lord, i have just lost all my respect for you. please exit my chambers."

"gosh, stop reading game of thrones already. if i get called lord one more time, i'm jumping into the nearest black hole."

"i am the queen of the ship, i do as i wish."

"and what does that make me?"

"you can be my queen hand."

"not your king consort?"

"ha! you wish. your house and blood is no match for mine, yeosang of house kang."

"whatever you say, your grace."

yeosang had forgotten about his own room. he hung out with you all day, and slept in the bed opposite to yours. for the first time in a while, he didn't think about what's outside, and what fate awaits him. he enjoyed the moment, enjoyed making you laugh and pissed. he loved how you could switch from giggly to angry in a split second, only from him tickling you too much.

now? he can tickle you as much as he wants, but you won't budge. you breathe, but you don't show any other signs of consciousness. he has raided every room there is, looking for any medical help in any form. he asked ryan, though he should've known better than that. i am not programmed for that kind of procedure, sir. yeosang already knew that sentence before it was said. it took everything in him to not smack the robot, but he heard your voice in the back of his head, defending the soulless thing.

he stands up, setting the book aside on the pile that is waiting to be read. he approaches the circular table, where he has laid you, stripped you of the heavy spacesuit and only left the first layer of tight clothes, then covered you with a light blanket. he managed to connect a few tubes to your body, following the instructions on the screen above the table. he can now see your vitals, he just doesn't know what to do with it. he relies on the ai, hoping it is right.

"if you do not wake up soon, my queen, i will take your throne," he jokes, tapping a damp cloth on your forehead. "then what will you do?"

he unbuttons his silk sleep shirt and stays in his white tank top, suddenly feeling hot inside the room. he folds it on the table next to your head, and pushes the hair out of your face. the system beeps above his head, showing increased heartrate. he looks down at you, searching for any sign of consciousness other than breathing.

"can you hear me?"

your heartrate goes back to normal, dimming yeosang's hope. he finishes wiping the sweat off your forehead and neck, then gently squeezes your hand before sitting back on the floor and resuming his reading.

when he wakes up, he finds himself in his own room. how he got there, he could not recall. but he left your side, after he promised himself to not do that ever again. almost jumping out of bed, the man dashes down the halls, the shiny card in his hand still holding your lipstick stain as he presses it against the various door sensors. he reaches the emergency room in record time, and his heart almost stops. you aren't there.

the tubes once attached to your body now lie on the floor, and the blanket is neatly folded on the table. his sleep shirt is gone, along with the book he wasn't done reading to you. hands hurriedly rubbing his eyes, yeosang fails to process what happened. he rushes through the rest of the ship, searching every nook and cranny in hopes of seeing your face. even going to the place he has been avoiding for the past few days. the spacesuits and helmets still lay on the floor, forgotten. the cracked one delivers a pang to the blonde man's heart, a painful reminder of his careless acts and their consequences.

hopeless, he reaches one final spot. the cockpit.

he had promised you not to go there without you, and the other way around. both of you were waiting for a perfect opportunity, when both of you are sober and wide awake. that never happened.

yeosang breaks his promise, holding the card to the sensor. the doors slide open, revealing the long awaited cockpit. two tall chairs stand side by side, separated by a narrow control panel. in front of the chairs is a wider and more detailed control panel. and above it all, a panoramic window. the ship is flying through a nebula, its vivid colours taking yeosang aback. bright shades of orange, yellow and blue envelop the ship, reflecting in yeosang's wide eyes. 

"you said that the colours are edited on photos. how dare you lie to your queen?"

the man steps back, recognizing your voice.

"y/n?"

"yes?" one of the chairs turns around, and you sit in it. with a smile on your lips, the lost book in your hand, and his sleep shirt hanging from your body. but all he sees is your face.

he exhales, relief washing over his body like never before. not able to control himself, he rushes towards you, picking you up from the chair and enveloping you in his arms. the book falls to the floor, your arms flying to return the hug. it never felt as right as now.

"gosh, how did you get here by yourself? are you hurt?" he sets you on the floor, cupping your face in his big palms. "are you alright?"

"i'm fine. a little dizzy."

"i thought i lost you."

not able to stop himself, yeosang presses his lips against your forehead. he stays there, inhaling your scent and listening to your breathing. your hands slide down from his neck and find their place on his chest, feeling his heartbeat under your palm. it beats fast, almost matching yours. he pulls away, resting his forehead against yours properly this time, not through a helmet.

"how dare you leave me alone?"

"is that a way to speak to your queen?"

he chuckles at your jokes, even in such moments. he should get used to it by now. his thumbs rub your cheekbones, soothing you and making whatever worry you had left perish. you can't help the tears that prickle your eyes when you look at him. his are as red and glossy, and it takes you over the edge.

you climb on your toes, properly reaching his face. his heart beats faster under your palm, as if threatening to jump out. slowly, and with a bit of hesitation, you press your lips against his. it is a mere two second kiss, before you pull away. you search his face for any emotions; disapproval, disgust, discomfort. yet none of those are present.

he has his eyes shut, still taking in the kiss. you want to pull away, to give him space. but his hands slide down to your waist, pressing your body against his. he leans in again, capturing your lips with his. his kiss is an opposite to yours: confident and sure. he pecks your lips once, twice, again and again, until you finally relax in his arms and let your hands roam his body. fingers finding comfort in his blonde locks, and body pressed firmly against his, you kiss him like it's your last.

his grip intensifies, his fingers buried into your sides as yours gently pull on his hair. he picks you up, only to set you back into the chair you've been sitting in all this time. he easily finds the button to lower the backrest and turn it into a temporary bed, then climbs on it with you. his lips are hungry for yours, and even though you could use a moment of breathing, you do not stop him. allowing yourself another moment of bravery, you gently lick his bottom lip, asking to deepen the kiss. and the man listens. he opens his lips, tongue in search for yours while your hands play with the collar of his tank top on his back. you slide one hand underneath, feeling his hot skin on yours.

gently, yeosang grazes your tongue with his, and you taste salty liquid on his lips. tears fall down both your faces, drops rolling down your cheeks and mixing in your mouths with the kiss. it is emotional, passionate, and intimate in every way. he pulls away for a split second, only to take a breath and look at you.

his chest rises and falls heavily, and his lips are plump and a deep pink. his hair is ruffled, your doing. he already looks breathtaking.

"is that... my sleep shirt?" he finally notices.

"oh, yeah. i was feeling a bit chilly, i borrowed it. want it back?"

"no, you can- oh."

you sit up, enough to let the white silk material slide off your skin and pool on the chair. you had stripped yourself from the tight undergarments yeosang had left you in, instead wearing a white bralette and matching lace panties. from the size of his sleep shirt, he didn't even notice that you weren't wearing the short bottoms you usually do.

the white has never complimented your skin as beautifully as today, right in this moment. yeosang can't help but remove your hair from your chest and neck, letting it fall back and exposing your body to him. you let him, taking your time in examining him as well. he runs his knuckles down your wet cheek, wiping the tears that decorate your face, and continues down your neck. his forefinger takes the lead, caressing your collarbones and making a path between your breasts.

you take his hand, guiding it to the outline of your panties. his breath seems to stop for a moment, but a gentle smile on your lips assures him that everything is alright. he groans, slamming his lips back on yours, this time sloppier and rougher. noses brushing against each other, teeth clashing, and hands hurriedly getting rid of clothes, it is all you've needed all this time.

him, all of him.

a thin layer of sweat coats his body, making his pale skin shine under the lights of the nebula. he peppers kisses along your jawline, down your neck, and settles on your collarbones.

"my queen," he whispers, then runs his tongue along your collarbone.

your fingers play with his damp locks, gently pushing his head towards you and inhaling his scent. he seems to have a fixation on the certain part of your body, because he can't help but mark it with purple spots. you hiss at the sweet pain, and yeosang is quick to lick your fresh wounds, as if apologizing for what he did.

he lingers around the area a bit more, switching between the crook of your neck and the collarbones, until he finally dips his head down to your breasts. a shiver runs down your spine when he cups them, giving them a gentle squeeze before kissing all over them. you tremble under his touch, hips desperately searching his for friction. but he lowers your body back on the chair, limiting your moves.

you forget just how strong he is, and him holding your body in place with a single hand reminds you how much he works on himself, even when his life has completely changed. a gasp escapes your lips as you feel the tip of his hot tongue circling your tense nipple. he catches it between his lips, gently sucking it while his other hand travels down your body. his short nails graze your skin, and you've never felt this sensitive in your life.

he pays attention to every inch of your body, showering it with love and passion, marking your skin as he goes and making you his in every way.

"yeosang-" you choke out, feeling him bite your lower stomach.

"yes?"

"please," you beg, running your nails down his bulk arms and shoulders.

"patience, love. you'll get where you want to. what's the rush? we have our own eternity."

the way he speaks in a hoarse voice has you seeing imaginary stars beside the real ones out the window. he pulls away from your body, just enough to plant a kiss on your damp forehead. he pulls you in for a kiss again, sighs of pleasure leaving both your mouths as you kiss and feel each other. his bare body finally leans against yours completely, and you instinctively spread your legs. his arm hooks under your knee, bending it over and caressing your thigh in the process.

"you're everything i've ever wished for." he whispers between kisses. "i just failed to see it. it took me losing you to understand that."

"yeosang..." his name rolls of your lips so sweetly in a light moan.

"i'm so sorry for what i did."

"don't apologize."

"i will. you almost died because of me."

"don't speak of that now," you hush him with another kiss.

he listens, putting his other hand on your other leg and gently spreading them. he falls to his knees, hands still firmly planted on your thighs. you try pushing them together, instinctively, but you should've known better than that. they stay in place under his grip, exposing your glistening core to his hungry eyes. it's almost like he can see the colorful dust cloud down there, the layer of arousal mimicking his sweat and reflecting the blue of the sky.

yeosang isn't in a rush, unlike you. your hand pathetically grips his hair, pushing his head towards your pulsating and burning core. he chuckles between your legs, cool air hitting your clit from the proximity.

"please?"

"what do you beg for, pretty?"

"don't tease me, i've waited long enough. please, yeosang."

"oh, but i've waited long too. and now that i am here, i want to take my sweet time. i want to devour you, feel all of you, to mould you so that you fit perfectly in my hands. i want to make love to you among the stars, and i want to make you feel like a real queen of the skies."

it's like he fell out of a book. he knows all the right words, all the right gestures, and all the right touches. his tongue dips between your folds, plush lips following and lazily caressing your clit. your fingers tighten their grip in his hair, and your other hand digs its nails into his shoulder for support. settling for soft and gentle licks, yeosang truly takes his time with you. he makes out with your folds, as if they're your real lips, sucking on them, grazing them with his teeth and kissing along your clit. you squirm under his painfully slow moves, grinding your hips on his face in hopes of getting more friction.

tired of your disobedience and impatience, yeosang places your legs over his shoulders, burying his head further into your core and switching to rougher moves. lewd noises escape your lips, and you do not try to conceal them. he should know what effect he has on you.

he slurps up your nectar, coating his lips in shiny fluid and enjoys your core essence. he eats you like a starved man, not bothering to take a proper breath. he sucks harshly on your clit, drawing moans and gasps from you. when he pulls away, his cheeks are flushed, and his lips plump and glistening with your arousal. a thin string of saliva connects his mouth to your core, and you almost black out at the sight. you pull him by his hair, crashing your lips on his again. you taste yourself on his tongue, and even though you never liked reading about it or seeing it, it is something that you were truly missing out on.

you nudge him, asking him to switch positions. he smiles into the kiss, but turns you over so effortlessly. he is now the one laying down, and you are the one to break the kiss and get on your knees. you see him clearly for the first time. you decide to give him a taste of his own medicine, by taking it slow and teasing him. you kiss his thighs, ignore his aching area, and continue kissing his lower stomach. he can't help but reach for your hair, softly caressing it as you try your hardest to hold back, but seeing that he doesn't mind the delay, but rather enjoys it, you stop the teasing.

 your tongue doesn't hesitate to lick a stripe up his hardened cock, circling around his tip and collecting the precum. he hums with pleasure, but doesn't close his eyes. he wouldn't miss this for anything. you take his red tip between your lips, slowly pushing until you almost touch his stomach. he twitches inside your hot mouth, the tip caressing the back of your throat and making your eyes tear up. finally, crying for a different reason.

unlike you, he doesn't buck his hips to speed up your moves. he is perfectly obedient, petting your head and muttering words of praise.

"that's a good girl," he whispers.

you bob your head up and down, testing the waters. he only sighs and hums, not yet moaning. your impatience wins again, your body eager to extract more dramatic sounds from him. you pull away from him, but not without a teasing kiss to his tip, before climbing into his lap.

"how do you want it, my queen?" he cups your face, and you're quick to nuzzle your cheek against his warm palm.

"i want it just like this. me on top."

"oh? didn't take you for one to be on top."

"i'll surprise you with so many things, kang yeosang. you just wait."

"that's my girl."

driven by pure lust and euphoria, you do not care about protection, or the aftermath. you simply raise your hips and align his cock with your clenching hole, then slide down on it. he slides in, inch by inch, deliciously stretching you and filling you to the brim. when you finally sit on it, both of you moan out, hands reaching for each other. his hands help you roll your hips, while your hands feel his torso and chest. you move, slowly, just the way he likes it.

the moans and sighs leaving his lips are the prettiest sounds you've ever heard. you stay silent, wanting to hear more of him. his eyes are fixed at the point where both of you are connected, pupils dilated as he watches your wet hole swallow him whole. the room is filled with squelching noises, the creaking of the chair, passionate kissing here and there, and neverending exclamations of pleasure.

you find yourself whining for release pretty quickly, the buildup already more intense than any of your previous orgasms. yeosang seems to be reaching his end as well, seeing his head hanging from the chair and exposing his pretty neck to you. you can't help but snake your hands up his torso, fingers finding the key pressure on his neck and gently pressing. he chokes out with surprise, sending you a single glance of pure ecstasy before letting his head fall back again.

the dried tears on his glowing face look majestic, along with his eyes rolled back and his hair a mess. he looks glorious under you, especially as his moans get more high pitched and needy. you feel yourself becoming tired, but you love the position too much to change.

"come on, love. fuck yourself dumb on my cock."

such vulgar words from such an angelic face make your insides quiver. it gives you a boost of energy, and you quicken your pace and bounce just like he told you to. he doesn't break eye contact with you, nor does he let you do all the work. his hips meet yours, reaching deeper inside and making you finally moan out loud. he sits up straight, pulling you close to him and holding your body in place so he can collide his hips with yours quicker and with more accuracy. you are a drooling mess, forehead pressed against his as you shamelessly moan into his lips.

"come on, angel. milk me dry like the good girl you are."

your walls squeeze around him, moans becoming whines and mewls.

"fuck, love- i'm going to fill you up-" he grunts, lips desperately chasing yours.

but both of you are too lust driven to kiss properly, so you settle for moaning into each others mouth and bite each others lips, all while chasing the sweet pleasure.

"my love..." he moans.

"yes-" you choke out, feeling the buildup getting ready to errupt.

"my fate..." he grabs your face, forcing you to look into his eyes.

"yeosang-" you sob, pathetically grinding your hips on his.

"my queen of cosmos."

the orgasm tears through you, erupting in your lower stomach and spreading to the edges of your body. warm liquid shoots inside you, and yeosang keeps rocking his hips to the point where he has your eyes rolled back and jaw dropped, no sound exiting your mouth. your nails leave marks on his back, shoulder and neck, just like your lips do on his. you bite down on his bottom lip, accidentally making it bleed. he hisses at the pain, but doesn't forget to help you ride out your orgasm. your moans bounce off the walls of the cockpit, filling yeosang's ears like heavenly music.

the man doesn't seem to get enough of you, because he lays you on your back and slides back inside you. you don't protest, instead relaxing your body and throwing you head back, much like he did. you let him praise you, use you, worship you. you could never handle more than one orgasm, yet kang yeosang has you moaning on the third one already. by the fourth one, you feel like you're drunk or on some kind of substances.

the vivid colours of the nebula never stop, dancing with each other and illuminating your bodies. yeosang kisses you, over and over, whispering sweet things into your ear and asking if you're good. you don't reply with words, but with a kiss to his forehead, nose, lips, whatever you could.

yeosang makes love to you until the ship swims out of the dust cloud, revealing the void littered with millions of glimmering dots once again. you've stopped counting after five, and let yourself go in his arms. maybe this was your fate after all.

or maybe you were kept alive just to confess to your wrongdoings to the man that has proclaimed his love to you. maybe your punishment is his kindness towards you, when you know you don't deserve it.

"i love you."

"i love you too, yeosang." you say it back, guilt still eating up your heart like the first time he said it, unaware that you could hear him.

the blonde haired man didn't have to try hard to get used to waking up beside you. it was his favorite part of the day for months now: waking up to your kisses, or the other way around. having breakfast together, going to the gym, then showering together. perhaps it was repetitive, but to yeosang, it was everything.

today, however, he woke up way before you. he has raided the luggage room, and created a mess until he found what he was looking for. you did your usual routines alone today, with yeosang busying himself with something else all day.

"i'd like to finish that book today, if you don't mind? i'll see you for dinner tonight."

"alright then. i'll miss you." you pout.

"i'll see you in a few hours, darling. fancy dress code?"

"sure! we haven't done that in a while. i can't wait."

and that's how yeosang found himself in the restaurant, spending two hours decorating the place with ryan's help.

"is the rose too much, ryan?"

"depends on the occasion, sir."

"let's say... proposal."

"i believe it is too little, sir."

"yeah, well, unless you can shit out a rose right here, i don't have much choice. i stole this one from the little terrarium in the lobby."

ryan doesn't respond, in his true robot style. yeosang sighs, lighting the candle on the table. you should be here any minute now.

"maybe i should've done it in the big terrarium." he overthinks.

"if i may, sir, the hibernation room would also be a meaningful place."

yeosang raises an eyebrow, amused. "hibernation room?"

"it's what started your new fate."

"ah, the broken pods. i guess i have to visit the engineers on board once, to thank them for that malfunction."

"oh, no need sir. you can thank miss y/n."

yeosang stops arranging the cutlery, looking at the humanoid robot. "what do you mean?"

"well, she is the one behind the malfunction. at least behind yours. so she is the one to thank."

"what?"

"oh, i thought you knew. apologies sir-"

"explain." he walks towards ryan, brows furrowed and hand fidgeting with the jewelry box in his pocket.

"i really shouldn't, sir. apologies, i-"

"you'll tell me," yeosang reaches for a glass of water, ready to pour it over the machine, "right. fucking. now."

"her pod was the only one that malfunctioned. yours was perfectly fine, sir. miss was lonely, and sad. she spent a whole week looking for a perfect match, and found you. she opened your lid, and rushed back to her room."

a crash, similar to the one on the very first day he woke up, echoes through the restaurant. yeosang turns around, finding your startled face looking at him and a broken bottle of wine by your feet.

you don't dare move, afraid of what he'll do. you have no excuse. and no shame.

he slowly steps towards you, causing you to step back. unlike the first day, his face doesn't give away anger. he is calm, and it scares you more. you wish he'd yell, push, throw. yet he doesn't, simply walking into your direction and stopping right in front of you, separated by a broken bottle. he steps in dark red liquid, the ruined shoes being the last thing on his mind.

"yeosang-" you whimper, his still face torturing you.

"don't."

"b-but-"

"do. not."

"you have to understand- i- i was just-"

his hand wraps around your neck, putting light pressure on it. "you took everything from me."

"yeosang, please."

"you do not get to cry. you do not get to feel my pity. you do not get to feel my mercy."

"please, understand me!"

"no!" he drops you on the floor. "i won't fucking understand you! i'd never do such a cruel thing to someone! have you felt no shame every time you looked at me? kissed me? comforted me when i cried about it?!"

pieces of glass tear your palms as you try to stand up, but fail. you sob on the floor, chest hurting from intensity. the glass shards dig into your thighs, and your dress soaks up the wine. you wipe your cheeks with your bloodied hand, accidentally smearing a few red drops on your face.

"here." he throws something in front of you before storming off.

you wail on the floor for what seems like hours. with your knees pressed to your chest, and your head resting on top of your knees, you cry. your dress is soaked with alcohol, tears and snot. you have no dignity left at this point. once you finally start calming down, you notice the plush box that lays discarded on the floor.

it reveals a stunning ring, with a simple stone in the middle. it looks like it was overgrown by vines, and is a rose gold colour. guess you can add it to the box with the broken necklace now. another relationship broken because of you.

days are longer than ever, with you waking up alone and eating alone. that is all you do, besides an occasional visit to the terrarium. when you hear his doors open, you do not dare exit your room until you hear them close. with each day you wake up, you love him more. your body aches for his, and soul yearns for his. maybe if you told him right away in the beginning, this wouldn't have happened. maybe he would've accepted it, he would have more time to understand.

you're a crying mess, from morning to night, until you pass out of exhaustion.

today, you woke up with a hoarse voice and painful chest. you desperately needed to get out the room, no matter if you heard yeosang's door or not. you might faint if you don't leave.

you limp through the hallways, holding onto the walls. you make it all the way until the rotating tube. why was there no other way to get to the other side?

you sit at the edge, head leaning against the stationary wall and legs hanging above the space. you watch the tube rotate, not brave enough to jump in today. but if you don't make it to the terrarium, you might stay here forever.

the doors open behind you, the familiar voice of the system echoing through the tube. you gulp, his scent enveloping you. you expect him to walk away, or simply jump in the zero gravity space and continue his path. but he holds out his hand for you to take.

you look up at him, eyes tired and bloodshot red. he spares you a single glance, before furrowing his eyebrows and looking away. your hand slides into his, as if made with his measurements in mind. he pulls you up slowly, then presses your body close to his. it is as if you were never separated. his vanilla scent fills up your nostrils, and soft breathing soothes you. you hold onto him, like you did when he took you space walking.

he moves through the tube effortlessly, stopping for a while to gaze at the planets below. they are as breathtaking as the previous ones, and the ones to come. yeosang never ceases to be amazed by the beauty of the universe.

upon reaching the other side, you clutch onto him, knowing that this is going to be a rare occasion now. maybe it was just you, but his breath hitches, as if he wants to say something. no sound leaves his pretty lips, not even when you land in the hallway and he helps you find your balance.

"thank you." you whisper.

he stays by your side, eyeing you up and down. "are you alright?"

"uh, yeah. aside from... you know."

he presses the back of his head against your forehead to feel your temperature. "you're a little hot."

a smile creeps on your lips, and you are desperate to make a joke. typical you, making jokes in situations that are serious.

"go on, say it." he sighs, his lips curving up as well.

"no, the moment is gone now."

"want me to repeat it?"

you roll your eyes, then become serious again. he stares at you, an unexplainable emotion on his face. disgust? maybe.

"where are you headed? you should lay down if you're feeling sick."

"terrarium. i need... fresh air."

"i was headed there too."

"oh. sorry, i'll just go somewhere else." you start turning around, and he grabs you by your elbow.

"you don't have to. come here."

before you can protest, yeosang picks you up in his arms, carrying you bridal style once again. while he is focused on the path, you take the time to admire him. he is beautiful. his eyes also seem to be a reddish pink shade, and he has slight bags under his eyes. but before a hope sparks inside your heart, you remind yourself that he does not weep after you. he does it after his family, and after his changed fate.

after the life you stole from him.

"i can hear you thinking."

"sorry."

"stop apologizing."

"okay, sorry."

he looks down at you, amused. "you haven't changed a bit."

"uh... sorry?"

for his own sake, he decides to ignore you. when reaching the terrarium, he sets you down on one of the swings. your head feels lighter already, but your voice stays the same. you aren't used to being this silent, despite being alone for almost a month. you steady yourself, holding onto the chains that hold the plank you call a swing. yeosang stands behind it, putting his hands over yours and gently beginning to push it.

"i understand." he starts.

"you don't have to-"

"no, let me." and you do let him. he lightly pushes you on the swing, taking his time to form sentences. "while you were passed out... i wished for nothing more than for you to wake up. if you didn't, i'd probably do as you did. humans aren't made to live alone, and i never believed it. until i got in this situation. thus, i understand. what i did not understand though, why me? hundreds of men and women in those pods, and you chose me. what made me stick out? what made you come over and open the lid? it's not like there are any personality traits written anywhere. i could've been a douchebag, and you wouldn't have known. then what? would you have gotten rid of me? locked me somewhere?"

"you were simply... angelic." you don't have to think long to give him an answer. you did the thinking before opening his pod.

"angelic?"

"you had this beautiful face, serenity painted on it. true, i did not know anything about you. you could've been short tempered, violent, or worse. after all, i'm a girl. alone, with no protection. yet i took my chances. and you turned out to be perfect. i fell in love with every part of you; with your soul, brain, body. you were my dream partner."

he is speechless. for the first time ever you speak openly about it, and you do not stutter.

"and i wanted to be your dream partner. i tried my hardest to be perfect, but my previous doings kept coming back and haunting me. that night... i wanted to tell you. i truly did. but that stupid robot beat me to it. i mean, seriously, he can't push a few buttons but he can gossip?"

yeosang snorts, then nods in agreement.

"i'm sorry."

"what?" you whip your head around to look at him. "no, i'm the one who should be apologizing. you did nothing wrong!"

"i've been thinking. i apologize for what happened on the space walk. and i apologize for getting violent with you. i just felt... cheated. and stolen from. i felt betrayed. and all that by the person i love with all my being."

"but, yeosang-"

"look, y/n." he walks around the swing and crouches in front of you, stopping your swinging. his hands rest on your knees, thumbs absentmindedly rubbing your skin. "for all we know, they could all be headed to a different type of destruction. maybe they miscalculated. maybe the planet already has life on it, and they see humans as threat. they won't hesitate to exterminate them in order to protect their planet. or maybe it is a higher, more advanced civilization. i don't know about you, but i'd rather live my life on a sized down earth than live to see my own species die out or become slaves to someone else. so, in a way, thank you. for saving me."

"oh, yeosang." you exhale, falling on your knees and into his arms. "i love you. i love you so much."

"i love you too, princess. say..."

"yes?" you pull away, wiping your upcoming tears so they don't fall.

"can you give me my ring back so i can propose? but please act surprised."

you laugh, and he laughs with you. you pull it out from your pocket, and he looks at you with a wider smile.

"i can't believe you had it right here."

"had what?" you shove it into his hand.

"what do you mean? the ri- oh. right." he catches on.

you stand up, pretending to look at the plants while he shuffles behind you. he clears his throat after a while, making you turn around. you fake a shocked expression, putting your hand over your open mouth after seeing him on his knee. the box is opened, and the ring is as beautiful as the first time you saw it.

"will you marry me, my queen of cosmos? and rule the cosmos with me by your side?"

"i will, my queen hand."

🌠 𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: first of all, omg a happy ending?? is this a first for barbz? i hope you enjoyed reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it :)

🌠 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 (𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐬𝐤 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐯𝐚𝐥/𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬)

@kodzukein @woomyteez @mulletdaddyjayjo @bae4choi @haatohwa @marvelahsobx @jxhnnyfav @angellluh @jjaemasung @oddracha @devastateed

[asidian]

One thing I haven't seen talked about is Crystal's character arc, and specifically the way the timing of it interacts with Charles' arc. They stumble over each other in the worst possible way en route to their respective character growth, and from a narrative perspective, it's absolutely genius.

I'm going to preface all this by saying: none of this is a criticism of Crystal. Part of what makes her such a dynamic, refreshing character is that you don't get to see women in fiction written the way she's been written. You don't get to see women with her flaws that aren't throw-away mean girls or villains. You especially don't get to see women with her traits who learn and grow and become better people. So yeah, I'm going to talk about Crystal's character flaws. No, this isn't Crystal hate. We love our girl in this house. Okay? Okay. Let's start.

Crystal's character arc, at its heart, is all about her learning to be a better person because she has good influences that love and support her for the first time.

When the show starts, Crystal is not a nice person. She's abrasive in a way that's specifically designed to push people away. She's used to getting her own way, and it shows. She's used to having no meaningful connections with anyone, and it shows. She's breathtakingly selfish, in the very literal sense of the definition. She is focused on her self. Her problems are front and center to her; everything is about what she needs, and what she wants, and how she's struggling.

Jenny calls her out very early on. In episode one, Crystal is complaining about the boys, and Jenny, for all her cynicism, strikes right at the heart of the problem. She tells Crystal, "Everybody is always thinking about themselves, all the time." People only care about their own problems. And she says, correctly, that that's what Crystal is doing, too.

This moment is a revelation for Crystal. For the first time, she considers what her behavior looks like from another person's perspective. As she says, she gets mad at herself over it, and that awareness allows her to do something selfless for the first time in the series. She takes a step back and insists that instead of focusing on her problems, they go to help a little girl. It's a big moment for her.

But importantly, she's not done growing as a character here. She's only just getting started.

On my first watch through, I didn't realize how often, over the next few episodes, Crystal redirects things to her problems during conversation, but it's quite a lot. She's still focused on herself – selfish, in that most literal definition of the word. The issues most important to her are her issues. She's starting to learn to think about other people, but she's not there yet. The process is still underway.

Which brings us to Charles.

Charles' arc is a different sort of self-reflection. He's terrified that he's a bad person the way his father was and the way the boys that killed him were.

During the course of the show, he gets systematically stripped of his confidence and made to feel helpless, and just like Crystal needs outside influences to help her reach a more stable place, Charles does, too. He desperately needs reassurance that he isn't everything he's afraid he is.

But my goodness, the timing in their arcs is such a trainwreck when you put them together, and it is brilliant.

Let's start with the Devlin House.

Crystal has some amazing character growth here. She displays genuine concern about Charles, makes an attempt at comforting him, and learns to work with Edwin even though she still doesn't particularly like him at this point.

Charles, meanwhile, is beginning to fall apart. He's just had the worst night of his afterlife. He's been viscerally reminded of how helpless he is. He couldn't stop the Devlins from being killed over and over, just like he couldn't stop his own father's abuse. He messed up his attempted rescue so badly that he was completely out of commission until the case was finished. He managed to help not one single thing. He made no impact at all. He couldn't help those girls any more than he was able to help himself, while he was still alive.

So they get back to the butcher shop, and what do we see? Monty immediately coopts Edwin. Niko doesn't know what's happened because she wasn't there and Charles has been all fake smiles with her. And Crystal goes off with Niko, leaving Charles to flounder on his own in the wake of everything. She's still learning how to support other people. She isn't there yet, and it's extremely on display in this moment.

Then we get the lighthouse episode, and they both get put through the wringer here. Crystal gets her hopes and expectations jerked around by the Night Nurse in the very worst way, and Charles gets hit with a whole pile full of trauma. All that helplessness wells to the forefront again. Combined with being forced to relive some of his worst memories and the desperation to keep Edwin safe from hell, Charles lets himself act on his anger for once.

And what does he get in the aftermath? Horror.

Everyone who cares about him is horrified by what he's done. Edwin goes so far as to call it extreme. They don't know the half of it, of course; they haven't seen what the Night Nurse just put him through. But in this moment Charles is at his absolute lowest, and all he sees is confirmation that he's exactly as terrible as he thinks he is.

That's why Charles shrugs off Edwin's attempt at comfort, here. When he needed to be able to do something to protect Edwin and also himself – when he needed to believe that he could be better than what his father always was – all he sees is the confirmation from the people he cares about most that when push came to shove, he really is a bad guy.

Then comes the aftermath. And this moment is such a brilliant, awful clash of both of their character arcs. It is so delightfully messy.

Because Charles starts to open up to Crystal here. He starts to lay himself bare, the way he ends up doing with Edwin in episode 5. He's on the verge of admitting something that he's been worried about for literal decades. He tells her, "I've been angry for such a long time."

And what does Crystal do? She's still in the midst of her own character growth. She's still struggling to support other people. She's still learning how to. In a lot of ways, though she's made progress already, she's still that selfish girl that Jenny called out in the very first episode.

And she shows it here it with the absolute worst possible timing. No sooner has Charles started to talk about what's bothering him than she cuts in with her own problems. She's tired of riddles and spirits and demons and not knowing who she is. And the look on Charles' face. The moment when he visibly sets aside his own problems, because Crystal doesn't need any more disasters on her plate? It's heartbreaking. You can actually track the subtle change in his expression there. The actor does a phenomenal job.

And then comes the kiss. And what spurs it? Crystal saying she needs something real.

This moment isn't about light-hearted attraction, the way the earlier flirting is. It's Charles setting aside what he needs – comfort and reassurance and a moment to talk through the things that have been tearing him apart – to give her what she says she wants. He can't even feel it. And Crystal isn't far enough along in her character growth here to realize how selfish she's being. Like Jenny said way back in episode one, she's only thinking about herself.

And then comes the absolute unmitigated disaster of episode 5.

Straight out the gate, Charles leans in for a kiss. From his perspective, they have something together; there's affection there. Charles "I think I'd miss kissing" Rowland, who has been starved for meaningful physical contact for thirty years, is not in a hurry to give this up.

But Crystal is fresh out of a nightmare where she conflates Charles with her abusive ex. She withdraws; she calls what they had a distraction. She cuts it off almost as soon as it's started, so focused on her own worries here that she misses how damn fake Charles' smile is, to cover up that he's coming to pieces.

To be clear, she's absolutely not in the wrong here. It is 1000% her prerogative not to jump into a relationship again while she's still struggling to work through what happened with David. But the arc of her narrative is still early enough that she does it all without so much as the awareness that her focus on her own issues has hurt Charles terribly.

And then the episode really kicks off, and both of them are in shambles in very different ways.

Crystal is projecting her issues with David onto Charles. She has a lot of history, and David seems as though he's exactly the right sort of toxic to leave lasting a lasting impact. But Charles hasn't done anything to deserve her assumptions, and he takes the brunt of her temper here and throughout the episode.

Charles is desperately projecting onto the dead jocks. He very badly wants them to be good guys, because he sees himself in them and he needs himself to be a good guy. He snipes back at Crystal for the very first time in this episode, and he does it in the worst way possible, accidentally prodding her where it will do the most damage.

They're both hurting. They both say some truly painful things to one another.

She does not need to hear that she has unsorted hangups about David still plaguing her while she's unable to move past them. He desperately does not need anyone to tell him that he has rage issues while he's still struggling to think of himself as a decent person.

They apologize, in the end. They start to move past it.

But it's telling that Charles doesn't try to open up to Crystal again. He goes to Edwin instead, even though Edwin is the one who called his actions regarding the Night Nurse extreme. He gets the reassurance he needs so badly; he gets the connection he was looking for with Crystal from Edwin, instead. (I have a lot of thoughts on why Charles initially tries to open up to Crystal so quickly, but it is very much an aside, and this is already extremely long, so it will have to wait for another write-up.)

But the important thing here is, Edwin is the one to offer Charles what he needs to overcome the self-doubt eating him alive. Edwin provides the physical affection Charles was seeking in the form of that long-overdue hug. Edwin is the one who's able to reaffirm for him that he's not just a good guy, he's the best person Edwin knows.

And for all intents and purposes, Charles' major character arc ends here.

Charles has a few last little moments to go on the path to rebuilding his own self-image, after this, but for the most part his concerns have been resolved. He saves Crystal in episode 6 and Edwin in episode 7, proving to himself that he's able to make a difference in the face of overwhelming odds. He's not helpless, no matter what the Night Nurse told him; he can be a force for good in the world. By the end of the series, his crisis of self-doubt seems to have been largely overcome.

But it's the conversation with Edwin at the end of episode 5 that really allows him to work through his most pressing issues. Edwin is there to help support him when he stumbles. Edwin provides him the comfort he was looking for while Crystal was too worried about her own problems to notice how badly he needed the help.

Crystal, meanwhile, still has a ways to go after episode 5. The last three episodes are where she does her most important character growth.

In episode 6, she learns some hard lessons about keeping secrets and letting people help and appreciate you even when you can't offer them anything in return. And Charles, importantly, is there for her every step of the way. He consistently offers her physical and emotional support. He models for her, in a very real way, what it looks like to have someone prop you up when you need the help.

And in turn, Crystal steps in to save the boys. She's the big damn hero at the end of this episode.

The breakthrough continues into episode 7. She's so intent on helping to get Edwin out of hell that she literally goes to face her own demons, not for herself for once – not for her own purposes or needs or wants – but because she wants to help someone else.

And episode 8, at long last, brings her to the culmination of her character arc.

Crystal is at her absolute lowest here. Her family, the people who were supposed to love her unconditionally, didn't even realize she was gone. Her precious memories, that she's spent the entire series trying to regain, have showed her that she's not the person she hoped she would be. She's overwhelmed enough that she means to flee, to cut herself off from her new friends entirely.

Then the boys get kidnapped. And just like that, she makes up her mind.

For the first time since the start of the series, she sets aside her most important issues in order to let what other people need take precedence. She disregards all of her own personal concerns and focuses instead on others. She's finally stepped out of those selfish impulses that Jenny calls her out on, all the way back in the first episode. She's finally learned how to support other people when they need it.

Crystal has finally figured out how to be there for others, despite having troubles of her own.

It's a lovely arc, and it's beautifully done.

Charles' is just as touching.

And god damn, but it was a brilliant narrative choice to have their character arcs line up in exactly the wrong way.

[lovesickeros]

zhongli and neuvillette fighting over their reader 🤭🤭

scary dog privilege wherever you go, draconic courting gestures that would scare any regular person, they send each other deadly glares the moment you turn away,

stealing your clothes to just get a whiff of your scent, marking their territory all over your house - making it a battlefield basically, neuvillette (in my hc) is cooler and zhongli is warm so the cuddles are always so comfy ☺️😍,

they give you anything you want - you don't even have to lift a finger, they make you travel between the nations a lot though 😒 sooo clingyyy, extra gentle in their dragon forms as to not squish you, don't even get me started on the size difference 😍😍

just a little thought 🤭☺️

- 🐈‍⬛

Neuvi being colder is so real and canon. I see him as being colder + a lot more lithe, kinda lanky with smaller but sharper canines versus Zhongli who's warmer and a bit shorter then Neuvi + bulkier with bigger but not as sharp canines.

They've also got very different habits – Zhongli is very prideful not just of himself but his nation. He'll personally give your a tour and purposely drag it out as long as he can. Complimenting Liyue is basically complimenting him, checkmate Neuvi. Especially if he convinces you to try on some local Liyue fashion. Harmless and just a nice gift to anyone else but Neuvi sees it for what it is (since your wearing something from Liyue, technically wearing something of his. He loves his technicalities when it comes to staking a claim over you). Adds salt to the wound by touching you in totally innocent ways like to adjust you towards something he wants to show you or accidently brushing against you when he takes the bags of spoils he's practically drowning you in but really he's just making sure his scent sticks. He's just a sweet, nice gentleman with absolutely no ulterior motives trust.

Neuvillette does love Fontaine, but his habits are more about himself then the nation. He'll take you around if you ask or if the idea strikes him, but you'll probably stay around the making city area or the opera house specifically. He enjoys more personal time with just you and him then anything else. He values the immaterial to the material. Zhongli spoils you with gifts, but Neuvi tries to offer quality time irregardless of physical gifts (though he still gives them just not to the extent of Zhongli). He'll take you to see different operas if that's to your fancy, or leverage a bit of his authority to maybe see a few films since those seem to be hitting off in Fontaine recently. Bet that creaky old archon doesn't have those huh. He feels awkward if you want to watch a trial, but he'll reluctantly agree because. well. it's you. just don't wave or anything he's trying to work and he just Really wants to see you smile at him like that again and it makes him lose his train of thought. gets custom clothes designed by Chiori to replace your clothes from Liyue because they smell of Zhongli and it makes him sulky + he likes to match.

G-d forbid these two are in the same room as you because it's a war of attrition at that point. Constant accidental brush of the hand against your shoulder or elbow but it's just them trying to get rid of the others scent. they are side eyeing each other behind your back while being all smiles whenever your looking. If it's hot and you lean into Neuvi more he's practically GLOWING. not even smug he's just absolutely smitten and happy to be of service. immediately takes off his gloves and presses his hands to your face asking if your okay and if you want to go back with him. if it's cold out and you seek out Zhongli more hes smug as hell beneath the calm veneer. Offers you his coat and stay as physically close to you as he can under the pretense of being worried you'll catch a cold if he doesn't warm you up.

don't even get me started on your house either because you probably have tons of gifts from both of them accumulated everywhere. if Neuvi sees you use a tea set from Zhongli suddenly he had a fantastic gift idea he thought you'd like. he even got some tea included with it so why don't you let him make you some? Zhongli sees you using a goblet Neuvi gave you (totally a coincidence it's similar to his) and suddenly you have 27 square cups in your cabinets that you have no idea where they came from. if the goblet is mysteriously missing oh well. who knows :]

[imsandra]

HE SEE

Pairing: Azriel x Female reader

Summary: Love and promises don’t last forever, but guilt and remorse do.

Warning: Angst, sadness. Let me know if anything happens.

Word Count: 4962 

Notes: We have the continuation of “I See”. I’m proud of this. Thanks to those who asked for another part; you make me very happy. My friend told me that this second part has the song “The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived” by Taylor Swift, it’s just a recommendation.  

I hope you enjoy it. Please leave your comments on what you think, suggestions are always welcome as long as they are meant to teach and with respect.

English is not my native language, so I apologize for any spelling or grammatical errors.

Original story, written by me. Please do not copy or plagiarize my story.

I appreciate the comments, reblogs, and likes that I receive.

Happy reading!

I see (1)

Velaris, the City of Starry Light, was illuminated by the soft glow of the moon. Azriel stood in the room of his new home, gazing through the window as the rain soaked the city streets. Sleeping had not been an option since he left the home he had shared with Y/N for the past centuries. It had only been a week since he did so, since he left his heart bleeding.

In the bed lay his mate, Liria, fast asleep. He had met her a couple of months ago, and of course, they had had their first date. She had joined as a new spy for the court, alongside Nuala and Cerridwen.

Liria was absolutely different from Y/N. She had dark blonde hair, her eyes were a sea-green color, and her lips were thin. At times, she was cold, and when her work took up too much of her time, she became distant. But with Y/N, she always found time to talk to him; she was sweet and the perfect mix of a woman who knew she wanted to be with him. Sometimes, at dinner, Liria simply ignored his trivial day-to-day conversations, or sometimes, neither spoke.

It wasn’t supposed to be this way for him. He had imagined that with Liria, he could have an even deeper connection than he had with Y/N; that they would embrace the bond, talk about getting married and having children in the future. But everything was turning out the opposite.

The Master of Spies couldn’t forget the feeling of wanting to be close to Liria on the day they met.

It was just a training session, training the next spies who would serve the Night Court, and then he would return home to his beautiful and sweet girlfriend to kiss her and catch up, as he always did.

Liria and Azriel were in fighting positions, assessing each other as opponents.

“This time, Liria, you need to trust your instincts,” he told the blonde.

“I always do, Azriel. Do you doubt me?” she replied with a flirtatious smile.

So when Liria attacked, it was directly at the feet of the Shadowsinger. The blonde slid across the training field floor to strike Azriel's right ankle. It was an unexpected move for him, and he fell to his knees. With the same determination, Liria lunged to throw him onto his back and ended up on top of him, their faces inches apart, about to kiss.

Azriel was astonished by the energy enveloping them both. He didn’t expect that just before the sea-green-eyed girl attacked, the bond that connected their souls would shatter. He could only watch as their faces were a breath away from kissing, and though he wanted to, he didn’t. His girlfriend was waiting for him at home, and he had plans with her. But the beautiful blonde girl was his mate , not Y/N, whom he had always thought their souls were destined to be together, whether or not there was a mating bond. Perhaps it was at that moment that he realized, no matter what, he longed for that bond with her, with Y/N.

And the mother was wrong about them.

Azriel sighed and decided to take flight, while the rain was just a kiss on the skin and a sigh in the night.

Sometimes, the people who heal you are the same ones who break you.

Y/N barely had the energy to avoid neglecting her work. Part of her was dedicated to designing costumes in a small boutique in the city center. Her busy life kept her occupied most of the time, but sometimes it wasn't enough. Azriel crossed her mind at the most inopportune moments: while designing, during conversations.

So when Mei, her coworker, told her that she had received a letter from the Dawn Court as a sign, Y/N decided to share the news with Feyre. They had agreed to meet at their usual café, right in the artist's quarter, in the Rainbow.

When Y/N arrived, Feyre was sitting by the window as always, sketching in a notebook.

“Sorry I’m late, Fey,” Y/N greeted her friend.

“Don’t worry, darling, I just got here,” Feyre replied.

The two women ordered their usual drinks while catching up on their work.

“Az hasn’t shown up at the River House or the Wind House,” the blue-eyed brunette informed Y/N. “Rhys has been worried, but his work hasn’t allowed him to take any time off,” Feyre continued.

“I don’t think Rhys should worry about Azriel,” Y/N responded. The name of the Shadowsinger came out in a broken whisper. “He must be with his mate,” she continued.

“Y/N,” Feyre called her friend, “Rhys isn’t worried about him, not right now or about his partner,” she confessed with tender eyes, while looking at Y/N, who was lost in her thoughts.

It took 10 seconds for Y/N to understand what her friend was telling her.

“Rhys wants you to come to the house to spend the afternoon. He misses his friend, Nyx misses his aunt, and I miss you too,” the brunette admitted. “Actually, everyone does,” the fae continued.

“I’m not his aunt anymore, not anymore,” Y/N whispered with a hoarse and broken voice.

Feyre stood up from her chair and moved closer to Y/N. She sat beside her, pulling her close to her chest as she hugged her. Y/N couldn’t resist, so she hugged back, burying her head in her friend's neck and letting her guard down. She cried as her adventurous mate  held her tight and whispered that it was okay, that she had her, and that she wasn’t alone. Nothing else mattered, neither the fae watching them nor the coffee cooling on the table. Only the two of them, only Y/N was Feyre’s concern. She was her friend, and although she had met her through the Shadowsinger, she knew enough to assure that she would always be her friend.

After a while, they slowly pulled away, and Feyre wiped the few tears from Y/N’s cheeks. She took her hands and looked into her eyes.

“You will always be Nyx’s aunt. He adores you, and I know you adore him too,” she said with the kindest voice she had for her friend. “Besides, I’m sure you miss him too,” she added, smiling.

“Yes, I miss my mischievous boy,” Y/N choked out with a hoarse voice. “And I also miss the others,” she continued.

“I knew it,” Feyre said with a small laugh. “So... will you accept coming to the house?” she asked with a calm and hopeful voice.

Y/N thought for a while. If Azriel hadn’t shown up at her friend’s house or the house where he used to live before meeting her, what were the chances of running into him?

“Alright, I’ll go,” she agreed.

“Tomorrow afternoon, we’ll prepare your favorite meal. Maybe Rhys will want to share some of his cherished wines,” Feyre mentioned with a smile.

Both women laughed, knowing it was hard to convince Rhys to share some of his wines, but it was no secret that there were always two people who took them without permission from the great lord.

A new day, another day at work. Y/N finished one of the designs she had been working on for a week. She asked Mei to pack it up, as they would pick up the dress later. With that, she ended her workday and returned to her apartment. She hadn’t moved into a new one yet; she couldn’t, not yet. So she decided to keep her mind occupied preparing for the meeting that afternoon.

Y/N was in her dressing room, surrounded by clothes she used to wear with Azriel, and it was a difficult decision. She had designed some outfits for their dates, family dinners, anniversaries, or special nights. Maybe she should have just bought something new and avoided this debate she knew she wouldn’t win.

In the end, she opted for a simple pair of pants and a shirt that had been shoved at the back of the closet, low heels, and understated yet carefully done makeup, trying to hide her dark circles and signs of exhaustion. She finished with her favorite perfume, no jewelry, since Azriel had been the one to gift her small collection since he entered her life. She couldn’t help but imagine going to this meeting with him, as they had done so many times before: her sitting at the vanity, finishing applying her lipstick, and the Shadowsinger behind her, watching her through the mirror. It would only be a moment before he would approach to fasten the necklace he had returned, kiss her cheeks, and tell her how beautiful she looked. She wouldn’t arrive late just because Azriel decided to take Y/N and lay her on the bed, just to kiss her and tell strange jokes. She wouldn’t arrive with wrinkled clothes from struggling to get them both up.

They would never again arrive holding hands.

Y/N stood at the entrance of her friend’s house, looking at the garden where Azriel and she had played with Nyx, a garden that had witnessed so many happy moments, and now they were just that, moments. The house that had scared her so much the first time Azriel introduced her to his family. The fae took a deep breath, preparing to knock on the door, but paused for a moment when she heard the boisterous laughter of Cassian, followed by Mor’s laughter and Nyx’s small chatter, her nephew. She couldn’t help the soft smile that appeared on her face, so she knocked on the door.

She was met with Cassian’s fierce hug when he opened it. He might have stopped her breath if he had hugged her a little tighter. She hugged him back, and little steps echoed as Nyx appeared at the door.

“Auntie! Auntie!” the child shouted, jumping up and down so she would pick him up.

“No, I saw her first,” said the general, too loudly for the little heir to hear.

“Lies, it was Uncle Az!” the child babbled, pushing at Cassian’s legs.

The general slowly released her, whom he considered his sister-in-law, to see her face and make sure she was okay. Y/N greeted him with a forced smile, silently assuring him that she was fine.

The woman bent down and picked up Nyx, who squealed and hugged his aunt. She couldn’t blame Nyx; he didn’t know yet. That his Uncle Azriel and Auntie Y/N were no longer together. So she showered him with kisses all over his face, tickling him, and the child burst into laughter. Cassian smiled at the scene until he felt someone else’s presence behind him.

“Are you going to let her in, or are you going to wait until the three of you freeze out here?” the father of the little black-haired boy questioned. “Nyx, darling, let go of Y/N, it’s my turn,” Rhys continued.

“No,” Nyx grumbled with a pout as he clung to Y/N’s neck.

“Then it will be a group hug; just try not to kill me,” Y/N attempted to joke.

The two adults laughed and moved in to hug her. She felt a part of her heart warm with the love of a family. A moment later, the four of them entered the house, leaving the cold weather behind for the warmth of the home.

Everyone greeted her: Mor, Feyre, Elain, Nesta, and even Amren hugged her, which was unusual for her. The table was decorated with her favorite food and even her favorite wine, courtesy of the High Lord, just as Feyre had said.

One more task to complete. It would be the last of the afternoon, and then she could have dinner with Liria, and maybe, just maybe, cuddle together. He had postponed some of his reports since he left Y/N and had also not visited his siblings’ house. He needed time.

Liria entered Azriel’s small office, where he was sitting reading one last report. She approached quietly and kissed him on the cheek. The Master of Spies shivered from the sudden affection and tensed his wings. It was one of the few times his mate showed affection, and almost always his body reacted the same way. Even his shadows didn’t approach her; he was sure they missed Y/N. And how could they not, when the woman with whom he had shared almost everything would enter his office in the loudest way, with a radiant smile that could light up an entire universe, his universe? She would shower him with kisses and hugs, then sit in his favorite sofa while keeping him company, creating new designs for her shop. And just now he noticed she was wearing one of the robes she had made for him.

He responded to the blonde with a tense smile.

“Are you almost done?” he asked.

“Yes. Where are you going?” she asked, noticing Liria’s outfit.

“I’m going out with some friends; I just came to let you know,” she whispered close to his lips and gave him a kiss. “Don’t wait up for me; you should rest,” she advised him, and with that, she left through the door of his office.

Another night added to the many nights he would spend dining alone, once again.

The doorbell of the river house echoed inside the property. Rhysand frowned and turned to look at his mate . “Are we expecting anyone else?” he questioned mentally to Feyre, who simply shook her head. Everyone had settled in the living room of the house to continue their conversation. Nyx was in his room with his aunt Elain; he had fallen asleep.

Rhys got up from the couch and walked to the door. He did not expect to see the person on the other side, at least not today.

“Azriel,” he said his name as if afraid they would know he was there. “What are you doing here?” he asked his brother.

“I came to deliver… Y/N,” he whispered, his breath catching. “Is she here?” he asked.

There was no way to lie. Her scent drifted into the Master of Spies’ lungs just as he remembered it: so soft, subtle, and sweet. The High Lord could see the agony on his brother’s face and how his eyes filled with tears. Was it guilt or mourning?

Azriel could have died in that moment. There was no way to say he didn’t miss her, because he missed her to his bones. His heart ached as if a dagger had pierced it. The sound of her laughter reached his ears. The melody had changed; it was no longer loud and full of life. It was all his fault. He should have been there with her and not with Liria. He had made a mistake, and his error would cost him his entire life.

“What did you come for?” Rhys asked, cutting through the thread of his thoughts.

“To deliver the reports,” Azriel muttered in a hoarse voice.

His brother let him into the house, and as he walked down the entryway, he saw the huge vase with strange figures that they had given Feyre for her birthday two years ago. It had been brought specially from the Winter Court, a trip they had taken together. He could still hear her voice with feigned annoyance telling him to be careful not to break it. The memory struck him like a stab to the heart. He arrived in the living room just as Y/N delivered the worst news he could have heard.

“I’m going to the Dawn Court. I’ll be away for at least a month,” she told her friends.

“No,” Azriel whispered with a broken voice. “You can’t go,” he shouted, alerting everyone to his presence. His shadows separated from him and approached her.

The fairy shuddered at the contact of the shadows on her skin. She hadn’t expected him to show up. Azriel saw the smile of his beloved falter the moment their eyes met. Her face grew somber, sad, and he wished that Prythian would swallow him whole at that damned moment.

Silence fell over the room. Everyone was tense from the unexpected arrival of the Shadow Singer.

Cassian was the first to break the silence.

“Az, we weren’t expecting you,” he muttered through gritted teeth, angry at the situation. His wings flared, ready to defend Y/N if necessary.

Azriel ignored him as he crossed the room to where Y/N was sitting. She stood up instinctively, wanting to flee, just wanting to forget him for a while. It wasn’t fair. The moment he reached her, he took her in his arms and began to cry.

“Y/N, darling, please don’t go. Forgive me,” Azriel whispered in her ear.

She couldn’t move. Her breathing became ragged, her throat tightened trying to suppress the sobs that wanted to surface. She swallowed hard to clear the knot that had settled in. A shiver ran down her spine.

“Let me go,” she whispered back. “Don’t touch me, Azriel,” she shouted, disappointed.

He continued holding her close, and she squirmed in his arms, pushing him as far away as possible. Where she had once felt safe, now she felt suffocated. When they were a few centimeters apart, she saw his clothes; it was one of the garments she had made for him, and it carried a scent that wasn’t his. Her heart sank to her stomach.

“I know you’re angry, please, listen to me. I know it was wrong, and I’m deeply sorry,” the Shadow Singer pleaded, as he moved his hands to her face. “I’ll do whatever it takes to earn your trust back, to make you believe in me. I promise. I’ll do whatever you want, just say it,” he begged again, this time on his knees, holding her hands and kissing them.

“And what will you do?” she laughed sarcastically. “Will you promise that you won’t hurt me again?” she continued, with her fists clenched. “You hurt me, Azriel, and you didn’t care. While you were sticking your tongue in another woman’s mouth, I was at home, waiting, begging for you not to be hurt and to come back to our home safe,” she hissed with pain, as her gaze met his. “I would have ripped out my heart for you, no matter the reason, but I know you wouldn’t do the same for me,” she went on. “Do you know what I want?” she murmured.

Azriel had red eyes as she spoke. He remained on his knees, crying for the pain he had caused, and although he had a sliver of hope, it vanished the moment her eyes met his. There was no way to repair the damage. Her eyes, which had once looked at him with love, with the kindness and softness of a feather, with the adoration he didn’t believe he deserved from her, now looked at him with the coldest gaze, disappointment swimming in them, and sadness clinging to them. He didn’t even need to answer; nothing would heal her heart.

“I want my heart to stop bleeding, I wish it would stop singing your name,” she whimpered. Tears were already streaming down her cheeks. “But I wish it wasn’t you who nearly ripped it out of my chest,” she said, collapsing to the floor, hugging herself.

Azriel, who was closer, didn’t even have the chance to reach her in time. Instead, it was Cassian who appeared to hold her against his chest, crying like he had never heard her do before. His shadows tried to calm her as they once did when she was scared. Even they were there for her.

Cass, his brother, was the one holding her in his arms, against his chest, and Azriel wanted to tear her away, but he had no right.

“It’s best if you leave,” the general said through clenched teeth to Azriel.

His voice, filled with pain and disappointment, had never spoken to him like this in the centuries they had been together. Azriel understood. Y/N had developed a relationship with him, supporting each other, and he also knew that Cassian would never have done this to her.

A hand rested on the spy’s shoulder. He looked up and met the violet gaze of Rhys, his other brother, and the eyes of the rest of the people he considered family, who were in the dining room; they had left them alone a while ago.

The weight of his decision was on his shoulders, in his heart, and in his soul. His brother was indicating that he should get up, but Azriel's ears were ringing; he heard it from a distance. He didn’t know when he got to his feet. Rhys guided him to his office. The reports had been forgotten on the floor of the living room. But he decided he couldn’t stay there, not while he could hear her muffled sobs. So he left the house and went to the only place left for him.

The door opened. Liria entered; it was night, and she found Azriel slumped on the sofa, in the darkness. She could see the tears streaming down his cheeks, even though he was asleep. In his dreams, Y/N’s muffled cries tormented him.

The blonde approached to comfort him. She grabbed the blanket from the sofa across from him but stopped inches from his body when the scent hit her. A scent she had noticed on him when she first met him, which she had discovered belonged to someone else soon after. But still, she continued; he was her partner, their souls were bound.

If “I love you” were a promise, would it be broken if they were honest?

The next morning, Azriel woke up to the sound of clashing weapons. He got up from the sofa, rubbing his face with his hand, and saw Liria in the hallway, where the noise was coming from. The woman could feel her partner’s gaze, so she turned around.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” she greeted him.

“What are you doing? Why the suitcase?” the dark-haired man asked.

“I’m leaving,” she replied vaguely, turning back to continue packing her weapons.

“I don’t want the bond,” the spymaster's words slipped out.

“I know,” Lyria said. “Don’t forget that I can feel your emotions through the bond,” she reminded him, seeing his look of confusion. “Last night, you were murmuring her name and how much you love her,” she revealed in a hoarse voice.

Her mate passed by him, perhaps gathering the last of her belongings. He could only watch; he thought it would hurt, but it didn’t.

“Two days ago, I found a small box,” Lyria continued. “By the way, nice ring. She would have liked it,” she confessed.

Azriel tensed at the mention of the object. He remembered having carefully hidden that ring, a proposal ring for Y/N. Before meeting Lyria, he had been planning to propose marriage; the only ones who knew were Rhys and Cassian. He had ruined everything.

“How did you find it?” he finally looked at her.

“I made a mistake with you, with us, Azriel,” she evaded his question. “I wish I hadn’t left,” she continued in a hoarse voice. “I don’t want the bond, I reject it,” she said finally.

They had heard stories that if someone rejected the bond, they would die. But the bond cooled on both sides and neither of them died. The rejection of the bond didn’t hurt as much as Azriel’s soul ached from having left his girlfriend. It didn’t tear his skin as it did that day when he saw her cry. He didn’t wish for Prythian to swallow him for the rejection.

“I’m sorry, Lyria.”

The decisions of the two had brought them to this point: bringing together two people with the same energy could make them implode. And they understood it too late.

“I’m sorrier for us,” was the last thing she said before leaving through the door.

Although they both had hope, dreams, goals, loves, friendships, and families, they had all shattered.

The journey to the Dawn Court was supposed to last only a month. Thesan, the high lord of the court, had requested in the letter that she be the one to make his tunic for the most special day of his immortal life and that of his lover.

She had done it. That was five years ago.

The rays of the sun filtered through the white curtains, reflecting the face of her beloved, who was sleeping peacefully beside her. He, with brown hair, had his arms wrapped around Y/N, holding onto her as if his life depended on it. And so it was.

A few years ago, Y/N left the Night Court for the Dawn Court. Her small boutique in her friend's court was left in Mei's capable hands; she trusted Mei to run it and might soon give it to her as a birthday gift. During her time in the Court of Sun Rays, she opened a new boutique, where she currently works, although she designed for both. Mei handled most of the workload at the boutique on the other side.

During that time, Azriel never stopped sending her letters, flowers, and her favorite things to reach out to her, always without success. Until one day, she responded to one of his thousands of letters, where he kept apologizing, making it clear that she wanted nothing to do with him ever again.

Darius and T/N were at the market, doing their shopping, holding hands, stealing kisses from time to time, and joking around. She had met him when she arrived at the court, with her heart still in pieces. He was a warrior of Thesan's royal guard. They became friends, then started flirting, soon became a couple, and now were married. He was always patient with her; her heart wasn’t ready at that time, but every time she spent time with him, the pieces came back together. He had also had his heart broken a few months before they met, so they understood and supported each other, respecting each other’s pain.

Darius loved his wife so much that he wouldn’t hesitate for a second to tear apart anyone who decided to hurt her. Anyone who made her shed a tear would find their own heart ripped out before causing her any pain.

Liria and Azriel were not exempt from sharing work. They had a court to protect and a high lord to respond to. Both were in the Dawn Court, searching for new leads on a minor commotion.

Azriel managed to distinguish a woman's hair. He walked, trying to get as close as possible to her to confirm that his eyes were not deceiving him, that it was indeed her, the woman he loved.

And even though she had told him she wanted nothing to do with him, he was unwilling to stop searching for her. So, when he confirmed that it was Y/N, the air escaped his lungs. At a respectful distance, he saw Y/N holding hands with a man, a warrior. But what struck him most was the bulging belly against which the woman rested her hand, adorned with a wedding band and the engagement ring. The love of his life had found her mate, was starting a family, and it would not be with him, as he had dreamed many times. Azriel would not be the father of her children. He had not been chosen, and he never would be, just as he had not chosen her first.

Liria watched the scene with the same sadness. On the day her bond with Azriel was broken, Darius, with whom she had shared a century of her life, had proposed to her. She had no doubt that he loved her deeply. However, she had rejected him and now bitterly regretted it. She knew she could have been the one to receive those tender kisses and those looks overflowing with love. Liria deeply regretted ending her relationship with Darius for Azriel and losing the chance to be his wife.

Such is the smallness of the world. The people they had hurt ended up finding each other to make each other happy and complete, like puzzle pieces that belong together.

Azriel had nothing more to offer. He never had a right, and he realized that his fear of not deserving Y/N's affection had come true. He did not deserve her, and he would carry that weight throughout his existence.

And if dreams were to come true, they would have been the ones.

The sun shone and embraced Y/N. Darkness dragged Azriel into the depths.

Tags: @janebirkln @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @blessthepizzaman @rcarbo1 @saltedcoffeescotch

@nikt-wazny-y @oceandiors @whosmys

Guys, it won't let me tag everyone, I hope you can read it.

I red them!

[strawberrystepmom]

pairing: Kenjaku x F!Reader, past Geto Suguru x F!Reader

word count: 3.6k

about: you become kenjaku's captive to ensure that he will not miss his opportunity to fight the strongest after his return from the prison realm. the temptation of being this close to the last remaining earthly fragment of the man you once loved, suguru, proves too much to resist and you give into your desires despite the hole they're bound to leave.

contents: NSFW - MINORS DNI. DARK CONTENT WARNING, MAJOR MANGA SPOILERS FOR CH 236 AND BEYOND | dubcon, manipulation, violence against reader, asphyxiation, kidnapping | reader is a sorcerer and went to school with geto and they had mutual feelings for one another, mentions of religion and references to god, kenjaku retained some of geto's memories and knows reader through them, reader has breasts and descriptions of vaginal anatomy are given, rough piv sex with little prep, reader is referred to as "girl", major character death (off screen).

notes: i've uh....been going through some things lately LMAO tbh i started this awhile back before thanksgiving but have felt weird about posting it and it very nearly stayed in the "between me and god" folder so i held back but today i said fuck it. if you read, thanks and i hope you enjoy!!!

header art is by jenny holzer and divider is by @/cafekitsune ♡

“The old occupant of this vessel was very fond of you, you know?”

How dare Kenjaku mention Suguru so casually, as if he were a tenant to his own flesh and bone instead of its rightful owner? 

“You know nothing about him,” The words are full of venom, flying from your mouth not unlike the way you spat at the curse user’s face two days prior to now. He chuckled when the fluid hit his cheek, wiping it off without a second thought. “Or me.” 

You felt so guilty for spitting at his face, the face of a man you once believed that you loved, that you wept until you began to dry heave atop the futon mattress in the room that has been designated as yours. It’s the same bed you rest on now, duvet over your knees that are hiked to your chest. It’s a means to protect yourself from any vulnerability but it’s truly no use. If Kenjaku wants to harm you, he will.

He has insisted your accommodations be comfortable since arriving three days ago given you are collateral and not a captive, his own clever wording for the situation, but you’re more than aware that if you were to attempt to escape from the cage that you’d hit the window just as all birds hungry for a taste of freedom do. There are no cuffs, chains, or bars but your freedom is no longer yours. It is a prize to be won pending the defeat of the man standing across from you in the doorway, shoji door open beside him, flowing hair as dark as the midnight sky brushing the backs of his elbows.

For years you wondered what you’d do if faced with Suguru again. Would you strike him, insisting he deserved it for all the hurt left in his wake? Ask him why in a scream so powerful your shoulders would shake with the weight of your fury? Perhaps you’d forgive him, as you’d been taught and encouraged to do your entire life, and those mumbled prayers cast to the God you believe in above you would be true for the first time since they’ve left your treacherous lips. 

“I forgive him, I hope you can, too.” You have begged God aloud and silently since sixteen years old. You have always been devout in your faith despite abandoning most of the tenets that make someone a believer, your lack of devotion not enough to deter you from selfishly asking for absolution for a man who you know deserves none.

God’s answer is clear when faced with the fact that this is not Geto standing in front of you. There is no less mercy a person can be shown than their body being used as a sick prop after their death.

The space where his thoughts and dreams and hopes used to lie is occupied by something far worse than just visions of a world purified through means of violence, a place where people like you could live without the threat of death and sacrifice to keep others safe. Granted, that wasn’t exactly a noble purpose either, but at least it didn’t threaten your life the way that whatever lives inside of his skull does now.

“I know more about both of you than you think.” 

Kenjaku’s words drip with smugness and your stomach flips. The natural responses of your body to a man who looks and sounds just like Suguru make you sick but you cannot focus on fighting them off and keeping yourself protected at the same time, you have to simply make peace with the butterflies in your stomach that feels like something is punching you in the gut over and over again. He dares enter the room and you scoot further up the futon, hitting the wall behind you and leveling a glare in his direction.

Suguru’s body reacts to you, as well, something that Kenjaku planned long ago to use to his advantage. It started with hazy dreams, a face he recognized as yours drifting through them, your thighs and your lips and your skirt. It’s a version of you a little younger, a little warmer - less edgy than you are now. You are sharp and finely tuned to harm while the version of you that lived in Geto’s mind will forever stay soft, a freshly unfurled rose.

“All you’ve done is vandalize him,” you accuse and he shrugs, dressed in a cotton yukata rather than the robes he stole in addition to the body they dressed. It’s easy to imagine another life where this is Suguru and you are you and he’s coming to your shared bedside, kneeling on the ground the same way Kenjaku is now while he invites himself to the only space you currently have as your own.

“You’re a smart girl, don’t play dumb.” Your glance moves from the doorway to him, disgusted by how brave he is getting this close to you. “Perhaps I’m simply using the power this body holds in the way he was too cowardly to attempt.”

Despite your current state of sitting in nothing but a yukata yourself, you are physically strong from spending the last decade of your life as nothing more than a glorified weapon to use in the fight against evil. Even if your Cursed Technique would be unlikely to have any effect on the man, you could be a difficult problem for him if you wanted to be, yet you sit and do nothing but wait and refuse to respond to his words. He chuckles at your stubbornness and reaches across the bed and your body to grab your chin between his thumb and index finger. He shifts your head until you’re staring directly at him and a smile crosses his lips.

You do not fight him off.

“Tell me, sorcerer,” he starts and you swallow, bottom lip quivering. You want to reach out and slap him away, to scream and kick but your body stays still, the only place blood is pooling between your legs and in the heat of your face. “Where are those teeth and claws you were so eager to show me on your first night here?”

He reaches his thumb upward and presses it against your mouth, stopping the shake with a single touch - your body’s natural reaction to a man you are now certain you loved, given it’s the only explanation for your behavior. It’s a form of trust, the muscle memory of a kiss he gave you in your dorm room at the school you once shared. The first night you were spitting and hissing, now you’re so placid.

“Nothing to say for yourself?”

Stubbornly, you shake your head and Kenjaku chuckles again, pulling his thumb away from your lip but maintaining the grip on your chin. You know this is not Suguru, it’s as clear as the stitches across the forehead of the practically empty vessel that further closes in on you. He moves silently until he’s mere inches away from you, his head hovering over your knees that are still pulled against your chest. You watch him with narrowed eyes, tucking against yourself tighter than you ever have as a means of comfort, but it does nothing to stop him from lingering.

“I could just make you speak if I wanted to,” he warns. The power in this situation belongs to him.

“What’s the point of fighting you? You’re going to do whatever you want with me anyway.” You admit, defeated. Whatever fight you had left in you was smothered weeks ago during the attack on Shibuya. Even the release of Gojo is not enough to fill you with hope for the future. It’s pointless to keep fighting when the only outcome is going to be loss.

The shaky sound of your voice makes the curse user move closer to you and you shut your eyes tightly, refusing to look at him lest your body continue with these inexplicable natural responses. Heart pounding against your chest, it’s inexplicably frustrating that it cannot seem to separate what your brain knows is true from what your body wants to believe.

It isn’t him, you scream within the confines of your own mind but it does not prevent your palms from feeling clammy and the squeeze of your inner thighs against each other to provide some relief against the heat in your core.

It isn’t him. It isn’t him. It isn’t him…

Chanting the words internally, you open your eyes and are met with a pair of golden ones staring directly at you. They’re the same that stared at you in a dorm room a decade ago although they’re missing the warmth they had back then, dripping honey sweetness hidden in the irises turned to tar. 

“You’re right, I can.” He nods and dark hair falls over his eyes, catching your eye. Your stomach turns when you spot the stitches across his forehead but your gaze returns to his so quickly you can hardly think about it. “But will it be what I want or is it what this body desires, I wonder?”

This piques your interest and Kenjaku tilts his head to the side inquisitively, dark hair sweeping over your knees and around your body. It feels like a curtain, a veil like the ones you are so used to using to keep people safe and ignorant and outside of your world of sorcery.

“What do you mean?”

A smirk is the response you are granted and he moves closer to you, one of his hands reaching for the duvet you’re using to cover you. Pulling it back gently, your robe covered body coming into view and once again, you make no effort to fight. With this barrier removed, he runs his palm over the outside of your thigh. Muffling your whimper at the touch, you attempt to hide your face in your shoulder but he stops you, still grasping onto your chin and still holding your gaze.

“Interesting.” 

His hand travels from the outside of your thigh to the insides and you gently spread them to allow him access before realizing what he’s searching for. Attempting to cut off his access by closing your legs, he holds your thigh in place and lets his fingers dip lower along the soft skin. You quiver and shake beneath him like a leaf clinging to the branches of a tree in winter, desperate for somewhere to remain, and those fingers inch closer and closer to your core. He stops when he feels the coarse hair covering your mound and dares to dip a single fingertip between your folds, raising his eyebrows when he feels the arousal seeping from you. 

“I knew it,” he whispers so low you wonder if you were even meant to hear it but the way he gazes at you, like that of a man starved, tells you that the words were meant for no one but you.

Your hand shakes as much as the rest of you when you finally lift it from your side, reaching out to him and taking a strand of hair between your fingers. It feels just as you imagined it would, silk between your digits, and a breathy sigh leaves you before you begin to cry. Dropping the small strand, you choose to reach out toward his forehead and use your hand to block the stitches covering it.

“Suguru.”

You babble the name like it is precious, your lip quivering just as it did before, and the evil man shakes his head, capturing your wrist with the hand he just removed from your chin. He lowers your hand enough that you can see the stitches unobscured.

“Kenjaku, actually.” 

He lowers your hand to his lips and kisses your knuckles, amused when you squirm where you sit, practically delirious with lust and confusion. You do not want this, at least that’s what you tell yourself while parting your legs further and panting, chest heaving with every breath.

Wordlessly, he uses his free hand to untie your robe and it falls off of your shoulders, exposing you to him fully before he can blink. This is something he remembers seeing in one of those dreams but you look different than whatever the imagination of a man who was infatuated with you was able to come up with during his loneliest hours. It amuses Kenjaku that he is the one to see you like this, bare and willing. 

Tracing down your belly and lower, he stops between your legs which makes you whimper. You’re so desperate to be touched, to pretend he is someone you’ll never have the opportunity to love as properly as you could have if you’d both lived a different life, that your hips actually arch off of the bed eagerly. It should embarrass you but you are past the point of humiliation, willing to be fucked by evil incarnate just for the sake of a taste of Suguru Geto.

“Pathetic little thing,” he coos and you say nothing in return. You’re well aware of your failings as a sorcerer and a human being as his fingers spread your labia to get a glance at what you have to offer. For a moment, you consider praying for Suguru again; to selfishly beg God to make sense of your own actions but you know that he no longer has mercy for an ill behaved member of his flock. You will simply accept the consequences, whatever they will be.

His thumb brushes your clit and you moan, tipping your head back and toward the ceiling. You wait for the sensation of pleasure to climb through you again but it doesn’t come until you look downward again, eyes fluttering open.

“Eyes on me or you get nothing.”

Too afraid to look away lest it keep you from the only good thing you’ve felt in who knows how long, you keep your eyes glued to Kenjaku’s face while his hand works between your legs, spreading the slick from your cunt toward your clit and back down. If you could just shut your eyes, you could pretend, but they’re open and glued between your legs, watching every feathery stroke of his fingers through your folds.

Kenjaku’s cock hardens against your thigh and for a moment you dare to feel powerful knowing you aren’t the only one surrendering to the most base of your needs. He drops your hand and reaches for the tie of his robe, opening it and giving you the only look you’ve ever been lucky enough to get of Suguru’s bare body.

Scarred, honed, a tool - just like yours. If you weren’t so lost in the moment, the lifetimes you have imagined for years would be playing through your mind.

You gasp and knit your brows together, bucking against the increasing pressure of Kenjaku’s fingers while he brings you back to him and out of your head. Whatever you’re thinking about doesn’t matter when he inserts a finger inside of you, only testing how wet you are with no intention of preparing you for his cock. 

When he’s satisfied with how wet you are, he withdraws his finger and you whine. The sound is the most he has heard from you since the first night and it makes his eyes widen in interest. He shifts until he is standing between your spread knees and the realization that this is really happening hits you at once, your face flaming with desire.

“You’re so impatient.” 

The curse user tuts at you with a roll of his eyes and spreads your legs as wide as they can go to accommodate the width of his body. He’s broad in shoulder and hip and you bite your lower lip when he runs the head of his cock through your folds, following the same pattern of his fingers. You expect the teasing to last longer but it stops abruptly. Before you can take a breath to prepare yourself, his cock is buried to the hilt inside of you, and you gasp with wide eyes, shocked. 

“As good as you imagined?”

Words come to your mind but do not form enough to leave your mouth while he thrusts roughly, your body jerking violently against his. It’s painful, the size of him with little prep in conjunction with how he uses your body as nothing more than a glorified place to take his aggression out, but all of the numbness within you thaws and for the first time since you realized Geto was no longer Geto in Shibuya, you feel. 

It’s hard to name all the emotions you are experiencing because they blur into something barely comprehensible. Pleasure and pain and bone chilling sorrow, the kind that makes tears silently drip down your face while he takes what he wants from you. He doesn’t bother to play with your clit and there is no need to, the joy you’re taking simply from being used by Suguru’s body enough that the knot inside of you is slowly beginning to unravel. 

Skin on skin punctuated by his low grunts and your whines fill the small room and you are so lost, you lift yourself halfway up to meet Kenjaku and consider kissing him. Would it be close enough to kissing Suguru that you could eventually justify it or would it just sully the one good memory you have of him? 

You don’t have long to think about it before you are pushed back down to the bed, one of his hands caging your throat and keeping you pinned to the bed below. A reminder that this is for his pleasure and not yours although you feel yourself coming closer to the edge than you were just moments prior, shutting your eyes tightly. All of the motion inside of you stops, the hard thrusts of his cock ending, and your eyes shoot open.

“Remember what I said. Eyes on me or you get nothing.”

Nodding, you keep them open and he begins again, pace rougher than before. You can do nothing but grunt and struggle to breathe, his cock carving out space inside of you that didn’t exist until he entered you. Every kiss of his tip against your insides knocks the breath out of you and finally you cum in a strangled moan, walls quivering around his length. 

His hand inches further up your throat and squeezes experimentally. As expected, you do not fight back and he takes his indulgence with a grin, choking you with varying degrees of pressure and feeling your cunt spasm around him when he surprises you by tightening his grip. 

You like this. You want this.

He leans forward and shifts his weight to his arm and hand, finally spilling inside of you with a deep moan. Warmth fills every inch of you and you wish that you felt as full in your heart as you do in your cunt but a void remains.

Kenjaku’s other hand slides up your body and wraps around your neck, both of his palms resting on either side of your neck and fingers splaying over your throat. It’s dangerous to let him have this much access to any part of you that he could possibly crush but you do not move, tearfully looking up at him and sniffling. He increases his pressure, not enough to harm you, but enough to make you work hard and you realize how easily he could just…end this.

“Please kill me,” you beg while struggling to breathe, realizing what you’ve done now that the afterglow of orgasm can no longer protect you from the cold hard truth. 

You are a betrayer. You slept with the enemy to sate your own selfish desires and death seems almost too kind to beg for, yet you do.

“Kill me.”

Your face turns in shade and your vision is dotted with darkness, a miserable end to a miserable life you consider, but at least it will be over. The pressure of Kenjaku’s hands around your neck continues to increase until you are certain you are taking your last breath, lungs aching until he abruptly stops. He glances down from where he rests above you, half swollen cock softening and letting his cum leak out around the tip of it that is still inside of you and onto the sheets below. 

“I will not give you the satisfaction of death until you give me the satisfaction of watching you fight for it.” 

Removing his hands from around your throat completely, he glances down at the pressure indentions of his fingers with a smile. Your eyes flutter shut, you’ve passed out from lack of air, and he admires the heap he has left you in, reaching for your robe and wiping the remnants of his release and yours on the corner of it.

Nobody is coming to save you, a secret Kenjaku knows that you are not yet aware of. Satoru Gojo is dead, defeated at the hands of Sukuna. The news broke this morning and he was preparing to come to your room to let you know until this little distraction occurred. He had an inkling you were susceptible to Suguru Geto’s charms even from beyond the grave but he had no idea it would be this easy, your slumped form resting on the futon beside him. He pats your head as one would a treasured dog, long and loving strokes that do not stir you, your bare breasts swaying slightly with every breath you take.

The new world is on the horizon and he may keep you around as a plaything for a little longer than he originally intended.

[vegaly-art]

I have been infatuated recently with the @yaelokre project. The music is superb, the characters and art are so nice to look at, and I just HAD to draw the Lark. I love their designs so much, and the colours are pretty different from what I usually do with that green lean but it was fun to experiment with <3 <3. I even set up a whole new lineart colour set that I plan to use in the future :).

I love them so bad, they are the kids ever. Though Clementine must get a spotlight because they have my favourite outfit. All those ruffles and the bloomers and the jester-like vibe in terms of colours and shape speak to me on a very deep level. But the rest are just as good. I just like ruffles :333.

I hope to see more of them in the future and maybe make more art myself if the mood strikes me. <3

The music is absolutely inspiring my own story work and DnD campaign too so that is a huge plus. Also if anyone is wondering my favourite song is And The Hound. Harpy Hare is a CLOSE second.

[factual-fantasy]

27 Asks! Thank you! :)) 🍰

Comments and interaction are the only way I'm afraid.. But your comment doesn't have to be some lengthy and clever compliment. Simple comments like "I love this! :D" "Looks great!" "ASJDKNF" and "Lovely drawing!" will work just fine. <:)

I promise I'm not gonna look down on those comments in anyway. If someone commented on 100 posts of mine with very simple and even copy and pasted responses, I wont be annoyed- if anything that will clearly show me that this person is trying to show their appreciation for my art will also respecting my boundaries. I'll appreciate it a lot is what I'm saying! XD

Even so, if its still too much pressure or you feel too awkward, I totally understand. You don't have to interact at all if you don't want to! I wont look down on you for that either. You can drop a simple like and leave it at that! :)

I am! :D Although I'm not fully in the loop- apparently there's been an update..? :0

@paper-starz

Ooo I love the drawing! :D In return I present to you!,

Whoppers! :DDDD

@muratandlina @misscherrypie @pink088

WAHGG THE BOOPS!!! THE BOOPS!!! XDDD

@ocinstituterep

When it comes to transformers? I would say its probably impossible to fully memorize their design line for line <:( at least it is for me!

All I can advise is to draw up a very extensive ref sheet for them, as I have done before. <:T

(Link in ask)

Ugh, this is getting exhausting.. thanks for telling me though.. <:)

@neo-metalscottic (Cake hound and Tuna post) (recent Gravity Falls art)

hello hello! :D I've been hanging in there, recent art thefts and tracings has been pretty disheartening.. but I've been doing my best to move past it <:)

Also thank you! :DD I'm glad to hear you liked my cake hound artwork! :)) As for names, I was gonna say that they don't have names and aren't canon yet.. but then two names came to mind <XDD

The name Chief seems pretty fitting for the old chocolate cake hound :0 And I imagined the name Bailey for a smaller vanilla cake hound that tuna might have in the future! :0 Think of a golden retriever :00

As for Gravity Falls, I will admit it was nice to draw Stanley again! And thank you kindly for all the compliments! :DD But man, does it just make me think of all the old embarrassing GF posts I made in the past.. 😅 I'm glad you liked it none the less! :))

And lastly, I'm not sure what kind of coffee Stan would like :0 but he strikes me as the type to say "I like my coffee BLACK like my SOUL" but then secretly fills it with 75% sugar and creamer XDD

@feline-controller

I've watched the original show in its entirety, they're absolutely hilarious and very witty XDD and their 1960s DeSoto adventurer was such a cool touch to the show! It's a shame the show didn't last longer.. 😔 Also Sam is my favorite of the two :))

I have! :0 They're outfits are always so wild <XD

@readeren

All of Gummigoo is squishy! XD

I have never heard of it <:0 sorry!

@minnesotamedic186

As I state in my pinned post,

Any and all dubbed videos of my artwork is theft as I will never give anyone permission to use my artwork in their videos 👍

@holly-opal

I did have a comic in mind where Wally wakes up from a nightmare and and its sends him into a panic attack. But he doesn't react the way you describe, quite the opposite actually :0

I pictured that he has a more silent panic. Where he shakes violently, his eyes are wide an he's sweating bullets. Unable to speak all the while. Even when he starts to cry he doesn't react to the tears, they just drip down his face silently.

He ended up thinking "Its okay, you're panicking. You're just panicking" but when that doesn't calm him down he thinks "Just call Barnaby. Talk to Barnaby and he'll calm you down, go call Barnaby."

He stumbles to the phone and while its ringing, he hears the floor creak behind him he whips around and knocks the phone off the table. The crash sends him over the edge and he drops the phone to run and hide. When Barnaby picked up his phone and no one replied.. he became really worried.

You cant accidentally butt dial someone on those old phones. Someone intentionally called him and then seemed to drop the phone.. knowing Wally has been acting off lately, he couldn't shake his worry and went out to check on Wally.

When he got to the door and knocked, he heard a vase shatter in Wally's house. Barnaby burst in and found Wally in a state.. The rest is what you can imagine. He comforts Wally and stays with him the whole night. They talk about his nightmare and the sleeping problems he's been battling.. things like that :0 Barnaby is goated :)

@octonauts16

The only brain rot word that doesn't drive me crazy and that I use unironically is "sus" XDD

@spottedsplash

Awe, thank you! That's very sweet <:)) I'm glad to hear you like what I've put up! :DD

IS THAT A MOOSHROOM COW WEARING IRON ARMOR??

@captain-skyler1987

I took me way too long to notice Goku on the left side XDD

Also yes I do! :D I'm getting better at recognizing a handful of my followers :}}

@beryl-shade

I watched Caseoh play it on YouTube :0 Although the parkour style game play was fun and refreshing!.. I wasn't particularly interested in the story as a whole 😅 I just saw it as yet another mascot horror.. <:/ FNAF holds my interest in that category <XD

@caronaro-flipaclip

His theatrical tone can be a liiitle annoying sometimes. And I cant not hear Finn the human when he talks <XD

But otherwise I like his character :) I feel kind'a bad for Gingerbrave sometimes- it kind'a feels like a lot is expected of him. Everyone is constantly asking him for help and he's always the one trying to defuse any given situation. Poor guy.. <:(

@fandomcenteralral

Reminds me of cult of the lamb! I love the critter 💞💞

@milmaxtor

ME WHEN PEOPLE SAY THEY LIKE WHEN I POST XDDDD

(Referencing this post)

Yes of course! :D People took the time out of their day to interact with me, the least I can do is respond to their questions properly! <:))

Also thank you! :DDDD

(Link in ask)

The song wasn't really my taste, but the artwork was great! :))

Welcome home got an update? :0 I had no idea! I guess that would explain the sudden influx of Poppy artwork.. 🤔

@shamelessboiledwater

XD I hope you remember sometime soon!

@minnesotamedic186

That I am! :) I've even drawn the gang before! Buster Moon is my favorite character :)

[sandraharissa]

Some cool Powder/Jinx design details:

1) The very noticeable, very badly cut bang that highlights that her/Vi/someone else (likely Powder herself) cuts her hair to prevent it from covering up her eye. Which then ends up growing out fully and covers up her right eye completely, making her resemble Silco. I love this implication that there’s clumsy but determined attempts at preventing the bang from growing, like it represents that there’s clumsy but determined attempts at preventing insanity from seeping in.

2) The changing eye color. It goes from this grey color when she’s ‘unremarkable’ to blue and then pink, both colors representing her trauma and how it colors her view of the world/life. Blue for the explosion and pink for the pink bullets. As a person grows older it’s possible that their eye color could change slightly like going from grey to blue but the color still represents hextech/arcane and its impact on her life. The pink is directly caused by shimmer and also represents its impact on her life. It also alludes to Silco who’s the shimmer dealer and who’s got a glowing red eye that’s very close to the pink eye that Jinx gets.

3) The tattoos and their colors also represent the trauma. Blue clouds for the arcane explosion and in s2 likely pink bullets for her minigun ammunition. To me it’s also reminiscent of Silco’s scar, it’s wearing your trauma on display.

4) Braids reflecting her mental state. Again, as Powder she had a simple, relatively short and straight braid. Based on the reddit QnA she’d have this poorly done, skewed to one side braid as little Jinx, cos Silco didn’t know how to braid hair. With her later in life taking the look of the skewed braid and making it intentionally her hairstyle, making it symmetrical and also longer, nicer. More polished with more jewelry/bolts in there. Kinda highlighting that immediately after the trauma she’d be at her lowest but that later in life she attempts to keep her life together.

5) I love that Silco braiding Jinx’s hair is semi-canon now cos I always loved the image, braiding these long-ass braids really conveys visually how effort and time consuming taking care of Jinx is. It also indirectly confirms that Vi must have braided her hair before, keeping it straight and by implication keeping her sane.

6) I also wonder what’s the motivation for the hairstyle. What would make sense to me is that if for Silco’s character it represents how much he has to take care of her then for Jinx it would represent how attention seeking and love-starved she is, right? So maybe she splits the braid in two and starts growing it out as much as she can in order to get more time/attention from Silco? It strikes me as smth little Powder/Jinx would absolutely do. Maybe it’s wishful thinking but I also used to think that about the concept of Silco braiding her hair in general.

7) They changed Jinx’s design to look more punk-like, which makes her fit the world more. Zaun’s aesthetics/fashion are partially borrowed from the 80s working class punk subculture.

8) An X on her outfit for jinX, similarly to how Mylo had an M with a crown in 'Mylo' on his outfit. Both of them also already had X's on their outfits as kids. Kinda how s2 will likely have Vi wearing Claggor’s glasses. Each sister somewhere on their outfit having a reference to the brother who was more like them.

[meanbossart]

Hi RJ! I hope you are having a great time with your partner! Sorry if this has been asked before, but I was curious what DU Drow’s thoughts are to Astarion marking him like he did to himself. I know you’ve mentioned that Drow did a lot of the scarification as a teen to cope with things, and in your Bhaalist AU Drow has Astarion do some of the face marks. But I saw the art with Astarion’s bite marks on Drow’s ass and I doubt Drow was unhappy about that lol. Does he like having permanent marks from his partner? Do they ever bring any sort of blood/knifeplay into their relationship? I’d be super interested to hear Drow’s thoughts about it! And alternatively what you think Astarion would feel about it.

Your art is absolutely gorgeous and you are easily one of my favorite artists of all time. Your mastery of body shape, facial expressions, telling a story through character design, everything makes me swoon at your art. I’m so invested in your freaky man, RJ, I love him and as someone with a master’s degree in clinical psychology I want to dissect his brain and study him under a microscope

Thank you so much for your kind words!!! Happy to have a specialist in the field here watching this trainwreck LOL

And that's a very interesting question! Besides for his forearm scars (which were a weird show of dominance in his bhaalspawn days) DU drow's facial and chest scarification were actually done by Orin, and as you can guess he is very into the idea of being permanently marked by his partner - definitely the kind of guy to get your name tattooed on him six months into the relationship.

He does have an inkling of good sense and propriety, though. It's kind of a pillar of the character that he knows how to operate in society in favor of coming across as pleasant and only an acceptable level of eccentric, which is to say that he has the vaguest idea that requesting that Astarion mutilate him for his own pleasure might not bode well. This, as it is the case for everything else, is my own take on the character, but Astarion does not strike my as someone who would want to permanently harm their partner once he's made a genuine emotional bond with them. DU drow realizes this, plus there's the whole treating-him-with-kid's-gloves complex which leads him to believe this would be a sensitive topic, given Astarion's own background.

But DU drow often fantasizes about the scenario, specially during sex or moments where he is emotionally overwhelmed with his love for him. It takes him some time to make the connection between his own scars and what they mean about past relationships, but perhaps at some point an opportunity would arise where he makes such request - and he would do it because it's important, and because he has to for once in his life trust Astarion to either A) participate enthusiastically or B) Allow him to choose to take on the discomfort of his own free-will, and see it as a sign of love and compromise rather than the helplessness he imposes upon him.

And I think that depending on how it was presented, Astarion would do it. He wouldn't do it on a whim, or just to get DU drow's rocks off, but he would do it if he saw that it was something that he really needed, and for good reason. He wouldn't like the process, but he would appreciate having that trust put on him and to have the chance to care for his partner, to have him ask him for help, as weird as the request might be.

[caligvlasaqvarivm]

points at u. how do u play eridan so well!!! hes such a tricky bastard to write for 4 some reason

It's because he's got so many problems and playing him is basically Mental Illness Simulator :') Whipped up a small (that's a lie, it's large and extensive) guide under the cut

ERIDAN DOES NOT HAVE FUN

First most important thing about playing Eridan: THIS BOY DOES NOT DO JOKES. He does NOT DO BITS. He does NOT HAVE FUN. If you check out his logs, pretty much every time he talks to somebody, he has a very clear purpose in mind (usually flirting or grandstanding). One of the few times he does strike up a conversation without a clear goal in mind, it's absolutely disastrous:

CA: fef CA: hey CC: ? CA: glub CC: Glub glub! CC: 38) CA: yeah CA: hm CC: W)(at is it!!! CA: wwhat

He's sooooooo so so so bad at conversation. He doesn't tell jokes. He doesn't know how to lighten the mood. He has no chill. He has no sense of humor. When playing him, if you are making jokes, you are doing it wrong!

The reason for this is because, psychologically, you have to imagine that he is constantly teetering on the edge of a murderous freakout. If he is not, at all times, Being Useful (AKA murderous, sea dweller-y), then Something Bad Will Happen. His entire life is about duty, pressure, responsibility, and, accordingly, at ALL TIMES, he feels an extreme, anxious weight on his shoulders, which makes him incapable of indulging in "frivolous" behavior, like making smalltalk or doing things for fun. In fact, sarcasm and facetiousness are literally considered childish by Alternians, and Equius associates it with lower blood colors:

CT: D --> Humorous insincerity is for pedantic wigglers AG: Pshhhhhhhh, I know! I know you never make jokes. I was the one 8eing sarcastic, you stooge! AG: I was 8eing sarcastic a8out you 8eing sarcastic. Duh. CT: D --> That's because you're a little worse than me

That's why it's also kind of important to make him not really have hobbies. Eridan DOES have interests: he loves wizards and magic, and he's a hipster. HOWEVER, he only ever talks about magic in pursuit of some other goal, like finding a date or winning at a rivalry, AND he's constantly denying his own interest in these things, because they're frivolous, stupid, ridiculous, and deviations from what he "should" be like. He actively distances himself from things that make him happy. In fact, we only know he's a hipster because it's part of his design and Karkat mentions it once - Eridan himself has never talked about it. That's how far he's buried anything that actually brings him joy.

If your Eridan is smiling for ANY REASON, you are DOING IT WRONG!

While we're on the topic, things Eridan is NOT ACTUALLY INTERESTED IN:

History (he only ever talks about history in the vaguest possible terms; I think he is book smart and genuinely knows a lot ABOUT history, but his actual interest in it is middling. He's just expected to be really obsessed with history, especially military history, as a member of the aristocracy, and he reads it in the same way as one doomscrolls on twitter - it's a way for him to self-reinforce his own mental illness and soothe his cognitive dissonance)

Marine life/marine anything (he's TERRIFIED of the ocean, and has spent a few days underwater TOTAL. He knows nothing of the sea.)

Weaponry (he HAS a lot of guns, so he definitely knows how to use and maintain them, but there's a reason he outsources the building of all his doomsday devices. Also, he got a "god weapon" early on in his life, and has kind of just been... using that. He neither has a need to know much about weaponry, nor has ever displayed any particular interest or knowledge. He leaves fully loaded harpoons just lying around on the floor of his house. It's knowledge of necessity, not interest.)

Hunting/Violence/Murder (he's really good at it, he knows a lot about it, he will teach you on request, he will mention it constantly, but he doesn't actually derive any particular joy out of it, especially since we know his thought process after each kill is "that's going to make an orphaned troll very sad. they will be culled soon :/")

Fashion (he has more of an interest than the average Alternian, but it's still not a lot. He dresses up to emulate Dualscar, and his actual clothing choices beyond that are pretty disastrous. Canon Eridan has never shown an interest in fashion. Even if you do want to play him with an interest in fashion, which I think is fine, you have to remember that he deliberately distances himself from anything that brings him joy, so even if he likes fashion, he'll keep that a secret and insist he only does it for utility purposes.)

Pale Romance (just throwing this in there, it's the one quadrant he is *never* shown to pursue. He's tried Feferi and Nepeta in flushed, Sollux, Terezi, and Kanaya in ashen, and Rose and Vriska in pitch. if anything, he goes out of his way to AVOID pale romances, both because he just had a painful pale breakup, and because he freaks out at the implication that he's weak in any way, which pursuing a pale romance would all but be admitting)

The thing that makes playing Eridan so hard, I think, is that he's abjectly fucking miserable, BY CHOICE, and for most RPers, playing a character who's abjectly fucking miserable kind of goes against the appeal of RPing in the first place (that is, having fun). All of the things he says he's really into are things that he either has no interest in, or that actively make his life less enjoyable. All the things he spends all his time thinking about are things that make him feel anxious and hopeless. All the things he actually likes and would have fun with are the things he actively, deliberately, and loudly decries and suppresses.

So that's point 1: Eridan does NOT have fun.

ERIDAN IS AGGRO AS *FUCK*

The next most thing I see that trips people up is that they make Eridan too friendly, usually as an extension of accidentally giving him too much chill. There are two main factors here at play: the first is that he's desperately trying to be a violent, casteist, oppressive, dangerous sea dweller, and outright pushes that image, and the second is that he's really fucking anxious ALL THE TIME, and most peoples' sociability goes down when they feel the cold breath of the reaper on the backs of their necks 24/7.

When looking at the 4 responses to danger - fight, flight, freeze, and fawn - Eridan will overwhelmingly choose "fight," with "fawn" as his secondary option. This makes absolute sense in context: all his trauma comes from its inescapable nature - if he tries to run from his duties, everybody dies; if he freezes up and fails to complete them, everybody dies. Therefore, his only two options are to Fight, and to channel that violent response into completing his duties, and to Fawn, to capitulate to the things that are hurting him - much moreso the former than the latter. Unfortunately, that bleeds over into everything else. Great!

We can see this illustrated really well in his conversations with Kanaya: Eridan does not ask for favors or help, he makes demands:

CA: kan make her talk to me do somethin ... CA: so help me out tell her to talk to me i think she blocked me you got to

ERIDAN: you should of told me about this ERIDAN: if theres goin to be any sort a hope for our race as the prince of hope i demand to be invvolvved ERIDAN: so dont go anywwhere wwithout me got it

The only time he ever really backs off is in confessions, where he's willing to be like "hey, I think we really got something here, don't you think so?", or when talking to Karkat (Karkat is really the only person that Eridan doesn't feel the need to put on airs around, and we can only speculate as to why. It's because they're destined moirails for each other.)

He will also do this for statements that he isn't 100% sure about. If he's going to say something, he is going to ASSERT IT as if it is IMMUTABLE FACT, even if he's immediately disproven. In which case he will admit fault, but then his NEXT wild assumption is the IMMUTABLE FACT.

CA: wwell fine you dont havve to behavve vvillainous if youre bent up on actin against the grain a your nobility or somesuch CA: i can play that role its not like i evver didnt get my gills dirty before TT: Nobility? What are you talking about? CA: wwell arent you TT: No. What gave you that idea? CA: the wway you CA: ok CA: i had a misconclusion about that so my fault CA: obvviously you got rich blood so maybe when you crash landed you wwerent recognized for it by wwhatevver vvehicle upholds the class structure in human society

I feel like he's the type who, if he's genuinely unsure about something, he just won't say it at all. Basically, Eridan is always operating at either 0% or 100%, with almost no in-between. NO CHILL. Given that he only strikes up conversations when he's trying to achieve something from it - whether that's actively getting someone to do something for him, or just trying to assert that magic is fake - he treats every conversation like it' i's a battle, where the prize is whatever it is he's attempting to do, and his conversation partner is an enemy that he has to beat into submission. (Karkat is the only exception. He actually just likes talking to Karkat, and will do more traditional "hey man you wanna talk about your feelings" kind of dialogue with him.)

If your Eridan has chill, you are doing it wrong!

ERIDAN STRUGGLES WITH EMPATHY

This really needs to be qualified: he does HAVE empathy. He DOES care about his friends. But his brain is really cooked, and he has an extremely difficult time actually working up the emotional energy to express or experience it.

He's kind of downright sociopathic, lol:

ERISOLSPRITE: iim of the miind2et that wwhen you havve a rock 2oliid piiece of a22 tiied twwo the dock, you dont bloody wwell tug the knot loo2e and 2hovve the fucker off wwiith the heel a your boot. ERISOLSPRITE: but then another part of me ju2t wwonder2 wwhat the FUCK ii ju2t 2aiid there? liike that wwa2 ju2t 2uch a wweiird 2ociiopathiic thought ii had, ii hone2tly had no iidea howw bad ii could po22iibly feel about my2elf untiil ii BECAME my2elf, iif THAT make2 2en2e.

Like, okay, how do I explain this. His body count is 2000+. He has an EXTREMELY difficult time caring about life or death. He's had to watch kids cry over their dead parents. He has had to kill kids trying to protect their parents, whom he has then had to kill. And he has done this over, and over, and over again, as long as he can remember, to the point where he calls it "all i evver done practically."

Just for the sake of preserving what's left of his sanity, he's had to learn how to not care about that. If he sees someone crying in front of him, it's unlikely to even emotionally register to him as anything beyond "factually, this person is sad." Shit happens, people die. Violence, tragedy, murder, injury, and death are literally daily occurrences to him. For you, the day I killed your lusus was the most important day of your now tragically short life. For me, it was Tuesday.

Vriska is in the same boat, BTW. I think a combination of just being a less sensitive person to start with, the existence of a support network (Equius and Kanaya and Terezi as friends + she was friends with Team Charge before the... incident), and the lack of all the Duty(tm) and Responsibility(tm), helped her cope a bit better, and be better about opening up to people and relying on them for emotional support.

What this means, in terms of playing/writing him, is that his priorities are extremely skewed, and he is genuinely not going to understand things like "maybe I shouldn't tell this land dweller I'm trying to kill all land dwellers," or "maybe this person is sad and I should comfort them," or "maybe my constant talk about murder and death is offputting to other people." Here he is, literally not understanding why insulting and belittling Kanaya has led to her not wanting to help him, as well as not understanding why Vriska might've blocked him:

CA: wwhatEVVER you are so the vvillage twwo wwheel devvice wwhen it comes to auspisticing CA: you cant let a grudge go by you wwont stick your busy stem betwwixt so get wwith the program fussyfangs GA: If Your Slander Werent So Predictable Id Block You Too For Saying That GA: Has It Occurred To You She May Have Blocked You Because You Are Vvery Ovverbearing GA: I Just Said That Aloud Now In Your Silly Accent And Had A Private Moment Of Enjoyment CA: wwho givves a shit wwhy she blocked me or about my fuckin manners come on youvve got a wway wwith her

His brain is constantly running at a fevered 100% full-tilt run; he doesn't have the space, leisure, or energy to spend considering things from the perspective of other people. It leads to weird paradoxes, where he IS considerate of other peoples' feelings, but doesn't actually consider their feelings. After spending almost the ENTIRE conversation with Kanaya belittling her and demanding she be his and Vriska's auspice, he abruptly switches gears:

CA: fine i get it ill step off CA: you dont wwant to be our auspistice cause you dont wwant to get locked into that sort of relation wwith her i can respect that GA: No Thats Not It CA: yeah it is your real feelins run pretty awwful RUDDY methinks evverybody knowws it CA: especially that assblood karkat he and me havve you so pegged about that its upright silly CA: but its cool its totally fine dont wworry ill leavve you alone and givve you a shot

Because he LIKES Kanaya, he REALLY CARES ABOUT Kanaya, he WANTS GOOD THINGS for Kanaya... and yet is entirely, wholly, not taking her feelings into account at all.

BUT! This also applies in reverse! You can make all the death threats and casteist insults and demands towards Eridan as you want, and he won't give a shit aside from his usual grandstanding protests. The only time we ever truly see him offended is when he's genuinely trying to do Jade a favor by giving her the code to his gun, and she calls it a piece of shit and tosses it out with the trash - and even then, he doesn't take THAT much offense. Judge for yourself:

GG: so ill just dump it outside the house with the trash GG: and if it is fated to find my penpal one day then so be it! CA: god damn it CA: its like you people go out of your wway to think a howw to disrespect me GG: maybe you should have been nicer to me! GG: in any case i dont appreciate the spirit in which the gift was given so this is what i will do! CA: fine fuck it wwhat do i care CA: this has been a completely flippin useless exchange as havve they all been wwith your species

After all, he's accustomed to much, much, much worse. His emotional response here is indignation, not even really HURT. Karkat also makes a bunch of genuine death threats towards Eridan, which get entirely written off as "wwitty repartee." He's just really bad at processing hostility! Hostility is very normal to him!

So basically, before letting Eridan engage in any act of empathy or compassion, you have to ask whether or not he's going to recognize that the situation would call for that in the first place, which he is REALLY BAD at identifying. He only asks Karkat if Karkat wants to talk about his feelings after Karkat explicitly says that he's freaking out in every possible way, and without that explicit indication, I don't think Eridan would've even noticed.

If your Eridan has social skills, you are Doing It Wrong!

This also means that, even if Eridan has realized that he needs to act compassionate, he's still going to be really fucking trash at actually providing emotional support. He can't even emotionally support himself, you think he can figure it out for other people?

The most he can do is call it like he sees it - "this is a stupid thing to get worked up over," for example. Or he can jump straight to solutions, like "so what, are you gonna kill that guy?" Being as charitable as humanly possible, he might be able to fire off a "that's rough, buddy" at ABSOLUTE maximum.

ERIDAN KIND OF JUST SEES SLURS AS FACTUAL DESCRIPTORS (AND OTHER GENERAL NOTES FOR HIS SYNTAX AND VOCAB)

And, let's face it, on Alternia, they kind of are. Kanaya doesn't even bother to call him out for calling Karkat an assblood, Terezi and Feferi and Sollux don't bother taking offense to calling Sollux a mustard blood, and Karkat calls himself a gutter blood at one point. Like, even if you're playing/writing an Eridan who's rejected Alternian society, he'll still probably be out here calling people slurs? Things that would be considered hostile from other characters are very much just neutral coming from Eridan. There is no emotional difference to him, calling someone a rustblood or a burgundy, but he's expected to say rustblood because of his sea dweller status, so that's what he goes with.

Also, make some grounded but wild assertions about people and things. This boy loves to Assume. Writing Eridan is a lot of going "ERIDAN DON'T SAY THAT!!!" it's great. Really painful. Highly unrecommended.

He's obviously quite book smart and uses a lot of big vocabulary words. You guys need to have Eridan go on these insane purple-prose rants more often. They're so fun to write and so cringe to post.

CA: yeah go ahead and kiss us off but therell be blood on your hands CA: you could either play along as our auspistice and do a little mediating like you wwere fuckin hatched to CA: or wwatch she and me devvolvve into fuckin full fledged kismesisses the kind like you dont get once in ten thousand swweeps CA: you knoww thats wwhat it wwould be there wwould be rainboww rivvers runnin through star systems and all nebulizin like liquid firewworks CA: it wwill be beautiful and heartbreaking all at once

CA: but the thing is i need a rivval wwho can pose me a challenge CA: and frankly shes not evven fit for holdin my cape anymore CA: at this point i find all her adorable black pixie dabblins to be prime kiddie playtime shit CA: all of her FRAUDULENT MAGICS cannot come close to posin threat to my mastery ovver the TRUEST SCIENCES CA: an wwith my empiricists wwand i servve as the righteous hope that wwill incinerate delusion and the deluded alike CA: my holy fire is the wwhite fury bled from the wwrath-wweary eyes of fifty thousand nonfictional angels CA: and wwhen theyre finished wweepin they wwill boww before their prince GG: wow what are you talking about

For no reason at all. I'm going to post a little Karkat for comparison.

PCG: THE FUNNY THING IS IN THE FUTURE EVERYONE WILL RECOGNIZE ME AS THE UNDISPUTED LEADER, EVEN YOU. PCG: YOU WILL BE STANDING ON THE TIPPYTOES OF YOUR IDIOTIC METAL SHOES, TAKING DELICATE PURCHASE OF MY NUBBY HORNS AND HOISTING YOURSELF OVER MY HEAD TO PUT YOUR SWEATIEST TOUGH GUY SMOOCH UPON MY TWITCHING SPINE LUMP. PCG: IT WILL BE TENDER AND DEFERENTIAL, LIKE A PAUPER KISSING A NOBLE'S RING. PCG: JUST SCROLL DOWN, READ THE LOGS.

Also, notes about his typing quirk:

First, the ww and vv stuff is actively a fake accent he puts on for the #Aesthetic, and his natural way of speaking doesn't include those at all, so it's entirely likely that if you're writing him after he's rejected Alternian society, or if he's trying to be really really emotionally sincere, he wouldn't be bothering with that part of the quirk specifically.

He doesn't ALWAYS drop the G at the end of words ending in -ing. It's frequent and common, but don't feel bad about letting a word end in a g, especially if it would sound or look better (for example, "being a kid and growwing up" doesn't bother to drop the g's at all).

Similarly, he doesn't ALWAYS change "of" to "a," especially preceding a vowel sound. You gotta be careful with when you change this up, because he pretty much only does it when it would make sense spoken aloud.

In phrases like "must have" or "could have," he will often (but not always) change "have" to "of" (so "must of" or "could of").

Dropping the D from the word "and" happens only one time in the entire comic, so it's probably a typo, and if it isn't, it's REALLY REALLY infrequent.

He will sometimes use shorthanded words, like "em" instead of "them" or "ya" instead of "you." I'd say it's occassional, a bit rarer than the G-dropping. He does tend to use "got to" instead of "gotta," however. Again, try saying his lines out loud, to figure out when best to use what.

Given his loquaciousness and clear command of the language, it's likely that this is for Style, but he also doesn't always bother with proper grammar. Places where "[person] and I" would be used are often switched out for "[person] and me," and he might forgo a contraction like "I've" or "we've" and just post the pronoun (for example, "you got to" instead of "you've got to."

He references ocean shit, and ocean anatomy, like his own fins and gills, pretty often! He just doesn't do the puns. Try using "flippin" instead of "fuckin" every now and then, or "glubbin" instead of "talkin," or nautical analogies.

Also throw in some British "bloody"s every so often.

Cusses like a sailor, though, has one of the highest "fuck" counts relative to wordcount out of all the characters (cough like Karkat cough).

HE DOES NOT USE PUNCTUATION. EVER. (Ok, he does use a period once while talking to Terezi in Alterniabound, but I think that that's a mistake because it's literally the only time). This is actually in STARK contrast to other characters that don't generally use punctuation, like Aradia or Nepeta, who will still use ellipses, exclamation points, and question marks. Eridan actively, consciously forgoes using ANY punctuation, EVER, even for questions (which you shouldn't be asking too many of, because Eridan makes DEMANDS).

ERIDAN DOES NOT ANGST

This is another thing that I see a lot. Yes, Eridan thinks that he's worse than everybody. Yes, he deliberately keeps fun things at bay and focuses on things that make him miserable. Yes, he's sad, anxious, emotionally neglected, etc. etc. But I often see this self-loathing played for dramatics - Eridan being withdrawn, quiet, moody, and sad. Or being consumed with guilt and regret, and wishing he didn't have to be a murderer or wasn't forced into the position he was. And that's just not the vibe.

Because Eridan has a lot of pride. He refuses to appear weak, and he has genuinely lost the emotional capacity to feel too guilty about all the killing. Moreover, here's something I often see get overlooked:

He would think of the murders he committed, and the fact that he's so good at murdering, as good things.

It's not only useful, but oftentimes NECESSARY, for somebody on the team to be willing to make those kinds of sacrifices, to be willing to pull the trigger. Very literally, murder kept him and his friends alive long enough to play the game.

There's no universe in which Eridan would denounce killing and violence, because to do so would be to say that he shouldn't have kept his friends alive. Even in a hypothetical golden ending, where everybody survives to the end, Eridan would be the guy on the team who posits murder as a potential solution to problems, reminds people that society is built on sacrifices and suffering, and offers to do the dirty work himself if nobody else has the stomach for it. As much as being the orphaner was DISASTROUS for his mental and emotional well-being, he wouldn't regret the things he did.

And this is reflected in the comic - the rare times he does break down and show that he kind of hates himself, the focus is never on guilt or regret, it's on his perceived shortcomings - calling himself an idiot or pathetic. Because that's what his real insecurity is - he doesn't hate himself because he sees himself as this awful piece of shit, the way Sollux does, he hates himself because he thinks of himself as not good enough, because if he's Not Good Enough, then Something Bad Will Happen.

Remember, his danger response is FIGHT. It's a different paradigm than what most of us are used to, which is why I see his inner turmoil so often represented by him being moody and broody, which he's never really done in the comic. Eridan doesn't get sad, even though he is sad; he gets mad, aggressive, combative. He doesn't wallow; he just keeps swimming.

CA: i got to keep tryin thats howw all the great military masterminds became great through upright persevverance

Again, his response to being insulted is indignation, not hurt. He doesn't sit in his room feeling sorry for himself, he obsesses over genocide and murdering all the land dwellers. His response to seeing the love of his life turn on him with killing intent is to flip out and start killing right back. After being broken up with, his response is to go and pester his friends (and yell at Gamzee a bit) until he can get some emotional support. He doesn't angst, he tries to solve the problem, and, if he can't solve the problem, he starts shooting.

He's awfully violent! If your Eridan is not awfully violent, you're probably doing it wrong!

BUT, ERIDAN LOVES HIS FRIENDS

At his core, however, as tangled up in all of the above as he may be, Eridan loves:

His friends

Wizards

Magic

Probably hipster shit

Happy endings

He is still, after all, a HOPE player. He struggles as hard as he does because he can't give up on the idea that things will get better, eventually. Even if he's struggling in the wrong direction, toward the wrong ideals, and even if emotionally, he's feeling more and more hopeless and closed in, he can't stop himself from trying, and trying, and trying again.

He loves magic. As much as he tries to push it away and calls it stupid and fake and lame at every turn, he still brought his shitty wands onto the meteor. Why does he love magic? It's an extension of his inability to give up. No matter how hopeless the situation, no matter how awful he feels, no matter how unrealistic salvation might seem, if only magic is real, then there's a solution. He wants to be a wizard so badly because wizards can do magic, and magic can overturn reality, and reality is this awful, inescapable nightmare. He is constantly being caught between nihilism and pessimism and hope and belief. In the comic, the nihilism won, but that's the great conflict at the core of his being.

So ummmmm yeah, I hope any of that helps with writing the fish boy at all. Basically, if you aren't constantly cringing while writing the bullshit that comes out of his mouth, you're probably doing it wrong...

[scoonsalicious]

Unwanted: Chapter 16, Unaccompanied - Pt. 4

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, allusions to sexy stuff, a long overdue conversation with Steve.

Word Count: 2.4k

Previously On...: You went to Tony for answers about how Carthage ended up on the Quinjet; he asks you to attend his annual shareholder gala on Saturday. You, vomiting, + a bunch of stuffy rich people. What could go wrong?

A/N: Quick note about how text messages are written herein: Outgoing messages (in this instance, from Pocket to Bucky) will be indicated by ">>" in front of them. Incoming messages are labeled with the contact name the phone owner has for that person in their phone. In this instance, Pocket has Bucky saved in her phone as "Magic Dick🍆🦾" lol

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Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917!

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The gala had barely begun and you were already exhausted. Your stomach bug hadn’t let up, and you’d been vomiting for the last two days. Fortunately, you were able to get an injection of an anti-nausea medication from one of the interns down in the med bay, so even though you didn’t currently have to worry about puking your guts out on some obscenely wealthy financier, you just had to deal with the constant exhaustion you’d been feeling from your illness. 

Just a few more hours, you told yourself as you brushed off the advances of yet another man old enough to be your father. Not once had anyone actually wanted to discuss the Crisis Prediction Algorithm System. It seemed you were being viewed more as potential arm candy than Stark Industries’ CTO. That alone was enough to leave you longing for an early night in your bed. 

You did look amazing, though, you had to admit, even if you’d had to go a little heavy on the makeup to mask your pallor. When you asked Tony for a new dress, you’d anticipated taking the girls on a shopping trip. Tony, however, had other ideas and had sent a designer from one of the city’s top fashion houses to the Tower to collect your measurements, and then, the following day, a garment bag appeared in your room containing a striking dress in shimmering Iron Man-red. The bodice was form fitting and strapless, with an asymmetric neckline, and the skirt was full and came down to just below your ankles. 

It was gorgeous, and when your hair and makeup had been completed, you looked like a princess straight out of a fairy tale. You’d sent a picture to Bucky and he’d immediately sent you back a series of panting emojis that had you laughing. The following string of text that described exactly what he wanted to do to you in the dress then had you panting, yourself. Fuck your parameters, apparently.

But now, you couldn’t wait to get out of it for an entirely different reason. The call of your pajamas was so alluring. Not only were you physically tired, but you were bored out of your mind. As this was a Stark Industries party, and not an official Avengers gathering, most of your friends had opted not to come. Rhodey was here, now almost fully recovered from his gunshot wounds, but Tony wouldn’t leave his side, so he was constantly being surrounded by people and you couldn’t really find an opening to go talk to him.

When you’d asked Nat and Wanda if they wanted to come with you, Wanda had politely declined, letting you know that she and Vision already had plans to go out of town for the weekend, while Nat just scoffed at you. “I would literally rather swallow broken glass, Pocket,” she’d said. “Those things are boring as fuck and there is not enough money you could possibly pay me to go to one, sorry.” She’d ended up going bar hopping with Clint and Sam, instead.

So, there you were, all by yourself, not even able to distract yourself with the elaborate spread of food that Tony had provided, as the thought of eating still turned your stomach, when you felt a hand at your elbow.

“Hey,” Steve said softly. His presence took you by surprise– you couldn’t even remember the last time you’d truly spoken to one another, aside from clipped conversations about work and missions. “That’s a lovely dress.” A slight blush tinted his cheeks. “How are you feeling, by the way?”

“Steve, hi. Um, I’m good, thank you. Just really tired. Not quite in the right headspace to schmooze, you know?” you asked him, trying to fight off the awkwardness you were feeling at speaking to him again after so long. “You look very dashing tonight.” And he did, with his dark navy suit and cream button-up. 

He smiled, then held out a hand. “Would you care to dance?” he asked. You thought about it for a second. You didn’t want to lead him on, let him think you had any interest beyond the platonic relationship you’d always shared, but you were so fucking bored. One dance couldn’t hurt.

“I’d love to,” you said, taking his hand and letting him lead you to the dance floor.

He was surprisingly light on his feet, given his hulking frame, and he led you through the steps with ease. You somehow managed to only step on his toes twice, which gave you both a good laugh.

“I must have forgotten all my finishing school lessons,” you teased.

“Nah, you’re doing great.” Steve sent you out for a spin, but as he twirled you back into his arms, you were overcome with a wave of dizziness and stumbled. You felt your knees give out and your body begin to collapse in its exhaustion.

“Whoa,” said Steve, using his super soldier reflexes to grab you before you could fall and hold you steady. “I got you. You wanna sit down? Rest a bit?”

You nodded and he led you over to a quiet corner where some couches had been arranged for that very purpose. He guided you down to sit, then placed himself next to you, concern clouding his features.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you said. “Just, you know, between the nausea and the vomiting, I haven’t really been able to keep a lot of food down over the last two days. It’s got me so tired. I think I overdid it with a dance number.”

Steve chuckled, then stood up. “Let me go get you something to drink,” he said. “It’s important that you stay hydrated.” You nodded, and he was off.

With a sigh, you reached into your clutch and pulled out your phone, sending a quick text to Bucky, but knowing that, due to the time difference, he was probably sleeping.

>> I miss you.

You were quite surprised, then, when you saw the three dots appear almost immediately.

Magic Dick🍆🦾: Not that I don’t miss you too, because I desperately do.

Magic Dick🍆🦾: But aren’t you supposed to be livin' it up like Cinderella at the ball?

You chuckled at that before responding.

>> This Cinderella is tired and bored and would much rather be snuggled up in bed with her metal-armed Prince Charming watching a movie or literally any other activity aside from being at this ball unaccompanied. 

Magic Dick🍆🦾: You better be talking ‘bout me, doll. 

>> How many other metal-armed men do I have in my life, dipshit? 

>> Why are you even awake, anyway?

Magic Dick🍆🦾: I’m just teasin’ you, smart ass ;) 

Magic Dick🍆🦾: I’d much rather be curled up in bed with you doin any variety of bedly activities, too >:) 

Magic Dick🍆🦾: And I’m up because we’re getting ready to act on our intel and raid the communications office we were sent to find. 

Magic Dick🍆🦾: Hit 'em at dawn when they’re least suspectin’ it, ya know?

>> Jesus Christ, baby! Be careful! 

Maybe it wasn’t a good thing you hadn’t gone on the mission– you didn’t even have the energy to imagine yourself having the energy to conduct a raid in your current state.

Magic Dick🍆🦾: Always, doll. Gotta get back to my best girl, don’t I?

>> You absolutely do. Cause if I found out you died, I will kill you.

Magic Dick🍆🦾: I have no doubt that if someone were to find a way to murder me from beyond my grave, it would be you.

Magic Dick🍆🦾: Shit. Sorry sweets, I gotta go.

Magic Dick🍆🦾: Try to have fun. I love you.

>> I love you too, Buckaroo.

You stared at the screen for a moment longer, but there was no further reply. Wonderful. Now you would be spending what little energy you absolutely did not have to spare worrying about Bucky’s safety.

Steve returned then, handing you a cold glass dripping with condensation. “It’s lemonade,” he said as you took a sip. “I know how much you like lemons.”

You smiled in thanks, but it came out more like a grimace. Steve noticed immediately.

“Are you alright? Does it not taste good? I could go get you something else…”

You put a reassuring hand on his arm. “No, Steve, the lemonade’s fine. Thank you for getting it for me; that was very thoughtful. It’s just,” you sighed, “I was texting Bucky. He and Carthage are running a raid on a communications office as we speak, and now I’m just nervous and worried about him.”

Steve’s brow creased. “Oh,” he said, though you could tell there was more behind the word than the single syllable would imply. “I didn’t realize the two of you had gotten back together.”

Fuck. You were by far too tired to be having this conversation. Squeezing your eyes shut for a moment, you decided it was time to confront the giant elephant that had been sitting between you and the Captain for far too long. “We haven’t, not officially, anyway, but that doesn’t mean that we don’t still love each other, in spite of everything that’s happened. We’re just working on building trust. Or rather, he’s working on building trust, and I’m working on determining if I can trust him again. It’s a process.”

Steve’s shoulders sagged, the movement so minute you would have missed it if you hadn’t been watching him so closely in the moment. You took a deep breath before you continued.

“Look, Steve,” you began, “I know about your feelings for me.” His eyes shot up to meet yours, and he opened his mouth to protest, but you gently held a hand up to stop him from speaking. You needed to get everything you had to say out while you still had the energy to do so. “I’ve known for a bit, and while I’m truly flattered, and honored, that you care for me, I’m also so sorry that I don’t feel the same way about you. You’re a good man. A wonderful man, and I know most people would tell me I’m an idiot for not reciprocating, but I just don’t share those feelings.”

“It’s because of Berlin, isn’t it?” he asked softly, not meeting your gaze, and for a moment, you could see the small, shy boy Bucky had told you about from his youth.

“Berlin altered our relationship, it’s true,” you told him, “but the nature of my feelings for you were cemented long before that. You’re my family, and do I love you, but I love you as a member of that family. The way I love Tony, and Nat, and Thor, but maybe a little better than I love Clint.” Steve chuckled softly at that, and you smiled, glad you could make him laugh even a little. “I’m sorry this isn’t the answer you want to hear, and I’m sorry that you’ve had to watch me be with your best friend. None of it was ever done with the intention of deliberately causing you pain, but at the same time, I need to do what’s going to make me happy, and I hope you can accept that, as my friend and a member of my family.”

Steve looked like he was going to argue with you for a moment, but he kept his mouth shut and just nodded. “Yeah,” he said eventually. “I can accept that. It hurts,” he chuckled humorously, “but I want both you and Bucky to be happy.”

“Thanks, Stevie,” you said, suppressing a yawn. “Holy shit, I’m tired. I think I’m going to call it a night. I put in enough time to fulfill my obligation to Tony.” You stood, but immediately stumbled, the motion of standing enough to make you dizzy.

Steve was instantly on his feet, an arm out to steady you. “I got you,” he said. He put a hand to your forehead, checking your temperature. “You don’t seem to have a fever, but I’m getting worried about you, Pocket. I should escort you down to med bay.”

You waved the suggestion off. “No, it’s fine. The last thing I want is a bunch of doctors poking and prodding at me all night. I’ll be fine, I just need to sleep.”

“You can barely even stand up on your own,” Steve protested. “Let me at least walk you back to your room. Make sure you get there without falling over.” You were going to tell him you’d be fine on your own when a wave of nausea overtook you.

“Yeah, okay,” you said, clutching tightly to his arm for support. You had planned on going over to Tony and Pepper to say a proper goodbye, but given the way you were currently feeling, an Irish one was going to have to do, instead. 

Steve put a hand to your back and led you out of the banquet hall. You had to stop more than once to steady yourself, and you were grateful for Steve’s assistance. By the time he’d walked you to your door, you were running on fumes.

“Do you need help getting inside?” he asked, looking worried.

“No,” you assured him. “I’ll be okay. I am literally just going to collapse into my bed. Might not even bother taking the dress off, to be honest.”

Steve blushed, and you regretted putting the idea of you getting out of your clothes into his head. “Well, if you’re sure,” he said, running a hand behind his neck, the movement so similar to Bucky that it threw you for a moment. “If there’s anything you need in the night, anything at all, don’t hesitate to call me, alright?”

“Sure, Steve,” you said as he placed a gentle kiss to the crown of your head. You were grateful for his help, but you knew that, even if you were suddenly dying, you would not, in fact, be calling him. “Thanks for your help.”

You wished each other a goodnight, and soon you were once again within the sanctuary of your room. Managing to summon the will from somewhere, you shimmied out of the dress, draping it over your vanity chair; it was, after all, probably far too expensive to either sleep in or leave in a puddle on the floor overnight. You debated whether or not to take the time to remove your face full of makeup but, God, your bed was just so inviting, you’d deal with the consequences in the morning.

<- Previous Part / Next Chapter ->

[bouncingbluebeast]

So like, the X-Men have had a Best Butt Competition at some point, right?

((You put a bunch of superhuman hot people in a single mansion and have them living together for years - DECADES even - and surely someone like Gambit or Wolverine is getting ideas...

Scott's too much of a boyscout to admit any answers and calls it "immature". Mostly he's just insecure that he doesn't have that much for buns in the bakery. It's okay, Scottie, you have wonderful eyes...

Xavier wouldn't stand for it while he's still alive, having to empath around a bunch of hormonal gifted youngsters already.

Logan's a shortstack with a surprising amount of backbacon, though his leering and grumpy stoicism makes him pretty hot-and-cold as a judge.

Hank was an absolute hound-dog growing up, though I think he'd be far too concerned about disrespecting the ladies of the X-Mansion to participate. He did play football growing up, though. It builds the glutes very nicely.

Jean's pretty bashful about viewing her teammates in such a manner, though I think her ogling of Scott and Logan implies other priorities. I imagine she's a bit more willowy, but having a baby certainly changes the body and she's just as beautiful after. I think Jean Grey with freckles would be absolutely lovely. Give the Phoenix some stardust on her skin.

(It's difficult to guess a lot of the Marvel women's body types beyond "generically hourglass supermodel" because that's mostly what is viewed as 'ideal' or 'the pinnacle' of aesthetics. These superheroes are viewed more as concepts than people for designing their forms, especially in Marvel when it's a lot of Humans-Among-Gods)

Ororo. The Kenyan princess, Queen of Storms? Omega-Class Mutant, Alpha-Class Ass. The woman practically invented thunder thighs, and she is all the more powerful. I don't think anyone would dare disrespect someone who can smite you with a glance, but why even would you when she's so striking?

Colossus. Literal buns of steel. Points given for puns, taken for practicality. Only the bravest soldiers can claim those Russian peaks and I salute them.

Remy is a statistical wonder of Cajun cuisine while staying lean as a telephone pole. Not a single crumb of cornbread on this man's plate and it is the deepest tragedy. Secretly, I think this is the part Rogue was disappointed she couldn't feel-oop...

Anna-Marie the southern bell with hips to tell. With her hair and smile, you would be remiss to look lower and find less than if you stay in her eyes. I think a pear-shape makes sense for her, with a little pocket around her abs and very cute calves for when she wears a sundress.

Nightcrawler is a flirt and a charmer, but he is also a consummate and pious gentleman who is always seeing the good and beautiful in his companions. He'd never reduce his comrades - his found family - to something so base as the quality of their posterior. He knows that each and every one of them carries the beauty and the image of God, and he knows they are all winners in His sight.

((As he turns to leave, everyone agrees it's Nightcrawler.))

[waldau-archived]

Hi love, can I request for Chan X reader, with the trope f2l?

here you go anon! this became WAY longer and a bit angstier than i expected (4k?? i thought i wrote like 2k), but it's all happy! hope you like it :) and here's the video in question. title taken from _WORLD by svt.

gender neutral reader. warnings: chan is initially tipsy.

won't let you down | 4,007 words | hurt/comfort, fluff

this is the last time, chan tells himself, but he very well knows it's a lie. just like the past few times he's ended up like this, head resting against the scruffy but comfortable material of junhui's sofa, while seungkwan takes his phone from the table in front of him, unlocking it to call you.

it's happened enough times now that seungkwan finally knows the password to his phone, not that chan has anything to hide. he tries focusing on what seungkwan's saying to you, but there's a pleasant buzzing in his ears, and it would be a good environment to sleep if not for a) the angle of his neck against the aforementioned sofa and b) the music playing in the background, lee dokyeom trying to match the choreography while balancing a shot glass on his palm.

"there," seungkwan says, pushing the phone back into his hand. "try not to fall asleep till they get here."

easier said than done, especially when chan is much more of a lightweight than seungkwan is, even if he can hold his alcohol well. chan pockets his phone and tries adjusting his head a bit more comfortably. when he closes his eyes, he feels sleep tug at them, but it's not enough to knock him out fully.

a little jolt of guilt runs through him when he realizes tonight is your designated night in — you like having time for yourself, whether it's to catch up with old friends or make time time to check out vernon's movie recommendations. you shouldn't have to pick chan up from something that's his own fault.

he thinks about how you never once complain about what you do for him. there’s always an amused smile on your face, defending his tipsy self from his older brothers while you manoeuvre him out of the room, a steady arm around his shoulders, the way you let him rest his weight on you even though he’s so much more muscular than you are, and the way you sometimes let him loop his arm through yours as though you’re a couple—

he stops at that.

seungkwan's great when it comes to feeding his delusions, talking about how you definitely like him and that chan's the only one not seeing it, that he's kind of an idiot for dragging it out this long, that he should put everyone out of their misery and ask you out already.

again, it's easier said than done. chan's not like seungkwan — outgoing, with no hesitation when it comes to finding something out. chan doesn't act till he's absolutely sure about something, always thinking about the long-term consequences of every little action. and he could put everyone out of their misery by asking you out, but he’s not prepared for the misery that’ll ensue when you don’t answer the way he hopes you will.

unfortunately, there’s no proper way for him to ask you, his best friend, if you like him the way he does you.

chan just lets the buzz in his head drown out the thoughts crowding up. he will find the answer one day, somehow. he has to. just...not tonight.

he must have fallen asleep sometime between thoughts of wonwoo on the karaoke and you, because his eyes blink open to the sight of you kneeling in front of him, a concerned look on your face.

and gosh, does he hate it. he hates seeing you concerned when you look at him. he's still never gotten used to how your smile has been making him feel, and he doesn't think he ever will.

"hey," you say softly, moving to rest your hand on his thigh. an involuntary shudder passes through him, and you take your hand off before he can say anything. he mourns its loss almost instantly. "seungkwan said you had a bit too much to drink. you okay?"

the tattletale. chan stretches his neck and winces when a spear of pain strikes the left side of his head, going as fast as it came. "mm. look who’s talking."

you frown at him. "how much did you drink, chan?"

"i...don't know." it's true — he lost count after the first six shots. everything else was drowned out by being forced to sing on the karaoke or watching minghao try his hardest to sing some korean classics from the early nineties. it was fun, but there’s always the regret that follows the fun, and it’s strong this time. he looks at you apologetically, hoping his face is enough to make up for the words he can't say.

if he were a neon signboard, he wonders what the words above his head would be every time he looked at you — i'm sorry? for loving you the way i do? or i love you? but i've never been able to say it the way i mean it because i'm afraid of losing you.

you sigh and stand up. "get up," you say gently, giving him your hand to steady himself.

it's not the first time you've danced this dance, but it still makes chan's heart beat as though it's never happened before. it's muscle memory from here — he stands up on his feet, wobbly for a few moments till you slide an arm around his waist to hold him in place, his arm around your shoulders.

you’re wearing the hoodie he’d given you for your birthday. he can feel it before you see it, a drunk grin spreading across his lips. you look good in everything you wear, but this? chan’s weak.

you fuss about his hair looking messy and run your hand through it twice, fixing it to your liking. then it’s the default goodbyes, the promises to text everyone once he's reached home safely, and to hydrate himself so that he doesn't wake up the next morning wishing he'd never woken up.

but he doesn’t have to worry about all of that when he’s with you. you always make sure he’s taken care of, and it’s the only thing on his mind when both of you stumble out of junhui’s building, the cold night air making chan shiver and freeze for a second. his hand catches on the fabric of your hoodie.

“i’m sorry,” he says, suddenly feeling nervous to meet your eyes. you shouldn’t be here in the first place.

“did you do something i should be worried about?”

“i…no?”

“then why are you apologizing?”

“i always do this.”

"and i always do this," you say, opening the door of your car and gesturing for chan to get in. "you're speaking as though i mind."

"i'm drunk. you should be sleeping. and...wait, you don't mind it?"

“no,” you say patiently, slotting your key into its place and starting the car. “we’ve had this conversation before, too. i don’t mind it. it’s not as if you don’t look out for me when i’m feeling down. i don’t know anyone else who would watch my favourite movies with me even when they’d rather be doing something else.”

"that's because you're my best friend," chan says, almost cringing at how earnestly, how easily, those words come from him.

"do you understand why i don't mind now?"

it's easy to give you anything, but chan still gets bashful about taking anything from you. he's much better at it than he used to be when you first met. he just huffs in response.

"what would you do without me, channie?" you ask, pulling out of your spot. it's an innocent question, slightly teasing, but chan takes it seriously. do you have any idea of what that nickname does to him?

"i don't know," he says honestly. "i don't want to know."

you sigh fondly and flick his thigh. "don't get all serious on me. i'm not going anywhere, and you know that."

sometimes chan wonders what you’ll do if you ever find out about what he feels for you. you’re too kind to let him down directly. maybe you’ll give him some time to get over you, so that you could go back to being friends again. or maybe, a cruel part of him thinks, you’ll cut him out of your life for good. neither option sounds good.

he can either take a step and watch the glass break, or never take a step and never find out what could have been. he’s precariously balanced in the middle, surviving on the quiet moments he has with you, moments that could be something more.

"i love you," he says, his words abrupt and almost harsh in the silence of your car.

"just because i'm driving you back home?"

or he can be right in the middle, where you don't understand how his love you is different from yours. it's not the best place to be, but he gets to be true to an extent.

"you know it's not just that." see through me, just this once?

"i do," you say, not looking at him. "i know." again. maybe next time.

it's muscle memory again, when you open the door to your apartment, flicking the lights on as chan clumsily kicks off his shoes. it’s not long before he’s had a glass of water and a tablet you pressed into his palm, not moving till he had it in front of you. he types out a clumsy i’m home now text to the group before he chuckles at the realization — none of his friends once assumed he was going to make it to his own place.

with his face washed and the headache dulling to a slight throb, he’s pretty close to passing out on your bed. he almost whines when you tell him you have some work left to do.

with the door shutting behind you, chan pulls the covers over himself, vaguely aware of how uncomfortable it is to sleep in skinny jeans. it’s not like you’ve never shared the same bed before, but it’s the first time he’s slept by himself in your bed. and the first time he’s been here since he’s realized his feelings for you.

chan tosses and turns as he tries to will himself to sleep, straining his hears to see if he can get any hints about how much longer you’re going to take. you’ve somehow not made him take his jean jacket off, despite the fact that you usually insist on making him remove that “atrocity” of an item before sleeping, but it’s what keeps him warm when he pads out into the living room to see why you’re still not done.

"...do this again," he hears you say into your phone. you're standing in the middle of your living room, looking like you've been pacing around for a while now. "i can't. i can't keep pretending everything's okay. this is like, what, the fourth time in the past three months?"

do what again? and who are you talking to, so late at night? chan wants to ask you if there's anything he can do, even though he knows nothing about what's wrong, but you speak again. he tries not to make too much noise as he takes a few steps ahead.

you groan into the phone. "what do you mean, drop hints? what do you think i’ve been doing? i’ll lose my mind at this rate. and i just can't tell him i can't keep picking you up from your parties every time you get drunk because i— hey. that's not the issue here. you know that."

chan's stomach drops.

there's no one else you pick up from parties, that much he's sure of. but you've been counting? and you're...annoyed by it, but you're too kind to say that to his face? he feels like crawling out of his own skin.

you sigh. "i'll try telling him the next time he's awake and feeling better, okay? no promises."

chan's already turning back to head to your room, mortified with every step he takes. he shouldn't even be here. he should be on the couch.

how long have you been feeling that way, without him knowing? how much longer will you be this nice to him until it inevitably slips out?

it’s not long before you slip into your bedroom, closing the door behind you without making too much noise. chan hears the clink of your toothbrush being put back into its stand and the sound of the light being switched off before you pull the covers and settle in.

chan tries to slow his breath to make it look like he’s sleeping, because he’s way too high strung for this. your conversation with whoever it was is still running through his head. probably one of his friends, and he can’t even be bothered to speculate about who it could be.

“chan?” you ask, breaking the silence in the room. he pretends to blink his eyes open but knows you’ve caught him when you ask, “not able to sleep?”

“not tired,” he says, voice cracking in between. you’re on my mind is far more damning than saying he can’t sleep.

“did i wake you up? i’m sorry.”

“no, it’s not that,” he says, a bit hastily. “just…had a bit too much to drink. i could run now if i wanted.”

“well, it’s a good thing i’m not going to let you.”

chan lets out a little chuckle. if only you knew what effect your words have on him.

“can i…?” you ask hesitantly, before he feels fingertips touch his own. he immediately locks his fingers with yours, squeezing your hand. it’s one of your ways of calming down when you’re stressed, and chan thinks he gets why.

feeling a bit brave, he lets his thumb stroke the skin of your hand. he does it till he feels your breaths even out, grip on his hand loosening. even when that happens, it doesn’t let go. he can’t.

but he has to, eventually.

seeing you sleeping gives him some time to collect his thoughts. he could just leave right now, before he makes thinks weird by overthinking again. he needs time to understand what you meant when you said you couldn’t keep doing it and yet you’re the one who held his hand to help him go to sleep.

surely you’re not going to be upset when he leaves a little earlier than he usually would, when he sleeps over at your place?

yet it feels like luck isn’t on his side when he pushes himself to get up, immediately hindered by a creaky spring in your mattress. your hand twitches at that, and he gets up in one swift motion to prevent any noise.

but when his hand is on the handle of your door, he hears his name being called out weakly. questioningly. he stays silent, hoping you won’t get up.

“are you leaving already?”

“just…forgot i left my light on. in the bathroom.”

“right.” he can’t see your face in the darkness of the room, but he knows you’re unimpressed right now. it is a weak excuse. “come back here, please?”

chan is powerless if you ask him something. against his best interest, he walks up to you slowly, standing near your bed.

“don’t do that,” you say, shifting to switch on your bedside lamp. “you look like a sleep paralysis demon without the lights on. sit here,” you say, patting the side of your bed.

something’s going to happen, chan can tell. he just doesn’t know if it’s something he should be looking forward to or not.

“i shouldn’t disturb your sleep, you know?”

“no. what you shouldn’t be doing is acting weird. you’ve been acting weird all night. did i do something?”

you look serious, chan realizes. there’s a small frown on your face chan wishes he could thumb out, or maybe even press a kiss to, to make it go. that’s what the problem is.

“you’ve done nothing,” he blurts out. “all me.”

“all you what?”

“it’s nothing.”

you sit up to push the covers off of yourself. “chan, you’ve been meek around me all night. i’ve never seen you do that. i’ve never seen you doubt yourself the way you did tonight. you know you can tell me if something’s wrong, right?”

and how is he supposed to do that, when it could be the very thing that could lead you to never talk to him again?

“it’s my fault,” he settles for saying. “and i’m working on it. i promise you’ve done nothing wrong.”

“are you sure you can’t tell me about it?”

“positive.” i don’t know what would happen if i did.

you don’t look satisfied, but you let it slide. “are you still not tired? do you want to watch a movie? make something? pancakes, if you’re hungry?”

chan can’t help the laugh he lets out. you always think about him, even if you’re the one losing your sleep here. it’s the catalyst to the last lock on his words breaking.

“i love you,” he says, and the remaining words tumble out naturally like they were made never to be apart. “i love you, and i’ve been trying to tell you for way too long, and i think i missed my chance, because you clearly don’t like me.”

“i…don’t like you? and you love me? chan, what?” you ask, scrambling forward, hands resting on his thighs again. he doesn’t shudder, this time. lets his words come out the way they’ve been slowly forming in him, like a storm that’s been brewing for a while. all that will be left to see is the aftermath.

“i heard you say you wanted to tell me something when i felt better, and that you couldn’t keep doing…it anymore. if you didn’t want to waste time picking me up from parties, you could have just said that.”

“oh,” is all you say.

chan deflates. “we’re…not supposed to have secrets from each other, right? why couldn’t you tell me that before?”

“chan—”

“it sucks that i had to overhear you say that. i thought you trusted me enough.”

“chan, listen—”

“i’m not scared, if that’s what you think. i—”

“lee chan!” you exclaim, suddenly taking his face between your hands. he’s rendered speechless. “listen to me?”

he can do nothing but nod, looking into your eyes. you’re looking into his own.

“lee chan, i love you. do you hear me? you’re my best friend in the whole world and i meant it when i said i’d love you no matter what. but i also love you the way you think i don’t.”

chan’s brain short-circuits to the point where he doesn’t even remember what he was talking to you about, for a few moments. “you…love me?”

“i do,” you affirm. “i have, for a while now, and i never thought i’d get a chance to say it.”

it feels like a weight is being placed on him but also being removed at the same time. the weight of your love seeping into his skin through your hands holding his face, through your cold skin that he always wants to keep warm, through your eyes that are looking at him nervously, waiting for his next words, through your breaths that sound a bit shorter than usual.

the loss of the weight of uncertainty feels like the most beautiful thing he’s ever experienced.

“you love me,” he says. testing. confirming.

“so much, chan, i— i’ve been trying to tell you every single time i picked you up from one of those parties—”

“—that’s what you were trying to say?”

“i— yes.” your hands let go of his face to cover yours, and he’s never wanted to see your face more than he has now. he gently pulls your hands off to make you look at him, and what he sees is real. it’s not you letting him down gently, it’s not you pretending, because he knows you too well for that.

and now he knows that you love him just the way he loves you.

“you weren’t supposed to…why did you even hear me talking?”

now it’s chan’s turn to become shy. “i just wanted to see how long it’d take for you to come back. i couldn’t sleep.”

“silly,” you say, flicking his forehead gently. you tuck some of his hair behind his ear, and your expression becomes serious. “but i want to, chan. i want to take care of you because you’re my best friend. i like doing it. i— i love you, and i’ll always be there to take off your makeup and listen to you talk and cheer you up because i love you so much.”

chan knows. he knows about every little thing you do for him, and he hopes you know how he’d do anything you asked of him. he doesn’t even need to say anything to get you to understand what he’s feeling right now.

“so…you love me,” he says, teasing, because of the glare you give him. “how long have you loved me?”

you shake your head resolutely. “you’re going to have to wait a while to find out.”

“but what if i wanted to know now?” chan pulls the best puppy face he can, and it works because you sigh and pull him back into lying down with you, his head in your lap, looking up at you.

“you really want to know?”

“yeah.”

“it’s embarrassing.”

“that’s even better.” chan wraps his arms around your waist when you attempt to push him off. “i’m sorry,” he laughs, holding on to you. “please tell me.”

“i think…i think i’ve loved you since that night you fell off seungcheol’s bed because of how hard you were laughing. that night really cemented it for me. there really hasn’t been…anyone else for me, since then.”

the quietness of your voice makes chan’s throat constrict. “there hasn’t been anyone else for me, either, ever since i met you.”

you blink. “that long?”

“no! i mean— i didn’t think about dating ever since we became friends, and then not thinking about dating became thinking about dating you, and then—” chan pauses when he sees a smile on your face. “what?” he asks, a little self-conscious. “did i say something wrong?”

“i’m so glad i love you, you know?”

chan can’t take the way your face is straight and you’re just grinning at him like you didn’t steal his heart at an ungodly hour in the morning. “stop,” he mumbles, pressing his face into your stomach. “i’m really tired right now.”

“oh, now you’re tired?”

it take a little bit of moving to get yourselves under your covers again (chan’s jacket now sits on the chair by the desk, courtesy of you), and this time he has an arm around your waist with your head on his shoulder. it feels absolutely right.

“chan?” you ask, the single word drawn out in a way that tells him you’re on the brink of sleep again.

“hmm?”

“promise i won’t wake up to an empty bed again?”

his heart squeezes at the reminder. “promise. i’m not going anywhere. i love you.”

you don’t need to say it back, because he feels the smile you press into his skin.

"so? what does it feel like?"

“hm?” chan shifts in your embrace to look up at you. there’s really nothing better than coming home after a long day of practice, taking a shower and cuddling with you in bed, with you kissing his forehead. he feels really sleepy, but he tries staying awake for your question. “what does what feel like?”

“knowing what it feels like to like someone?”

ah. you watched the video, then.

“it feels…” it feels like everything, if he’s being honest. the best of all worlds. like the world sings every time he wakes up. like even the most mundane things like doing laundry and setting the table have a greater purpose, because he gets to do it with the love of his life.

“it feels like i’m lucky to be alive, because i get to love you.”

taglist: @bookyeom @wootify @strnsvt @cloudycaramel @thepoopdokyeomtouched @minnieminshi @nonononranghaee @hrts4hanniehae @viewvuu

[angermango]

"I'm not cooking or anything, this is just a silly idea- (looks down at canvas) ffffuuuu--"

...

so, first I only wanted to draw Professor Layton with a Reiterpallasch from Bloodborne because haha funny hat man with gun-sword, but then i ended up drafting concept art for "Laytonborne", apparently.

"Puzzles all over the shop... You'll be stuck on one of them, sooner or later."

extra artist commentary:

Layton

yes, this really did just start with me wanting to give Layton a Reiterpallasch because he's a canonical fencer and Bloodborne trick weapons absolutely slap. The Reiterpallasch is literally a rapier with a pistol attached that can mechanically switch to prime either the blade first or the gun first so you can stab and shoot someone at the same time.

Giving Hershel the Bloodborne makeover was kind of funny because he wears such a simple look in canon it was hard striking the right balance between his recognisable look and BB aestheic since Bloodborne loves embellishment especially via lots of belts/buckles and those weird shoulder-cape things. I tried to keep it simple enough though because as much as i think he could pull off a hunter ensemble i don't want to have to keep track of all the funky bits. the Top Hat Stays, of course.

Aurora

Aurora is eerily good a fit in a Soulsborne-esque setting considering she fits the criteria for a "Soulsborne maiden" classic archetype sort of character: After all she's a mysterious pale-haired young woman with mystical origins/powers and a foreign-sounding accent and may or may not have some connection to the wider lore and powers that be of the setting. hell even her whole thing being a golem works in a way as even Bloodborne has artificial humans existing as a concept.

i got a little lazy with changing up her dress for both time and lack of inspiration. I thought maybe i'd really do her up but then I chickened out that her costume wouldn't be recognisable any more so just slapped a belt and some patterns on the shawl bit and called it a night :P (if i'd been braver/more motivated she'd probably look good in an approximation of the White Church set, something like that)

and yeah so as the sketches off to the side are like, no real clue how/why it might be triggered but imagine her having the potential to be an optional boss or something (and she'd whoop your ass)

Flora

idk tho Flora also seems like she could be a good contender for the "Soulsborne maiden" position too in a way, or even if not her whole character and story fits into the world quite well. especially with Bloodborne having the Plain Doll who is a sentient doll made in the image of someone her creator loved/was obsessed with and Flora living in a village of human-like robots which started after her father tried to build a replacement for her dead mother.

Her dress is a combination of all her canon costumes across the games. The fur-trim shoulder cape is from one official art of her, the short shawl and white sleeves and bit around her waist is based on her first dress, and the rest of the dress design is based on her second and third game appearance.

The 'Doll Flora' concept there at the end is just some idea of a false/clone Flora running around as well. She's got some little differences including elements of other parts of Flora's designs over the years that aren't on OG Flora, such as the sash and shoes.

Anton

Anton fits in scarily well to the Bloodborne-y setting, perhaps not too surprisingly given the whole 'vampire' thingy. I sort of envision Folsense and Herzen Castle being a bit like the Castle Cainhurst area of Bloodborne which leans more into the classic gothic horror of a remote and looming haunted castle occupied by a sinister enigmatic character.

And yes, that is a reference to the infamous "LAYTOOON" scream from his canon 'boss fight' in the second game - imagine the whole steaming up and screaming thing being like his boss phase transition animation.

The whole 'withers to an old man/husk' concept seems so very Soulsborne-y it really just fits yknow. like if you defeat him he shrivels up/ages to dust or whatever. RIP gassed-up grandpa.

I partly rizzed up his suit using inspiration of the Cainhurst Knight set because like. come on. it's too good to pass up the chance to pretty up with and looks a lot like his canon suit in parts.

Did I trace the foyer background art for Herzen Castle for the mockup just for laffs, only to realise partway that 1) Layton and Anton actually fought in the ballroom, and 2) the ballroom would actually make a much better boss arena setting because it's wide open and the arch from the front room leading into the ballroom could totally be the 'boss fog door' part better than the front room?

...so yeah I then drew the ballroom background without tracing this time like a true madman and had a hell of a time with perspective but the plus side is we also get the sword collection from the game there as a cameo because in Laytonborne the good professor brought his own already.

The Masked Gentleman / Randall

Had a bit of a time deciding how to Bloodborne-ify this guy because his suit in canon is actually really. really boring. it's just a white suit like cmon. so to give it that Bloodborne makeover I fell back on the classic shoulder-cape thing that almost all Bloodborne characters have, added some patterns and accessories based on the Mask of Chaos' patterns and the Decorative Old Hunter's set from the Old Hunters DLC (in the leg brace, forearm guard and the hints of gold chains around the upper arms).

He also gets a Threaded Cane, another trick weapon of Bloodborne fame which is as it suggests: A cane weapon that works a bit like a baton/sword combo but in its alternate form it's a whip covered in serrated metal blades which form the cane itself when locked together.

It seems very appropriate for Randall to be like a boss who starts out as the Masked Gentleman and then at half-or-less health you break his mask, reveal Randall and then wings burst out of his back as he enters his second phase rage mode. This concept part felt more DSouls-y than Bloodborne-y to me i think since Bloodborne is less fantastical and leans more into the body horror/monstrous kind of boss transitions? But at the same time it was too good an opportunity to pass on at least sketching out, plus get you some sick fallen angel imagery out of it.

Also the hanging arm pose miiight be a bit inspired by Artorias of the Abyss. just a bit.

Descole

i recall seeing a post somewhere once with this very low-res rare art of Descole sitting in a throne from somewhere i have no idea what it was for. and I remember it kinda reminded me of Lady Maria's promotional art for the Old Hunters DLC so that's why the last picture of Descole exists.

mf already dresses so extra i legit could think of nothing to add to make him more Bloodborne-y unlike the others. I also used his canon sword's design from the games with a custom sheath because again couldn't really think of anything more to do to make him fit more when he's already got a cool signature weapon to show off.

[e-vay]

My In-Depth Review of Sonic X Shadow Generations (Spoilers!)

I completed Sonic X Shadow Generations so I'm ready to talk about it! Remember, these are just my personal opinions about the game, so don't take this review as me saying that my opinion is "right." I'd hate to accidentally spoil the game for you, so all my thoughts are below the cut:

Did you mean to click "Keep Reading"? I warned you, there's gonna be spoilers here! One last chance to back out...

🖤

❤️

🖤

❤️

Okay here we go!

THE SHADOW PORTION

Let's start with what we've all been hyped about: the Shadow portion of Sonic X Shadow Generations. If you single out the Shadow story of this game, I think it is an absolute masterpiece! Everyone who worked on it gave it their all, and it clearly shows. I'd give it a 9.75/10.

THE GRAPHICS

The visuals of this game are STUNNING. These new models for Maria and Gerald Robotnik are perfection! I am so glad they went with the more 'cartoon' style for the human models, similar to what we saw in Sonic Unleashed. They feel like they belong in this world among these peculiar looking anthropomorphic animals, but they aren't so odd looking that they feel goofy. They found a perfect balance and I couldn't be happier with them. Speaking of character models, to see all the bosses throughout the years in this new high definition was a sight to behold! Though I do feel nostalgia for the lower-poly version of the Biolizard, it was great to see it as the creators originally envisioned. It went from this loveable (and admittedly silly-looking) salamander to a truly intimidating and disturbing looking beast. The animation is superb. The characters move so fluidly and the poses are dynamic and striking! The frame rate makes everything look and feel fast and smooth which is exactly what you'd hope for in a Sonic game. I also appreciated the variety of poses/animations even just for the different stage ranks. I found myself purposely replaying stages to get different ranks just so I could see the different animations Shadow had regarding his "performance" evaluation. That really adds to the replay value! I am a graphic designer for a living, so of course I have to gush about the design, too! The graphic elements that appear before, during, and after each stage are straight up BADASS! I love the 2D animated flame that appears along the stage name and the color scheme and sharp lines are so appropriate to Shadow, and are a very strong contrast to Sonic's graphic elements that are colorful and round in shape. These are small details that most people might not outright notice, but it really enhances the overall aesthetic of the game.

THE STORY

LOOOOORE! Sweet nectar of the gods, we were given so much more lore with this game! Even though the Shadow portion of this game was fairly short, they jam-packed a ton of information and I am forever thankful for it! If you didn't do so while playing, I highly recommend playing again and talking to the NPCs regularly for little nuggets of lore. I was initially worried that this was going to be a rehash of the same 'origin' story we've heard a dozen times already, but that was not the case! Instead of focusing entirely on the tragedy that happened on the ARK, we got to learn what life was like on the ARK while times were still good! Learning that Shadow didn't used to be confident at all, to the point where Maria basically doesn't recognize this confident version of him that we've all known him as. And that Shadow never did his homework??? HA! I loved the confirmation that yes, Maria WAS INDEED the person who gave Shadow his name, and the meaning behind it was EVERYTHING TO ME! (Also works so well for my my AU. IYKYK hehehe) Plus all the Robotnik family history?! MARIA HAD A LITTLE SISTER?!?! She'd be old now, if she's even alive, but will we ever meet her? Will Shadow ever meet her (and would he even want to, or does he feel like that chapter of his life is closed now)? What was she like, and how did Maria's death impact her and her parents??? I hope we'll find out some day! Plus getting to learn a little bit more about Gerald's sons was exciting too. Will more Robotnik family members make appearances down the line? What do they think of Eggman's misdeeds? I'm so curious for more! It was heartbreaking in the best way for Shadow to get to interact with Maria and Gerald again, especially knowing he can't do anything to change what will inevitably happen to them. His sense of desperation paired with the growing affects that Doom's powers were having on him really had me worried about what was going to happen to Shadow's state of mind and overall well-being. It was amazing to see the toll it was taking on his body and his mind. In particular, I'm thinking of the scene where Shadow goes to fight Sonic and you see him having to actually restrain himself and go easy on Sonic. I thought it a great scene to demonstrate how easy it would have been for Shadow to just give in to the rage and take Sonic out without hesitation, but his willpower was able to win in the end. I have heard some people saying they're disappointed that Shadow lost his Doom abilities by the end of the story, but I think it made complete sense for the story. Black Doom is insistent that Shadow isn't 'complete' yet and he has to be more like him in order to be 'perfect.' But that isn't true! Shadow is already the ultimate life form, especially because there's more to him than his Black Doom DNA. By rejecting Doom's influence in the end, that was Shadow's true evolution. He's perfect as he is. Obviously I could gush forever and ever about all the Shadow and Maria scenes, but words aren't going to do it justice. It was just so moving to see how different he is when he's with her. In fact, at the end of this game I believe this is the first instance we ever see a true, genuine, heartwarming smile from Shadow and it DEVASTATED ME! We are used to his smirks, but when he's trying to reassure Maria that everything's going to be okay, we get to see him truly smile and we aren't seeing Shadow the Ultimate Lifeform or Shadow the Destroyer/Weapon, we are seeing Shadow the Brother and it felt like the warm embrace of a security blanket. God bless the writing in this game.

THE ACTING

The acting in this game is incredible from a visual and auditory performance. The animators really pushed the acting of the character models and you can feel Shadow's transformations throughout the game and the toll it's taking on his body. The emotions are cranked up to the max and they didn't pull any punches. In the past, Shadow was often limited in his portrayal of emotions, but that wasn't the case in this game at all. We saw anger, we saw resentment, we saw panic and sadness, and affection. There was so much thought put into the shaking of his hands, the gritting of his teeth, the shrinking and dilating of his pupils, all to show what's going on in his head without even resorting to words. SO MUCH ATTENTION was put into how these characters moved and interacted with each other and it truly tugged at my heart strings. There were too many wonderful moments for me to break down, so I will just single out one for now and applaud the creative direction and the animators for these scenes as a whole. There's this moment right near the end of the story, when Shadow is trying to stop Gerald and Maria from disappearing for good. His gestures are wild and panicked, his pupils and irises are small due to fear, but then Maria simply frames his face and rests her forehead against his. It's subtle, but Shadow's eyes widen and then return to their regular size and everything from his stance to how his shoulders fall show what a calming presence Maria has and how she helped (and will continue to help) him find his inner piece. Those performances are going to stick with me forever! Mike Pollock as Gerald Robotnik was truly *chef's kiss* MP is such a fantastic actor with great range. Though his voice is easily recognizable, the manner in which he speaks as Gerald is so different compared to Eggman, that you couldn't mistake the two characters even just by listening. We have been so used to only hearing from the angry, driven-insane-by-grief Gerald that it was so refreshing to get to see and hear the calm, brilliant, caring genius that created The Ultimate Life Form. P.S. I'm going to be crying over hearing Gerald call Shadow "son" for the rest of my life, thank you very much. I don't care about the future crimes he commits, we got to witness Shadow's father in this game and I'm weeping. Kirk Thornton is not my favorite Shadow. That being said, he really gave it his all and I was pleasantly surprised by what he accomplished. One of the performances that surprised me the most was Mephiles! This is a credit to the writers as well as the voice actor. The sense of wild desperation in his voice as he fights to even 'exist' in this timeline was so visceral and terrifying. Sure the other villains had their "I'm the best, this world belongs to me" lines, but Mephiles' voice lines were on a completely different level to me. What a treat! Lastly, if you can, please replay the game in Japanese! Kōji Yusa's performance is STUNNING. Ooh I'm getting shivers just recalling his voice lines while you're playing through the stages. I don't mean to discredit the English voice actors, but I think this game is even better when listening in Japanese. Give it a try yourself!

THE MUSIC

This is a Sonic game we're talking about, of course the music is going to be fantastic! The score did not disappoint one bit. It was great to hear all the callbacks to songs in the past as well as new tracks that were catchy and enjoyable even after playing the stages several times. "All Hail Shadow" has always been one of my favorites, but the new instrumental version used for majority of this game was so haunting and eerie. It was a delight to my ears as well as my emotions.

THE BOSSES

I loved the chosen bosses for Shadow's story. It was great fun to revisit some of the more iconic baddies throughout Shadow's history, and even though some of the gameplay was the same, the battle would then shift and offer the player something new. However, it's actually the boss fights where I dock the game a few fractions of a point. The boss battles were far too easy to defeat, and I actually found them easier and easier as the game progressed. I beat Mephiles and Devil Doom so quickly that I didn't realize their fights were over already. One could argue this was intentional by design. After all, throughout the story Shadow is evolving more and more into the 'perfect' killing machine. It would make sense that the more Doom Abilities he acquires, the weaker these bosses would seem. Still, as a life-long gamer, I appreciate when I have to actually work to achieve the ending of a game. I would have liked more of a challenge.

OVERALL GAMEPLAY

Whether you're roaming about White Space or you're actually playing through stages, the Shadow portion of this game is an absolute blast. Even having played the Shadow the Hedgehog game (which I'm a fan of, btw), I feel like this game really gave you a better feeling of what it's like to be Shadow. I LOVED that I got to use Chaos Control way more than ever before in previous games. If you had the ability to stop time, wouldn't you take advantage of it every chance you could??? The opportunity to use Chaos (and Doom) Spear as frequently as you wanted and Chaos Control almost constantly really shows how formidable of a character Shadow is and just how different it is to play as him compared to playing as Sonic. I loved the 'free-roam' aspect of White Space compared to the 2D version in Sonic's story. Hunting for rocket parts or figuring out how to unlock collectibles was a lot of fun and let the player really explore these new Doom abilities to the fullest. I'll admit that I struggled with navigating some of the Doom abilities, but even so I still had a ton of fun. I already mentioned replay value, but before you even have to go about replaying the game, there is SO MUCH to this portion of the game! The amount of stages, challenges, collectibles within stages, FINDING the unlockables USING the collectibles you obtained from stages, even the mini challenges available AFTER you've completed the key challenges (I'm talking about the bell that's located above the challenge portal), all of it made for a ton of opportunities for play. I found myself wanting to take on every quest instead of begrudgingly going through it just because I'm a completionist.

My biggest gripe is that the game was too short. Am I greedy for wanting more? Probably, but I can't help it. The developers gave us a ton of content in the Shadow story, but I still would have loved to have a full length game of just this gameplay. I managed to complete the Shadow portion in a few hours, and that was even with me leisurely taking my time to get collectibles and get S ranks for stages before progressing through the story. I miss the days where games took much longer to complete. But hey, I'm a nostalgia-prone 33 year old, so I guess that's to be expected of me haha.

THE SONIC PORTION

Here is where Sonic X Shadow Generations loses more points for me, which is a shame because I think it's a great game overall. Admittedly, I was disappointed when I first learned that the Sonic portion of the game was just a remaster of Generations. I had really hoped we were going to receive something new to help elevate SXS Gens as an entirely new game, instead of just "Sonic Gens + Shadow DLC".

Don't get me wrong, the stages in Sonic Generations are fun to play. However, when you go from playing Shadow's story to Sonic's story, Sonic's side drastically pales in comparison in my opinion.

My other complaint is that for a remaster, they really didn't improve Sonic's portion of the game significantly (at least from what I can recall, as I haven't played the original Sonic Generations since it first came out in 2011). This was a missed opportunity to correct more of the drawbacks of the original game. However, I will admit there are some minor changes that were made that I was thankful for. Let's start with the positive before I point out some of the negatives.

THE STORY

As mentioned earlier, I acknowledge that Sonic Generations is just a remaster so it makes sense that the story didn't change much. That being said, there were some small changes that I did really appreciate and helped improve the story. One of the things that always bothered me about the original Sonic Generations was how indifferent/annoyed Sonic was regarding his friends. I mean, the story is about time being erased! His friends and home are literally getting removed from the fabric of time and Sonic seemed more inconvenienced than concerned. In more recent games, the writing has really focused on the value Sonic finds in his friendships and found family. He always has his signature cool, aloof attitude, but I think the writers in recent years have successfully showed just how much he cares about his group, whether the games were serious (Sonic Frontiers) or silly (The Murder of Sonic the Hedgehog). The story wasn't drastically changed for Sonic X Shadow Generations, but some altered dialogue and blink-and-you-miss-it edits helped to cut that jackass attitude from the original and gave him more realistic reactions. Especially by having him respond when he rescues everybody this time! It never seemed right when Tails was first rescued and he's trauma dumping on Sonic about how awful the experience was and Sonic just sits there in silence haha. At least in the new version, Sonic reassures Tails that he's safe now. Also, huge kudos to whoever decided to alter that scene where Sonic is shoving Amy away by the face. I always hated that. Ship or not, you don't treat your friends like that when they're throwing you a bday party!

This is me getting nitpicky, but there were a few things I had really hoped they were going to improve, but remained untouched:

THE GRAPHICS

I was never happy with the visuals of this game outside of the stages (the visuals within the stages are great!). The colors are extremely oversaturated and the characters are way too intense and some are even off model (ex: Amy is so blindingly vivid magenta in this game instead of her signature blush pink. What the heck?!). What's worse, the cutscenes during the birthday party scenes are SO GREEN. The light bounces off the neon green landscape and reflects onto the already oversaturated characters, giving them an unappealing green glow. I get that the Sonic world is not realistic, but it felt like the scenery in these cutscenes made it look like we were watching a bunch of toys interacting on a playset instead of characters living in their world. Sure the visuals during the levels are great, but it's a real disappointment when I'm specifically not looking forward to the cutscenes in a game. I wish they would have tweaked that.

THE ANIMATION/GAMEPLAY

I have zero complaints when it comes to Act 1 (the "Classic" version) of the different stages. These look great, play great, and if you've played classic Sonic games then you can appreciate how identical the map of the level is compared to the originals. The issue for me lies in Act 2, aka Modern Sonic's gameplay. For the most part these levels are good, but there were a couple of small things that always bothered me that I was sincerely hoping they'd fix (and they did not). There are portions of Modern Sonic's gameplay that is SO. SLOW. I'm referring to when you are jumping from one Grind Rail to another, or when you are sliding under an obstacle. These animations are so bizarrely slow and make absolutely no sense when your character is running blindingly fast. I don't understand why they didn't use this opportunity to fix those animations. When you're playing the Shadow side of the story, his animations are constantly fast moving and appropriately paced. Why wouldn't they apply these physics to the Sonic side?

As a whole, the Sonic portion of Sonic X Shadow Generations is still a fun game, but I think it could have used a little more attention to help it feel more balanced compared to the Shadow portion.

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This game also has some notably fun DLC and the promise of more DLC in the future! I have my Sonic side of the story set to the Sonic Adventure Legacy skin and Sonic Jam Legacy skin and they are so CUTE! They win all the nostalgia points! I'll be honest with you, I have never been a fan of Terios' design hahaha. BUT! I love that they made a Terios skin for this game so players have the chance to play as him if you choose and we get to see how he was intended outside of the initial sketches we've all seen. (Still, y'all can keep your Terios skin. I won't touch it LOL!). And I am OVER THE MOON ECSTATIC for the upcoming Movie Shadow addition to the game! I still can't believe they got Keanu Reeves to voice lines for it! I'm sure it will be a small thing, but I am on the edge of my seat to see what that will be like.

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Overall, I'm super happy with the game as a whole and I enjoyed every minute I played of it!

If you read all of this, thank you for reading! Again, my opinion isn't fact and if you disagree with what I had to say, that's totally fair. And if you haven't played the game yourself, please go play it and see what you think for yourself!