#they live together (with everyone else but THEY LIVE TOGETHER)

[ghost-bxrd]

Prompt:

Time loop edition!

Jason gets a chance to do everything right.

He’s got one day, twenty four hours, to change everything to the way he wants it to be (read: repeatedly kill Joker). And if he’s not satisfied with the result by the end of that time, well, that’s fine. He gets a do over for as long as he wants—if he offs himself before the twenty fourth hour mark.

He just didn’t count on his stupid family to be such a wild card and keep switching their routines around at the drop of a hat. Makes it so much harder to plan Joker’s perfect demise…

((Meanwhile the batfam: screaming and falling over each other, very much aware of the time loop but under the impression that Jay’s death is the catalyst, trying desperately to stop Jason from committing suicide by the end of each day.))

[genshinluvr]

Marks of the Dragons

Pairings: Various Genshin Men x Isekai'd!Reader, Neuvillette x Isekai'd!Reader, Zhongli x Isekai'd!Reader, Zhongli x Isekai'd!Reader x Neuvillette

Summary: Zhongli and Neuvillette marked you— they marked you by biting you. What lead up to that situation? You went on a trip to Chenyu Vale with the Chief Justice of Fontaine and Funeral Consultant of Wangsheng Funeral Parlor.

Note: My work schedule has been very inconsistent that I wasn't able to work on anything :< This smut is probably awful since I haven't written smut in so long. Before anyone new asks, yes, Kinich, Sethos, and Ororon are officially in the harem! Since I unknowingly manifested both Zhongli and Neuvillette's banners have a rerun together, I had to write a smut with the two finest men in Genshin. This idea is partially from the unpublished Zhongli smut I had in mind two years ago, so I had to make it a thing for both Zhongli and Neuvillette >:3 MINORS, DO NOT INTERACT. Anyway, I don't post anywhere else but on Tumblr (Genshinluvr), Ko-Fi (also Genshinluvr/Aaliah_exo), and AO3 (Aaliah_exo).

Warning: Horribly written smut, anal, oral, double penetration, blowjobs, hair pulling, choking, Zhongli and Neuvillette have two dicks, biting, marking, maybe mating???

Word Count: 7.1k

Everyone is lounging in the living room, sitting close to the fireplace, taking in the heat and cozy atmosphere—except for you. There’s an empty spot beside every man in the room, hoping you’ll cuddle up beside them. You’re still in your bedroom, preparing for the hangout. It’s freezing in the abode, which surprises everyone because who knew it could become freezing in the teapot? Heck, it looks like it might even snow by the looks of it. 

Scaramouche sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “What’s taking [Y/N] so long? We’ve been sitting here for twenty minutes, and they still haven’t left their bedroom.”

“Maybe they fell asleep?” Venti suggests, looking around the room.

The lights in the living room are off. The only source of light illuminating the dark room is the fireplace, casting a warm glow. 

Kaeya yawns, stretching his arms before sprawling out on the couch, rubbing his eye with his knuckle. “If [Y/N] doesn’t come out of their room by the time the clock strikes eight, I’m going to fall asleep,” Kaeya mutters, leaning over to snatch the fluffy blanket from Diluc’s lap, earning a glare from the redhead.

Diluc sharply exhales from his nostrils, pinching the space between his eyebrows. “Why can’t you get your own blanket instead of taking other people’s belongings?” Diluc grumbles, reaching over to yank the blanket from Kaeya’s body.

Dainsleif rolls his eyes before getting up from his spot and heading towards the staircase. The men stop what they’re doing, watching the blond man walk up the stairs. “Since everyone is impatient, I’ll check on them myself.”

Upstairs in the estate, you stare at your reflection in the mirror, pulling up your turtleneck. You rarely wear turtlenecks, but since it’s freezing in the abode, you might as well wear one. You leave your bathroom and grab the nearest jacket. Your neck is aching, and it hurts each time you twist or tilt your head. You zip up your jacket, making sure the bandage is hidden beneath both your jacket and turtleneck. 

You peek at your reflection in the full-length mirror, eyeing yourself from head to toe as you walk to your dresser for your fuzzy socks. You dig through the dresser, searching for the specific fuzzy sock you cherish (it kept your feet warm well because the men would complain about your feet being cold every time it brushed against their legs).

A gentle knock from your bedroom door pulls you out of your thoughts. You quickly put on your socks before rushing to answer the door. You take a deep breath and open the door, your heart thundering in your chest when you see Dainsleif in front of you.

You smile at the blond man. “Hey, Dainsleif! Sorry for taking so long. I was looking for a comfortable jacket to wear along with these fuzzy socks, " you say, looking down at your sock-clad feet. 

Before Dainsleif can say anything, Childe pops up from the corner, placing a rough hand on Dainsleif’s shoulders, causing him to grunt and glare at the Harbinger. “You took your sweet time, snookums. Were you trying to look pretty for me?” Childe teases, winking at you.

You playfully roll your eyes, shaking your head, only to stop abruptly and let out a sharp breath. Dainsleif and Childe look at you worriedly, scanning you from head to toe for any injuries. You clear your throat, plastering a fake smile on your face.

“You two have nothing to worry about, I promise. I’m done getting dressed, and we can all go downstairs now. Let’s go before the others become restless,” you say, stepping out of your bedroom and walking past Dainsleif and Childe. 

As you’re descending the stairs, both Childe and Dainsleif trade looks with one another before following behind you. Once the three of you reach the living room, everyone sighs in relief and gestures for you to sit beside them. You raise your eyebrows, crossing your arms over your chest. 

“I’m not sure if I can sit with every one of you at the same time.” You say, waddling farther into the living room. “Who am I sitting with first?” You ask, sitting on the armrest where Dottore is seated. 

Dottore chuckles, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you onto his lap. “It looks like you subconsciously made your decision already, kitten. The others can wait.” He states, smirking at the other men in the room.

Itto shoots up from his spot. “Hey, that’s not fair!”

Dottore shrugs, shooting a shit-eating grin in Itto’s direction before continuing to have you wrapped up in his arms. When Itto opens his mouth to protest once more, Thoma pats his shoulders and shakes his head as if he’s telling Itto to let it slide for now. Itto grumbles and slumps in his seat, hugging the plush onikabuto to his chest with a pout.

Ayato clears his throat. “How about this? Each of us gets to have our turn with [Y/N] for twenty minutes,” Ayato suggests.

Ororon sighs, resting his head on the armrest. “There’s over thirty of us in the room. Do you really think we’ll be sitting here for hours just to have our turn to snuggle with [Y/N]?” Ororon grumbles, narrowing his eyes at Dottore.

Sitting near the fireplace, Sethos props his feet on the ottoman and chuckles. “Heck, if that means I get my chance to snuggle with my cuddle bug, I don’t mind waiting for my turn,” Sethos says, winking at you.

Heat rushes to your cheeks as you sink farther against Dottore’s chest. Dottore’s chuckle rings in your ears, causing your face to feel even hotter. Kinich sighs, leaning back against the sofa while Ajaw nags his ears off about who knows what. Kinich briefly glances at you before something catches his attention. Kinich suddenly sits up straight, leans forward, and squints at you for a moment.

You can’t help but squirm under his gaze, feeling slightly awkward now that the others are starting to realize what Kinich is doing. Everyone’s eyes are all on you, trying to see what Kinich is staring at aside from you. 

You awkwardly clear your throat. “Is there something on my face?” You mutter, subconsciously reaching up to your face, feeling around for anything. Aside from the skincare products Xiao and Zhongli bought for you a few days ago while in Liyue, you feel nothing. 

“Are you alright by any chance?” Kinich asks, now standing in front of you and Dottore.

You blink up at Kinich owlishly before nodding your head. “Yeah, I’m okay! W-Why did you ask?”

Kinich continues to scrutinize you, his eyes scanning you from head to toe— looking at the smallest details on you. Kinich reaches forward and caresses your face in his hands, catching you off guard. You gulp, internally praying that he doesn’t notice the bandaids hidden beneath your turtleneck.

Kinich tilts your head up and turns your head from side to side while inspecting every little thing about you. Your heart continues to race in your chest, and your face gets hotter and hotter by the minute. Due to the excessive movement, the collar of your jacket and turtleneck conveniently slide down, making the bandages visible to everyone. 

“What happened to your neck?” Thoma gasps as people start to gather around you.

Kinich lets go of your head and takes a step back when Capitano brushes him to the side. Capitano kneels before you, caressing your face with one hand while unzipping your jacket with the other. Dottore hooks his finger underneath the collar of your turtleneck and pulls it down, revealing more of the bandage wrapped around your neck.

Baizhu furrows his eyebrows, inspecting the bandage. Capitano moves to the side so Baizhu can take a closer look at your supposed “injury.” You nervously peek from Baizhu’s shoulders, locking eyes with Zhongli and Neuvillette. The two men stand side by side, not saying a word. Are they going to let you handle this situation alone!? How are they so calm when you’re internally panicking?!

Baizhu pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs softly. “[Y/N], sweetheart, if you’re injured, you do not need to hide it from any of us— especially me. Your wounds could get infected if they’re not treated properly,” Baizhu chides, sitting at the edge of the seat beside Dottore while eyeing your bandaged neck.

“I’ll remove the bandages so Dr. Baizhu can properly treat your injury,” Capitano says, reaching for the corner of the peachy-beige bandage, ready to peel it off when you suddenly grab his wrist, stopping him.

You shake your head, eyes wide. “You don’t have to! I’m fine, I promise!” You squeak.

Pierro crosses his arms over his chest, scrutinizing you. “If you’re fine, then you would be okay with us taking the bandage off to inspect the wound,” Pierro says gruffly.

You swallow the lump in your throat, hesitantly releasing Capitano’s wrists and letting your hands fall onto your lap. Capitano proceeds to peel off the bandage, only to reveal another layer beneath. Capitano pauses and looks at you, not saying anything.

Xiao huffs. “If you were truly okay, then you wouldn’t need to have more than one layer of bandaid around your neck,” Xiao grumbles, crossing his arms over his chest.

Capitano continues where he left off, gently removing the bandage from your neck. You squeeze your eyes shut, knowing you will not be able to handle the other’s reaction to the marks on your neck. Once the bandage slowly reveals what’s underneath it, you hear sharp gasps from the men in the room.

Kaveh pushes Capitano out of the way while muttering an apology before ripping the bandage off completely, revealing two bite marks on each side of your neck. Kaveh gasps in horror, his eyes bugging out of his head.

“What kind of monster did this to you!?” Kaveh screams, cupping your cheeks in his hands as he forces you to look at him in the eyes.

Al Haitham sighs, pinching the space between his eyebrows while shaking his head. “For once, can you relax?” Al Haitham mutters, glaring at the blond architect. 

Kaveh ignores Al Haitham’s comment as he continues to examine the bite marks on your neck. Kaveh gently brushes the marks on your neck, causing you to wince and softly hiss at the contact. Kaveh looks at Baizhu, giving him a pleading look. 

Pantalone adjusts his glasses on the bridge of his nose. “I’m no doctor, but the bite marks look fresh. It looks irritated,” Pantalone mutters, stroking his chin.

“Who did this to you?” Tighnari asks.

You swallow the lump in your throat, heat rushing to your cheeks as you try to muster up an excuse. Surely, if the others knew who did this to you, they wouldn’t be too upset, would they? How are you supposed to explain this to the others when the perpetrators don’t look apologetic in the slightest? Heck, they look smug that the others found out about the bite marks on your neck. 

“Those look like deep puncture holes. I don’t believe normal human teeth could do this,” Cyno mutters, pulling you out of your thoughts. 

Gorou’s eyes widen as he nods. “You’re right! There’s no way any of us could have inflicted this type of… injury on [Y/N]!”

Heizou’s eyes light up as he walks toward you, his eyes remaining on your neck. “If you look closely, the teeth marks aren’t the same. One bite is larger than the other, and the canines don’t exactly match up. However, they seem to have a specific intention when leaving said bite marks on [Y/N]’s neck,” Heizou says, stroking his chin. 

For the next five minutes, the men talk among themselves, trying to figure out who or what could have given you the bite marks. They continue to look and examine you, making you feel like a strange phenomenon they have ever laid their eyes on. Well, technically, you sort of are one because you’re not from their world. 

“If you don’t mind me asking, how did you get those marks on your neck?” Aether asks, plopping down beside you.

You shift on Dottore’s lap, clearing your throat. “Uh…” you trail off, rubbing the back of your neck while subconsciously looking over at the two refined men two feet in front of you. For once, they’re not avoiding each other (well, Zhongli was the one avoiding). They stand beside each other, gazing at you intently, their eyes occasionally shifting to the marks on your neck. Of course, they’re not speaking to each other. They’re trying to keep up an act.

Wriothesley raises his eyebrows. “Why do you keep looking at Monsieur Neuvillette and Mister Zhongli? Surely they’re not the ones who left those marks on you, are they?” Wriothesley sarcastically asks, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“So? Are you going to tell us how you got those marks on your throat?” Aether asks, shaking his head.

You have an inkling feeling that Aether knows who the culprits are but doesn’t want to say it. You look elsewhere, trying to come up with an excuse. While trying to find the excuse, you start to think about what led to you getting marked by the Chief Justice of Fontaine and the Funeral Consultant. 

- Less than 24 hours ago -

Zhongli has offered to take you to Chenyu Vale after hearing you rave about the tea set Shenhe and Ganyu have gifted you when visiting the abode. Of course, the trip Zhongli initially planned was going to be just you and him. However, the Chief Justice of Fontaine wanted to tag along, and since Zhongli didn’t want to be rude, Zhongli reluctantly agreed to turn the trip for two into a trip for three.

“Ooh, twenty Chenyu Adeptea for fifteen hundred Mora?” You murmur, stroking your chin while the vendor talks your ears off. 

Neuvillette grabs you by the shoulders before steering you away from the stall while clearing his throat. “While it may seem like a great deal, I wouldn’t recommend it,” Neuvillette mutters, ignoring the glare the merchant shoots in his direction.

“But it’s the same tea that Ganyu and Shenhe gifted me!” You protest, attempting to look at the stall, but Neuvillette shakes his head, turning your head to make you face forward.

Neuvillette sighed, muttering about merchants trying to lure unsuspecting victims into a scam— a scam he had once fallen for a year prior during Lantern Rite. Neuvillette looks around, searching for a certain idiot Archon Funeral Consultant around the area. Footsteps approaching you and Neuvillette grab both your and the Iudex’s attention. 

Zhongli raises his eyebrows upon seeing the expression on Neuvillette’s face. “Is everything alright?” Zhongli crosses his arms over his chest.

You point at the stall behind you and Neuvillette. “Someone was selling packs of Adeptea for a great price! I was about to buy some, but Neuvillette steered me away from the merchant!” You explain, visibly upset.

Zhongli opens his mouth to scold Neuvillette, only for the Iudex to move out of the way to show the merchant and his stall. Upon laying his eyes on the familiar stall, Zhongli sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. For once, Zhongli is glad that Neuvillette decides to tag along on this trip. Who knows how much Mora you’ll end up spending and getting scammed in the end?

You continue to pout at Zhongli and Neuvillette, muttering about wanting to return to the abode with large quantities of Adeptea. Zhongli gestures to Neuvillette, letting the Iudex know that he’s got this handled. 

Zhongli approaches you, grabs your hand, and tucks your hair behind your ear with a small smile. “Dearest, we’ve been out and about in Chenyu Vale for quite some time now. Are you hungry by any chance?” Zhongli asks, gazing at you intently. 

“Huh. Now that I think about it, I am a little bit hungry…” you trail off, feeling your stomach rumble. “Yeah, I’m hungry.” You turn to Neuvillette, “What about you? Are you hungry as well, Neuvillette?”

The Chief Justice of Fontaine nearly cries with happiness. Not only is your attention taken away from the scam of a merchant, but you three are finally eating something after being away from the abode for hours. Granted, he did eat something prior to the trip, but walking around for hours can make a person hungry. 

Neuvillette nods, “Yes, I am feeling quite peckish myself,” Neuvillette replies.

Zhongli ignores Neuvillette’s response to your question as he smiles and caresses the back of your head before slipping his hands into yours and pulling you towards a small pavilion. “I know just a place to satiate your hunger.”

Neuvillette sighs, rolling his eyes. Even though the idiot Funeral Consultant reluctantly agreed to have Neuvillette join in on this trip, Neuvillette does not appreciate the fact that he was the third wheel on this trip. Being the angel that you are, you make sure that both Neuvillette and Zhongli get the same shared attention.

Everything else after ends up being a blur for you. You don’t remember what you ordered at the small restaurant, but you do remember drinking a particular tea that is not of Chenyu Vale origin— well, it’s not grown locally. The tea has an earthy taste with a hint of sweetness to it. It’s not your cup of tea (hehehe, get it? Cyno would be so proud of you), but it’s not like you hate it.

After eating and taking a small break from your once-in-a-century exercise, you, Zhongli, and Neuvillette stop by various stalls around Chenyu Vale.

Despite the beautiful region being known for its tea, the three of you ended up coming across an interesting stall. The merchant is selling fragrances from all over Teyvat. Neuvillette and Zhongli have no interest in fragrances, but they’re quite intrigued by the ones you would pick up and examine with curiosity.

“Ah! I see you’re looking at the Glaze Lily and Rainbow Rose fragrance! It’s quite popular among the female population in Chenyu Vale!” says the merchant, her eyes gleaming with excitement.

You grab a slip of white paper from the stand and spray the perfume onto the paper before taking a whiff of the popular fragrance. You close your eyes, taking in the scent. It smells lovely. The Glaze Lily and Rainbow Rose scented perfume reminds you of the two men standing behind you— not because the flowers are from the two men’s respective regions, but because they go well together, if that makes sense. 

The merchant leans on the stall, gazing at you curiously. “According to my customers, the scent varies from person to person. One customer told me she can smell Glaze Lily more than the Rainbow Rose. On the other hand, a recent customer informed me that she can smell the Rainbow Rose more than the Glaze Lily!”

You open your eyes and tilt your head, confused. You can smell both the Glaze Lily and Rainbow Rose— none of the scents were overtaking the other. While the perfume is quite fragrant and lovely, you don’t think this is for you. Plus, it’s pretty popular among the Chenyu Vale women, and you want something a little more… original. You want a signature scent that no other person on Teyvat can mimic. 

“I can smell both the Glaze Lily and Rainbow Rose just fine. However, this fragrance isn’t for me. Do you have something unique? I want something original, something people cannot mimic,” you say, placing the perfume down on the stall.

The woman strokes her chin before squatting down, digging through the stall while you rock back and forth on the balls of your feet. Even though this trip is initially for the Adeptea, you couldn’t help but feel drawn to the fragrance stall. Something about it captivates your attention and makes you want to buy something— definitely not because the fragrance bottles are beautiful (it is).

You peek at Neuvillette and Zhongli, scratching the back of your head with a sheepish smile. “Sorry if this is taking a while. I wanted something unique for myself,” you mutter, feeling heat rush to your cheeks.

Neuvillette smiles and strokes your hair. “There is nothing to apologize for, my dear. It’s not like we’re in a rush to return to the estate,” Neuvillette replies.

Zhongli nods, approaching you and Neuvillette. “I have booked us an inn for the night. We will not be able to return to the abode around this time, especially in weather like this,” Zhongli says, gazing at the now gray skies.

Your eyes widen at the realization. If the three of you have to stay at an inn for the night, how is that going to turn out? Speaking of the inn, will you three have separate bedrooms? Since Zhongli booked the room, are you sharing a room with Zhongli, and does Neuvillette have his own room? Or—

The merchant’s head peeks from the stall, her eyes wide with excitement. “I have found just the scent for you, my dear customer!” The woman fixes her disheveled hair before handing you a round perfume bottle. 

The bottle is a periwinkle color with gold and silver flecks scattered around the bottle. Silver vines wrapped around the bottle, and on those vines are cor lapis and noctilucous jade carved to look like blooming flowers. Zhongli raises his eyebrows while scrutinizing the bottle in your hands.

“If you don’t mind me asking, miss, what makes this fragrance special out of all the fragrances you sell?” Zhongli asks, never taking his eyes off the bottle.

You continue to examine the perfume bottle, enchanted by the appearance of the bottle. It has a sparkly squeeze bulb, tempting you into spraying it onto yourself. You and the merchant make eye contact. The woman grins and gestures to you to try it out yourself. You shrug, not thinking much of it, before pointing the perfume bottle at yourself and squeezing the squeeze bulb. You wince when you realize you sprayed way more than you intended.

“This fragrance is unique because whoever is wearing this scent will not only smell enchanting on the wearer, but only a small handful of people will be… charmed by the scent and the wearer,” she says, nodding with satisfaction.

You sniff the perfume, trying to figure out what the notes are. You’re no perfume expert, but it does have a bit of a unique smell to it. Zhongli and Neuvillette raise their eyebrows at the woman’s strange explanation of the so-called “unique” fragrance. 

“I don’t think this perfume is something I was looking for. Perhaps it’s not meant to be,” You sigh, handing the bottle back to the woman.

The woman frowns, taking the bottle from your hands and storing it in the cabinet of the stall. You, Zhongli, and Neuvillette bid the woman goodbye before heading to the inn. What a shame. You thought you were going to return to the abode with new perfume to wear, but you weren’t too fond of the scent of the perfume. It has an earthy scent, almost reminding you of what the air would smell like after heavy rain. If you remember correctly, there is a hint of mint and maybe Qingxin, if you’re not mistaken.

Zhongli wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you close to him. “Mora for your thoughts?”

“Oh, it’s nothing! I’m just a little disappointed that I ended up not buying anything from the fragrance merchant. It’s a shame the ‘unique’ fragrance isn’t as nearly special as what she made it out to be,” you reply, allowing Zhongli to steer you to your next destination as the skies get darker.

Neuvillette walks beside you, almost sandwiching you between him and Zhongli. The Chief Justice of Fontaine drapes his arm over your shoulder, giving them a comforting squeeze. “I understand that you’re disappointed about the outcome, but think of it this way: you have plenty of Mora to spend before we return to the estate tomorrow afternoon,” Neuvillette says.

You stop in your tracks, letting his words sink in. Neuvillette’s not wrong, and besides, you still haven’t bought the Adeptea you’ve been wanting to buy. After all, that was the point of your trip to Chenyu Vale, but the three of you were sidetracked by the things around you. You guess this is what happens if you travel with men older than Teyvat. 

You take three steps forward before turning to look at Zhongli and Neuvillette. “What you said is true, but I guess that is tomorrow me’s problem,” you shrug, “anyway, let’s go to the inn! It’s starting to sprinkle out here!” You grab their wrists before dragging them towards the large building.

The gust of wind allows both men behind you to catch a whiff of the perfume you sprayed on yourself. They freeze in their tracks, and the grips on your hands tighten, causing you to stumble back into them. 

You blink, craning your head up to see what they’re doing. Zhongli and Neuvillette bend down to sniff your neck. Goosebumps appear all over your body when you feel them hover near your neck to smell the perfume you have on. The tip of Neuvillette’s nose pokes your neck, making you involuntarily freeze. Their hot breaths fan over your neck, sending shivers down your spine. Heat rushes to your cheeks as you try to remain calm while they continue to sniff your neck like a bloodhound. Without realizing it, Zhongli grabs underneath your chin and tilts your head up, exposing more of your neck.

Zhongli presses his nose against your neck, taking in deep breaths and breathing in the intoxicating scent of the perfume. Neuvillette closes his eyes, burying his nose into your collarbones and letting the smell of the perfume flood into his nose. You gulp, your heart thundering against your chest the more the two men press up against you.

“What’s gotten into you two?” You breathe, letting out a shaky sigh. 

Neuvillette and Zhongli ignore your question as they continue to bury their faces into your neck, occasionally licking and biting your neck. You lay your head on Zhongli’s shoulders while he continues to keep your head tilted back as he peppers kisses from your jawlines to your shoulders. 

“If you two want to have your ways with me, at least do it indoors and not where people can see,” you sputter, feeling heat pool into your lower regions. 

Upon hearing your words, Zhongli and Neuvillette stop what they’re doing and pull you to the inn. Zhongli checks you three into the inn and grabs the keys from the innkeeper’s hands before dragging you to the elevator with Neuvillette at your side. Once the elevator door closes, both men proceed with what they are doing.

Neuvillette stands behind you, his left arm around your waist while his right hand slips underneath your shirt. Zhongli stands before you, cupping your cheeks with both hands and pressing his lips against yours, devouring your lips. Zhongli grabs your right leg and wraps it around his waist, grinding against you. Your jaws drop, eyes rolling to the back of your head. Zhongli takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, grinding harder against your heat.

Before things can escalate, the elevator bell chimes, alerting the three of you that you have arrived at the floor where your rooms reside. Neuvillette and Zhongli drags you out of the elevator and to the room where you three will be staying. Now that you have some time to process what happened in the elevator, you can’t help but notice prominent tents forming in Zhongli and Neuvillette’s pants.

Neuvillette tosses you over his shoulders while Zhongli unlocks the door to the room. Once the door unlocks, Zhongli and Neuvillette step into the room. Neuvillette closes the door with his foot and locks the door without looking. You lay limp over Neuvillette’s shoulders. A wave of embarrassment washes over you when you feel how soaked your panties are.

Neuvillette tosses you onto the bed, making you bounce. You scan the room of the inn you’re staying at, realizing there’s only one bed in the room. Now that you think about it, Zhongli didn’t hand an extra key for another room at the inn. It seems like Zhongli never booked extra rooms— the three of you are going to sleep in the same bed for the night at the inn.

You prop yourself up on the bed, gazing at both men with wide eyes after seeing that they have removed their coats and are in the process of taking their gloves off and rolling their sleeves up to their elbows. 

“What has gotten into you two? You two are acting like you’re in a rut!” You squeak.

Neuvillette chuckles, shaking his head. “There’s nothing to worry about, dearest. Are we, your lovers, not allowed to savor this moment between us?” Neuvillette asks.

You warily look at Neuvillette. “I’m not against having intimate moments with both of you, but you two are acting strange,” you murmur. “It’s not like you two to display such affection in public. I am not against it, but you two are usually composed.”

Zhongli clears his throat, unbuttoning his shirt to expose his bare chest. “Forgive me, my dear. The perfume you have on is quite intoxicating. I cannot help but feel like I’m under a spell when I catch a whiff of the fragrance,” Zhongli says, now standing at the edge of the bed.

Zhongli rests one knee on the bed before grabbing you by the ankles. Without warning, Zhongli yanks you towards the edge, emitting a surprised squeak from you. Zhongli chuckles and rubs your cheek with his thumb before leaning down to pepper your face with gentle kisses. Zhongli grabs your hand and laces his fingers with yours before pressing his lips against yours.

While you and Zhongli kiss, Neuvillette kneels before you and spreads your legs apart. Neuvillette slides his hands underneath the bands of your shorts before roughly tugging them down to your ankles and tossing them behind him. The Chief Justice of Fontaine then loops his index and middle finger around the bands of your panties, sliding them down your legs, gulping at the sight of your dripping entrance.

Neuvillette licks his lips before spreading your legs wider, leans forward, and latches his lips onto your entrance. You break your and Zhongli’s kiss, gasping when you feel Neuvillette’s warm tongue lapping and swirling at your entrance. Zhongli takes that as an opportunity to unbuckle his belt and unzip his pants. You softly whimper when Neuvillette penetrates your heat with his tongue while pressing his nose against the engorged and throbbing nerve.

Zhongli groans after freeing his throbbing cocks from his underwear. Your eyes grow wide, completely forgetting that Zhongli has more than one cock. Fuck, how could you forget so easily? Wait, if Zhongli has two of them, does that mean Neuvillette also has two cocks? What if he has more than two?

Zhongli taps your lips with the tip of his cock, signaling you to open your mouth. You open your mouth and stick your tongue out. Zhongli slides his cock into your mouth, moaning when the warmth of your mouth engulfs his cock. While sucking Zhongli’s cock, you reach for his second cock and begin pumping it at a steady pace. 

You nearly choke on Zhongli’s dick when you feel something penetrate your wet heat. You turn to see Neuvillette gently sliding his index and middle finger into your entrance, slow enough not to hurt you. He stretches your entrance, making sure you’re ready for what’s to come. Zhongli pushes your head down on his cock, making you swallow more. You wince, nearly gagging. You pause for a moment and close your eyes, trying to collect yourself.

You pull away from Zhongli’s cock before bringing the other one into your mouth to continue where you have left off. Zhongli wipes the stray tear in the corner of your eyes, pressing a kiss on your head as a silent apology for being a teeny bit rough on you. Even though he wasn’t rough on you in the slightest, he didn’t want to cause you any discomfort while doing anything intimate with you.

Neuvillette pulls away from your groin, pulling his fingers out of your entrance. Neuvillette sucks on his soaked fingers, maintaining eye contact with you while your mouth is occupied with sucking Zhongli’s second cock. Neuvillette stands up and unbuckles his belt, unzips his pants, and pulls his pants and underwear down. Unsurprisingly, two cocks spring from the confinement of his pants, slapping his lower abdomen. The mushroom tips of his cock are bright red and leaking with pre-cum. 

Oh, you are not going to make it out alive. Hell, someone’s going to have to carry around Chenyu Vale and back to the abode after today. You subconsciously pull Zhongli’s cock out of your mouth and glance at Zhongli’s cocks, then at Neuvillette’s cocks. Who has bigger dicks between the two of them?

Zhongli raises his eyebrows at you, pulling your hair into a ponytail and tilting your head up. “What are you thinking about?” Zhongli mutters, his voice thick with lust.

You stare at Zhongli, trying to come up with an excuse. Neuvillette chuckles, rubbing his hands on your thighs as he parts your legs. Neuvillette grabs one of his cocks and rubs them against your folds, coating his aching cock with your slick. 

You shake your head, heat rushing to your cheeks. “I wanted to know what’s causing you two to act this way, that’s all,” you finally sputter out an excuse.

Zhongli continues to gaze at you with a raised eyebrow, tapping your bottom lip with the tip of his cock. You reluctantly open your mouth, still hoping that Zhongli bought your poor excuse of a response. While you are curious about what made Zhongli and Neuvillette act so strange, like an animal in a rut, you don’t want the two men to get competitive over who has a bigger package. 

After a few minutes of Neuvillette rubbing his cock between your folds, Neuvillette nudges your entrance with the bulbous tip of his cock. You’re too busy sucking and licking Zhongli’s cock to notice that Neuvillette is about to bury his cock inside you. Without warning, Neuvillette slides his thick cock into your pulsating entrance. The smooth and moist walls of your entrance clenches around Neuvillette’s cock, making him tense and bury his face into your neck, groaning. After Neuvillette is balls deep inside you, he relaxes and reaches for your hand, lacing his fingers with yours. 

“You’re very tight; relax for me, dearest,” Neuvillette murmurs into your ears, his chest rapidly rising and falling. 

You whimper, taking Zhongli’s cock out of your mouth while writhing beneath Neuvillette’s body. “It hurts, Neuvillette,” you whine, squeezing your eyes shut as you dig your nails into his back.

Neuvillette kisses the side of your head as he reassures you. Neuvillette reaches down and starts pinching and rubbing your swollen bundle of nerves. You squeeze and pulse around his cock, both legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer to you. You and Neuvillette groan when Neuvillette is now buried at the hilt. 

Neuvillette wraps his arms around your waist before pulling you farther up the bed. Neuvillette lays on his back with you lying on top of him. He tangles his fingers in your hair before crashing his lips against yours. While you and Neuvillette are messily making out, Zhongli completely strips off his clothes and comes up behind you.

Zhongli lifts his hand and slaps your right ass cheek, causing you to jolt and break the kiss between you and Neuvillette. Zhongli chuckles and shakes his head, placing both hands on your waist before gently bouncing you on Neuvillette’s cock. You softly moan, slowly riding Neuvillette’s cock with the help of Zhongli. 

Once you’re used to Neuvillette’s size, you start to take over, increasing the speed. Neuvillette wraps one arm around your waist while the other is on your shoulder, forcing you to stay in one place as he pistons his cock into your wet heat. 

Your slick trails down your leg, soaking Neuvillette’s pubic hairs and lap. Neuvillette takes the opportunity to slide his second cock into the same hole, causing you to tense and dig your nails into his shoulders.

Zhongli spreads your ass cheeks and spits. He reaches down and gathers your slick and rubs your ass hole. You knew this day would come, but you didn’t know that it was going to happen today. You squeeze your eyes shut and bury your face in Neuvillette’s neck after feeling Zhongli’s cock probing at your ass. 

Zhongli slowly inserts his cock, stretching out your ass. You groan and bite down on Neuvillette’s shoulders, sending shivers down Neuvillette’s spine. As Zhongli continues to slowly sink his cock into your ass, Neuvillette licks your neck and takes a deep whiff of the intoxicating scent of your skin and the perfume. Neuvillette continues to thrust his cocks into your entrance; the sound of skin-to-skin and squelching fills the air, accompanied by occasional moans and whimpers from the three of you.

Zhongli gathers your hair into a ponytail and tilts your head to the side, revealing your neck to him. Zhongli leans down and presses his nose against your neck, taking deep breaths before letting out a breathy moan in your ears. Zhongli squeezes your chest with his unoccupied hand, rutting into your backside.

Zhongli and Neuvillette make eye contact and glare at each other. Zhongli looks away, gritting his teeth while Neuvillette continues to hammer his cocks into your heat. Zhongli stares at your neck for a moment, gradually slowing his pace. 

Should he do it? Zhongli shakes his head, trying to ignore the voices in his head that are trying to convince him to mark you— claim you as his and only his. Zhongli thrusts hard, causing you to jolt forward and moan like an absolute whore. 

“Fuck, Zhongli!” You whine, blindly reaching behind you to grip his bicep.

Fuck it. Zhongli buries his face into your neck and bites down on your neck. Your eyes widen, and you let out a strained gasp, whimpering in pain. Tears pool in your eyes the harder Zhongli bites down on your neck, drawing blood.

Neuvillette glares at Zhongli before mimicking Zhongli’s actions. The Chief Justice of Fontaine gently kisses the other side of your neck before biting your neck just as hard as Zhongli. You wail, thrashing in Zhongli and Neuvillette’s arms as they refuse to let go of your neck. You feel warm liquid gushing from your neck and streaming down your collarbones and chest.

It takes you approximately five minutes to realize that there’s a tight knot forming in your lower abdomen the more Zhongli and Neuvillette continue to piston their two cocks into your holes while biting your neck like a feral animal. Before you know it, the knot in your lower abdomen snaps, sending you into momentary bliss as you cum around Neuvillette’s cocks.

You don’t remember what happens after that. If you have to think hard, you’re certain that Zhongli and Neuvillette switch places to continue to rail you through the night at the inn. Whoever’s in the nearby rooms, you sincerely apologize for causing a disturbance with your two lovers. You really hope you won’t get a complaint letter or call from the innkeeper. 

- Present -

Kazuha waves his hand in front of your face after you blanked out for who knows how long. “Hello? Are you still here with us?” Kazuha teasingly asks, chuckling.

You snap out of your thoughts and clear your throat, looking away. There’s no way in hell you’re telling them the truth about how you got the bite marks on your neck. Albedo and Baizhu nudge the others away from you to give them room to inspect the bite marks on your neck. Baizhu sighs and tilts your head side to side to get a better look while Changsheng scrutinizes you— oh, the snake knows the perpetrators. You give the snake a pleading look, hoping she won’t rat Neuvillette and Zhongli out.

Changsheng shakes her head with disapproval. “It’ssss quite obvioussss how [Y/N] received thosssse markssss on their neck,” Changsheng says, twisting her head to glance over at Neuvillette and Zhongli, narrowing her eyes at them.

“Oh? And who do you think it could be, Changsheng?” Lyney asks, raising his eyebrows at the white snake draping over Baizhu’s shoulders with interest and curiosity. 

You contemplate whether you should lunge at Changsheng to keep her mouth shut, but you decide not to do it because you know that will make you look suspicious— well, even more suspicious than you already seem. Albedo hums, cleaning the bite marks on your neck before briefly pausing.

You look at Albedo, worried, “What’s with that look on your face?”

Albedo chuckles, shaking his head. “It’s nothing to worry about, [Y/N]. But the bite marks around your neck should be healed within a few days to a week. Depending on how deep the bites are, it could take up to almost a month for it to be healed,” Albedo says, handing the white gauze to Baizhu.

You’re not entirely sure if the bites will heal because when you glanced in the mirror, the bite marks were glowing. Even though the ache didn’t last as long, it does ache a lot— probably not as much as yesterday, but it’s aching. 

“The two of you bit [Y/N], didn’t you?” Wriothesley asks, raising his eyebrows at Zhongli and Neuvillette, the corner of his lips quirking up.

Neuvillette clears his throat, crossing his arms over his chest. “I would do no such thing,” Neuvillette replies.

Everyone in the room raises their eyebrows at the Chief Justice of Fontaine, not believing his response. Zhongli, on the other hand, sighs and chooses not to reply to Wriothesley’s comment. Despite choosing to stay silent, the red ears and cheekbones say another.

Childe pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue, glaring at Zhongli and Neuvillette, steam practically coming from his ears. You shut your eyes, hoping no one will start a fight after discovering who marked you.

“I can’t believe you two marked [Y/N] before I did!” Childe exclaims. “I should be the first one to do it, not you two!”

You pinch the bridge of your nose, temples beginning to throb as more people start to shout in agreement. Great, now your body is going to be littered with marks from these men. It’s not like you mind it… you’re just worried about who will try to make theirs more prominent for other people to see. You peek at Zhongli and Neuvillette, only to see them subtly smile at each other. Your mouth is agape after realization dawns on you. 

They planned this entire thing.

Note: I understand that Neuvillette is probably not older than Teyvat like Zhongli, but for the sake of this fic, he is now. Wow, this is the final fanfic of the year and the first smut in forever. My goal for 2025 is to hopefully write and post more fanfics! And catch up with Genshin and HSR quests. The next fanfic I will be posting after this one is a Love&Deepspace one! Oh! Before I reopen my Discord server, I am looking for new moderators for my server! So, if you are interested in being a moderator for my server, here is the link to the form [HERE]! The deadline is January 7th, 2025! ^^ If you are chosen, I or one of my moderators will contact you through either Tumblr, Discord, or AO3 before the server is reopened! Anyway, To all my new and returning readers, keep in mind that I ONLY post on my Tumblr (Genshinluvr), Ko-Fi (Genshinluvr/Aaliah_exo), and my AO3 (Aaliah_exo)! Nowhere else except Tumblr and AO3!

Taglist: @uniquecutie-puffs, @rubyninja1, @loveariel

Read more of my works on my Grand Masterlist, which contains every masterlist I have created! | Maybe support me by tipping me on Ko-Fi or by reblogging my fanfics! ^^ I will also be posting exclusive fanfics on Ko-Fi as well very soon! I might post all of my stories there, too, but who knows. You can also tip me on Tumblr if you'd like as a way to show support! ^^

[i9messi]

Don't break up with me — Oscar Piastri

Because of a misunderstanding, Oscar thinks you want to break up with him. Signals made him suspect he was right, but in fact, you just want to surprise him with a new puppy.

word count — 1,3k

note: i promise you this is pure fluff and romantic stuff. oscar here loves reader soo much, so I hope you enjoy it!

MASTERLIST

Oscar started to think about the last half of the year. Everything in your relationship had been so wonderful in those last few months, almost too perfect to be real.

You went to support him to his races every weekend, had romantic dates in your favourite places, went to museums and book stores and enjoyed ordinary things such as going together to the market. You had a beautiful relationship, where you supported each other and talked about your concerns as well as your future. Having known each other since you were teens, you and Oscar had talked many times about what you wanted to do in the future: to get marry and start a family.

Your families were very close, his mother loved you and you loved her, even spent time with her when he was not around. Your side of the family adopted him as their son, showing love to him.

There was no way you would break up with him. It made no sense.

However, the signs were there. That morning before heading to the circuit he had called you and you interrupted him, saying you were busy. That would have made sense and it was fine, except then he talked later to his mom and she told him you had been texting her all morning. Why didn’t you want to talk to him?

It was bad. That couldn’t be happening.

“Oscaaaaaaaaaaarr.” Someone shouted and that made him come back to reality.

Lando was in front of him, while he was sitting on the couch. Oscar used to be the most calm in your relationship. He took things easy, used to think before taking action, but now thinking so much was turning him into a person full of insecurity.

“What's wrong?” Lando asked, realizing that his teammate was acting differently than usual.

“Nothing.”

“Is this about your girlfriend?”

Oscar didn't try to hide the truth, not with him. “I think she’s going to break up with me.”

Lando was silent for a moment, until he burst out laughing.

“Don’t laugh, I feel bad. I’m devastated.”

“She’s not gonna break up with you, mate.”

You didn’t live together yet, you hadn’t taken that step in your relationship yet, but you practically lived next to each other. Your apartments in Monaco were only a few meters away. Yesterday he had invited you on a date and you told him that you couldn’t go. Lately it was as if you didn't want to spend your time together, as if his mere presence was annoying to you.

“How are you so sure?”

“Because you're the perfect couple. You love each other, you show the world how adorable you are, and then make everyone else feel miserable.”

“I don’t think that’s true anymore, Lando.”

“Go talk to her, then. Crying and feeling bad about it won’t solve a thing. Go and win back your lady.”

Oscar listened to his teammate, knew he couldn’t waste time or the opportunity to talk with you. He found you just a few minutes later and you hugged him, while he left a kiss on your forehead.

“Baby, I missed you.”

“I missed you too, Oscar. Congratulations for the race, I'm very proud of you.”

That had to mean something, didn’t it? If you hadn’t missed him and if you didn’t want him more in your life, you wouldn’t have answered that. Oscar was trying to convince himself that he still had a chance with you.

“Let’s go to my house.” he suggested, as you raised your head and looked at him with a face that showed no feelings.

“We better go to mine. We need to talk.”

Damn. You were going to break up with him. You never spoke like that, you had never said those words before.

On the way to your apartment in Monaco, he drove quietly. Oscar noticed you were nervous. You ran your hand through your hair and barely spoke. You were acting strange. He was increasingly convinced that once you arrived at your home, you would tell him that you wanted to break up with him.

The road was eternal and the worst of the worst. You arrived and stayed in the living room.

“Would you like some water?”

“Yes, please.”

You went to the kitchen to get a glass of water and came back a few seconds later. He drank the water in a single instant, too thirsty and nervous.

“Is something wrong, Oscar?”

“Do you want to break up with me?”

You stayed silent, until Oscar spoke again. His eyes were shining, his hair was messy from all the times he had passed his hands over it.

“Don’t break up with me, please. I don’t know what I would do without you in my life, you're my everything. I love you, that’s all I know. If I did something wrong just tell me, I'll try my best to not make the same mistake again."

“Oscar, baby…”

He hesitated, but he walked a step closer to you. Oscar was trying to not lose his mind.

“We can’t break up."

His supplicant gaze begged you not to leave him, not when he needed you so much.

“I love you and my life would be shattered without you.”

And something happened. You smiled.

“Oscar, I’m not breaking up with you. I don’t know what made you think I would.”

Calm made Oscar relax, but he remained confused. He was very sure of all the signs he had seen, he wasn't crazy and he was not imagining things. You had been acting strangely in those last days.

“Then why have you been acting so weird?”

“Wait for me, I’ll be right back!”

You left and came back a while later with something in your arms. A little puppy.

“It’s for you, honey.”

Oscar couldn’t help but come closer to you to see the puppy. The animal looked at him with a little mistrust, but once his hand came to caress the dog, the puppy began to move his tail with happiness, while you saw him with a smile on your face.

“A dog? For me?”

“It was a surprise. I talked with your mum about it and she even helped me. When you'll be busy with work stuff, I will be taking care of him.”

Your boyfriend grabbed the animal in his arms, the puppy ran his tongue over his face and Oscar squinted his eyes, while he couldn't stop feeling his heart beating frantically in his chest.

“l didn't expect this, thank you.”

“I would never break up with you, Oscar. You make me happy. That’s why I thought of adopting a puppy for you.”

“Then why were you acting so weird?”

“Because I wanted it to be a surprise. Yesterday I went to get him and that’s why I canceled our plans. Today the puppy peed in the clothes I was going to wear, just when you called. Also, he started barking and didn’t want you to find out. It was my little secret.”

Oscar had never been so happy, he left a kiss on your lips. Your mouths joined and he smiled so happily.

“I love you, you made me the happiest man in the world.”

“We have our little family now, Oscar. We are parents of a dog.”

Even as you planned to start a family when you were old enough, sharing the life of a pet was everything to him. Sharing the care and affection of a puppy made his tender and loving part appear.

“I love you and I love this animal. I will take care of you and him for my whole life.”

You weren't breaking up with him, that was the best part of all.

[softness-and-shattering]

It can genuinely be really scary, to find yourself wondering "hey if there was a fire right now, could I get up, or would I just lie here?" Because youve been in overdrive and overdrive is broken. Id like to believe that the will to live would prevail but I wouldnt know until I was in that situation. Is real danger processed differrently to psychological danger?

I did have a situation the other night struggling to get food together for dinner, my partner was also exhausted, we planned badly (not at all) for shops being closed and I had a few moments of "guess we're starving tonight then". And then I was just up and moving toward the kitchen to see what could be scrounged. Im not sure I made a conscious decision to do so. Theres a tiny bit of, its not quite learned helplessness, its like theres levels of Cant Do A Thing. And sometimes when Thing Needs Doing and you Cant, but no one else can, its like it increases in urgency and then you reavaluate your spoons. Like a lot of the time my partner helps me with things I could technically do, but if I did Id be in more pain, Id have less energy to do things I enjoy that makes life worthwhile, and to her its not such a big deal to do. And sometimes we pingpong a task back and forth trying to measure how deep we would each have to dig to get it done and who will have the very relatively easier time. And sometimes the push does come with more pain, or meltdown, or panic, or tears. Some tasks just arent negotiable.

One of the worst things about being disabled, the most draining, and I sort of forgot it was unusual till Hank Green mentioned it in one of his videos about his cancer, that it was a new amd exhausting ezperience for him. Youre having to make countless decisions day in and day out. Constantly measuring energy against task against urgency or need, against survival vs fun and enjoyment, against what else is planned for the day and the week and the month, am I choosing between tasks, am I even calculating correctly. On top of that, constant monitoring of the self. How am I feeling, are these known symptoms, do they need treatment right now, ok which treatment? Is this abnormal, is it worrying, should I mention it to my dr? How long since I last had painkillers? This symptom has three conditions in common, if its a migraine I need meds immediately but if its just dehydration I dont want to be taking meds I dont need -

And on top of that is actual appointments. I had to take a months long break from most medical care because I burnt out of being able to convey relevant information and understand relevant information and parse it all and make decisions about treatment and tests. and then scheduling and scheduling and scheduling, theres only so many appointments one can attend in a week in a month so everything takes time and if you overbook you end up crashed and panicked and unable to function to even show up and its endless. Its hundreds of important health related decisions day in and day out and then we still have to decide what to eat for lunch like everyone else. On less capacity than everyone else.

Sometimes you just need to step back and rest for an hour a day a week a month. A couple years. Pacing is difficult. Resting is absurdly difficult. Im definitely out of spoons for more of this rn. Its. A lot. Burnout is so so real and the only way through is maximum rest.

One thing I don't think the Spoon metaphor has helped able-bodied people understand is that you can overdraw.

Generally, for most conditions, running out of spoons doesn't mean you collapse, doesn't produce an effect they can actually see. What it means is that you run on life support, quite possibly unsafely, until you get to a safe place and can stop. But you'll owe those spoons back, with interest. You'll have hurt yourself to do it.

Sometimes I hang out with a friend and they'll be like, wow, I'm really glad you had a good day. And I have to decide whether to make them feel bad by explaining that in fact they did not catch me on a good day, and tomorrow will probably be bad. I just made choices.

[gay-disabled-characters-showdown]

LGBTQ Disabled Characters Showdown Quarterfinals Poll 1

Vs.

Please be civil in the notes. We will block people if we feel it is necessary. A character being canon LGBTQ+ and disabled was not required to be in this competition. Please check qualifications and propaganda before asking why a character is included. This is not a competition of who is better representation.

Check out the other polls in the quarterfinals here.

Edit: This is a two vs. one because they tied (by our defenition) back in round 4 and moved on together.

Harrier ‘Harry’ du Bois-Disco Elysium

Qualifications:

Bisexual. Struggles with addiction, post-polio syndrome, multiple kinds of mental illness, and whatever else he's accrued by living in a city with no accessible healthcare.

Propaganda:

You know who he is. Vote for him.

Kim Kitsuragi-Disco Elysium

Qualifications:

Visually impaired

Propaganda:

I dunno man. He's Kim Kitsuragi. There's nothing I can say about him that hasn't already been said. He's quiet and reserved and uncomfortable with emotions. He's a self-proclaimed Torque Dork who loves his car like a child. He listens to heavy metal music. He's a centrist. He's a homosexual. He's consistently given shit by everyone around him for his race, his sexuality, and his disability, and he's taught himself to respond to it with cold professionalism. He dresses in historical communist pilot cosplay. I love him with my entire heart.

Yang Xiao Long-RWBY

Qualifications:

She is canonically wlw (has been for years but specifically kissed and got together with her now girlfriend in the latest season) and uses a prosthetic arm and has been shown to struggle with PTSD due to the traumatic nature of losing it during the show.

Canonically had her right arm chopped off, uses a prosthetic. Has PTSD. Is canonically in a WLW relationship.

She has a canon girlfriend and canonically has a prosthetic arm and PTSD

She's canonically sapphic (part of a recently canonised wlw slowburn relationship) and is an amputee (due to events from the 3rd season finale) who wears a robotic prosthetic. She also suffers from PTSD which is explored in the show

Propaganda:

I will keep on submitting Yang to relevant brackets until I die. RWBY has plenty of strengths and weaknesses with writing, especially Yang's recovery arc, but instead of forcing her to push past her trauma and enter the battlefield immediately, we see her struggle with it, take time to process, and not be pushed into repression and when she chooses to wear her prosthetic, chooses to train to ready herself, and chooses to seek out her family and save lives, she isn't perfectly healed, as no one is. The show depicts her having flashbacks due to sudden loud noise, shaking hand the first few times she has to fight for her safety instead of training with her dad, and snapping at friends when they bring up Blake, the person she lost her arm trying to save (who, near immediately after ran away due to feeling she was endangering those she loved, furthering Yang's already present abandonment issues.) It isn't done perfectly but the intentions and general message sent are extremely positive and honest. She struggles less as the show progresses, and there are opportunities to consider herself less for being disabled or "become whole again" but she explicitly refutes these ideas and says that's she's better because of her failures and losses, and isn't any less whole. Her becoming disabled is also extremely tied to her being LGBT, because, as previously mentioned, she lost her arm protecting her then friend and partner, now girlfriend, directly after the villain who cut her arm off told her love interest that he would "destroy everything [she] love[s]. (Camera pans to Yang, he looks at her.) Starting with her." LIKE. He attacked her BECAUSE Blake cared for her so much and Yang ran to her defense blindly BECAUSE she loved Blake so much. When they reunite, they struggle with communication because Yang feels Blake is seeing her as weak, and through several things, mostly a climatic battle against the man who severed Yang's arm, they affirm each other as equals. I can go on but this is already too long. YANG SWEEP!!!!!

Yang lost her arm while protecting her best friend and future girlfriend from said girlfriend's abusive ex. Had a whole arc about learning to live with that loss and dealing with PTSD. Is totally devoted to and in love with Blake Belladonna and is just the sweetest but most badass character in the show.

She's one of the main characters, and just finished a 10 year slow burn romance. Plus, she has both physical and mental disabilities, but is never treated as lesser or incomplete.

Yang Xiao Long was one of the first examples of a sapphic character I ever saw in animated media with her character journey in the show being an iconic part of my teenage years and current young adulthood. The loss of her arm after a traumatic event in the show's 3rd volume was one of the big shockers of the show that nobody saw coming. Since then the show has done an amazing job in exploring both the mental and physical effects of her losing a limb, gaining a prosthetic arm and the recovery journey. Her character also has a major arc regarding handling her PTSD from both this and her past most notably in the 5th and 6th volume. Her character also has a slow-burn romance with her teammate and fellow main character Blake Belladonna which is one of my fave romances ever (it has everything: canon soulmates, friends to lovers, sunshine x grump,battle couple etc..) that has recently became CANON BABIEE!!! There are MULTIPLE characters in RWBY with various disabilities that are handled well in the narrative but i would say Yangs definitely the top FAVE!

[7seas-of-ryy]

5 Years of Agony

Author’s Note: This was another unfinished draft but I loved this idea so much so I had to finish it!! This one is more fluffy than angsty even though the title makes it seem otherwise :)

Summary: You are close to everyone except Azriel and he needs to know why!

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Warnings: none :)

Azriel had never been quite so unsure of himself. He had his fair share of self doubting and insecurities but for some reason, this time was just... different.

Rhys had brought you to the Night Court, saved you from an awful situation and given you a place within his own family, the inner circle. Everyone loved you, how could they not? You were caring, kind, intelligent, and the most beautiful being Az had ever seen.

You had your own separate hobbies/hang outs with everyone. Everyone except Az. You went shopping with Mor, drew with Feyre while she painted, sparred with Cass, accompanied Rhys when he went to other Courts, and even researched with Amren. But you never spent time with the Spymaster of the Night Court.

It was starting to bother Azriel, seeing as he had been trying to approach you for the 5 years you had been living there. For some reason, it felt like you were avoiding him.

The first few weeks you were at the Night Court, the shadowsinger actually thought you didn't speak ever. That is until he was talking to Cass and Rhys and they brought you up. They began to tell him how funny you were and how much they enjoyed the insightful conversations you held. It hit Az then, you just didn't talk to him.

5 years in and you've only shared a handful of words. You were kind, telling him hello and goodbye but if you two were in a shared space, you normally were together in silence. He can't even think of a time you had a conversation for more than a couple minutes.

He could only think that he was the problem...right? You got along with everyone else, maybe his shadows intimidated you. Or you just didn't like him.

You were sat in the kitchen eating your lunch when you noticed a few shadows floating in. Azriel soon followed them in and started fixing himself something to eat. He took a seat across from you and began eating. The two of you ate in silence for a bit, you looked up and he was already looking at you. He gave you a smile, trying to show there was nothing to be intimidated by. You returned it with a tiny smile of you own and looked back down at your plate.

You could feel your cheeks heating up and started to get embarrassed. Before he could notice, you quickly got up and left. A frown took over Azriel's features as he looked to the chair you were once sat in.

A few weeks later you were in the Night Court's library reading. The small area you were in was nearly pitch black, the tiny light on the desk the only light for you to read your book. You didn't want to disrupt anyone so you always chose to read there.

It wasn't the best, but at least you weren't an inconvenience. As you strained your eyes to read the last line on the page, you felt a cool shadow brush across your neck. A shiver ran down your spine at the thought of who accompanied that lone tendril.

"How on Earth are you even able to read over here? There's no light!" Azriel spoke behind you.

You jumped slightly turning to look at the large male standing behind you. You placed your hand on your chest, feeling your heart beating quickly from the surprise.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," His features softened, "I happened to notice you reading over here and wanted to offer you my reading spot. It's much better than this one... no offense."

"Um... I'm okay, I don't want to be a burden-" You began to turn his offer down but he cut you off.

"It truly is no problem at all. It's out of the way, no one goes there so you won't be bothered by anyone." He tried to persuade you.

After a few moments of thinking it over, you gave him a small nod and a slight grin. He held out his hand for you to take and you hesitantly took it, winnowing to the place he wanted to share with you.

It was a gorgeous area of the library that you had never seen before. There was a small desk in front of a large wall of books. And to the right of the desk was an open balcony with the most amazing view of the mountains. The night sky was all the light you would need to read. There were long sheer curtains hanging from the ceiling and a slight cool breeze flowed through the area making it even more perfect than you thought was possible.

"Wow" was all you could whisper as you drew closer to the railing of the balcony.

Az followed close behind you, keeping his eyes on you and memorizing the look on your face.

"I come here to read or clear my head a lot. No one comes by here so please feel free to use it whenever you'd like." He softly told you.

"Thank you-" You turned around to speak to him but quickly realized how close you two were. You raised your head to look up at him, your nerves felt like they were on fire.

"Why don't you enjoy my company?" He whispered, you could feel his breath on your face.

"What are you talking about? I do." You responded just as quiet and turned back around, looking out at the mountains.

Azriel moved next to you, so close your shoulders were touching. He was silent while he enjoyed the view like you.

"You avoid me every time you see me, and you never talk to me. But you only do that to me." He spoke while staring straight ahead.

"...I..." The words got caught in your throat.

"Have I done something to offend you? Are you scared of me? Am I that awful to be with?" He quickly asked.

Your heart broke for him. How could he think any of those things would be true?

"The truth is embarrassing." You muttered, still staring at the mountains as well.

"Please, I will get on my knees and beg, just please tell me what I did wrong. This has been the hardest 5 years of my life." The feared spymaster pleaded with you.

"It's so stupid" you muttered, "...when I first met you, I thought you were the most beautiful male I had ever seen. I was so intimidated, I literally choked on my words."

You could see his head snap to look at you out of the corner of your eye, but you didn't look at him. You were so embarrassed, your face must have been blood red by this time.

"I was terrified I was going to embarrass myself by saying something stupid so I stayed quiet. Only, that never went away and I thought too much time had passed for me to change how I was."

There was a long moment of silence, then Azriel started to laugh...hard. He was full out belly laughing, you had never heard him do that before.

You couldn't help but crack a smile at the sound.

"So you're telling me, I've been killing myself over this for 5 years. Thinking I did something to hurt you, only for the real reason to be you think I'm attractive??" He said through laughs.

"I am truly relieved, oh darling.." He drifted off as he saw the mortified look on your face.

"When I first met you, I thought you were the most stunning being I had ever seen. Then the first time I heard you talk, I thought I needed to hear that voice every single day. The first time I saw you spar Cass, I thought you were the most breathtaking warrior I had ever seen. I hope you understand what I mean by all of this." He spoke, getting softer as he went on.

Looking over to the male next to you, you urged him to go on.

"If Cass stopped talking to me for five years, I would consider myself blessed. If Rhys stopped talking to me for five years, I would be a little concerned but appreciate the quiet. You, a female I have never met before, avoid me for five years and it felt as if my heart was being pulled out through my chest." He confessed as his shadows swirled like crazy.

"Well, if I knew you were in agony I would have swallowed my pride and talked to you." You told him with a slight smirk.

He rewarded you with a stunning smile.

"I suppose I should've confessed my love for you a while ago then, hm?" He stated smoothly, stepping closer to you.

"That was you professing your love?" You teased him.

"I can do it again if you'd like." He told you as he raised his hand to tuck some hair behind your ear.

You gazed into his eyes, saying nothing.

"I would very much like to kiss you right now but I think a gentleman would take you on a date to get to know you more first." He whispered, so close it felt as if your breath was one with his.

"Well I mean, you have known me for five years." Your voice unwavering.

Azriel's pupils were blown wide at your words and he wasted no time wrapping his fingers in your hair and pulling you in.

"You're such a tease." He whispered before his lips touched yours.

It was soft at first, then it turned hungry as Az realized what he had been missing all this time. His kisses turned sloppy, trailing down your neck before he pulled away.

"If I don't stop now, I don't think I ever will." He spoke, his lips brushing over the skin of your neck.

"Then don't." You moaned out.

Azriel groaned into your neck, already craving more of you.

"You're gonna be the death of me." He muttered as his lips started moving against your skin once again.

[mononijikayu]

is it new years yet? — nanami kento.

"Apparently, we're #RelationshipGoals now." "Some of them really think I write poetry about you during my lunch breaks, too. Not inaccurate, of course. But the thoughts I have of you are different." “My darling, behave.” “No <3” ".......In any case, my darling…..this one says I’m lucky to have you. Can’t argue with that."

GENRE: alternate universe - no curses au!;

WARNING/S: afab! reader, secret coworker romance, co-workers to lovers, romance, fluff, nsfw, rated 18 and above, explicit content, kissing, making out, rough sex, fingering, creampie, p to v sex, stairwell sex, orgasm, humor, profanity, pet names (my darling, babe, etc), possessiveness, jealousy, characters speaking in sexual innuendo, mention of sexual euphemisms, depiction of explicit sexual content, actor! nanami kento, actor! reader;

WORD COUNT: 6k words.

NOTE: hello everyone, this is the first fic of 2025!!! this was specifically written because of a conversation between me and @midnight-138 on the afternoon of december 31st 2024. i started progress while on a bus on the way to my grandma's house and for a bit on the 1st. i still wanted to write more for it, but i had to stop because i caught a cold. i still have a cold. and i need a massage cause i feel my body hurt real bad, cause its working hard to save my life from this cold TT TT

but that being said, i shouldn't complain too much. good things have been happening to me despite my problems. i hope that good things continue to come!!! anyway, enough yapping, i hope you enjoy this little fic. happy 2025!!! may good things, good health and happiness come your way always this year!!!

masterlist

if you want to, tip! <3

IT WAS ALWAYS LIKE THIS WHEN YOU AND KENTO GET TOGETHER. But it was to be expected, since you graced the screens since you were a child. Nanami Kento was like that too. Of course, it wasn’t something of a brag at all. It was just your normal.

You were lucky, you were favored like that. Kento was favored just like that. Both of you were so beloved. And especially so, in a way that they end up hoping that you both were together. 

Ever since you worked with him on Jujutsu Kaisen all those years ago, it was just too strong — the chemistry between the two of you. It pulls people in for more. They wanted a story, they wanted something that could ease their days from the mundane boredom that it was to the fun, exhilarating excitement that comes with the tea in both of your private lives.

You didn’t mind, your company didn’t mind either. Neither did Kento or his side of the aisle. It helped that you were both good friends. You had met even before landing your roles on Jujutsu Kaisen, after all. So, the ‘will they, won’t they’ between the two of you really did help your careers.

But of course, just like in Gege–sensei’s scripts, some parts are sentences with too many blank pages. And the wholeness of your relationship with Nanami Kento truly only belonged to you and him. And you were not willing to expose it to the world. Not just yet.

Yet — this does not stop them from trying to do something about that.

The studio buzzed with activity as you adjusted the earpiece in your ear, stealing a quick glance at the veteran actor, singer, producer, writer and entertainment personality that is Nanami Kento.

He stood near the stage, his posture relaxed yet impossibly refined. Dressed in a tailored charcoal suit, his tie a subtle but elegant shade of deep blue,everything about him just exuded a quiet confidence that made it hard for anyone to look away. 

You, however, knew better than to let your gaze linger too long. You knew too well that those are reserved for just him and you to interpret and to see. No one else should. You were as possessive about your private moments as he was. But you would never say that outloud and neither will he.

“Can you believe these two again?” a stagehand whispered slowly, behind you. It was still, of course, loud enough for you to hear. “It’s like they were made for this. If they don’t end up together after tonight, I’ll lose faith in love. Really!”

You bit back a laugh, focusing on your notes. No one knew the truth, after all. That you and Kento were already together had been for a while now. Not even your publicists or managers — hell, not even your entertainment companies, knew that this was for genuine actuality, a real thing now. But you and him liked it that way.

You had let your fans go wild with their theories over the years of course. Every post, every comment, every little interaction, every collaboration, every press tour — almost everything seemed to spark a new wave of speculation and fan shipping. 

For years now, the internet was rife with hashtags like #OurSecretLovers and #MrAndMrsNanami with fans pouring over every detail like it's an investigatory report they were doing, a documentary study. You had to admit, it was amusing at times, watching people try to connect dots they couldn’t see. 

Nanami Kento had a reputation for being rather serious, because he gets roles in that league often. But he was a silly little man, well your silly little man. And he often had the knack for finding the most random, yet oddly endearing, posts about the two of you on Twitter. During your five-minute breaks between shoots, when you were in separate rooms or on different sets, his messages would pop up on your phone, accompanied by a link and a deadpan caption.

"Apparently, we're #RelationshipGoals now."

"Some of them really think I write poetry about you during my lunch breaks, too. Not inaccurate, of course. But the thoughts I have of you are different."

“My darling, behave.”

“No <3”

".......In any case, my darling…..this one says I’m lucky to have you. Can’t argue with that."

You’d giggle to yourself, your shoulders shaking as you tried not to draw attention. It didn’t matter how serious the production you were working on either. He had a way of making you laugh even from miles away. And that relaxes you a lot.

When it was your turn, you’d send him TikToks. Fancam edits of the two of you together had exploded in popularity as of late, especially since you both played a married couple who were spies deceiving each other recently. People thought he looked so good, especially when he had his shirt off. You loved teasing him about it. After all, he was really pretty hot in those scenes. And if you were being honest, they did in fact rile you up.

"Look at us, babe." you texted once, attaching a video with dramatic lighting, a love song playing over clips of you two stolen from interviews and behind-the-scenes footage. "We’re icons."

His reply came almost immediately: "Icons, sure. But I’m just a guy who got lucky enough to be yours, you know?"

Those words made your heart swell every time. He’d always been effortlessly humble, never letting fame or admiration inflate his ego, even as his star rose. After all, you were the senpai here—the darling of the Japanese screen since childhood. 

You’d grown up in the industry, your name synonymous with household stardom. He, on the other hand, had been a late bloomer, starting as a teenager and building his career with quiet determination.

He never let the difference in your status get in the way, though. If anything, it only made him more in awe of you. He’d often remind you how much he admired your grace, how you’d navigated the pressures of fame with a poise that still left him speechless.

“You’ve been dazzling audiences since you were a kid.” he’d say, his voice warm with pride. “I’m just lucky to share the screen with you now and your life.”

And you’d roll your eyes playfully, nudging him with a smile. “Don’t sell yourself short, Kento. You’re a fan favorite for a reason.”

“Maybe.” he replied with a soft smirk. “But you’re my favorite. And that’s what matters.”

No matter how busy your schedules got, those small exchanges, be it a funny link or a sentimental text, every bit of this kept you connected. It reminded you both that beneath the glitz and glamour, what truly mattered was the quiet, enduring love you shared.

You were out of your bubble soon enough when Kento suddenly caught your eye from across the room, offering a small, reassuring smile and then a small gentle nod. You felt your cheeks turn red but lowered your head immediately before anyone was to notice. He was too good at making you feel like this. And certainly so, he was hiding his smirk under his cue cards.

“Alright, places, everyone!” the director called.

You finally stood up from your chair, taking a deep breath and calmed down. You gave yourself one more look in the mirror, trying to make sure that your cheeks were natural now. When you felt like it was, you smiled at your manager who handed you the mic and swiftly thanked them. You went to your position. Kento soon approached, his footsteps purposeful but unhurried. 

“Ready?” he asked, his voice low and calm.

“Ready as I’ll ever be, I suppose.” you replied, flashing him a smile.

You were grateful for the reassurance. Even if you were already such a big name, you still did get nervous. And even more so, with such a big show like this — the New Year Countdown, of course you could feel yourself slipping.

The two of you took your positions on stage as the lights dimmed and the opening music swelled. His fingers brushed against yours briefly as he fixed himself up, your pinkies touching. Even briefly, you could feel the warmth. He did that on purpose. You could see it in his caramel eyes. 

You let a brief smile echo on your lips. You gathered yourself as the lift came up slowly. When you both were in the sight of the gathered audiences and the cameras started to broadcast it all live, you both slipped effortlessly into your roles. After all, you both were professionals.

“Good evening, everyone, and welcome to this year’s New Year’s Eve Countdown!” you began, your voice bright and enthusiastic.

“Thank you for joining us as we bid farewell to the old year and welcome the new.” Kento added, his tone smooth and polished.

Your banter flowed naturally, as always. That well beloved chemistry between you is still ever so undeniable. It was easy to fall into a rhythm with him; he was your partner in every sense of the word. And that made your job tonight a little bit easier.

But of course, the real challenge was hiding the little moments that threatened to give you away that bit you kept so dear to you. You just can't help it when it comes to him. He has such a powerful pull on you and he knows it.

There were those little lingering glances, watching and feeling the way his fingers brushed yours when you handed him a card, the subtle softness in his smile when he looked at you. After all, this is the longest you could be together in your very busy schedules this year.

Still, you kept yourself in that cage. And so did he, despite his lack of patience when it comes to you and everything about you. As the night progressed, the energy in the studio grew electric.

Various music performances lit up the stage, and interviews with special guests kept the crowd engaged. Throughout it all, you and Kento remained the perfect duo—professional, poised, and completely in sync.

After nearly a few hours of composure, it came almost all too suddenly. In just a few moments, the final countdown approached, and the excitement was palpable. The two of you stood at the center of the stage, along with the other participants for this year’s event. In front of you, the crowd behind you cheering wildly, waiting excitedly for the new year.

“Here we go!” you said, your voice barely audible over the noise.

Kento leaned in slightly, his voice low enough for only you to hear. “You’re doing great, darling..”

Your heart fluttered, but you kept your composure. “Thanks. You’re not so bad yourself, babe.”

The countdown soon began.

You took a breath, looking at the screen.

You held your cue cards tightly to you.

“Ten! Nine! Eight!”

The lights soon dimmed, and the giant screen behind you displayed the numbers as they ticked down. The crowd’s voices grew louder with each second. The emotions coming through you were indescribable. Another year had gone by. But he was still by your side, like this. And all you could pray for as the time passed into a new age — that you would always be together.

“Three! Two! One! Happy New Year!”

Confetti soon rained down, and the studio erupted in cheers. You turned toward Kento, and for a fleeting moment, the world around you disappeared. The look in his caramel eyes was unmistakable—warm, tender, and filled with a quiet pride that made your chest tighten.

But just as quickly, the moment passed, and you both turned back to the crowd, waving and smiling as the cameras captured every angle. People of course started to pay less attention to you both and the stage and more onto the fireworks now blurring the sky with its bright hues. You and Kento made a steady exit off the stage. 

“Another successful project, isn’t it?” you said, breaking the silence as you leaned against the wall.

Kento smirked faintly, unbuttoning the top of his shirt to loosen his tie. “They’ll be talking about this for weeks, you know?”

“And shipping us even harder, hm.” you added with a laugh.

“They’ll never know, though.” he said, his voice soft but steady.

You stepped closer, your hand finding his. His fingers intertwined with yours, the simple gesture grounding you in a way nothing else could. “They don’t need to, babe.” you whispered, meeting his gaze. “This is ours.”

Kento’s lips curved into the faintest smile as he brought your hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. “Happy New Year, my darling.”

“Happy New Year.” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

You had thought it would end there, sweet and innocent. You had thought you both were safe for one more year. But when you two are together after a long time…..it was a whole new animal. And nothing can stop such a wave in high tide from occupying something whole. 

The next tithing you know is that the internet exploded the moment the photos dropped. Headlines blared across every platform, hashtags like #FINALLYOMG and #NewYearNewScandal trending within minutes after they were taken.

The pictures were pretty damning. They were blurry but unmistakably you, disheveled and wrapped in Nanami’s coat, your hair a mess. And him? A rare sight indeed.

It was none other than Nanami Kento, usually the epitome of composure, looking uncharacteristically undone. His tie was loose, his shirt wrinkled, and the telltale bruises blooming on his neck left little to the imagination.

You groaned, tossing your phone onto the coffee table as you buried your face in your hands. Beside you, Kento sat unbothered, calmly sipping his tea like the world wasn’t on fire—or at least your career’s PR team.

“I told you we should’ve been more careful, babe.” you muttered, your voice muffled by your palms.

He raised an eyebrow, the corner of his lips quivering into a teasing smile. “You were the one who couldn’t wait with it, y'know?” he replied smoothly, setting his cup down with an elegant clink.

His tone was infuriatingly calm, but the glint in his eyes betrayed his amusement. “Who was it again, begging me to fill you up? By round two, you were going—‘Kento, I need you. Right here. Right now.’ and I was happy to heed the request like always.”

Your scarlet blush was immediate, your head snapping up to glare at him. “Kento!” you hissed, glancing around the living room as if someone could overhear, even though it was just the two of you. “Not helping!”

He leaned back in his chair, crossing his legs with the air of a man thoroughly enjoying himself. “I’m just stating the facts about, I'm the same.” he said with a shrug, his smirk widening as you shot him another flustered look. "That's not a bad thing."

Your phone buzzed again on the table, your manager’s name flashing on the screen. You sighed, picking it up only to immediately huff and toss it back down. “This is really…” you trailed off, searching for the right word but settling on a frustrated groan instead.

“Chaotic? Consequential? Hilarious?” Kento offered, his voice laced with mock innocence.

You shot him a glare that was far more affectionate than threatening. “Horrible. That’s the word. This is horrible.”

He chuckled, reaching over to rest a comforting hand on your knee. “Darling, it’s not the end of the world. Scandal or not, we’ll deal with it.”

“Easy for you to say.” you grumbled, crossing your arms. “Your team probably thinks this is great publicity for your brooding, mysterious heartthrob image. Meanwhile, I’m the one getting texts about how unprofessional it looks for ‘Japan’s sweetheart’ to be caught sneaking around with hickeys and wearing her boyfriend’s coat.”

“Unprofessional?” he repeated, his tone incredulous. “It’s not like we committed a crime. We’re adults in a committed relationship. And in any case my darling....….” he added, his voice dropping to a playful murmur. “You look adorable in my coat.”

Despite yourself, you couldn’t help but crack a small smile. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, you love me. Very much." he quipped, leaning over to steal a quick kiss from your lips.

You rolled your eyes but didn’t protest, instead letting your head fall onto his shoulder with a sigh. “Next time, though….really.....” you muttered. “We’re finding a stairwell without photographer cameras.”

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Noted.”

As you leaned against your lover, the memory hit you both like a freight train, vivid and unrelenting. It had started innocently enough—or as innocently as it could between the two of you. The countdown show had gone off without a hitch, and the studio was still buzzing with post-show chaos. 

You both talked for a bit, had a cute moment and then went back to your professional mode when everyone started to surround you both again. It was like a switch, and it was easy. No one suspected a thing.

You went ahead into the dressing room, you talked with everyone. You’d been polite and professional, thanking the crew and chatting with some of the guests. But the moment Nanami Kento had caught your eye as you left the green room, something in his caramel gaze had made your pulse quicken.

You hadn’t seen him in weeks. Between his packed schedule and yours, the countdown project had been the only excuse to be in the same room together. The public facade you maintained only added to the frustration. Every fleeting touch, every shared look—it all built up, an unbearable tension neither of you could ignore.

So, when he’d quietly grabbed your hand and guided you down a quiet, rarely-used stairwell in the building when no one was looking, you hadn’t protested. You were excited, happy even. This was the chance to feel him again this close to you. 

And you were glad for that opportunity. You could feel his touch be so genuine and warm despite the heavy chill in the air, and the firm grip of his fingers around yours sent a shiver of anticipation down your spine.

“Darling, I missed you, really.” he murmured as soon as you were alone.

His voice low and rough, filled with a longing that made your knees weak. His hands cupped your face with a reverence that always left you breathless, his thumb brushing softly against your cheek as he leaned in. The kiss was searing, his lips melding with yours as though it had been an eternity since your last stolen moment together.

The cold winter air bit at your exposed skin, but his touch set you alight. His coat had slipped from his shoulders in a quiet, unspoken gesture, draped over yours as his lips moved to your neck. The kisses were hot, open-mouthed, and deliberate, his tongue tracing the sensitive skin before his teeth grazed your pulse.

“Kento, babe….” you gasped, your voice trembling from a mix of the frigid air and the heat of his attention. Your fingers clutched the lapels of his suit, trying to ground yourself against the onslaught of sensations.

“Shh, just enjoy it......” he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. 

His hands slid down your sides, firm but gentle as they gripped your thighs. Without hesitation, he lifted you effortlessly, pressing your back against the wall. The rough texture scraped against your coat, but you barely noticed, too focused on the way his body pressed into yours.

His strength always caught you off guard, even after all this time together. Your eager legs wrapped instinctively around his waist, your heels digging into his lower back. His hands gripped your thighs, spreading you open as he stepped between them, his body fitting against yours like a missing piece.

“Babe!” you breathed again, the sound barely audible over the pounding of your heart.

He kissed you like a man starved, his lips leaving your neck to reclaim your mouth. The intensity of it stole the air from your lungs, leaving you dizzy and clinging to him. He was hungry, perhaps even more than you were. But you had expected that. He has a habit of yearning to touch you a lot.

“I hate not being able to touch you, with all the schedules we fucking had.” he muttered against your skin, the words tinged with frustration and longing. “Hated every fucking minute of it……”

You tangled your fingers in his hair, the silky strands slipping through your fingers as you tugged him closer. “Then don’t stop, babe.” you whispered, the plea soft but desperate. “Cause….I need you badly too. I need you so bad in me—”

He growled softly, the sound rumbling against your throat as his touch shifted. One hand remained steady on your thigh, holding you firmly in place, while the other slid beneath the hem of your dress. His fingers were deliberate, pushing aside the delicate lace of your panties with practiced ease.

When his fingers slipped through your slick folds, a gasp escaped your lips, your head falling back against the wall. He groaned softly, the sound low and satisfied as he gathered your arousal, his touch teasing and unhurried.

“You’re already so ready for me, aren’t you, my darling?” he murmured, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear as his fingers moved with precision, finding the spot that made you arch into him.

The cold air around you was a stark contrast to the heat building between you, the quiet of the stairwell broken only by your uneven breaths and his whispered praises. It was reckless, indulgent, and utterly intoxicating—just like him.

“Kento, babe….oh!” you whimpered, your voice trembling as his fingers continued their unrelenting rhythm. Your hands clutched at his shoulders, nails digging into the fabric of his shirt as waves of pleasure began to build within you.

“Shh, darling.” he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear before trailing back to your neck. His voice was low and soothing, laced with a quiet intensity that only made your pulse race faster. “You’ll have to keep quiet for me. Can you do that?”

You nodded frantically, biting your lip to stifle the moan threatening to escape as he added a second finger. The stretch was delicious, his movements slow and deliberate, coaxing you higher with every stroke. His thumb brushed over your sensitive bud, and your thighs instinctively clenched around his waist.

He chuckled softly, his breath warm against your skin. “That’s my good little lover, hm? My only beloved darling.” he murmured, his praise sending a fresh wave of heat coursing through you. “So perfect for me.”

Your fingers slid up into his messy blond hair, tugging gently as your body arched against him. The rough texture of the wall behind you was a sharp contrast to the soft warmth of his touch, grounding you as he pushed you closer to the edge.

“Kento, please, b–babe….oh!” you breathed, the words barely audible as your head tilted back, exposing more of your neck to his eager lips. “M–more…..more!”

He hummed in response, the sound vibrating against your skin. “So impatient, aren’t you? Greedy too.” he teased, though his fingers quickened their pace, curling just right to hit the spot that made your breath hitch. “I missed seeing you like this, so needy for me.”

The heat pooling in your core intensified, your body trembling as the pleasure built to an unbearable peak. “I’m—” you began, but the words dissolved into a strangled gasp as he pressed his thumb harder against your sensitive nub.

“That’s it, pretty for me, so fucking pretty." He says, coaxing you like a pied piper. His voice was low and intoxicating. Everything about it just burns you as much as his touch did. "I’ve got you. Always.”

With one final stroke, the beautiful echo, that blossoming coil inside you just snapped, pleasure crashing over you like a tidal wave. Your body tensed, your thighs tightening around his waist as you buried your face in his shoulder to muffle the cry that escaped your lips.

He held you through it, his fingers slowing their movements as your body shook with aftershocks. His other hand slid up to cradle the back of your head, his lips pressing soothing kisses against your temple.

When you finally relaxed, your breaths coming in shallow gasps, he pulled back just enough to look at you. His eyes were soft, his gaze filled with a mixture of adoration and satisfaction that made your chest tighten.

“Better?” he asked, his tone light but tinged with affection.

You nodded, still too dazed to form words. He chuckled, adjusting his hold on you as he gently set you back on your feet. Your legs wobbled like jello against him, and he immediately steadied you, his hands firm but gentle on your waist.

“Careful, darling.” he murmured, his brow furrowing in concern. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, babe.” you managed, your voice breathless but steady. “More than fine.”

His lips quivered into a soft smile, and he leaned down to press a lingering kiss to your forehead. “Good.”

As the reality of your surroundings sank back in, you couldn’t help but glance around, the abandoned stairwell suddenly feeling far less private. “We should… probably get back, babe.” you said, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “It’s getting pretty late.”

He followed your gaze, his expression calm and unbothered. “Let them wonder where we went.” he said simply, shrugging off the concern as he adjusted his coat around your shoulders. "It's none of their business."

You opened your mouth to protest, but the mischievous glint in his eyes stopped you cold. He leaned closer, his breath warm against your ear as he whispered, “After all… I’m not done with you yet.”

Your breath hitched, and before you could respond, he was guiding you gently back against the wall. His lips found yours again, this time slower, deeper, igniting the fire he’d only begun to stoke. His hands trailed down your sides, their warmth chasing away the chill of the stairwell as he pressed his body firmly against yours.

“Kento, babe.” you murmured, a weak attempt to regain your composure, but he silenced you with a kiss that left no room for argument. 

“I missed you, a damn whole lot.” he said, his voice low and filled with longing as his hands slid to your thighs, lifting you effortlessly once more. "Like I always do."

Your legs wrapped around his waist instinctively, your heart pounding as the desire you’d both tried to suppress flared back to life. He pressed against you, the hardness of his arousal undeniable even through the fabric of his pants. The teasing grind of his hips against yours drew a gasp from your lips, and he smirked, his composure slipping just enough to show his need.

"Really....." Kento effortlessly whispered to you, his voice vibrating onto you like a wave crashing onto you at sea. "We shouldn't schedule much this New Year, hm? So we can be together."

"Hm.....Kento." You echo back to him, intoxicated by his touch. "'ake time....for me, okay? I'll.....I'll do the same."

“That's the plan already, you know?" he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear as he shifted, his hands tugging at the barriers between you. “Let me take care of you, like I always do.”

Soon after that, you could feel the wet, thick head of his member pressed against your entrance, the heat and pressure stealing the breath from your lungs. You gasped as he began to push in slowly, his movements deliberate, almost reverent.

It was too good, too damn easy to fall into a high to. You could feel the stretch inside of you, it made you so full. Everything about it was intoxicating, your body yielding to him as he filled you inch by inch, your walls clinging to every part of him like he was made to fit. 

It was like he was trying to make a home inside of it. Inside of you. And it just made you feel so good. A deep, guttural groan rumbled in his chest, his forehead dropping to rest against yours as he buried himself deeper.

“Darling.” he muttered, his voice strained and low. “You feel so perfect.”

You whimpered, your hands clutching at his shoulders for support as your body adjusted to the delicious fullness. The sensation was overwhelming, the slight ache quickly giving way to a heat that spread through your entire body.

“Kento.” you breathed, the sound a mix of plea and surrender.

His large hands gripped your hips, holding you steady as he pulled back slightly before thrusting forward again, the motion slow but unyielding. Each movement sent a jolt of pleasure coursing through you, and the friction only made you crave more.

“God, this is so…..you feel so good.” he groaned, his voice rough and filled with need. “You’re so tight. I don’t know how I’m supposed to go slow like this with you.”

“Don’t, babe.” you gasped, your fingers digging into his shoulders. “Don’t hold back.”

His carmel eyes darkened almost instantly at your words, a flicker of something primal overtaking his usual control. With a growl, he began to move in earnest, each thrust deeper and harder than the last. The sound of your bodies meeting echoed in the stairwell, a symphony of shared desire that neither of you could hold back.

The rough texture of the wall behind you only heightened the sensation, grounding you as he took you apart piece by piece. You could feel your back burn against the concrete wall as you throw your head back against it. His lips found yours in a searing kiss, his tongue claiming your mouth as thoroughly as his body claimed yours.

“Darling, my pretty baby darling.” he murmured against your lips, his voice ragged and desperate. “You’re mine. Always mine.”

“Yes, babe. Yours….O–oh…only! Only yours!” you managed to gasp, your head tilting back as he kissed along your throat, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin. 

The coil in your core once more tightens with every spark you feel as he pushes deeper over and over in a fast pace. Everything about the pleasure you feel keeps building to an almost unbearable peak. It just felt too good. He felt too good.

His pace quickened, his breaths coming in harsh pants as his control began to slip. One hand slid between your bodies, his thumb finding your sensitive nub and rubbing it in quick, precise circles.

You cried out, your body arching into him as the tension finally snapped. Pleasure crashed over you in waves, your walls clenching tightly around him as your release tore through you.

“Fuck, fuck. I’m close!” he groaned, his movements becoming erratic as he chased his own release. With one final, deep thrust, he shuddered against you, his body going taut as he spilled himself inside you.

For a moment, the only sound was your shared, labored breathing, the intimacy of the moment wrapping around you like a cocoon. His forehead rested against yours, his hands gentle as they smoothed over your thighs and waist, grounding you both.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly, his voice filled with concern despite the lingering haze of pleasure in his eyes.

You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips. “More than okay.”

He chuckled, pressing a soft kiss to your temple before gently setting you back on your feet. His hands remained steady on your waist, holding you as your legs wobbled beneath you. You leaned into him, your breath uneven, your body still humming from the intensity of what had just transpired.

But that wasn’t the end of it, of course. 

The hunger in his eyes hadn’t faded, and neither had yours. The raw desire that simmered between you was far from sated, and you both knew it. Kento’s hands lingered, his thumbs brushing soft, teasing circles against your hips as he studied your flushed face. 

“I just think that I…..” he murmured, his voice a low rumble. “I still want more.”

You barely had time to process his words before your lover’s lips were on yours again, roughly consuming you in a kiss that was as demanding as it was all encompassing. Your hands quickly found their way to his shoulders, pulling him closer to you. Your body instinctively responds to the magnetic pull of his, over and over.

“We shouldn’t…” you whispered between kisses, though your voice lacked conviction. “It’s going to make people suspicious.”

“Probably not.” he agreed, his smirk returning as his hands slipped under the hem of your dress, trailing up your thighs. “But repercussions are damned when we’re hungry. I can’t stop. I know you won’t too..”

The wall pressed against your back once more as he claimed you all over again, the cool stairwell air doing nothing to cool the fire that raged between you. It was reckless, but neither of you cared. Not here, not now. Hunger demanded to be fed, and with Nanami Kento, you were always insatiable.

After a while, you were both removed from the plane of normalcy and you were both panting with joyous weariness. He presses a kiss against your jaw as you keep a steady bite on his neck. He grumbles against you as he gathers himself from seeing stars. You follow him soon after. You released his neck and started kissing his lips once more. 

When you both found yourself satisfied, you both started to make yourselves as presentable as possible. Well, at least what remains presentable and salvageable for both of you. Kento ripped too much of your outfit as much as you did. Still, you both did not care. 

“We should get you cleaned up.” he murmured, his tone tender as he placed his coat on your shoulders and adjusted it tenderly on you, to keep you warm. “I’ll call my car and then we’ll just hop in there. We’ll go to my hotel, okay?”

You nodded again, your cheeks flushing as the reality of your surroundings began to sink in. But as he laced his fingers with yours and led you back toward the main building, you couldn’t help but feel a warm glow of contentment.

Of course, things too did not go the way you both wanted once again. You didn’t know that there were many SNS photographers  and gossip journalists waiting to catch some other celebrity in that area where Kento’s car was going to be. And that’s just how you were caught, not thinking about the logistics of it all. 

But how could you? It was New Years. 

You just got mindlessly blown with really, really, really good sex.

And you were together once again with your lover.

How could you think about anything else after all that? 

Now, back in the present, the two of you sat in the quiet of your shared apartment. Nanami Kento’s calm demeanor was a stark contrast to your frazzled nerves. You sighed, looking up to your lover who presses a kiss on your forehead.

“You know this is going to be everywhere, babe.” you said, gesturing toward your phone.

He set his tea down and leaned back, regarding you with a look of quiet amusement. “Let them talk, darling. It was bound to happen eventually.”

You groaned. “Eventually I didn't need to include hickeys and a ruined coat. And oh god….. was I leaking your cum?” 

You took your phone once again to inspect, but your lover took your phone with his free hand and put it away. You looked at him, almost sulky as one would look as a child. He laughs. He presses another kiss on your hair. Kento couldn’t help but smirk. Both acts had made your heart skip a beat. 

“You look good in my coat though. I could hardly care if my cum was dripping out, darling.” he said simply. “I’m pretty sure I look just as ridiculous. You mauled my neck so happily after that first round.”

“You  do look like you’ve been ravaged.” you shot back, though your cheeks burned at the memory. “I mean, it made sense at the time….I was hungry.”

“Hm, I don’t blame you.”

You sighed. “We’ll contact our PR and everyone later, okay?”

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and reached out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “Hm.”  he said softly, his voice filled with the steady reassurance you’d always loved about him. “We’ll be fine, okay? I don’t care as long as I am with you.”

You sighed, leaning into his warm touch. “I guess the secret’s out, huh?”

He nodded, his gaze warm. “I don’t mind. As long as we're happy together, I say let them say whatever they want.”

You blinked at him. “You think so?”

“Hm.” He smiles at you. “Because no one will truly know who you are to me. That’s only mine. They’ll have a headline, but I’ll have the whole spreadsheet.”

You feel like your heart is melting with his tenderness. “I love you. So so much.”

“I love you too.” He kisses your lips, smiling wider at you.

And just like that, the storm outside felt a little less overwhelming.

[seospicybin]

NEPTUNE.

Hyunjin x reader. (s,a)

Synopsis: In a distant future where an app can predict your death, a retired dancer and an ambitious swimmer cross path by chance. With their final day looming, they choose to share it together, finding unexpected connection in the fleeting hours they have left. (19,6k words)

Author's note: With this fic, I hope that you get to realize that no matter how small your achievement is, it matters. You are matter. Happy new year, everyone! ❣

In the distant future, death isn’t a mystery. It’s an appointment.

It started with a breakthrough—an algorithm said to be so precise it could predict the exact day someone would die. Governments called it progress, a tool to manage the chaos of an overburdened planet. They named it Mortem. What they didn’t expect was how quickly the app would seep into the fabric of life.

People stopped planning for the long term. Relationships became fleeting, careers lost their permanence, and calendars filled with expiration dates. Death notifications became part of the noise—just another alert blinking alongside weather updates and dinner reservations.

But Mortem wasn’t perfect. It couldn’t tell you the when—only the day. That meant hours, minutes, or fleeting seconds could separate you from the end. For some, it was a mercy. For others, a torment.

Tonight, the city pulses with quiet tension, as it always does. Neon lights flicker against a backdrop of endless skyscrapers, their glass walls reflecting a future built on progress and control. Somewhere, phones buzz softly, notifying their owners of an unchangeable truth: Tomorrow is your last day.

For those who receive the message, there are choices to make. Will they cling to the comforts of routine, pretending the day ahead is like any other? Or will they seek something different—a chance to hold onto life for just a little longer?

Two strangers will soon find themselves asking that same question. Their lives have never crossed before, but by the time tomorrow ends, they will have shared something no one else can understand.

-

5:00 a.m.

The alarm pierces the early morning silence, jolting Hwang Hyunjin awake. With practiced ease, he silences it, sitting on the edge of his bed as he stretches his long arms. His back arches slightly, muscles awakening as he bends forward to gather his thoughts.

The world outside is still cloaked in darkness, but Hyunjin is already lacing up his running shoes. A quick double knot secures them before he presses play on his playlist, music flooding his ears and sharpening his focus.

The crisp, cool morning air greets him as he steps outside. It stings against his skin, but he welcomes it, inhaling deeply as he begins to run. His strides are steady, powerful, each one cutting against the wind. His long, dark hair bounces with the rhythm of his movement, dampened slightly by the early morning mist.

After completing his route, Hyunjin stops by his favorite bakery, where the warm aroma of freshly baked bread envelops him. He orders his usual: a selection of warm pastries and a steaming cup of coffee to go. Back at his apartment, he settles by the window, the city stirring to life beyond the glass. He takes slow bites of his breakfast, sipping his coffee as the first golden rays of sunlight paint the skyline.

It’s moments like this, quiet and unassuming, that he treasures most. They remind him of the beauty in simplicity, grounding him before the demands of the day.

By ten o’clock, Hyunjin arrives at the training center, his focus razor-sharp. He begins with a grueling gym session, pushing his limits to strengthen his arms and back. The burn in his muscles is a familiar companion, one he embraces with resolve. Sweat drips down his chin as he finishes his final set, his determination unwavering.

But this is only the beginning.

Hyunjin steps into the aquatic center, the sharp scent of chlorine filling his lungs. In the locker room, he changes into a sleek pair of swimming briefs.

"How are you feeling, my man?" A friendly pat on his back pulls him from his thoughts.

"Excellent," he replies confidently, catching his reflection in the mirror as he adjusts his swim cap. His friend's grin widens, sensing the energy radiating off him.

"What's your current record?"

"For the 100 or the 200 medley?" Hyunjin asks, slipping the last strands of his hair beneath the cap."You know which one I'm asking."

"47.12." A proud smile curves his lips.

"Bet you can take it to 46 today," his friend challenges, tossing his shoes into his locker.

The words hang in the air, lighting a spark in Hyunjin. He doesn’t need the push—he’s already determined—but the encouragement fuels his fire.

Hyunjin steps onto the pool deck, his reflection shimmering on the surface of the water. Memories of his younger self flicker in his mind, the boy who first discovered the joy of being in the water. Back then, it felt like another world—quiet, weightless, serene.

That love hasn’t faded.

He dips a hand into the pool, splashing the cold water onto the back of his neck. It’s a small ritual, an anchor before the dive. His goggles are snug against his face, a protective barrier between him and the world above.

Hyunjin climbs onto the starting block, his heart steady, his goal clear. He holds the current record in the 100-meter freestyle, but today isn’t about records or accolades. It’s about pushing himself to the edge, chasing a version of himself he’s yet to meet.

The whistle shrieks, and Hyunjin dives.

The water welcomes him, enveloping him in its familiar embrace. Each stroke propels him forward, every kick slicing through the resistance. His body moves in perfect harmony, years of training reducing the act to instinct.

To Hyunjin, the sky isn’t the limit—it’s just the beginning. And soon, he knows, he won’t just swim among the clouds. He’ll soar beyond them.

-

8:02 a.m.

The studio is quiet, save for the soft creak of polished wood beneath your bare feet. Sunlight streams through the high windows, casting long beams across the mirrored walls. You breathe in the familiar scent of resin and faintly worn leather, grounding yourself in this sacred space.

This is how you always start your mornings: alone, warming up in the quiet before the day begins. It’s a small luxury, one you’ve come to cherish in a world that feels anything but certain.

You stand in the center of the room, your reflection poised and still. Slowly, you move through the routine, arms lifting, legs extending, muscles lengthening with every step. The rhythm flows from memory—an old habit, a comfort that never falters.

Then, it happens.

A sharp ping breaks through the silence, echoing off the walls.

You freeze mid-pirouette, your balance wavering. Across the room, your phone sits on the bench, its screen lit up with a single notification. For a moment, you don’t move. It’s not unusual for your phone to chime—messages from parents, reminders for classes—but something about the sound feels heavier this time.

You exhale, lowering your arms. Whatever it is can wait. You’ve always finished what you started, and today will be no different.

You push forward, completing the warm-up with careful precision. The movements are second nature, your body carrying you through muscle memory. But there’s a weight in the air now, and with each step, your focus frays a little more.

Finally, you stop.

The studio falls silent again as you walk toward the bench. Your pulse quickens when you see the notification’s source: Mortem.

You stare at it, your breath catching in your chest. The app sits there, waiting, the message unread. Tomorrow is your last day. Is that what it will say? Or will it be another date, far off in the future?

For a moment, you consider turning away. Dancing has always been your escape, your solace. Maybe one more routine will help you clear your mind.

You step back toward the center of the studio, muscles coiled and ready to begin again. But something stops you. A voice, faint but insistent, whispers at the edge of your thoughts: Face it.

Your hands tremble as you pick up the phone. You swipe the screen, heart pounding in your ears, and open the notification.

Your eyes lock onto the date, and for a moment, everything freezes. Confusion flickers in your chest, followed by the sharp pang of disbelief. You’d told yourself you were ready for this, that the day would come eventually, but seeing it spelled out so plainly shakes you.

And then, as quickly as it came, the chaos fades. You take a deep breath, grounding yourself as you’ve done countless times before. The truth is undeniable, and no amount of fear will change it.

You’ve made your peace with death. You always knew it would come soon. And now, soon is here.

-

3:22 p.m.

Dahlias.

Your mother’s favorite flowers. They stand out vividly against the muted tones of the hospital’s inpatient ward, clutched close to your chest as you make your way to her room.

It started with an ache—sharp and unrelenting—but she didn’t see a doctor until the nausea and loss of appetite became impossible to ignore. Six months ago, the diagnosis came: stage 3 pancreatic cancer. The doctor gave her six months to a year to live, and with every agonizing moment, you’ve come to understand why she wishes the end would hurry along.

But the notification she hopes for never arrives.

“Honey, I haven’t gotten my notification yet,” she mutters the moment you step into her room. Her voice is flat, a mix of irritation and resignation, as her eyes glance at the flowers in your hands.

She’s always irritable after chemo, so you don’t let her tone sting. Instead, you walk to the sink, filling a vase with water.

After the nurse checks her IV and blood pressure, you’re left alone with her. The silence isn’t new, but it feels heavier today.

“They said six months. Why am I still here?” she groans, struggling to adjust her pillow.

You hurry to help, carefully setting the vase of dahlias on the bedside table. They brighten the room immediately.

“They’re beautiful,” she finally says, softening just a little.

“I’m glad you like them,” you reply with a faint smile.

Your mother has always lived with vivacity. She wasn’t one for small dreams; she lived a thousand of them. In her teens, she wanted to be a singer. By her twenties, fashion called her, leading to an internship at a fabric shop. There, she befriended a chef who inspired her to pursue culinary arts. It was during that chapter of her life that she met a classical musician—your father.

And you.

Her dreams shifted then, morphing into family and love, and for years, she poured herself into creating a home filled with warmth. When your father passed, she found a new dream: becoming a florist. She turned it into a thriving business.

Until six months ago.

“Are you eating well?” she asks suddenly, her concern for you breaking through her fatigue.

You nod. “Yes.”

“What did you eat this morning?”

It’s a routine question, part of her new reality where food tastes like nothing. Asking you lets her imagine the flavors she misses.

“I had cranberry ciabatta from the bakery across the street,” you lie gently.

She hums contentedly, closing her eyes. “They make the perfect ciabatta.”

“Mom,” you say softly, taking her frail hand in yours.

“Yes, my darling?”

“What would you cook for your last dinner?” You smile to hold back the lump in your throat.

Her face lights up, pleased by the question. She’s always loved sharing her stories, and now they’re all she has left to give.

“For an appetizer, I’d make eggplant croquettes,” she says with a teasing grin.

“Mom, not the eggplant,” you protest, wrinkling your nose.

Her laugh is weak but genuine. “Okay, okay. How about scampi bruschetta?”

“Now that’s more like it,” you say with exaggerated approval.

She closes her eyes, envisioning her creation. “With thyme and lemon. I’d toast the ciabatta for five minutes—just enough for a crunch—and sear the shrimp with olive oil and a pinch of salt. Then sauté spring onions with thyme, lemon zest, and honey. Acacia honey.”

As she speaks, her voice gains strength, her enthusiasm igniting memories of her former self. Between recipes, she slips in anecdotes, turning her imagined last meal into a tapestry of her life.

You hang on every word because you know these stories matter. They are her, distilled into moments you’ll carry forever.

And yet, the cruel irony doesn’t escape you.

You were supposed to be the one holding her hand at the end, not the other way around. The thought pierces through your heart as you sit there, smiling at her stories. She has spent six months longing for death, only for it to come for you first.

She deserves to rest, to find peace after everything she’s endured. You would have done anything to give her that. But the universe is merciless. It has flipped the natural order, leaving her with the unbearable task of outliving her child.

The injustice of it sits heavy in your chest, threatening to choke you. How is it fair that the one who wants to die must keep fighting, while you—her child—are robbed of the chance to live?

By the time she moves to selecting drinks, her eyelids grow heavy.

“You’re sleepy, Mom,” you whisper, smoothing the duvet around her.

She nods, offering a tired smile. “I’m just a little tired these days.”

You watch her closely, memorizing every line of her face, every glimmer in her weary eyes. “You look beautiful today.”

Her smile deepens, faint but radiant. “I know.”

“You’ve always been beautiful,” you add, unable to stop yourself.

She chuckles weakly. “I look good with cancer, huh?”

You laugh softly, brushing a strand of hair from her face, committing her image to memory.

As you stand to leave, her hand clasps yours, pulling it to her chest. For a moment, it rests there, and just when you think she’s asleep, she lifts her other hand to pat your head.

“You’re a superstar,” she whispers. “I adore you so much.”

Those were her bedtime words to you as a child, and now they hit deeper, wrapping around your heart with bittersweet comfort.

In her eyes, you will always be her child, no matter how much of the world you’ve seen or what you’ve become.

As she drifts to sleep, you kiss the back of her hand, releasing it gently. You take one last look at her before leaving the room.

This isn’t goodbye. It’s not the last mother-daughter moment, either, because in life and in death, she will always be your mother.

For you, death isn’t the opposite of life. It’s simply a part of it.

-

6:16 p.m.

“46.92!”

The words ring out in the humid air of the locker room as Hyunjin’s friend pats his back enthusiastically. They’re both standing under the shower, letting the day’s fatigue wash away.

“I see a gold medal in your near future,” his friend adds, grinning.

Hyunjin can’t stop the smile that creeps onto his face. The thought of victory is intoxicating, the image of standing atop the podium almost tangible. He can taste it—sweet, like honey.

“Beers? What do you think?” another teammate calls out as Hyunjin turns off his shower head.

For a moment, he’s tempted. He deserves it, doesn’t he? Breaking his personal record, getting closer to his dream—surely, a small celebration wouldn’t hurt.

But discipline pulls him back. His body is his temple, and the bread he allowed himself this morning was already a rare indulgence.

“Not tonight,” Hyunjin says, his tone polite but firm.

“Next time, then,” his friend replies easily, shrugging it off as he heads for the lockers.

The others filter out, their laughter and chatter fading down the hallway until silence envelops the space. Hyunjin is alone now, drying his damp hair with a towel. He moves methodically, packing his bag, folding his towel, tucking everything neatly into place.

When he pulls out his phone, a cluster of notifications greets him. Most are messages from his teammates—congratulations, plans for the weekend, harmless banter. He skims through them absentmindedly until one notification stops him cold.

It stands out like a blot of ink on an otherwise pristine page.

Mortem: Tomorrow is your last day.

For a moment, Hyunjin forgets to breathe. The locker room feels impossibly quiet, the white noise of the air conditioning fading into nothingness.

He reads the notification again, hoping—no, praying—that he’s misunderstood. But the words remain the same.

Hyunjin’s legs feel unsteady as he forces himself to move, his bag slipping from his shoulder as he stumbles toward the pool. He steps onto the edge, the scent of chlorine sharp in the air. The water is eerily still, reflecting the overhead lights in perfect symmetry.

He looks down at his reflection, and what he sees isn’t the confident, ambitious swimmer who broke his record earlier today.

It’s someone hollow. A boy with dreams just out of reach, crushed under the weight of a cruel truth.

His fists clench at his sides as anger rises in his chest, hot and unrelenting.

“FUCK YOU!” he screams, his voice tearing through the silence, reverberating across the chamber.

The sound ricochets off the walls, rippling across the surface of the water. His reflection distorts, breaking apart into fragments before settling again, unfamiliar and unkind.

They say death comes at the right time. A gentle visitor, arriving only when it’s supposed to.

But that’s a lie.

It doesn’t care about dreams or sacrifices. It doesn’t care that Hyunjin has spent years of his life in pursuit of one thing, pushing his body and mind to their limits.

It doesn’t care that he’s so close.

And now, when victory is within his grasp, it will take everything away.

He closes his eyes, chest heaving as he fights to steady his breathing. The rage doesn’t subside—it sits in his chest, a molten core of grief and frustration.

Hyunjin knows there’s nothing he can do to stop what’s coming. But for tonight, he lets himself curse the unfairness of it all, his voice echoing into the void until there’s nothing left but silence.

For Hyunjin, death is a thief.

-

7:22 p.m.

Alcohol is never your first choice. You’re not a fan of the bitter aftertaste or the burn as it slides down your throat. But tonight, you need something to dull the ache.

Your phone lies face-up on the bar, the notification glaring at you like a cruel joke. It’s accompanied by offers—a funeral service arrangement, a hotline for counseling.

You stare at the screen, unsure how to even begin processing it all. Sadness feels too small a word for the heap of emotions weighing you down. Beneath the sorrow lies a sliver of joy at the thought of not having to endure another day. And beneath that, a fragile sense of relief that it will soon be over.

How do you explain that to anyone? How do you untangle that mess of feelings, let alone share them with a therapist?

The bartender doesn’t ask. He doesn’t need to. Your sadness is written all over your face.

An hour passes, your drink long since gone, and you finally decide to leave. The bartender approaches, not with the check but with a bottle in hand.

“Here,” he says, taking your empty glass away.

You blink at him, confused. “I’m ready to pay—”

“I’m not taking your money,” he interrupts, pouring liquid from three different bottles into a pair of shot glasses with precise movements.

It clicks belatedly in your mind—some unspoken gesture, one you wouldn’t have recognized if you didn’t spend most of your nights at home.

“May I ask what this is?” you say, eyeing the amber liquid as he slides the shot glass toward you.

“The Three Wise Men,” he says with a faint smile.

“And who are they?”

“Johnnie Walker, Jim Beam, and Jack Daniels,” he explains, gesturing to the bottles on the counter.

“Ah...” A small laugh escapes you. “Very wise indeed.”

He lifts his shot glass, holding it up in a silent toast. “Ready?”

You hesitate, your hand wrapping around the glass. “Any tips for this?”

“Don’t think. Just swallow.”

You nod, mirroring his stance.

“To the three wise men,” he says.

“To the three wise men,” you repeat, exhaling before tipping the shot back. The liquid burns all the way down, leaving a warmth in its wake.

“Whoo...” the bartender exhales, slamming his glass upside down on the counter.

You mimic him, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. “That was…” You pause, laughing nervously. “…something.”

He chuckles, leaning on the counter as his gaze sweeps the bar. “They say you’re either living to die or dying to live.”

The room feels quieter for a moment as his words settle.

He sighs, his voice softening. “But you know what? I only pity the living.”

The statement strikes you in a way you can’t quite articulate. You don’t want to die, not really. But the thought of living, with all its weight, feels far worse.

“Another round?” he offers, holding up one of the bottles.

You shake your head. “No, thank you. I haven’t eaten dinner, so I don’t think that’s… wise.”

“See? You learned from these men,” he teases, capping the bottle with a grin.

You pull out your wallet, sliding a card toward him. “At least let me pay—”

He steps back, hands raised in mock surrender. “Use the money to buy yourself a nice dinner, okay?”

There’s no arguing with him, so you reluctantly tuck your card away. “Thank you,” you say softly, your voice heavier with gratitude than the words can carry.

He nods, his smile kind. “Hey, I needed that shot too.”

You rise from the stool, glancing back as you sling your bag over your shoulder. “Have a great night.”

The bartender is busy with another order, but a few steps later, his voice calls out to you.

“See you on the other side,” he says, raising a hand in farewell.

For a moment, you pause, then nod, offering a faint wave before stepping out into the night.

-

7:45 p.m.

There's nowhere to go.

You’ve been walking aimlessly since leaving the bar, letting your feet lead the way. Your hands are stuffed into your jacket pockets as you stop at a crosswalk, waiting for the light to turn green. The thought of returning to your apartment, where silence lingers like an unwelcome guest, feels unbearable.

You could visit your mother again, but the idea of seeing her only to leave her forever—it's too much to handle.

There are so many things you want to do, yet none of them feel right.

The light finally turns green, and you step off the curb. But before you can take another step, something grabs your shoulders and pulls you back. A motorcycle speeds past, narrowly missing you.

Your mind goes blank. Instead of your life flashing before your eyes, everything shuts down for a moment.

"Come on!" a voice urges. A hand takes yours, pulling you across the street just as the light turns red again.

You don’t realize what just happened until you’re safely on the other side. Someone has just saved you. If they hadn’t stopped you, that motorcycle might have dragged your body halfway down the street.

You turn to look at your savior and freeze. He’s beautiful—stunning, even—and for a moment, you’re speechless.

"Are you okay?" he asks, his voice gentle but tinged with concern.

His words snap you out of your daze, and you hurriedly compose yourself. "Yeah, I’m sorry, I was—"

"No, no, it’s not your fault. That motorcycle ran the light," he interrupts, shaking his head.

Why are you apologizing? You should be thanking him. But when you look at him, the words catch in your throat, so you glance away. "Thank you… for, uh, earlier," you manage to say.

He smiles, and his eyes curve along with it, warm and genuine. But then his next words take you by surprise.

"Your death isn’t today, right? I’m pretty sure it said tomorrow."

You freeze again, alarm bells ringing in your head. How does he know that? You take a step back, suddenly wary.

Realizing he’s scared you, he raises his hands in a gesture of surrender. "I’m sorry—I should’ve explained first."

He lowers his hands and exhales before continuing, "I was in the bar earlier. I accidentally saw the notification on your phone when I was getting my drink. And then I followed you..." He grimaces. "Wait, that makes me sound like a creep."

He stops rambling and pulls his phone from his jacket pocket, tapping the screen until it lights up. He turns it toward you, revealing a notification identical to yours.

His death is tomorrow, too.

"I guess we’re doomed, huh?" he says with a shrug, his tone oddly lighthearted.

You’re at a loss for words, staring at the screen and then at him. How is it possible that someone like him—this beautiful, radiant man—is doomed?

He puts his phone away and looks at you earnestly. "I know this is sudden, and random, and... probably really weird. But do you want to have dinner with me?"

It is sudden, random, and undeniably strange. But as you look at him—this stranger who saved your life—one thought crosses your mind: What’s the worst that could happen?

You’re going to be dead in a matter of hours anyway.

"Okay," you say.

-

08:10 p.m.

The two of you decide to walk to dinner, hands tucked into your jacket pockets, his adjusting his beanie every few steps. He finally breaks the silence as you pass the second block from where you met.

"I'm Hyunjin, by the way," he says.

You glance at him and give your name in return. When you expect the exchange to end, he extends his hand, and you shake it, feeling the chill of his skin against yours. His long fingers, adorned with rings, seem oddly delicate.

"Nice to meet you," he says with a small smile, pulling his hand back to adjust his beanie again.

“So... when did you get your notification?” he asks after a beat.

“This morning,” you reply, freeing your hands from your pockets now that the silence has been broken. “You?”

He tilts his head back slightly, lips pressing into a thin line. “Two hours ago.”

A strange feeling of unease stirs inside you, but he doesn’t let the conversation falter. “How do you feel about all this?”

“All this?” you echo.

He nods, waiting for your response. You search for the words, trying to name the whirlwind of emotions you’ve carried since the moment you opened that notification.

“I feel... alright, I guess.”

Hyunjin stops mid-step, turning to look at you with incredulity. “Alright?”

You shrug, unsure how to elaborate.

“You’re not angry? At all?” His tone sharpens, his brow furrowing in disbelief.

Angry? That hadn’t crossed your mind. There’s an odd peace in accepting what you can’t control, a clarity you never expected. You shake your head. “No.”

His eyes darken, and he mutters, “Well, I am.” He starts walking again, this time faster, his strides growing wide and purposeful.

“I’m livid,” he says through gritted teeth. “If death had a face, I’d punch it.”

You pick up your pace to match his, almost jogging, until he notices and abruptly halts.

“Are you okay?” he asks, his frustration dissolving into concern.

You nod, panting slightly.

He chuckles softly, his eyes crinkling into crescent moons. “Sorry, I tend to walk fast when I’m angry.”

The two of you fall into a slower, more deliberate pace, hands swinging at your sides. You want to ask what exactly makes him so angry, but before you can, he stops again.

“We’re here,” he announces, holding the door open for you.

You step inside and immediately feel out of place. The restaurant is elegant, full of people dressed to the nines. Self-consciousness creeps up your spine, and you spin around to look at him—only to bump into his chest.

“Sorry,” you mumble, looking down.

Hyunjin steadies you with a firm grip on your shoulders. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” you say quietly, stepping back to stand behind him.

“Table for two, please,” he tells the hostess.

She leads you to a table by a large window overlooking the city, the full moon casting a gentle glow over the skyline. As she places menus in front of you, Hyunjin mutters a polite thank-you, his attention already elsewhere.

You glance at him as he removes his jacket, folding it neatly over the back of his chair. He seems unbothered by the setting, completely at ease. He flips open the menu, his eyes scanning the options.

“Any ideas on what to have?” he asks, glancing up at you.

You fumble to open your menu, pretending to read it while avoiding his gaze. Finally, you lean forward and whisper, “Don’t you think we’re underdressed?”

He gasps dramatically, as if your words remind him of something crucial. Tugging off his beanie, his dark hair tumbles down, slightly damp and shiny, framing his small face. He ruffles it quickly, then shrugs.

“Steak? Pizza? Pasta?” he suggests, ignoring your question entirely.

You hesitate. When he offered to take you to dinner, you’d imagined a casual spot, maybe a pizza joint or noodle bar. Not this. And while you’re trying not to think about money, the menu’s prices make your stomach turn.

“I think we should go somewhere else,” you say quietly, your eyes darting over the options.

“Why?”

“It’s... too expensive.”

Hyunjin laughs, low and amused. “Do you think I can’t afford it?”

You shake your head frantically. “No, no, that’s not what I meant—”

“I’m kidding,” he interrupts with a grin. Leaning forward, he drops his voice to a whisper. “Honestly? I can probably only afford a plate of pasta and garlic bread.”

Your eyes widen, but his sly smile makes it clear he’s joking again.

“Good thing we’ve got the pity card,” he says, leaning back with a nonchalant shrug.

You freeze, reminded of the pity card. It’s a small perk that comes with the notification—a free pass to almost anything, covered by taxes. A gesture from the system to say, “Sorry you’re dying soon—here’s a little something.”

But the thought of using it makes your skin crawl.

“No,” you say, shaking your head firmly. “Not the pity card.”

“Why not?”

You struggle to explain. “It just... feels wrong. I don’t want their pity.”

Hyunjin raises a brow. “Who cares? We’ll be dead in a few hours.”

Before you can respond, a waiter approaches to pour water and set down a plate of bread. Hyunjin thanks them softly, then turns back to you.

“It’s not like we’re taking their pity with us to the grave,” he says, lifting his glass. “So, what do you say?”

You glance at the clock on the wall. Four hours left. Soon, none of this—money, pity, pride—will matter.

“We only die once, right?” you say, lifting your glass awkwardly.

Hyunjin laughs, his grin lighting up his face. “We only die once,” he echoes, clinking his glass against yours.

-

8:20 p.m.

You're not much of a conversationalist, so Hyunjin takes it upon himself to break the silence, his curiosity about you driving him forward. He has a myriad of questions on his mind but decides to start simple.

"May I ask what you do?"

His question makes you look up at him, and after a moment's hesitation, you place your hands under the table and answer with a sheepish smile, "I'm a ballet instructor."

The pieces click into place for him—the flowy skirt, black tights, and your hair tied neatly into a bun.

"So, you're a ballerina," Hyunjin remarks, nodding thoughtfully.

"I was," you correct him softly.

He tilts his head, his brows furrowing slightly. "Was?"

"I'm retired," you say briefly, offering another shy smile.

Hyunjin blinks in confusion. Retired? You seem far too young for that. "May I ask why?"

You adjust the cutlery in front of you, your hand steady despite the weight of your words. "I got into an accident a couple of years ago. I badly injured my leg, and the doctor insisted I stop dancing if I wanted to keep walking..." Your voice trails off, and your lips curve into a sad smile as you avert your gaze.

The weight of your story hits him. He can empathize with the sense of loss; after all, his situation is eerily similar. You had to give up your passion because of an accident, while he faces an abrupt end because of the ticking clock. Both of you are here, grappling with the unfairness of it all on what could be your final hours.

"It's like that saying," you continue, "‘Those who can, do. Those who can't, teach.’ So that’s what I’m doing now." You tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear and flash him a reassuring smile, but Hyunjin isn’t convinced. He recognizes the facade; he’s worn it himself.

"And you're not mad about it?" he asks, fully aware he might be treading into private territory.

"I was, for a long time. But eventually, I realized there’s no point in drowning myself in anger."

This time, your smile is different—genuine, even serene. It’s as if you’ve made peace with the cruelty of life, embracing it with quiet strength. Hyunjin admires it, though he knows how hard it must’ve been for you to reach that place.

He takes a breath and shifts the conversation, sensing the need to lighten the mood. "So, you’re teaching at a dance company?"

"A dance academy," you correct him with a nod. "I teach girls between the ages of seven and sixteen."

He can picture it easily—you, guiding a room full of eager young dancers, patient and warm. You probably make their favorite teacher list without even trying.

"And what about you?" you ask, lifting your glass of water for a sip.

"I'm an athlete," he replies.

"Ah..." you murmur, intrigued. "What sport?"

"Take a guess," he says with a playful grin, leaning back in his seat.

Your laughter fills the air, and you give him a once-over, your eyes narrowing as you search for clues. After a moment of deliberation, you venture, "You’re tall and lean so... basketball?."

Hyunjin chuckles, pleased with the compliment but shakes his head. "Nope."

You purse your lips in thought. "Soccer?"

"I like soccer," he admits, leaning forward, "but that’s not it."

You groan in mock defeat, covering your face with your hands. "I’m terrible at this!"

Hyunjin laughs, finding your reaction endearing. "I’m a swimmer," he reveals.

Your eyes widen in surprise. "That’s amazing!"

"I was scouted for the national team," he says, a hint of pride in his voice. "I was supposed to compete this summer."

The realization of his words hits him mid-sentence, and the excitement drains from his face. Summer is two months away—a future he knows he won’t see.

"That’s incredible," you say gently, your empathetic smile offering comfort.

Just then, the waiter arrives with the menus, saving the atmosphere from slipping into melancholy.

"Would you like to order some wine?" the waiter asks, presenting a list.

You scan the menu and suggest, "I think I’ll have white wine."

Hyunjin glances over the options, muttering to himself, "Vanilla and peach... sounds nice."

"Viognier, sir?" the waiter recommends.

Hyunjin looks to you for approval, and your small nod seals the deal. "We’ll have that," he says.

The wine arrives alongside your meals, and the two of you fall into a rhythm of eating, sipping, and conversing between bites.

"How long have you been swimming?" you ask.

"Since I was eight," he replies, pausing to take a sip of wine.

"Wow. I didn’t even realize I wanted to be a ballerina until I was twelve," you admit.

He’s struck by how much more at ease you seem now, whether it’s the wine or simply warming up to him. "What did you want to be before that?"

"A lot of things. An astronaut, a doctor, a ventriloquist..." You pause, your cheeks flushing with a laugh. "A vampire slayer."

Hyunjin bursts into laughter, shaking his head in disbelief. "You really wanted to be everything."

"My mom broke my heart when she said I couldn’t be a vampire slayer," you say, your expression deadly serious.

"Honestly? I’d be sad too," he jokes, grinning.

You lean in, lowering your voice as if sharing a secret. "Then she told me this: ‘It’s okay if you can’t achieve your dream. You can always go back to sleep and live a new dream.’"

Your laughter carries across the table, and Hyunjin smiles faintly, though the sentiment hits too close to home. Finding a new dream is one thing—but having the time to chase it is another entirely.

You finish your meal and dab your lips with a napkin. "The academy I teach at isn’t far from here, just a few blocks away. I actually have to stop by to grab a few things."

You glance at him, your expression soft. "Do you want to come with me?"

The invitation catches him off guard, but the warmth behind it makes it impossible to refuse.

"I’d love to," Hyunjin answers, smiling. For a fleeting moment, he feels less alone in facing the inevitable—because now, at least, he has a friend.

-

09:15 p.m.

"We'd like to pay with this," Hyunjin slides his phone across the table to the waiter.

The waiter studies the screen for a moment. You can see the subtle shift in his expression as realization dawns—Hyunjin's pity card, stark proof of his limited time, is what he offers as payment. The waiter looks back at both of you, his eyes softening, probably assuming this is some kind of farewell dinner.

He forces a smile and says, "We'll process it right away."

Hyunjin raises his eyebrows at you, a small grin tugging at his lips as if to say, Here it comes.

Sure enough, the waiter, taking a step away, turns back around and says solemnly, "We're very sorry."

Both of you burst into quiet laughter, your shared amusement breaking the gravity of the moment.

"That's one!" you tease, raising your coffee cup as if to toast.

When the waiter returns with Hyunjin's phone and the bill, his demeanor is still tinged with melancholy. As Hyunjin signs, the waiter fidgets slightly, clearly wrestling with unspoken words. In the end, all he offers is another subdued, "I'm very sorry."

You glance at Hyunjin with a smirk. "Two," you whisper under your breath.

The waiter departs, but not before the lady at the till calls after you as you're leaving. "Thank you, and we're very sorry."

The moment the door closes behind you, you and Hyunjin burst into unrestrained laughter.

"A hat trick!" he says, shaking his head, his hands tucked into his jacket pockets.

As you stroll to the academy, you find yourselves critiquing the meal like professional food critics, though the details blur in your slightly tipsy haze. The wine stands out—delicious enough that you’d kept asking for refills. Thankfully, the cool evening air helps clear your head by the time you reach the academy.

You unlock the studio door, the faint scent of wood polish and faint traces of rosin welcoming you. The dim overhead lights flicker on, casting a warm glow over the polished floor and mirrored walls. Hyunjin steps inside, his eyes widening as he takes in the space.

"This is where you work?" he asks, his voice tinged with awe.

You nod. "My second home."

Hyunjin walks around the room, his footsteps echoing softly against the floor. He pauses by the ballet barre, running his fingers lightly over the smooth wood. "This place is beautiful," he murmurs.

You smile, setting your bag down. "It has its charm, doesn't it?"

His gaze falls on the wall of framed photos—groups of smiling children in costumes, candid shots of performances. "Are these your students?"

"Yes," you say, walking up beside him. "They’re the reason I still love what I do."

Hyunjin glances at you, his expression soft. "I can see why they'd love you as a teacher."

The compliment catches you off guard, and your cheeks warm. Quickly, you motion to the barre. "Want to try something?"

He raises an eyebrow, intrigued. "Are you offering to teach me ballet?"

"Why not?" you say, grinning. "You’re an athlete. It’ll be fun."

-

10:25 p.m.

You stand in front of him, arms crossed, as Hyunjin tentatively grips the barre. His tall frame looks comically out of place in the elegant studio.

"Okay," you begin, stepping closer. "We’ll start with something simple—a plié."

Hyunjin looks at you skeptically. "A what?"

You laugh softly. "It’s just bending your knees. Easy."

Demonstrating, you lower yourself gracefully, your knees bending outward as your back stays straight. Hyunjin watches, nodding, and attempts to mimic you.

His execution is… not as graceful.

"No, no," you say, laughing, stepping behind him to adjust his posture. "Straighten your back. And don’t forget to keep your heels on the ground."

You place your hands lightly on his shoulders to guide him. The moment your hands touch him, he stiffens, looking up at your reflection in the mirror.

"Relax," you say softly, your gaze meeting his.

He swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing, and finally eases into the position. You step around to face him, studying his form critically.

"Not bad," you tease. "But your turnout needs work."

"What’s that?" he asks, genuinely curious.

You tap his knee gently. "It’s the angle of your legs. Let me show you."

You crouch slightly, your hands brushing his calf as you adjust his stance. He watches you intently, his dark eyes following your every move. When you glance up, you find him staring.

"Something wrong?" you ask, standing upright.

He blinks and shakes his head. "No, it’s just… you’re really good at this."

You chuckle, stepping back. "It’s my job."

Encouraged by your patient coaching, Hyunjin tries another plié. It’s still a little stiff, but he manages to get through it without wobbling.

"See? You’re getting the hang of it," you say, clapping lightly.

"Don’t lie," he says, laughing.

"Okay, you’re still stiff," you admit with a grin, "but that’s expected. Ballet is all about control and precision."

Hyunjin straightens up, rolling his shoulders. "It’s harder than it looks."

"Now you understand why ballerinas are tough," you say, playfully nudging him.

He laughs, the sound light and carefree. "Okay, what’s next?"

You hesitate, considering. "Maybe a pirouette?"

"A what?"

You demonstrate the spin, moving with effortless grace. Hyunjin stares, wide-eyed.

"Yeah, no," he says, laughing nervously. "I’ll break something."

You step closer, placing a reassuring hand on his arm. "I’ll guide you. Trust me."

As you position him for the spin, your hand lingers on his waist. The closeness brings an unexpected tension between you, and for a moment, neither of you moves.

"You ready?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

Hyunjin nods, his eyes locked on yours.

"Okay. One… two… three."

He spins—clumsily, of course—but the two of you dissolve into laughter as he nearly stumbles into you. You catch his arm to steady him, the laughter fading as you find yourselves standing mere inches apart.

"Not bad for your first time," you say softly, your hand still on his arm.

Hyunjin smiles, his gaze lingering on you. "Only because I had a good teacher."

-

10:55 p.m.

The quiet of the studio wraps around you like a soft blanket, interrupted only by the faint hum of the overhead lights. Hyunjin leans against the barre, watching you adjust your pointe shoes with practiced precision. The thought has been circling his mind since you both left the restaurant, but now, in this space that seems so deeply a part of you, he can’t hold back his curiosity.

“So…” he begins cautiously, his voice light but uncertain, “how did it happen?”

You pause, looking up at him with a flicker of confusion.

“I mean, your accident,” he clarifies quickly, his expression apologetic, as though he’s afraid he’s overstepped. “If it’s okay to ask.”

A faint smile touches your lips, and you straighten, leaning against the mirror. “Two years ago,” you say softly, the words feeling fragile yet certain, as if the memory lives just on the edge of your voice.

Hyunjin stays quiet, giving you space to continue.

“I was preparing for an audition—Swan Lake,” you say, your eyes shimmering with a mix of pride and pain. “I’d been working on my fouettés for weeks, trying to perfect all thirty-two of them. It was… everything to me.”

He can see it in your expression, the longing for something lost yet deeply cherished.

“The morning of the audition, I was rushing to catch the bus,” you continue, your hand gesturing lightly as though retracing steps from that day. “I was almost out the door when I realized I’d forgotten my shoes—the ones I believed would bring me luck. So, I ran back to get them.”

Your voice falters, and Hyunjin feels a pang of dread, already sensing what comes next.

“When I stepped out of my apartment building, a car came out of nowhere.”

You take a deep breath, your fingers brushing over the edge of the barre. “It wasn’t even going that fast, but the way I fell… My leg took the worst of it. Surgery, physical therapy… the usual.”

Hyunjin swallows hard, unsure what to say. “Do you… regret going back for the shoes?”

A soft, almost bitter laugh escapes you. “Every day.”

The silence that follows feels heavy and fragile, a moment suspended between reflection and grief.

“Can you dance at all now?” Hyunjin asks gently, his voice barely above a whisper, unsure if he wants to hear your answer.

You surprise him by smiling. “Why don’t I show you?”

Standing in the center of the studio, a quiet determination settles over you. The space transforms as you raise your arms, your posture suddenly regal, every movement deliberate and graceful.

“This is the introduction to Black Swan, Act III,” you say, your voice steady. “It’s what I’d prepared for the audition.”

Hyunjin nods, unable to take his eyes off you as you begin to move. You are mesmerizing, every gesture steeped in a passion he can feel even in the silence of the room. But as you transition into the fouettés, he notices the strain in your expression. Your balance falters, your leg wobbles, and before he can call out, you tumble to the floor.

“Are you okay?” Hyunjin rushes to your side, dropping to his knees as you prop yourself up on your elbows.

Instead of answering, you let out a loud, breathless laugh that echoes through the studio. You collapse back onto the polished floor, holding your stomach as the laughter spills out, unstoppable.

Hyunjin blinks, confused at first, but the sound of your laughter pulls him in. A small smile tugs at his lips. “You’re unbelievable,” he mutters, lying down beside you.

The quiet returns, the two of you staring up at the ceiling.

After a moment, you speak, your voice softer now, almost wistful. “Sometimes, I like to think there’s another me out there, one who made it to the audition, who got to live that dream.”

Hyunjin turns his head to look at you. Your expression is calm, tinged with longing but also a quiet acceptance.

“And you know what?” you continue, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’m happy for her and that’s enough for me.”

Hyunjin doesn’t know what to say, so he simply stays beside you, sharing the silence. There’s something achingly beautiful about your acceptance, the way you’ve found peace in the life you have now.

In that moment, he realizes how much strength it takes to smile at what could have been and quietly say, That’s enough.

-

11:13 p.m.

The studio falls into a comfortable silence, the kind that feels like a warm embrace. After a while, you sit up, brushing your hands over the smooth wood of the floor, and glance at Hyunjin lying beside you. He looks peaceful, almost lost in thought, but you can’t help the smile tugging at your lips as an idea forms.

“I showed you my dancing,” you say, breaking the quiet. “Now I want to see you swim.”

Hyunjin’s head turns toward you, his brows lifting slightly in surprise. “You want to see me swim?” he asks, his voice soft yet curious.

You nod, leaning back on your palms. “It’s only fair. I want to see you doing what you do best.”

For a moment, he studies you, as if trying to gauge whether you’re serious. Then, a small chuckle escapes him, and he pushes himself up to sit beside you. “Alright,” he says, a playful smile spreading across his face. “If you really want to.”

He rises to his feet effortlessly and extends a hand to you, his fingers warm and steady as they wrap around yours. With a strong tug, he pulls you up, but the motion catches you off guard, and your body stumbles forward, colliding with his.

Your breath hitches as you find yourself pressed against him, your hands instinctively landing on his chest for balance. Hyunjin’s hands settle on your waist, steadying you, and for a moment, the world feels still again—but this time, it’s charged with something unspoken.

You glance up at him, and your heart skips a beat when you notice his gaze lingering on your lips. The air feels heavier, your pulse quickening under his touch. His expression is unreadable, his eyes soft yet intense, as if caught in a moment of indecision.

Flustered, you look away quickly, stepping back to put some distance between you. “I should, um, clean out my locker first,” you say, your voice slightly rushed. “Then we can go.”

Hyunjin blinks, the spell broken, and his lips curve into a small, understanding smile. “Alright,” he replies simply, his tone easy and light, as though nothing happened.

You turn toward the studio door, your cheeks warm as you try to steady your racing thoughts. Behind you, Hyunjin’s footsteps follow quietly, his presence a steady comfort in the stillness of the room.

-

11:49 p.m.

As the taxi pulls up in front of the aquatic center, Hyunjin is the first to step out. The cool night air brushes against his skin as he circles around to your side, offering his hand to help you out of the back seat. You take it with a quiet "thank you," and he smiles softly in response, his fingers lingering for a moment before he lets go.

Inside, the center is quiet, the fluorescent lights casting a pale glow over the sleek, tiled interior. Hyunjin leads the way, his footsteps echoing lightly in the stillness, but after a few steps, he notices you’re no longer beside him.

He turns around, his brows knitting together in concern. “What’s wrong?” he asks.

You hold up your phone, its screen glowing in the dim light, and his eyes fall to the numbers displayed there. It’s past midnight. The date has turned, and the realization hits him like a weight in his chest—this is it. The day has come.

“It’s today,” you say quietly, your voice steady but tinged with sadness.

Hyunjin studies your face, searching for any sign of fear. “Are you scared?” he asks softly.

You don’t answer right away, your lips curving into a sad smile instead. Then, with a steadying breath, you meet his gaze and say, “Promise me something.”

His heart tightens at your tone. “What is it?”

“If my time comes first,” you begin, your voice cracking slightly, “I want you to move on. Keep going. Finish your day, okay?”

Hyunjin’s chest tightens, his head shaking before you can even finish the thought. “No,” he says firmly, stepping closer to you. “I can’t do that. Not unless you promise me the same thing.”

You hesitate, your eyes glistening under the soft glow of the lights. After a moment, you nod, your voice a whisper. “Okay. We’ll both keep going.”

He takes your hand in his, his grip firm but comforting. “We’ll do it together,” he says, his voice steady and resolute.

You smile at him then, soft and bittersweet, and he feels his heart ache at how brave you are in this moment.

Hyunjin squeezes your hand gently and tilts his head. “So,” he says, a small smile playing on his lips, “do you still want to see me swim, or is there something else you’d rather do?”

You shake your head, a quiet laugh escaping you. “I still want to see you swim,” you insist, your determination making his heart feel lighter.

He chuckles softly, releasing your hand and motioning toward the pool. “Alright then,” he says. “Let’s make this count.”

With that, he turns and walks with you into the aquatic center, the weight of the clock pressing on both of you, but your shared promise holding it at bay for just a little longer.

-

12:07 a.m.

The sharp, unmistakable scent of chlorine stings your nose as you step inside the aquatic center. The lights overhead cast shimmering reflections across the vast, still water, and you pause, taking it all in. The pool is immense, almost intimidating in its size, with the kind of quiet that feels both peaceful and eerie.

You walk to the edge, peering over cautiously. The water glimmers below, deceptively inviting, but as your gaze shifts downward, the sheer depth of the pool sends a chill through you.

“Can you swim?” Hyunjin’s voice cuts through the stillness, pulling your focus to him.

You shake your head, your lips pressing into a tight line. “No,” you admit softly. “I almost drowned once when I was ten. I’ve been afraid of swimming ever since.”

Hyunjin studies you for a moment, his expression thoughtful. Then, with a small smile, he says, “It’s not too late to learn, you know.”

You hesitate, your arms wrapping around yourself. The idea alone sends your pulse racing, the memory of water filling your lungs still too vivid in your mind. “It’s… not that easy,” you mumble, avoiding his gaze.

Hyunjin steps closer, holding out his hand to you. His voice is gentle but insistent. “Come with me. I can teach you how to swim… without the water.”

You glance at his outstretched hand, uncertainty swirling inside you. But the way he looks at you, so patient and reassuring, nudges you forward. Slowly, you nod.

“Alright,” you say, placing your hand in his.

He leads you to a smaller pool, its drained interior revealing its tiled floor. Hyunjin climbs down the ladder first, but the rungs don’t reach all the way to the bottom, and you watch as he drops the last few feet with an easy, practiced grace.

“It’s not so bad,” he calls up to you, extending his arms. “Come on. I’ll guide you down.”

You grip the ladder, your knuckles whitening as you lower yourself carefully. Hyunjin watches you closely, his gaze steady and encouraging. But as you near the bottom, your foot slips on the slick metal.

Your heart lurches as you lose your grip, your body tilting backward into the empty pool.

“Hyunjin!” you cry out, the name leaving your lips instinctively as panic seizes you.

For a split second, the world tilts and blurs, your breath catching in your throat. The feeling of falling stretches out endlessly, your chest tightening with dread. Is this it? Is this the moment everything ends?

The silence in the pool amplifies the rush of your heartbeat, drowning out everything else.

-

12:15 a.m.

It all happens so fast that Hyunjin doesn’t fully register the moment until you’re lying at the bottom of the drained pool, unmoving. A jolt of fear grips him as he rushes to your side, kneeling beside you.

“Hey,” he calls softly, his voice trembling. His hand hovers over your shoulder, unsure whether to shake you or give you space. Your eyes remain closed, and there’s no reaction. For a second, his breath hitches.

Then, just as his chest tightens with panic, you let out a low whine, your hand reaching for the back of your head. Relief crashes over him so strongly that he nearly laughs out loud.

“You scared me!” he exclaims, leaning closer as he gently brushes his fingers against the back of your head to check for any injury. “Does it hurt here?”

You wince but then immediately chuckle, brushing him off. “That would’ve been such an anticlimactic death,” you joke, trying to sit up.

Hyunjin lets out a shaky laugh, torn between exasperation and amusement. “I don’t think I’d recover from that,” he mutters, helping you up. To make sure you’re okay, he holds up three fingers with a mock-serious expression. “Alright, genius. How many fingers am I holding up?”

Rolling your eyes, you swat his hand away, a grin tugging at your lips. “I’m fine, Hyunjin.”

“You sure?” He narrows his eyes, clearly still worried.

“Yes, I’m sure,” you reply, waving him off. “Now, are you going to teach me how to swim or not?”

He laughs and takes a step back, gesturing for you to follow him to the center of the empty pool. “Alright, since you’re so eager. Do you have a swimming style in mind?”

“Uh… backstroke?”

“Backstroke, huh? Fancy choice.” He teases, listing a few others—freestyle, breaststroke, butterfly—all with a playful grin. Shrugging off his hoodie and tossing it to the side, he positions himself in front of you, standing tall and confident.

“Okay,” he says, holding his arms out in front of him. “Rest your back on my arms. I’ll guide you.”

You hesitate, your brows knitting together. “I don’t know, I might be too heavy—”

“Seriously?” He rolls his eyes and interrupts you. “I’m an athlete. I’m strong enough to hold you. Just trust me.”

Still unsure, you eventually take a deep breath and lean back, letting your weight settle onto his arms. His grip is steady, firm, and reassuring.

“See? No problem,” he says, his voice soft now, coaxing you to relax. “Alright, keep your body straight, like you’re floating on water. Flap your arms back and kick your feet forward, just like this.”

You follow his guidance, mimicking the movements, and he begins to move backward, gently carrying you along. It feels so real that for a moment, you let yourself believe you’re actually swimming.

But then your focus drifts as you glance at him—his sharp features illuminated under the pool’s dim lights, the concentration in his expression, the way he looks at you like you’re the only person in the world.

He catches your gaze and quirks a brow. “What?”

Flustered, you quickly look away, and your hand smacks against the tiled wall at the end of the pool. Startled, you sit up.

“Whoa, swimmer!” Hyunjin teases, his laughter echoing in the empty pool. “If this was real, your head would’ve hit the wall instead of your hand.”

You can’t help but laugh with him, the moment so lighthearted and surreal that it temporarily pushes the looming reality of the day out of your mind.

Hyunjin chuckles as your laughter fades, his hand brushing back his damp hair. The glimmer in his eyes is playful, but there’s an undercurrent of something softer, almost protective, as he watches you sit up fully, still smiling from his teasing.

"Alright," he says, crossing his arms. "You’re not bad for someone who’s never been in the water."

You roll your eyes but can’t help grinning. “Thanks to my amazing teacher, right?”

He bows theatrically. “Obviously. Natural talent helps too, but I’ll let you take some credit.”

You shake your head, standing up as you stretch your arms. “Well,” you say with mock seriousness, “now that I’ve impressed you with my not-so-real swimming skills, it’s your turn to show me what you’ve got.”

Hyunjin straightens, his grin widening. “Oh, you want to see me swim for real?”

“Of course,” you reply, stepping aside and gesturing toward the other end of the pool. “How else am I supposed to judge if you’re actually any good?”

He smirks at your challenge, the competitive spark in his eyes lighting up. “Alright, I’ll show you,” he says confidently, already pulling his hoodie back on. “But don’t blink—you might miss how fast I am.”

You laugh, following him as he leads the way out of the drained pool, anticipation bubbling in the air between you.

-

12:55 a.m.

The aquatic center feels almost otherworldly in its stillness, the faint scent of chlorine hanging in the air. When Hyunjin finally reappears, dressed in nothing but his swimming trunks, towel, and goggles in hand, it takes you by surprise. His tall, lean frame seems even more striking now, the hoodie he'd worn earlier having hidden the breadth of his shoulders and the defined lines of his physique.

You catch yourself staring, and before you can stop it, an awkward giggle slips out. Hyunjin tilts his head, confused but amused. "What?" he asks.

Shyly, you admit, "Nothing, I just— I was starting to get creeped out being here all alone when you went to change."

He chuckles softly, walking to the edge of the pool. He crouches to scoop water into his hand, splashing it onto the back of his neck before straightening up.

"I need to warm up first," he says casually. You nod, stepping back to give him space.

Hyunjin drops to the ground and starts doing push-ups, his muscles flexing with each movement. You’re mesmerized despite yourself, your gaze tracing the way his body moves with fluid strength. Feeling the heat creep up your face, you force yourself to look away just as he finishes, bouncing lightly on his feet to shake out his wrists and arms.

"Don’t blink," he says, smirking as he heads toward the pool. "I swim so fast, you might miss it."

Rolling your eyes playfully, you respond with a teasing, "I’ll try to keep up."

Hyunjin dives in, his body cutting through the water with ease. The rhythmic splashing fills the air, and you can’t help but admire him. Watching him move with such precision and grace, he looks almost otherworldly—like a god emerging from the sea as he surfaces and climbs out of the pool.

The sight of water beading on his skin makes you avert your gaze, your heart racing. Grabbing the towel he'd left behind, you hand it to him without meeting his eyes.

"What did you think?" he asks, running the towel over his hair.

"Eh, it was alright," you tease with a grin.

Hyunjin raises an eyebrow at your playful jab but chuckles, grabbing a stopwatch from his things. "Alright, critic. Let’s make it official. Time me this time."

"I don’t know if I’ll get it right," you protest, but he waves your concerns off.

"It doesn’t have to be perfect," he reassures you, securing his swimming cap and goggles. Once he’s ready, he asks, "You ready?"

You move closer to the pool’s edge, holding up the stopwatch. "Ready when you are."

Hyunjin steps onto the starting block, his form taut and focused. You start the countdown, your voice echoing slightly in the vast space. "Three... two... one!"

At the sound of "one," he dives in, and the water comes alive with his movement. Squatting down, you watch intently as he powers through the length of the pool and then back again, his speed almost unbelievable. The closer he gets to the edge, the tighter your grip on the stopwatch becomes.

When his hand finally slaps the wall, you hit the button, exhaling in relief.

Hyunjin surfaces, wiping his face. "What’s the time?"

You glance at the stopwatch, still catching your breath. "Forty-six point six-five," you announce, your voice tinged with excitement.

For a moment, Hyunjin looks puzzled, then his expression lights up. Dropping his towel, he strides over and lifts you effortlessly by the waist, spinning you around.

"Wait—did you break your record?" you ask, half-laughing and half-stunned.

He nods, grinning, but the elation fades quickly. As he sets you back down, his smile dims, his joy giving way to something more subdued.

"Hyunjin, what’s wrong?" you ask, concerned.

He shakes his head, forcing a small smile. "It’s nothing," he murmurs. Without another word, he excuses himself to wash up, leaving you alone with the faint ripples in the pool and a lingering sense that something deeper is on his mind.

-

01:08 a.m.

The hot shower does little to clear Hyunjin’s mind, the cloud of thoughts stubbornly lingering as he dries off and dresses. He sighs, running a towel halfheartedly through his damp hair before giving up and heading out.

The sound of his footsteps echoes softly as he exits the changing room, and he sees you standing by the bulletin board, seemingly engrossed in its contents. At the sound of his approach, you turn, your face lighting up with a soft smile. Hyunjin feels something warm unfurl in his chest—a comfort he hadn’t expected.

“You didn’t dry your hair properly,” you tease gently, pointing to the still-dripping strands clinging to his neck.

He rubs the back of his head sheepishly, and you tilt yours thoughtfully. “How about some hot drinks after this?”

Hyunjin arches a brow, a teasing grin spreading across his face. “Hot drinks, huh? I’ve got just the thing.”

The short walk to his apartment is quiet but companionable, and when Hyunjin opens the door, he apologizes for the small, bare setup. His apartment is modest and practical—one room with everything visible at a glance—but he doesn’t seem embarrassed, just matter-of-fact.

He heads straight for the kitchen, pulling out a bottle of whiskey from a cabinet. “This is what I mean by hot drinks,” he says, smirking as he pours two glasses.

You both take a sip, and the burn of the alcohol draws simultaneous gasps. Laughing, Hyunjin suggests snacks to enjoy the drinks with and disappears back into the kitchen.

While he’s gone, your attention is drawn to a shelf lined with photos, medals, and trophies. You step closer, taking in the collection of memories. There’s Hyunjin on a podium, his face glowing with pride as he holds up a medal; Hyunjin mid-dive, captured in perfect form; Hyunjin smiling so brightly that the photo seems to radiate his joy.

When he returns, balancing a plate of snacks, he pauses beside you, his gaze falling on the same shelf. For a moment, there’s silence, just the two of you standing there, and then Hyunjin lets out a soft sigh.

Hyunjin sets everything down on the small table, but his eyes linger on the shelf filled with memorabilia. The once-vivid memories of his accomplishments now feel distant, like faded photographs of a life that no longer feels like his own.

He steps closer, his gaze tracing over the medals hanging neatly on hooks, the trophies gleaming faintly under the dim light, and the framed photos of him on various winner's podiums. He can almost hear the echo of applause, the feel of a medal being draped around his neck, the weight of victory sitting proud on his shoulders.

But the applause has long since faded, and what hangs over him now is a heavier truth: it will all become nothing.

Hyunjin swallows hard, the realization pressing against his chest like a stone. Every record he broke, every trophy he held high—soon, none of it will matter. No one will remember him or the things he did. The glory, the pride, the recognition—it will all vanish as if it never existed.

He lets out a shaky breath, his voice barely above a whisper. “All of this... it’s meaningless now. Everything I’ve done—it’s nothing. Soon, it’ll all be forgotten.”

The weight of his words fills the room, thick and suffocating. His shoulders slump as he drops his gaze, unable to meet your eyes. For a moment, he feels like the water he’s so accustomed to—a surface rippling with movement, but underneath, a deep void pulling him down.

You stand beside him, quietly taking in his anguish. Finally, you turn to him, your voice steady, a soft but unyielding anchor against the tide of his despair. “I disagree with you, Hyunjin.”

Hyunjin looks at you, surprised by your tone.

“This is... your whole life and it shows that you achieved a lot of great, wonderful things. You can see how far you've become, your triumphs and failures, everything that makes you who you are now,” you say, your eyes locking with his. “And just because the whole world doesn't know how great you are this doesn't mean it's nothing. This is not nothing, this is everything.”

He watches you intently, your words weaving through the storm of his thoughts like threads of light. For a moment, he feels the weight on his chest lift, just enough for him to draw a deeper breath.

It's true that his dream is to make a mark in the world, he wants to be remembered by the world but as he looks at you, Hyunjin realizes that it only takes one person to know what he capable of. He doesn't need the whole world to know that he's great, he only needs one that fully acknowledges him as one.

-

01:22 a.m.

Hyunjin's words linger in the air, heavy with vulnerability, and for the first time since meeting him, you realize just how deeply he craves to make a mark on this world. It isn’t just about the trophies on his shelf or the accolades he’s earned—it’s about the story he wants to leave behind, the proof that he existed, that he mattered.

You see it in the way his fingers hover over the medals, in the wistful look in his eyes as they trace the photos on the shelf. For all his confidence and charisma, there’s a quiet fear beneath it all—a fear of being forgotten, of fading into obscurity when his time is up.

“Hyunjin…” you say softly, stepping closer to him. He doesn’t look at you right away, his gaze fixed on a photo of him on a podium, his smile bright but distant, like a memory that no longer feels real.

You hesitate for a moment, unsure of what to say. But then, the words spill out. “You are something and you're a fool for thinking otherwise.”

That catches his attention. He turns to look at you, his expression unreadable, and for a second, you worry you’ve said too much. But then his lips part, as if he’s about to say something, and he stops himself.

Instead, he just looks at you. Really looks at you. And in his eyes, you see something shift—a softening, a quiet acknowledgment of your words sinking in.

You feel your pulse quicken, the air between you charged with something unspoken. “And I know that we'll go into oblivion soon,” you continue, your voice steady but quiet, “but I'm still here and I know, I know how remarkable you are.”

Hyunjin’s gaze doesn’t waver, and for the first time, you see him without the walls he’s so carefully built around himself. He takes a step closer, his hand reaching out as if to steady himself—or maybe you.

“I don’t know if I can believe that yet,” he murmurs, his voice so soft it’s almost a whisper. “But… thank you.”

The way he’s looking at you now feels different—like he’s searching for something, something only you can give him. And as the silence stretches between you, you feel the weight of it shift into something warmer, something that pulls you closer to him without either of you realizing it.

When Hyunjin leans in, it isn’t sudden. It’s slow, deliberate, as if he’s giving you every chance to step back. But you don’t. You hold your ground, your breath catching as his face inches closer to yours.

And when his lips finally meet yours, it’s soft, almost hesitant, like he’s asking a question he’s too afraid to voice aloud. But as you kiss him back, the answer becomes clear. For this moment, at least, he isn’t alone.

Hyunjin pulls back slightly, his forehead resting against yours, his breath warm and uneven against your skin. His eyes flutter open, and for a moment, you both stay there, caught in the stillness of the moment. His gaze searches yours, hesitant but vulnerable, like he’s waiting for something—validation, reassurance, or maybe just the courage to believe in himself.

Before he can say anything, you lean in again, capturing his lips with yours. This kiss is different, deeper, more intentional. You pour everything you want him to know into it—all the words he needs to hear, the things you can’t quite say aloud.

You are something. You are remarkable. You are a wonder, both in the water and outside of it.

Hyunjin responds immediately, his hands sliding to your waist, holding you like you’re the anchor he didn’t realize he needed. You can feel the way his lips tremble slightly against yours, the way his touch tightens just enough to keep you close but not trap you.

Through the kisses, you try to tell him everything you feel. That his achievements aren’t meaningless. That his existence isn’t something that will fade into nothingness. That even in the face of the inevitable, he has already left a mark—on you, on the world, on everyone lucky enough to know him.

His hands move to cradle your face, his thumbs brushing against your cheeks as if grounding himself in this moment, in you. His lips press harder against yours, the kiss turning fervent, desperate, as though he’s trying to absorb every ounce of comfort and affirmation you’re giving him.

You can feel the tension in his body begin to melt away, replaced by something softer, something more vulnerable. The world outside fades, leaving only the two of you in this small, quiet space.

When you finally pull back, it’s not far—just enough to catch your breath. Hyunjin’s eyes remain closed for a moment, his expression unreadable, but when they open, they’re shining with something you can’t quite name. Gratitude, maybe. Hope.

“You’re…” he begins, his voice barely above a whisper. But he doesn’t finish. Instead, he leans in again, his lips finding yours once more, and this time, it feels like a promise.

The two of you melt into each other, the kisses growing slower but no less intense. You lose track of time, caught in the warmth and closeness, as if the weight of the world has lifted, if only for a little while. For this moment, at least, you’re both enough—just as you are.

-

01:52 a.m.

Hyunjin's forehead still resting against yours, his breath warm against your lips. His fingers trail softly down your arms, and his gaze locks onto yours with an intensity that makes your heart race. There’s no hesitation now, no doubt in the way he looks at you, like he’s trying to memorize every detail, every curve, every moment.

Without a word, he cups your face, his touch both gentle and steady, as if grounding himself in you. His thumbs trace slow circles over your cheeks, and you feel your breath hitch as his lips find yours again, softer this time, yet filled with a quiet yearning.

The world around you feels muted, distant, as he leads you toward the bed. The dim light casts soft shadows, and the room seems to shrink until it holds only the two of you.

“You're breathtaking,” Hyunjin murmurs with a low, sultry voice.

"Wait, wait. I'm..." you protest in breathless sighs, your hips arching, lifting off the bed.

He rushes a kiss on your open mouth, his lips graze yours as he says, "Let go. I've got you."

Your abdomen flexes under his arm as you clench around his fingers so hard it nearly pushes him out of you. His cock has never been so jealous than when you begin to come. Your eyes grow big, and your mouth drops open on a silent scream, and your wall clutches around his long, dainty fingers harder with each pulse.

Unreal. Hyunjin says in his head as he looks at you with a pair of big, lustful eyes.

"Look how gorgeous you are, coming on my fingers." He coos, his eyes traveling down your naked body that feels small in his arms. You moan louder in response and he knows he hits his mark.

Eventually, looking is not enough for him so he uses his free hand to touch you. "Look at your eyes, your mouth, your breasts. This soft, soft skin..."

Hyunjin softly smiles at your beauty as you fall apart around him. "So beautiful..."

You're still climaxing and you need this more than he realized. Which means you haven't had it in a while, at least not this good.

"Hyunjin!" You shriek, almost in a panic.

He presses his plush lips to your ear, his breath hot and tickling. "You look perfect like this."

Low moans are spilling out of you, still coming and struggling to breathe through it. Hyunjin curls his fingers and taps you right in the spot in a quick rhythm, and your eyes roll back a little.

"Good girl, keep coming for me. You're doing so well. That's it, be my greedy girl."

When you collapse onto the bed, he ushers you onto his lap, then cradles your spent body in his arms. As soon as he pulls his fingers out, your thighs press together.

"Don't close your legs." Hyunjin rests a hand on your inner thigh, wanting to see every spasm as he tastes your lips. "You're done hiding from me."

You lie side by side, and Hyunjin hesitates for a moment, his hand brushing a strand of hair from your face. His gaze searches yours, as if silently asking for permission, for reassurance. You respond with a small nod, your fingers reaching to trace the curve of his jaw.

When he leans in again, it’s slow, deliberate. His lips move with yours in a rhythm that feels like a conversation, one that needs no words. His hand finds yours, fingers interlacing as he presses you closer, as if trying to erase the space between you.

“At least, we don't have to worry about condoms,” Hyunjin makes a funny remark as he settles himself between you.

A chuckle escapes your mouth in response, your head falls back onto the pillow. “That’s one way to see it!”

Hyunjin lowers his mouth on you, his trail of kisses begin from your ribcage, he goes lower and sideways, placing kisses on your abdomen that tenses as his lips get closer to where you want him the most. He flashes you a sly smile before placing the gentlest of kiss on your clit. As if that isn't enough to make you wet, he lands a few licks between your folds and drags his tongue upward only to swirls it around your clit and finishes it with another kiss on your clit, briefly sucking at it before letting go.

“I'm going in, yeah?”

You nod in consent, opening your legs wider for him and trying not to stare too much as Hyunjin will only stare back at you, and you'll likely crumble under his intense gaze.

“Oh...” you bite back a gasp the second you feel him entering you, just the tip but you can already feel that his size is above average.

Hyunjin props his hands on each side of you, deciding to hover above you as he pushes the rest of his length by motioning his hips. In this proximity, you can see the way his pupils gradually dilated and his eyelids fluttering the more of him being inside you. Overwhelmed, Hyunjin throws his head back and pushes the rest of his cock until he's fully sheathed in your warm, velvety walls.

“Argh...” his moan raw and broken as if something wounded him.

The world feels suspended, reduced to just the two of you and the quiet rhythm of your breaths. His bare skin glows in the dim of the light, the contours of his body sculpted with an almost otherworldly beauty.

As he thrusts into you at a slow, steady pace, you reach up, your fingers tracing the elegant lines of his collarbone, the smooth expanse of his chest. Every touch feels like discovering him for the first time, each detail making your heart ache with something too profound to name.

“You’re staring,” Hyunjin murmurs, his voice soft, almost teasing, though a faint blush colors his cheeks.

“Can you blame me?” you whisper, your voice filled with awe as your fingers trail over the curve of his shoulder. “You’re so beautiful, Hyunjin.”

His lips twitch into a small, shy smile, but his eyes stay locked on yours, filled with an intensity that makes your breath catch. “You make me feel like I’m more than I am,” he says quietly, the vulnerability in his voice wrapping around you.

You shake your head, your hand sliding to the slope of his waist, marveling at how perfectly he fits into the moment, into you. “No,” you whisper. “You’re exactly as you are. And that’s perfect.”

He lowers himself slightly, his long hair brushing against your skin as his lips hover near yours. Your hands continue their exploration, tracing the ridges of his ribs, the softness of his hips, and the strength of his arms as they're now propped in each side of your head.

“You’re not real,” you murmur, your fingertips brushing along his jaw, marveling at how soft yet strong he feels. “You can’t be.”

Hyunjin laughs softly, the sound vibrating through both of you. “I’m real,” he assures you, lowering his lips to brush against yours in a kiss that feels as light as air. “But if I’m not,” he whispers against your mouth, “then I’m glad I get to exist in this moment with you.”

Your hand finds his face, cupping his cheek as you pull him down into a deeper kiss, your body pressing against his as if to anchor him to the earth, to you. And in this moment, as you touch and hold and feel him, you believe in the magic of him, in the impossibility made real, and in the fleeting beauty of this shared, perfect moment.

The rest of the night unfolds in whispers and warmth, every touch and movement filled with quiet intimacy. There’s no rush, no urgency, just the two of you discovering and rediscovering each other, as if this fleeting moment is all that matters.

Eventually, the room falls into a soft silence, broken only by the sound of your breathing. Hyunjin’s arm wraps around you, pulling you into the curve of his body. His hand rests lightly against your waist, his thumb drawing lazy patterns on your skin.

In the stillness, he presses a lingering kiss to the crown of your head. “You’re remarkable too,” he murmurs, his voice low and laced with sincerity.

A small smile tugs at your lips, and you nestle closer to him, your fingers brushing against his. For the first time, the weight of the day seems to lift, leaving only this shared moment, this connection, that feels infinite despite the inevitable.

-

02:59 a.m.

The early dawn filters softly through the curtains, casting a bluish glow over the room as you lay next to Hyunjin, your head resting on his arm while his other hand lazily traces small patterns along your back. His warmth surrounds you, and for a moment, the world feels still and quiet.

With a curious smile, you tilt your head to look up at him. “Hyunjin?” you call softly, your voice breaking the comfortable silence.

Hyunjin turns his head to the side and softly gazes into your eyes. “Yeah?”

“What would your perfect day look like?”

Hyunjin grins, a playful gleam in his eyes. “This,” he says, gesturing to the two of you tangled together under the covers. “Right here, right now. Best way to be found dead.”

You laugh and gently swat at his chest, shaking your head. “Stop saying things like that,” you scold, though the smile on your face betrays your amusement. “I want a serious answer.”

Hyunjin hums thoughtfully, his gaze drifting toward the ceiling as he considers. “Okay,” he finally says. “I’d start the day early, maybe before sunrise. I’d drive to this lake I used to visit when I was younger. It’s peaceful, surrounded by trees, and the water’s always so calm in the morning.” His voice softens as he speaks, a hint of nostalgia coloring his words. “It must be beautiful this time of year.”

You shift slightly, propping yourself up on your elbow to get a better look at him. “Is it far?”

“Not too far,” Hyunjin replies, turning his head to meet your gaze. “About two hours by car.”

A spark of determination lights up in your eyes, and you sit up, pulling the blanket with you. “Then let’s go,” you declare, your voice filled with excitement. “Let’s create a perfect day. It’s the last chance we have, so why not make it count?”

Hyunjin looks up at you, his expression softening as his lips curve into a tender smile. For a moment, he says nothing, just gazes at you like you’ve just handed him the world.

“No, let’s just stay here. It's perfect like this,” Hyunjin says with a sly grin.

You gently slap his chest and whine, hoping to put some senses into him.

Slowly, he sits up, leaning closer until his lips brush against yours in a kiss so gentle it feels like a promise. When he pulls back, his face lingers close to yours, his breath warm against your skin. “Okay. Let’s do it,” he murmurs, his voice low but steady. “Let’s go.”

-

03:25 a.m.

Hyunjin is scribbling something on a piece of paper when you return, holding two bags of snacks and drinks from the convenience store. The way his brow furrows slightly in concentration catches your attention, and you pause for a moment, noticing he's using your red hairtie to tie his hair into a low ponytail and engrossed on writing something on a piece of paper.

You step closer and knock on the windshield, grinning as his head snaps up, startled. His wide eyes make you laugh, the sound light and teasing as you shake your head. He rolls his eyes in mock annoyance but leans over to push the car door open for you.

“Need help with those?” he asks, already reaching for the bags in your hands.

“Thanks,” you say, handing them over as he places them neatly in the backseat.

“Did you get everything?” he asks, glancing at the bags.

You nod. “Yep, all set.” Then, reaching into your pocket, you pull out something small and hold it up. “Oh, and this,” you add with a smile.

Hyunjin tilts his head, curious. “What’s that?”

“For you,” you say, showing him the little star-shaped pin in your hand. “Your reward for breaking your time record today.”

His expression shifts, his gaze softening as he looks at the pin. A smile spreads slowly across his face, and for a moment, he doesn’t say anything.

Without waiting, you lean in and carefully attach the pin to the lapel of his jacket. “There,” you say, stepping back slightly to admire your work. “Congratulations, Hyunjin.”

He looks down at the pin, his smile widening, and when his gaze lifts to meet yours, there’s a playful glint in his eyes. “You're not going to kiss me?” he asks, his voice teasing yet warm.

You let out a soft laugh and lean in, brushing a quick kiss against his lips. But before you can fully pull away, Hyunjin’s hand comes up to the back of your neck, and he pulls you in for another kiss—deeper, slower.

You giggle against his lips, your laughter muffled between you, and he smiles into the kiss before finally pulling back. The warmth in his gaze lingers, leaving you breathless and smiling.

“Alright,” he says, settling back into his seat and starting the car. “Shall we?”

You buckle your seatbelt, excitement bubbling up as you nod. “Ready when you are.”

Hyunjin glances at you, his own excitement mirrored in his expression. “Alright, here we go,” he says, pulling out of the parking lot, the perfect day waiting just ahead.

-

04:11 a.m.

The hum of the car fills the air as you and Hyunjin drive down the winding road, the sun rising higher with each passing mile. You’re both relaxed, trading stories and laughing as a small mountain of snack wrappers begins to pile up between you. Hyunjin occasionally glances your way, his smile soft but constant, as if the moment itself feels too perfect to break.

Reaching into the bag beside you, you pull out a can of soda and hand it to him. “Here,” you say, passing it over without thinking.

Hyunjin takes it with one hand, his other still loosely gripping the steering wheel. As he shifts his attention to crack the tab open, the can slips from his fingers. The drink spills across the front of his t-shirt in an instant, cold liquid spreading like a stain across the fabric.

“Ah, shit!” Hyunjin exclaims, pulling the car slightly to the side as you grab a handful of tissues.

“Hold still,” you say, leaning over to help dab at the spill.

Hyunjin laughs, the sound tinged with embarrassment as he attempts to help, both of your hands awkwardly brushing against each other. “You’re worse at this than me,” he teases.

“Hey, it’s your fault for spilling in the first place!” you counter, trying to keep your tone light as you both focus on cleaning up the mess.

But then it happens—Hyunjin’s attention strays too long from the road, and neither of you notice the dog suddenly darting into the street.

“Hyunjin!” you scream, your voice sharp with panic as your hand instinctively shoots out to grab his arm.

His eyes snap forward, and his body reacts instantly. The tires screech against the asphalt as he slams on the brakes, the force jerking both of you against your seatbelts. The world feels as though it’s spinning for a second, the weight of the abrupt stop pressing hard against your chest.

The car comes to a halt just inches away from the small, trembling dog, its wide eyes staring at you through the windshield.

Your heart is racing, your breaths shallow and shaky as you sit frozen, staring out at the still figure on the road. Hyunjin grips the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles white as he exhales a shaky breath.

“Are you okay?” he asks, his voice low and thick with concern.

You nod numbly, your voice catching in your throat as you try to answer. “Y-yeah. Are you?”

He glances at you, his expression softening when he sees your trembling hands. “I’m fine,” he assures you, though his voice is quieter now, more careful.

The two of you sit in silence for a long moment, the sound of your racing hearts almost audible in the stillness. Then, Hyunjin glances at the dog, who scampers away unscathed, disappearing into the brush.

“I’m so sorry,” he says, his voice cracking slightly as he turns to face you fully.

You shake your head quickly, trying to reassure him. “It’s okay. It’s not your fault,” you say, though the adrenaline coursing through your veins makes your words waver.

Hyunjin’s hand hesitates for a moment before it finds yours, his fingers squeezing gently. “We’re okay,” he whispers, almost as if convincing himself.

You nod again, letting out a shaky laugh. “Yeah, we are.”

As the car slowly starts moving again, the tension lingers, but there’s a quiet understanding between you—a shared moment that feels heavier than words, as if both of you silently acknowledge how fragile this perfect day could have been.

-

05:22 a.m.

The car ride is quiet now, the earlier tension still lingering in the air. Neither of you speak for a while, each lost in your thoughts as the road stretches ahead. The sun begins to crest over the horizon, its warm light spilling across the landscape, painting the morning in hues of gold and soft pink.

You reach for the window switch and roll it down, letting the cool morning breeze rush into the car. It sweeps through your hair, refreshing and light, and you close your eyes for a moment, letting the sensation calm your nerves.

When you glance over at Hyunjin, he’s already looking at you, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. You can’t help but smile back, warmth blooming in your chest despite the chill of the breeze.

“Look at the sky,” you say softly, nodding toward the view. “It’s beautiful.”

Hyunjin tears his gaze from you, his eyes following your gesture. The sky is breathtaking, streaked with the first slivers of sunlight that break through the faint morning mist.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, his voice low and reflective. “It is.”

His hand leaves the steering wheel, searching for yours. When he finds it, he laces his fingers with yours and rests them gently on his lap. His touch is warm and grounding, a silent reassurance that everything is okay now.

Hyunjin keeps his eyes on the horizon, the soft glow of the sun reflecting in his gaze. “It’s beautiful,” he repeats, but this time, his voice is heavier, almost wistful, as if he’s savoring the moment in a way he never has before.

You tighten your hold on his hand, the simple gesture conveying what words can’t. Together, you sit in the quiet, watching the morning unfold, the world outside feeling peaceful and endless as the car moves forward.

-

05:40 a.m.

The car comes to a halt, and you step out into the crisp morning air. Hyunjin joins you, stretching his arms over his head with a satisfied sigh. You glance around, the scent of pine and damp earth filling your lungs as you take in the scenery.

After a short walk, the lake comes into view, and you gasp, unable to contain your amazement. The water is perfectly still, a mirror reflecting the sky and the towering trees surrounding it. The faint golden light of the morning casts everything in a dreamy glow. The trees, just beginning to turn with the season, stand like silent sentinels guarding this little piece of paradise.

“Wow,” you whisper, your voice barely audible over the soft rustling of leaves.

Hyunjin looks at you, his smile growing at your reaction. He reaches for your hand and takes it, his fingers warm and steady against yours. “Come on,” he says, leading you toward the water’s edge.

The two of you stop just where the land kisses the lake. You peer down at the water, its surface so calm it feels like stepping into a painting.

“It must be freezing,” you say, giving Hyunjin a wary glance.

He narrows his eyes playfully. “That’s what makes it perfect for a morning swim.”

You shake your head firmly, taking a step back. “No way.”

Hyunjin laughs, undeterred. “Trust me. Once you’re in, it’s not that bad.”

You laugh nervously, shaking your head again. “Hyunjin, I still can’t swim, remember?”

His expression softens, and he takes both of your hands in his. “And I told you— No worries, I’ll hold you.” His tone is earnest, his dark eyes unwavering.

Despite your protests, he’s relentless, coaxing you closer to the edge until you’re standing there, shivering slightly in your underwear. You grip his hand tightly, trying one last time to dissuade him.

“Hyunjin, I’m serious—”

Before you can finish, he sweeps you off your feet, his arms locking around your waist. You let out a startled squeal, clinging to him instinctively.

“Hyunjin, don’t you dare—”

But it’s too late. He steps into the water, pulling you with him. The cold shocks your body the second you make contact, and you scream, the sound piercing through the stillness of the lake.

Hyunjin doesn’t stop until the two of you are submerged waist-deep. You’re clinging to him for dear life, your arms wrapped tightly around his neck, your legs curling up to avoid the icy water.

“See? It’s not as bad as you think,” he says, his voice light with amusement as he looks down at you.

Your teeth are chattering, and you tighten your hold on him. “You’re right,” you say through gritted teeth. “It’s worse than I thought it would be.”

Hyunjin throws his head back and laughs, his warm breath misting in the cool air. The sound is infectious, and soon you’re laughing too, your voices echoing across the serene lake.

He then adjusts your arms around his shoulders and gives you an encouraging look. “Hold on tight,” he says, his voice warm with reassurance. You do as he says, gripping him as he begins to move through the water with ease.

The cold from earlier feels less harsh now, your body gradually adapting to the temperature. As Hyunjin swims farther from the shore, you cling to him, feeling the strength in his movements as he effortlessly cuts through the water.

“Not so bad now, huh?” he teases, glancing over his shoulder.

You roll your eyes but can’t help a small smile. “I’m still debating.”

When he slows down, you notice just how far you’ve come from the shore. The lake stretches around you, a perfect circle of serenity framed by towering trees. Hyunjin turns to face you, still holding you securely as you float together.

“Relax,” he says, his voice softer now. His hands guide you gently, helping you stay afloat. You take a deep breath and allow yourself to loosen your grip, trusting him.

The stillness of the moment washes over you as you look around. The world seems to fade away, leaving only the two of you suspended in the calm water under the open sky. The reflection of the trees and clouds ripples gently with every movement.

“Still as bad as you think?” Hyunjin asks, a playful glint in his eyes.

You shrug, pretending to be unimpressed. “It’s... alright, I guess.”

Hyunjin bursts out laughing, his joy infectious as it echoes across the lake. He leans in slightly, his arms finding their way around your waist. Before you can react, he pulls you down with him, both of you plunging beneath the surface.

The cold water shocks you as it rushes over your head, and you instinctively hold your breath. A moment later, you break the surface, gasping for air.

“Hyunjin!” you sputter, wiping water from your face. “What was that for?”

He’s already laughing, his wet hair plastered to his forehead. “You should’ve seen your face!”

You glare at him, about to launch into a scolding, but he interrupts by cupping your face in his hands and pulling you into a kiss.

Your protest dies on your lips, muffled by his. You try to hold on to your indignation, muttering complaints against his mouth, but his kiss is too warm, too insistent. Eventually, you give in, melting against him as his laughter hums through the connection.

When you finally pull away, Hyunjin grins at you, water dripping from his face. “Still want to complain?”

You shake your head, a smile tugging at your lips despite yourself. “You’re lucky I can’t swim away from you right now.”

“Exactly,” he says, leaning his forehead against yours. “That’s why I had to bring you out here.”

The water is cold, but in this moment, surrounded by the beauty of the lake and the warmth of Hyunjin’s arms, you’ve never felt more alive.

-

06:21 a.m.

The sun climbs higher into the sky, warming your skin as you sit on the smooth rocks by the shore, your clothes drying slowly in the gentle breeze. Hyunjin’s jacket is draped over your shoulders, a welcome layer against the cool air still lingering from your swim. You glance at him and murmur your thanks, to which he responds with a small, warm smile.

Opening a can of soda, you take a sip, the drink now lukewarm but refreshing nonetheless. You tilt your head toward Hyunjin. “So, what’s next on your perfect day itinerary?”

Hyunjin sets his can down and grins, his eyes lighting up with boyish excitement. “There’s this diner I used to go to. It’s not too far from here. They make the best waffles.”

“Waffles, huh?” you ask, raising a brow, though his enthusiasm already has you smiling.

“They’re amazing,” he insists, his hands gesturing animatedly. “Crispy on the outside, fluffy on the inside, with this maple syrup that’s just—” He sighs in exaggerated bliss, making you laugh.

“Alright, alright,” you say, holding up your hands. “I’m sold. Waffles it is.”

Hyunjin chuckles and shifts closer, his hand reaching up to brush a damp strand of hair from your face. His touch is gentle, his fingers lingering for a moment before he tucks the strand behind your ear. Without a word, he leans in, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that’s soft and slow, like the morning sun warming your skin.

When he pulls back, his smile is tender, and it makes your heart ache. “I'm glad I met you.”

“Me too,” you say back while placing your hand on his and hold it tightly.

The sunlight hits right on Hyunjin’s eyes, making them shine as he stares at you. You know you've only known him for barely a day but Hyunjin knows things most people doesn't know about you. He knows your prefers your flowers to be red than blue, he knows your dreams you never say out loud but you secretly wish to come true and that makes you feel significant to him as he is significant to you. You believe that is how Hyunjin going to make a mark on you.

“I’m going to take one more lap around the lake before we go,” he says, his voice quiet yet certain.

You nod, but before he can move, you catch his wrist, pulling him back toward you. This time, it’s you who closes the distance, pressing a kiss to his lips. It lingers, a silent plea that feels like it’s carrying the weight of everything you can’t say aloud. You wish for more time—just one more day, one more perfect morning.

Hyunjin seems to sense it, his fingers brushing softly against your cheek as he gazes at you, a bittersweet smile tugging at his lips. He leans in to press a featherlight kiss to your lips before pulling away completely.

“Don’t worry,” he says with a wink, his voice lighter now. “I won’t take too long.”

As you watch him dive back into the water, the sunlight catching on the ripples he leaves behind, you feel a fleeting, impossible sense of forever. For this moment, at least, Hyunjin makes you believe that forever is within grasp.

-

06:51 a.m.

The warmth of the morning sun wraps around you, its gentle rays brushing against your damp skin. The sky is alive with soft hues of gold and blue, a masterpiece unfolding before your eyes. Overhead, a flock of birds glides effortlessly, their formation cutting gracefully through the stillness. For the first time in what feels like forever, you allow yourself to marvel at it all—the simplicity, the beauty, the life you’ve taken for granted.

But the moment fractures.

You glance toward the lake, expecting to find Hyunjin slicing through the water, to hear the rhythmic splashes that have become so familiar. Instead, there is only silence. The lake mirrors the sky, undisturbed, serene, and empty.

A flicker of unease takes root in your chest. You scan the shoreline, your gaze darting to every shadow, every ripple. The stillness feels wrong now.

“Hyunjin?” you call out, your voice tentative, breaking the quiet.

No answer.

You step closer to the edge, the cool rocks pressing into your bare feet, your heart beginning to pound against your ribcage. “Hyunjin,” you try again, louder this time, but the name hangs in the air unanswered.

The warmth of the morning sun seems to mock you now, its gentle rays brushing against your damp skin as the sky stretches overhead, a canvas of soft gold and endless blue. The flock of birds that once felt like a sign of life now drifts aimlessly, their formation a cruel reminder of how fragile everything truly is.

You glance toward the lake, expecting to find him slicing through the water, his laughter echoing in the stillness. Instead, there is only silence. The lake reflects the sky perfectly, undisturbed, as if it had swallowed him whole and left no trace.

Your chest tightens. “Hyunjin?” you call out, your voice soft at first, hesitant to break the quiet.

No answer.

You step closer to the edge, the rocks digging into your bare feet as your pulse quickens. “Hyunjin,” you try again, louder this time, your voice trembling. But the name dissipates into the air, unanswered.

A flicker of unease blooms into full-blown panic. You scan the water frantically, your eyes darting across every ripple, every shadow. “This isn’t funny!” you yell, your voice rising with desperation. “If you’re hiding, just stop it and come out!”

Still nothing.

Fear grips you like a vice, and before you can stop yourself, you wade into the water. The cold seeps through your skin, biting and relentless, but you don’t care. You splash forward, the ripples spreading around you, as though trying to reach him through sheer force of will.

“Hyunjin!” you scream, your voice cracking under the weight of your fear. “Answer me!”

The water clings to you, dragging you down as if conspiring with your helplessness. You tread forward a little more, but you can’t go far. Your feet leave the ground, and you freeze, paralyzed by the sudden depth. You try to push forward, but your body resists—muscles locking up with the knowledge that you can’t swim.

Frustration and panic mix into a volatile cocktail in your chest. You slap the water with your hands, gasping for breath, tears streaming as you scream his name again.

“I can’t do this! Hyunjin!” you cry out, the words breaking apart into sobs. The lake offers no comfort, its silence an unbearable void. You flail for a moment, trying to search the surface, but every movement feels futile.

You cling to the thought of him, to his smile, his laughter, the warmth he carried with him like a shield against the world. But now, that warmth feels so far away, unreachable in the depths of the water.

“Hyunjin!” you cry again, weaker this time, the weight of your helplessness pressing down on you. You force yourself back toward the shore, stumbling onto the rocks as you collapse to your knees, breathless and shaking. “Please, don't— don't leave me...”

The water stills behind you, its surface reflecting the endless morning sky. You look out at it, broken and trembling, your heart refusing to accept what your mind is beginning to believe. It can’t be over. Not like this.

“Hyunjin...”

-

08:01 a.m.

The rocks beneath you feel sharp, unforgiving, but you barely notice. You sit there, knees pulled tight to your chest, your damp clothes clinging to your skin as you watch the rescue team comb through the lake. Every moment stretches painfully, the weight of silence crushing you with each passing second.

Your fingers dig into your arms as if grounding yourself can keep you from unraveling completely. Then, a shout echoes from the water. You see them—a group of rescuers—working together to pull a body from the depths.

Your breath catches in your throat.

They move with careful precision, carrying the body to shore in a black bag. You feel your body trembling uncontrollably as they approach. One of them steps forward, their expression solemn, as they lower the bag in front of you.

"Is this him?" they ask, their voice heavy with the weight of what they know must be unbearable.

You freeze, staring at the zipper of the bag, your entire being screaming to look and yet refusing at the same time. You can’t do it. You can’t see him like that.

But then your eyes catch something—a flash of red against the black. It’s your hair tie, wrapped around his wrist. You had given it to him, smiling at how absurdly adorable he’d looked wearing it. And now, it’s the confirmation you never wanted.

Your breath hitches as tears flood your vision. "It’s him," you whisper, the words breaking apart as they leave your lips.

Slowly, you reach out, your trembling hand finding his through the body bag.

With shaking fingers, you reach at the lapel of his jacket you're wearing and take off the star-shaped pin, the one you had given him just hours ago. It glints faintly in the sunlight, a small reminder of the joy he carried with him. Carefully, you place it in his palm and fold his fingers around it.

"Keep it," you say softly, tears dripping onto the bag. "It’s yours."

It’s cold—his hand is so cold it sends a shiver through you. But you hold it tight, pressing his lifeless hand to your lips. "Wait for me," you murmur, your voice cracking as the tears spill over. "I’ll see you soon, Hyunjin."

You step back as they zip the bag closed, sealing him away from you forever. The sound cuts through the air like a blade, leaving you raw and hollow.

The ambulance arrives, and they load his body inside. You stand there, watching, your hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jacket. As the vehicle pulls away, your fingers brush against something—a folded piece of paper.

Curious and aching, you pull it out and unfold it with trembling hands. It’s his handwriting, messy but unmistakably his. A list of things he wanted to do today.

Swim in the lake.

Watch the sunrise.

Have waffles for breakfast.

Visit the art gallery.

Hot cocoa at the park.

The last line reads, Buy roses for...

Your lips tremble as you remember the promise you’d made to each other—the promise to keep moving forward, no matter who went first. The memory feels like a cruel joke now, but as you stare at his words, something inside you hardens.

You swallow the lump in your throat, your voice barely above a whisper as you say to the empty air, "I’m keeping my promise, Hyunjin."

The ambulance disappears down the road, and you stand there, the morning sun casting long shadows around you. Still, you refuse to believe that Hyunjin’s gone. He is not, he just goes to sleep to live a new dream.

-

09:14 a.m.

You sit in the corner booth of the diner, the same one Hyunjin had gushed about just hours ago. The waffles arrive, golden and drenched in syrup, the butter melting into small pools on the plate. You take a bite, the sweetness coating your tongue, but it tastes hollow. Your chest tightens as you remember how Hyunjin’s eyes had sparkled when he described them to you, as though they were a treasure worth crossing the world for.

Now, it feels like swallowing shards of glass.

The drive back to the city is quiet, the hum of the engine filling the void Hyunjin once occupied. His note sits folded on the passenger seat, a reminder of the day you’re piecing together without him. You glance at it at every stoplight, as if his handwriting might come alive and guide you forward.

Your next stop is the art gallery. You find his favorite painting almost instinctively, a swirling masterpiece of color and emotion. Sitting on the bench before it, you let your mind wander. You picture Hyunjin here, standing with his hands clasped behind his back, his head tilted slightly as he studied the strokes.

"Do you see how the colors bleed into each other?" he would say. "It’s chaotic but still… perfect."

The memory slices through you, and you blink away the tears that threaten to spill.

From the gallery, you walk to a nearby café, the warmth of the cup of hot cocoa in your hands doing little to soothe the chill in your heart. You sit on a bench overlooking the river, the city split in two by its calm flow. The world moves on around you—people walking their dogs, children laughing in the distance—but you’re trapped in stillness.

You think of Hyunjin, of how he was alive and laughing mere hours ago. You think of his voice, his touch, the way he could make the ordinary feel extraordinary.

And now he’s gone.

For the first time, anger stirs beneath your grief. It rises like a storm, raw and uncontrollable. You clench the cup tightly, your knuckles whitening. How could death be so cruel? How could it take someone so vibrant and leave you tethered to feelings that have nowhere to go?

Death is so unfair. It takes the person, but not the love.

-

04:02 p.m.

The world has grown quiet around you, the buzz of the city dimmed to a distant hum as you sit alone on a park bench overlooking the river. The sun dips low in the sky, painting the water with hues of gold and amber. You clutch Hyunjin's jacket tighter around your shoulders, the scent of him still lingering faintly, a bittersweet reminder of everything you've lost—and everything you're about to gain.

The list he left behind is tucked into your pocket, crumpled and worn from your grip throughout the day. You pull it out, scanning the list. There’s only one thing left, unfinished: “Buys roses for…”

He hadn’t finished the sentence. You remember startling him as he jotted it down, and now the incomplete thought feels like a cruel echo. But you know what to do.

You find the nearest florist and step inside, the smell of flowers overwhelming you. "Roses," you tell the florist, your voice quiet but firm. "A bouquet of red roses."

They hand you the bouquet, the petals deep and vibrant, reminiscent of Hyunjin’s flushed cheeks and his soft lips. You trace a fingertip over the delicate blooms before asking for a card.

Sitting at a small table in the corner of the shop, you stare at the blank card. The weight of all you want to say crushes you, an endless stream of emotions that can’t possibly fit onto a single piece of paper.

Still, you write:

For what it’s worth, you showed me that there is such a thing as a perfect day. You made a mark on me, Hyunjin.

Your hand shakes as you finish the words. You close your eyes, taking a deep breath to steady yourself, willing the tears to stay at bay. When you’re ready, you fold the card and slip it into the bouquet.

You stand at the corner of the street, clutching the bouquet of roses close to your chest as you wait for the light to turn. The city hums around you, alive and indifferent, the world moving on as it always does. But your mind drifts elsewhere, carried away by memories.

This was the place you met Hyunjin for the first time. You can almost see him standing there, smiling like the world belonged to him. It feels like a lifetime ago, yet so vivid it could have been yesterday. You replay the moment in your mind, the way he held himself with an effortless grace, the way his eyes met yours and lingered, as if he'd been waiting for you his entire life.

The light changes, and the crowd around you begins to move. Lost in your thoughts, you follow them, stepping onto the street.

A distant sound reaches your ears—a horn blaring, tires screeching—but it feels far away, as if it belongs to another world. By the time you register the rushing car, it’s too late. There’s no time to scream, no time to run.

This is it.

-

06:11 p.m.

The world comes back to you in fragments: the cool roughness of asphalt beneath your body, the distant murmur of voices, the sharp tang of blood in the air. Your vision swims, but when it clears, the twilight sky is the first thing you see.

It’s beautiful, painted in hues of lavender and gold, with the faintest blush of pink at the edges. The sight feels distant yet oddly comforting, like a gentle reminder of where you are—and where you’re going.

Your body is heavy, the pain a dull throb that seems to ebb and flow, fading as the seconds stretch on. You’re dimly aware of the rose petals scattered around you, spinning lazily in the air with every gust of wind. They look like they’re floating, as if gravity itself has softened its grip.

You close your eyes briefly and feel something shift inside you—a strange sense of clarity. This is it. You know it, feel it in your very bones. This is your ending.

But there’s no fear. Instead, a deep, resounding calm washes over you, carrying with it the promise of reunion. Hyunjin’s face fills your mind, vivid and bright, his laughter echoing in your ears, his touch still lingering on your skin.

You force your eyes open again, taking in the petals that now rest lightly against your arm, the faint scent of roses mingling with the cool evening air. A soft smile tugs at your lips, even as your breaths come slower, shallower.

Death is not an end, you think. It’s a reunion. It’s a promise kept. It’s my happy ending.

Somewhere in the distance, you hear sirens, but they feel like they belong to another world entirely. You’re beyond that now. Your heart slows, the pain dulls, and in its place is an overwhelming sense of peace.

The light in the sky begins to blur, stars flickering faintly above as if welcoming you home. You can almost feel him, his hand in yours, his voice calling your name like a melody you’ve always known.

Tears slip down your cheeks, but they’re not from sorrow. They’re from relief, from the quiet joy of knowing you’ll see him again, touch him again, love him again.

As the world fades, you exhale one last time, your voice barely a whisper in the wind. “I’m coming, Hyunjin.”

And then there’s nothing but light.

-

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[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Shaken and Stirred.

I was really inspired by this fan art and was plagued by thoughts of a pathetic whiny lil meow meow 🥺 I don't drink myself, but I love the mature aesthetic of it and wanted to... write a drunken confession... to close off 2024...

… DON’T LOOK AT ME LIKE THAT OTL wait no please J WORD I CAN EXPLAIN

***Content warning: Alcohol consumption, though Leona is the only one drinking. (The legal age is 20 in Japan; I’m going to assume this for Twisted Wonderland.) Everyone else is having sparkling juice :v***

Imagine this…

"Feel like joining us for dinner? For old time's sake.”

The invitation had come so casually, the same way a housecat might drop a mangled rat or bird at your feet. To them, an easy, everyday act. To you, a surprise you weren’t quite certain how to feel about.

You didn't have plans for the evening, nor a reason to refuse, and while you were busy weighing the pros and cons, you found yourself strung along in their outing. Muscular arms wrangling you into the herd, boisterous yells welcoming you back. An honorary member, the Savanaclaw students had branded you, recognized by their king.

Now you sit in a barstool, fingers on the rim of a cup clouded with condensation, absentmindedly swirling its contents. Juice, its sweetness stifled by melted ice.

Some would call you a lamb willingly waltzing into a lion's den. They're wrong. You are no beast, but a curious observer of them. This is a prime opportunity for that.

It’s dim, the glowing jellyfish set low, faint lights swimming overhead. The music is loud, a departure from the Mostro Lounge’s usual soft jazz. The bass is even louder, rattling your bones like a set of steel drums. Rowdy patrons clink cups, chant at their friends to chug, belt out laughter straight from the bellies. You can barely hear your own heartbeat. The sounds of nightlife drown it out.

Jack lurks in a quiet, shadowed corner, his back against the wall. Muscled arms folded, he has assumed a stern stance but wears a small, fond smile in spite of himself. Ruggie has climbed onto a table, raising a jet-black card to the waiting mob. It’s their golden meal ticket.

“All-you-can-eat food and drinks on Leona-san! Long live the king!!” he roars, and the others echo his excitement.

“LONG LIVE THE KING!!”

You chuckle to yourself. First he rents out the entire lounge, then he decides to feed everyone for the day? How generous of him. Guess the big guy’s going all out.

You scan the restaurant in search of him, seeking out his familiar visage. Long, wild tresses. Sharp eyes, emerald flecked with golden flakes, like the sunlight shining through verdant leaves. The scar that speared his left side. A noble aura, his lazy feline grace.

Leona Kingscholar always sticks out in a crowd, commands too much attention with his mere existence. “That man is only good for his face,” Vil would bitterly hawk, “his only redeeming feature.” And he was right, to some extent. Tall, dark, and handsome are all apt descriptors for Savanaclaw’s dorm leader. Leona is all that and more.

Your pulse quickens.

His shape—you can’t discern it from the myriad of bodies collected in the lounge. A puzzle piece missing from the box of your most treasured memories.

“Looking for someone?”

The question is low and nonchalant, almost musical in its own right, yet you can so clearly hear it rising above the bumping bass. Your blood hums in anticipation, already knowing who the voice belongs to.

Leona has slipped into the open seat beside you, nursing an Old-Fashioned filled halfway with a strongly scented amber liquid. An orb of ice chills it, so clear cut you can see through to the other side. He sits with an effortless confidence upon his throne, as though he—not Azul—owns the damn place. You'd believe it too, from how the patrons are shouting his name like a mantra.

There’s no greetings to exchange. No need to.

"I think I've found what I was looking for," you tell him teasingly. “Nice of you to throw this little get-together. What’s the occasion? Don’t think I remember when you were in this good of a mood.”

“Who said I was in a good mood?” he grumbles, leaning onto the counter. “Didn't feel like being left alone with my thoughts tonight is all.”

“You, brooding? Never."

He makes a sound as if repressing a dry laugh. “You think yourself clever for an herbivore, don’t you?”

“Maybe. Not as clever as you, though.”

“Hmph. You really know how to stroke a guy’s ego."

It’s comfortable, this trading of quips. Safe. The conversation flowing so easily, like wine poured. It is the only true way you can stand on the same level as him.

Leona lifts the glass and downs the rest of his drink. From the way he winces, it must burn on the way down. You wrinkle your nose at the sharp smell that meets it. Earth spiced with hypnotic smoke and the acrid pang of sorrow.

“They serve alcohol here? I thought those jars on the shelves were full of tea blends.”

Leona scoffs. “If you know the right people and the right strings to pull. The cephalopunk said his establishment was more than happy to provide for me as long as I shelled out and signed some liability waiver.”

“… Does the headmaster know about this?”

“He doesn’t need to know.” Leona smirks, placing his newly drained drink down. Immediately, a staff member appears and replaces it with a fresh glass. “What’s he gonna do, anyway? Sue me? I’m of legal drinking age, and ‘s not like I’m passing out alcohol to minors”

“Unbelievable.” You shake your head in disbelief. “You’re so bad.”

“The worst,” he agrees sarcastically. “And you choose to keep me as company.”

“I’m but your humble accomplice, sir.” You jokingly salute to him. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep your secret. Rough day?”

He sighs in a way that gives the impression of saying, Like you wouldn't believe. But that tail of his swings back and forth like a patient pendulum, refusing to reveal his secrets. “This isn’t about me.”

“It literally is.” You pass a not-so-subtle glance at his second helping of whisky.

"I'm the host. It wouldn't do to bring down the festive atmosphere of this celebration with my feelings, now would it?"

You don't miss how he proceeds to take a swig right after his claim, how readily he consumes poison, even when it hurts him. Alcohol, insults. Pain, self-inflicted.

He has an arsenal of tricks and techniques to deflect—partaking in vices, one of them. Leona's magic rendered fortresses to sand, but he is an expert at building his own structures just the same. Studier, even. Imperious.

Attempting to scale the walls directly, you know, won't get you very far. Not when he has gone to such great lengths to guard his heart. There's a moat with leering crocodiles, barbed wire decorating the gates, a drawbridge firmly closed.

You attempt to breach the subject, toeing the line between testing his patience and challenging it. “What is it that you want then, Leona?”

He falls quiet, staring at the remains of his beverage. It’s like the sphere of ice the whisky swims with is a crystal ball, and he’s peering into it, seeking answers. His verdant eyes shift a shade deeper, darker.

When he’s solemnly silent like this, he’s contemplating. His next move in a game of chess, his next words in a debate. Plotting, scheming.

"A distraction," he declares at last, in that resolute tone he uses when he’s set on capturing a prize.

"A... distraction."

He nods, angling his head toward the noisy lounge. Ruggie is rallying some of the guys for a round of root beer pong. Jack’s trapped in a headlock, the hyena urging him to join in. They’re rowdy and ruddy from the exhilaration that comes with competition.

“Get my mind off of things. Take me away from all of this for a spell."

“How, exactly…?”

Leona drains his second glass. The server slides him a third. "Let's start with your day. From there, ramble about whatever.”

Amuse me, he seems to say, even if his mouth doesn’t. The twinkle has returned to his eyes, brightening them like the stars do the milky way.

You gulp, feeling compelled to obey.

Gathering your thoughts and wetting your lips, you begin. "This morning..."

The story opens like a newborn finding its footing for the first time: clumsily. Granted the space to expand, you do. Slowly, the conventions come to you. Balance, coordination. Each sentence is like a step, taken one at a time.

You run through your daily schedule and, reciting it out loud, you realize how terribly mundane it is. Classes, chores, chums. The usual. Worry flickers through you—Will he be satisfied with this?—but he only gestures for you to continue.

“Ah, so I picked up this new hobby recently…”

Leona props his face up on one hand, curled fingers resting against a cheek. He watches you with a look that isn’t quite predator on prey but isn’t quite human to human either. It’s intimate in a way that makes you feel exposed even when you avert your gaze, calculating enough to make you feel like a complex equation he has yet to solve.

“When something’s hard to get, it makes you want it all the more,” he had once told you. The memory surfaces like bubbles in a flute of champagne. Then it pops, fizzling away in a fine mist, and it is gone.

Moments like this are magic, you think.

You slip into a cadence, a rhythm. You lose count of how many stories you tell, how many whiskies Leona slams down in the span of them.

And still, the glowing green of his irises never seems to stray far from you. Vibrant and pulsating, like plants with heartbeats of their own, swaying in time with a stray breeze. Seeking something.

You don’t know if that concerns or thrills you.

"Ahahah…” You allow yourself a chuckle as you stretch in your seat. “This is so strange, isn’t it? I never thought I'd be rubbing elbows with a prince this time last year.”

Leona responds with a noncommittal “Mmmmm.”

He lowers his gaze to his drink number who knows?, his honey-colored reflection gazing back. When he blinks, his lashes seem to fall and flutter in slow motion.

You wonder what he's thinking, why he's thinking.

You reach for him. Carefully, gently, as if approaching a wounded animal. He is wounded--in that frightening way that leaves no visible marks, no scars.

"Leona..."

You hear your name being called before you can tap his shoulder. You look--there's Jack, waving at you. Ruggie has his hands cupped over his mouth.

"Wanna participate in an arm-wrestling contest? Jack's the reigning champ!"

"Oh, um--" you try to respond, to explain that you're preoccupied. The blaring music washes you out.

Ruggie makes a face of confusion and shouts again: "What?!"

You start to rise from your stool and turn to him, raising your volume. "I said..."

You stop. Your wrist is ensnared in Leona's grasp, cuffing you to the spot.

“… Don’t go." His command cuts through the noise, startling you with its softness, its contrasting clarity.

"It'll only be a second. It's too hard to talk over the--"

"You must've not heard me the firs'time," he interrupts, his words slightly slurring together, one melting into the next. Leona pouts like a child. "I’m orderin' you to stay. Stay here, with me."

"You've been awfully bossy today."

"Cuz you keep bein' a pain in my tail. How'm I supposed to..." The more the man babbles, the more confidence drains from his voice. His proud lion's roar shrinking and shrinking to a kitten's mewl. Tiny, vulnerable. "Don't go. Don't... leave. Everyone else has. They always do."

Non-sarcastic pleading? From Leona?

You eye him in concern. "Being serious for a sec, are you okay?"

He winces, like speaking or touching you is a considerable effort. You're set free, his body slumping as he lays down at the bar. His mane spreads out around him like a pool of chocolate. Leona cradles himself against the cushion of an arm, groaning into it.

Definitely not okay.

You pass Ruggie a firm shake of the head--a no to his offer--then settle back into your seat, returning to Leona.

"I'm here," you reassure him with a soft push against the middle of his chest. "See? I'm not going anywhere." Then you poke him on his forehead. "What's up? You're thinking of something."

He peers at you from behind an arm and snorts. "Thinkin' about how you run your mouth a lot."

"You told me to. I'm just following orders--don't you like that? You're so hard to please."

"I have high standards," he says simply.

"Well..." You lift a brow expectantly. "Am I meeting them?"

This manages to draw out a bark of laughter from him, however strained it sounds. He fixates on you, the start of a scowl upon his searching expression.

Assessing you.

“… Why?” Leona asks suddenly. No proper answer. Instead, an inquiry thrown back in retaliation.

“Why what?”

“Why d’you bother stickin’ around? Why d’you…” A pause, as if the verb that comes next is capable of killing if not handled correctly. “Why do you care so much?”

You shrug. “You don’t really need a reason to care about someone. Anyone with a heart would, right? You’d do the same for me or any of your dorm members.”

“And what do you know about heart?” He fumbles for his drink, but you slyly slide it out of reach. A growl of frustration. “All I got’s a big black hole where my heart should be.”

“That’s not true,” you protest stubbornly. “Your students say so many good things about their dorm leader. They all really look up to you.”

“Hah, as if.” He lifts his head and slams it on the table. “I failed’m. What good’s a king if he can’t produce results? What good’s tryin’ if all there is at the end of the tunnel’s darkness? Can’t even dispatch the damn lizard or beat ‘m at his own game…

You frown. “Hey. hey! Don’t talk about yourself like that… and stop doing that, you’re going to injure yourself.”

Leona doesn’t seem to register anything you say. He continues deliriously mumbling to himself, the alcohol having wiped away his inhibitions and all the cards he so often kept close to his chest.

“I never get what I want,” he complains, dragging himself up—but he sways and is forced to hunch forward on his chair, elbows on the counter for support. “Never, ever. No matter how hard I try, no matter how hard I work… It all comes crumbling down eventually.”

His hair covers his face the same way the strands of a weeping willow do. You can’t see what kind of an expression is making. Do you want to see it?

He’s sinking, you realize. The same claws that struggle for a firm grip on the rocky ledge he dangles from, the same claws that render enemies to ashes—they don’t help him against crashing waves, the swamp that drags him down, down, down, into its murky depths. No sunlight, no air.

“The crown… the interdorm tournament... love, respect, admiration... Everything slips through m’fingers like sand. It’s some cruel, sick joke. Must be m’fate as the prince with naught.”

“Leona..."

Is this what haunts you every time you're alone in your room? The thoughts that you're scared of visiting you every night... What you needed a distraction from?

“Get my mind off of things," he had said. "Take me away from all of this for a spell."

There's an ache in your chest. The dull, throbbing pain that comes at the end of reading a sad story. His story.

But it's not the end of it, right? It can't be.

Your fingers tangle in his tresses and brush them aside. From behind the curtain, he peers at you like some stray cat having retreated into its cardboard box. And you meet him without hesitation.

"... Hey," you manage. "I think you've had enough. You're starting to say all this... unkind stuff about yourself, and you're not having fun anymore. Can you walk? Let's get you back to Savanaclaw and have you lie down."

Leona sways slightly. Even drunk, his tone is haughty and shreds into you like claws. "You can't tell me what t'do."

"You're the host," you insist with a smile. The words are his, borrowed, sharpened, and repurposed in your possession. "It wouldn't do to bring down the festive atmosphere of this celebration with your feelings, now would it?"

He stares at you, eyes blown wide. Then his lids lower, lashes shading his view of you.

"Why... Why d'you hafta be like thish? This would be sho much easier if y'didn’t look at me like that."

"L-Like what?"

Leona inches closer. He usually smells of sun and soil, but all of that has been smothered by the reek of booze. Heat radiates from his face, flushed from liquid courage, and hits yours.

"Like there's still a chance for me." He speaks clearly and concisely, each syllable a brick laid out and sandwiched with mortar to the next. Pouring all his energy into them. "Like you still believe in me."

"Because I do. Is that so wrong?" You're unsure of the answer--a part of you, dreading it.

Leona counters with another question. It is tinged with anger, irritation. "Why can’t you be like the others and just give up already? It'd save you a lot of trouble."

"I can't bring myself to leave you hanging on the edge of a cliff. We all want a hand sometimes to lift us up when we're down, so... I want to be that for you. And it seems like you could use that hand to get you out of your troubles right about now."

His lip trembles. Leona's voice comes out huskily. "I hate that dumb, wide-eyed look of yours. So full of hope. When you look at me like that… it makes me think I might still be able to have you.”

“You already have me, dummy. I’m right here, remember?”

“No.” His gaze is intense, almost pulsating. He has a way of scrutinizing that lays you bare before him, pinning you in place and making you inadvertently squirm. “Not in the way I want you t'be.”

Your heart stops, as if he has seized it in his grasp. One squeeze, and he can crush it. It's a mercy he doesn't, even as you erupt into a flurry of confusion, an inferno engulfing you.

"What?" you whisper, scarcely believing your ears. "Wh-What do you mean by that...?"

THUNK!

His balance caves. Leona keels over, the weight of his large body toppling onto yours like a domino crashing into the next one in a sequence.

His head lands on your shoulder, neatly nestling into the junction of your collarbone and neck. Arms loosely snake around your hips, hugging them, his tail wrapping around a leg like a ribbon decorating a pillar. A throaty groan escapes him.

Panic bolts through your muscle and bone.

Your immediate instinct is to shove him off—but he’s heavy and inebriated, and it’s hard for you to fend off the warmth pressed against you. He’s not playing fair. Is he doing this on purpose? You shouldn’t be surprised; he never does.

His low purr tickles you, his breath feathering across your bare skin. He sounds half asleep, caught in that magical twilight realm between the waking world and dreams. “Is it okay… for someone like me to fall in love with someone like you?”

Love?

Four letters, one simple word.

Your surroundings dullen, the chatter and the laughter and the music floating far away. You become acutely aware of all of the places where he touches you, of every spot where you connect. There are so many people gathered in the lounge, but all you can perceive is him: Leona, Leona Kingscholar.

Your mind races, set to a frantic pace like wildebeests rampaging.

Love, the thing with wings that soars high above the clouds. Love, the golden light that brings life to the lands. Love, the wellspring so many drink from.

He feels all of that for you?

It feels like I'm dreaming. Am I dreaming?

"D-Do you really mean that, Leona?" You need to know. You must confirm it. "That you... love me?"

Silence.

“L-Leona…?” you stutter, lightly tapping his back. It rises and falls, rises and falls, like the tides lapping the seashore. Soft, at ease.

But not a response.

One, two, three.

Three seconds. Three seconds is all it takes for Leona Kingscholar to knock out--and he is out like a light.

The party and its twisted beat carry on, the bass blasting in your bloodstream, uncaring. And you remain, cradling a snoozing cat in your arms.

... Ah, seriously. How did it turn out like this?

Upset, annoyance--you think that these are, perhaps, what you're meant to be feeling in the moment. They are missing, not so much as a phantom present. Instead, there's an excitable fluttering that doesn't have a name to it yet.

You swallow, still slightly shaken. The confession, raw and revealing, stirring emotions you didn't think possible before. Emotions that burned red hot, with serrated teeth and talons.

A hand goes to the back of his head, stroking his mane and smoothing it out. It's comforting to him, you imagine, but it's comforting to you as well. Grounding.

You're here. He's here. The both of you are here, together.

There is it again, that unnamed, excitable fluttering kicking up back up. It fans out from your core, from your head to the tips of your toes. You feel like you're lighter than air, flying to the moon and playing among the stars.

He loves you.

Leona Kingscholar loves you.

The fingers trapped in his hair stiffen.

You draw out a sigh. It mingles with the music and stretches thin, a string of fabric pulled from a spool.

Until the clock strikes midnight… Let’s just stay like this for a little longer. That much would be okay, wouldn’t it? We can figure out the rest of the story once the sleepy prince wakes from his slumber.

[formulamar]

CONTROVERSIALLY YOUNG GF | PROLOGUE

max verstappen x femalereader

680 words

➛ disclaimer ➛

seven year age gap. please do not read if it makes you uncomfortable!!! completely fictional.

When you began to go out with Max Verstappen you anticipated for the news to make the celebrity gossip pages and cause an uproar among his fans. Afterall, it was Max Verstappen – four time world champion - you could hardly believe it yourself!

Miraculously, you and Max dated for six months without any interference from the media. It's not like your relationship was a secret or anything. Like any other couple you went out to the movies and dinned at nice restaurants. But early on in your relationship you discovered Max was a homebody, like you! So as you grew closer most of your time together consisted of hanging out at his apartment or yours watching movies or talking for hours. Still, everyone in your inner circle was astounded at how long you were able to maintain your relationship out of the media's radar.

Once you hit the six-month mark and it became clear to both you and Max that your relationship was serious you had a discussion about how outside discourse from the media would affect your relationship. Although you had only been with Max for six months you had witnessed how invasive fans and the media could be. You constantly saw articles discussing Max's private relationships with his family and his team. Every word, every action, every glance was examined and scrutinized. Max often joked that the more interviews he did the more he wished to move somewhere isolated and live out the rest of his days with you far from the judgment of anyone else. But you knew he loved driving too much to retire so early on in his career even with all of his success.

As always Max was direct, "The media is going to be annoying. They're going to make up the most ridiculous stories you've ever heard. Honestly, the best thing we can do is try ignore them as much as we can." You both agreed, the smartest decision was to take control of the narrative instead of running the risk of having your relationship leaked. So you decided to attend a beginning of the season Redbull event with Max. It was a well documented event and important media figures and photographers would be present. The timing was a bonus. Everyone was focused on the upcoming season and most of their curiosity was concentrated on the new car rather than the personal lives of the drivers. It was a perfect way to debut your relationship to the media.

That night approached quickly, and it would be a lie to say it wasn't one of the most nerve-racking nights of your life. As someone who wasn't famous it was intimidating to be exposed to that world. Luckily, your boyfriend saved you from overthinking. Max was reassuring and attentive the entire night. On the car ride to the event, he made sure to hold your hand and make casual conversation as if it were any other night. He also organized for you guys to enter through the back, away from the paparazzi. Throughout the whole night he barely left your side and when he did he made sure you were comfortable. These small details helped you stay grounded.

Overall, it was a good night. It was nice to finally meet members of the team who had such close bonds with Max. You loved hearing all the stories about Max's victories and his race weekend habits. It was obvious that his team adored him and that only confirmed what you had felt in your heart since the day you first met him -- he was a keeper. You and Max went home confident that you had beaten the media. What could they even say? Max was in a new relationship and he was happy. There was nothing else to it.

Except you made the mistake of glossing over a detail the media would never forget. Before you, Max had only dated women older than him. And you were six years younger than Max.

The next morning you woke up with a new identity. Max Verstappen's controversially young girlfriend.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌a/n: happy 2025 everyone 🫧 i had this idea… so i decided to go through with posting the first part. i’m thinking writing + social media posts! what do we think??? i’m open to suggestions so don’t be afraid to comment or inbox me!

[reginyani]

Midnight Moments | s.reid x fem!reader

summary: rossi host's a new year's eve party at his mansion, where you and Spencer have too much to drink, and end up going home together. this leads from one thing to another, and you somehow end up on top of him.

cw: 18+, mdni, fem!bau!reader, drunk sex, vaginal sex, praise, drunk!reader, drunk!spencer, making out, unprotected sex, dom!reader

wc: 3k

authors note: this honestly is pretty lazy i haven't written smut or any kind of sex fanfiction in SOO long.. im so used to writing fluff, and i'm sorry for this monstrosity. i swear guys I USED TO BE GOOD!! but anyways, i hope you like because even though it's not as good as i wanted it, it took a while!! (reblog if u did!)

gif: reidgif

It was unreasonably warm for a New Year's Eve in Virginia, and the BAU team decided it would be fun to celebrate the holiday of transitioning to the new year at Rossi's sprawling mansion. The living room was lit by twinkling lights from a chandelier, casting a warm glow over the polished furniture. The scent of rich Italian food filled the air, mingling with the sharper tang of champagne. Laughter filled the room, and the unusual lightness of the air was noticeable tonight.

 

It wasn't too often that the team was able to unwind together. In fact, it had been months since they had been able to be in the same place without the stress of a case hanging over their heads. The new year was only a couple of hours away, and for once, nobody there was thinking about the darkness everyone had to face so often.

 

But tonight, you had been thinking about something else, rather... someone else. Spencer Reid sat on one of the plush couch cushions near the fireplace, his legs crossed with a glass of champagne in his hand. His tie was loosened, his hair a bit tousled from the evening's past activities. It had been quite some time since he had allowed himself to truly be 100% indulged in a night like this. His mind was usually full of numbers, equations, random facts, and the weight of the world's problems. But tonight, there was something oddly freeing about him tonight, and you couldn't tell if it was Garcia's laughter in the background or the sense that the world outside didn't exist.

 

Beside him, you took a seat, and you couldn't help but think how undeniably sexy you found him tonight. Maybe it was the loose tie, the way his hair was messier than usual, or maybe the way he was actively engaging in the conversations more than he normally did.

 

After a few moments of quiet conversation with Spencer, a bottle of wine appeared. You both shared laughs over something trivial—maybe the third or fourth joke of the night—but before long, both of your glasses were refilled. You didn't mean to drink so much, and you usually never did, but with the glow of the evening, it felt like such an easy thing to do. Spencer, though, seemed way more relaxed and loose tonight than you'd ever seen him.

 

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" he asks, his voice a bit slurred, but his eyes still sharp.

 

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" you question back, smirking as you raised your glass. The night was still young, and if you knew anything about the people in this room, it was that they could always handle another round of drinks. But you never had Spencer like this, and he never allowed himself to be so vulnerable with drinking alcohol. So were you really sure he could handle another round of drinks?

 

Spencer hesitated, staring at his drink like it was something from a different world. But then, a slow smile formed on his lips. "Well, I guess if we're both doing questionable things tonight, I suppose I could join you." He raises his glass to yours and slowly raises it to his lips. In what felt like seconds, the liquid disappeared.

 

The evening had quickly turned into a haze of laughter, clinking glasses, and everyone telling increasingly exaggerated stories. Spencer and Morgan's ties were long gone, and it was quite clear that everyone the night had reached its peak when Garcia decided to stand on the coffee table and dramatically recite a version of Romeo and Juliet with a very confused Reid forced to play the role of Romeo. At some point, Morgan drunkenly broke into a dance when one of his "favorite club songs" turned on, blasting from the speaker, which he received tons of criticism from Prentiss on. Rossi sat back, watching the spectacle unfold with a smirk on his face.

 

But as the night got older, the energy in the room began to wane. The champagne and wine had clearly done their work, and now basically everyone was drunk out of their minds, groaning in exhaustion. JJ was leaning against Will, slowly nodding off, while Hotch, looking slightly tired, kept checking the time on his phone. It was way past midnight, which meant the new year had already come around, and it wasn't long before the decision was made that it was time to go home.

 

"I think I'll call it a night, everyone," Hotch said, his words slow as he got up from his seat, groaning slightly.

 

"Agreed, get out of my house," Rossi replied, smirking slightly. "I'm getting way too old for this."

 

Morgan, still grinning but very clearly less steady on his feet, clapped a hand on Spencer's shoulder, clearly startling Spencer as he flinched.

 

Spencer blinked a few times, trying to completely focus on Morgan and regain his composure. "Yeah... I just need to make sure I don't forget my keys." He fumbled around in his pockets, very clearly confused about the whereabouts of his keys. "I'll be fine. It's just a very... long walk back to my place." He groans.You laugh at his comment, standing up from the couch and helping him gather some of his things.

 

Garcia was already calling an Uber, the sound of her bubbly voice ordering a ride with Morgan in the background. Clearly, the idea sounded good to Spencer, because soon he was on the app ordering himself one. His hand clutched his phone with an almost desperate intensity, his brows furrowed in concentration.

 

"Do you... need help with that?" you asked, your words just a little slower than usual. You both were beyond drunk, and Spencer's face was flushed, his eyes glassy as he stared at the Uber app.

 

"I've got it," he said, his voice more clipped than normal. "I—uh, do I just... wait, Do I need to set a destination first?"

 

You tried not to laugh, but the sight of him furiously tapping on his phone, trying to figure out how he can summon an Uber, was enough to make you let out a hearty laugh. "Spencer, you've gotten an Uber before, right? You don't need to give them a whole speech on how to get you home," you said as he started to type a long paragraph in the 'extra details' section, basically giving the driver a shorter way to get him home, forgetting they have Google Maps.

 

"Right, of course." His cheeks turned a deeper shade of red as he looked over at you. "Okay, well, it's on the way..."

 

"Good," you lean against the doorframe for support, already starting to feel the warmth of the alcohol take over your body completely and start to cloud your thoughts.

 

"Can I come with you? I don't think me going home alone with an unknown driver this late at night is a great idea," you say to him, saying your words without completely thinking them through at first. Did you seriously just ask if you could spend the night at Spencer's place?

 

"Yeah, sure... that's fine." He answered, leaning against a wall, breathing heavily. Clearly, this was his first time being as drunk as he is now.

 

The Uber arrived soon after, and after saying goodbye to everybody, you both made your way outside, barely noticing the crispness of the air against your skin as you both climbed into the back seat. You settled into the leather seats, and Spencer quickly buckled his seatbelt, though he wasn't quite as smooth with his movements as he usually was. You did the same, your fingers fumbling to find the buckle for a couple of seconds.

 

As the car started to move, a comfortable silence fell between you two, only broken by the faint hum of the engine and the occasional creak of the wheels. The lights from the city blared into the window, making you squint your eyes and turn away from the window.

 

"So..." you smirked as you began to speak quietly. "Do you always drink this much at parties?"

 

Spencer shifted in his seat at the comment. He didn't meet your gaze right away, but after a second, he shrugged. "Not usually. I don't know, I just... for some reason it felt different tonight. I didn't really want to be that guy who spends the whole night hiding in the corner, not enjoying himself."

 

"Well, you sure didn't hide tonight." You teased, your tone a little more playful than intended.

 

He chuckled, and you could tell he was relaxed—more relaxed than you'd seen him in a long time. Maybe ever, actually. It was strange seeing it act so... human. It wasn't often you witnessed that.

 

"I guess I was," he said, his smile a bit lopsided now. "I think I needed that more than I realized."

 

You nod, agreeing with him silently. "You know, you're actually quite fun when you let loose," you said, the feeling of the alcohol kicking in more with each passing second.

 

Spencer's gaze locked with yours for a quick second before he quickly looked away. "Yeah?" His cheeks flash red once again. "I've been told I'm too uptight."

 

"Don't listen to whoever says that," you replied almost too quickly. "You're just being you, and that's a nice trait to have." You faced him fully, your voice lowering as you continued to speak. "But... I do like this side of you."

 

His lips parted, a bit taken aback, but he recovered quickly, a soft laugh escaping him. "Maybe the alcohol is really taking in, but... thanks. I think I might also like this side of me too."

 

You smiled, everything feeling just a bit hazy, but the sincerity in Spencer's voice made your heart skip a beat. Before either of you could continue to speak, the car rolled to a stop in front of Spencer's apartment building.

 

You both thanked the Uber driver, then climbed out of the car. The cool night air hit both your faces, and then you realized just how unsteady you were on your feet. Spencer quickly steadied you, his hands gripping your waist to support you. "You okay?" he asked, his voice suddenly becoming serious again.

 

You nod, blushing heavily at his hand placement. Your thoughts wandered, and he raised an eyebrow, confused by your zoning out. He snapped a finger, and you snapped back to reality. "Yeah, yeah... One step at a time, right?"

 

Spencer smiles, continuing to hold onto you. "One step at a time."

 

Eventually, you both make it to his apartment door, and he's still holding you up, making sure you don't fall.

 

He leans to flick up the light switch, trying to have as minimal movement as possible. When the light hits his face, you observe his features. His cheeks were flushed, his lips plump and parted, and his eyes slightly watery. Your drunken mind was in awe, finding him completely and utterly breathtaking. Why though? You never had before...

 

He looks down at you, smiling a bit before guiding you over to his couch. You both sit down, his legs stretched out in front of him. You kick your heels off, finally feeling the freedom of what felt like bricks taken off your feet.

 

A few minutes go by, the silence becoming unnoticeable. He starts to speak; his words are still slurred but sharp. "You know... I've always found it fascinating how people underestimate the power of silence. Not just the absence of sound, but... the weight of it. Do you ever think about that?"

 

You laugh softly at his words, finding his brain process oddly fascinating. If you were sober, you generally wouldn't be interested in his new weird random topic, but this time you were.

 

"You're drunk, Spencer. You're talking about silence like it's some kind of breathtaking quantum physics thingy." You reply, looking up at him with your eyebrows raised.

 

"It is!" he argues, furrowing his eyebrows. "But you're right. I probably shouldn't try to sound profound when I've had at least, like, 1 glass of champagne and 3 glasses of wine," he says, puffing up his cheeks.

 

You glance up at him again, a warm smile spreading across your face. His eyes, the look a little too soft tonight, and it's driving you nuts, making your heart flutter like crazy.

 

"Don't worry, you're smarter than me regardless. Even when you're drunk out of your mind."

 

Spencer's gaze softens, his eyes locking with yours for a moment that felt like forever. He shifts a bit closer to you, trying not to make it noticeable. But oh... it is.

 

"You think I'm smart? and... not annoying?" He asks, his voice quieter, as if the question had more meaning than it should.

 

"Of course I do. You're literally brilliant." You say it without hesitation, almost like a reflex, and it catches him off guard for a second. But seriously, what kind of question is that? He had an IQ of 187 and could read 20,000 words per minute. He's quite literally a genius.

 

Spencer's lips curl into a smile, and he tilts his head to look at you. He studies your face, with a curious, almost vulnerable look in his eyes.

 

"You know, nobody ever really says that often unless they're teasing me. Sometimes I just wonder if I actually make sense to people, or if I just ramble everyone's ears off." You continue to smile, and for a second, Spencer feels like your eyes are literally twinkling at him.

 

"You ramble. But you make sense. You always do." You reassure him, but the atmosphere starts to feel heavier as you continue to compliment him.

 

He shifts again, and now his body is just a few inches away from yours. You feel the heat radiating off of him, and suddenly you feel hyper-aware of everything happening between you two. His hand brushes against your arm for a second, but he doesn't immediately pull back, his touch lingering. You gulp, his touch sending flutters down your chest.

 

He begins to speak again, but somehow softer than before. How is it even possible? "I'm glad you think that. Not many people allow themselves to tell me that or just think that in general." He pauses for a second, "You mean a lot to me, you know? More than I let on..."

 

After he says this, the air feels thicker, charged with unspoken tension. You look back up at him, meeting his eyes, and this time, the air feels anything but heavy and awkward. Instead, it's full of possibilities.

 

Without thinking first, you lean in just a bit, your breath starting to mingle with his. His eyes flicker down to your lips, then back up to your eyes. He brings his hand up to the side of your face, as if he's waiting for you to make the first move.

 

You whisper, "You mean a lot to me, too." And in one swift motion, his lips meet yours—soft at first. As if something inside of him shifts suddenly, the kiss deepens, the closeness overwhelming you both.

 

You pull away for a second, catching your breath. Spencer lets an overwhelmed whimper slip from his lips, and he looks at you with puppy eyes.

 

This drives you absolutely mad.

 

You lunge for his lips, grabbing his face and pulling him into it deeper. You pull him closer, shifting your body to straddle his lap, your skirt riding up your legs. He whines; feeling your body on top of him makes him feel so vulnerable, and he likes it.

 

You continue to kiss him, skillfully unbuttoning his shirt as you do so. You pull it off his arms, and you pull away from him, pulling off your shirt in one swift motion. You then go in to kiss his collarbone, and that makes him unwillingly gasp. When you start to bite on his skin, that almost makes Spencer scream.

 

The erection in his pants didn't go unnoticed anymore the more horny you got for him, and you start to shift your hips on top of him, feeling it through your underwear. And at this point, your pussy was throbbing.

 

 

"I... I need you..." He mumbles, throwing his head back.

 

"Speak up, baby. You need what?" You tease him. He looks back up at you, feeling defeated as you make him say it again.

 

"I need you!" He whines, and that makes you raise an eyebrow in amusement. You liked seeing him like this. Drunk and overwhelmed with pleasure, messy hair and slick, wet lips.

 

You lift yourself up onto your knees, quickly unzipping his pants and then pulling down his boxers. His hard cock sprung out, pre-cum already coating the tip. You look down at him, smirking as you pull your underwear to the side, your pussy throbbing, begging for touch.

 

You take his cock in hand, stroking it a few times, making him gasp in pleasure. "Ah—Y/N..." He lets out, barely able to form words, just a mess of sounds of please.

 

You smirk, groaning as you guide the tip of his cock to your pussy, rocking your hips back and forth as the tip rubs against you. You moan, throwing your own head back as much as you could.

 

Eventually, you slowly slide his cock into your pussy, slowly starting to bounce up and down. You speed up, and Spencer starts to breathe heavily, you both becoming a moaning mess.

 

He begins to rock his hips with you, "God, you're so perfect like this, Spence." You let out, your voice cracking between words as you try to praise him. Your fingers began to bury in his hair, pulling it slightly as you continued to bounce up and down on his cock.

 

"Y/N... I'm— I'm close..." He whines, holding onto your shoulders as you continue to ride him.

 

"Yes! Please, yes, Spencer... come inside me!" You moan loudly, chasing your high as well. This was enough to completely drive him over the edge.

 

Spencer came hard, his legs shaking as his hips pressed against your skin as he moaned loudly. You press your head into his chest, feeling pleasure take over your body as you also reach the edge, mingling your moans together.

 

Eventually, he pulls out, and you collapse onto the side of his couch, breathing heavily. You look over to the side, where Spencer is still breathing heavily, completely overwhelmed with the whole situation.

 

"Damn, Spencer... you're weak." You say, chuckling as you try to make it less awkward than it already was.

 

"Oh, shut up."

tags:

[2amriize]

.ᐟ RIIZE scenario: new year's kiss༉‧₊˚.

note: happy new year!!! wish you a happy 2025 🧡

pairing: riize x reader — masterlist

⭑.ᐟ shotaro

You and Shotaro had been best friends for years, and you always celebrated New Year's Eve together with other friends. This year was different, though, you were both single. You’d made a pact that if neither of you found someone to kiss at midnight, you’d kiss each other. Even though you chatted with a few guys, it seemed like everyone already had someone they wanted to kiss, so you ended up alone. You looked around for Shotaro, but when you couldn’t find him, you assumed he’d found someone. For some reason, you felt a bit disappointed. Since everyone else had their pair, you decided to slip out of the house before midnight. That was your plan until someone grabbed your arm and pulled you in just as the countdown ended, kissing you when the clock struck twelve. When you opened your eyes a few seconds after the sweet kiss, you found yourself face-to-face with Shotaro. “Good thing I made it in time… Happy New Year,” he said.

⭑.ᐟ eunseok

You and your friends were lounging on the sofa, watching the countdown for the new year. You’d had a casual dinner, not feeling the need to dress up much. Eunseok was sitting beside you, and you’d been exchanging glances throughout the evening. When the countdown reached zero, everyone stood up to celebrate, hugging each other and laughing as you wished each other a Happy New Year. You didn’t expect that when you turned to hug Eunseok, he would pull you in after a brief hug and place a short yet intense kiss on your lips. You kissed him back, caught up in the moment. When you both pulled away, you locked eyes, your face completely flustered, while he had a small, proud smile on his lips. Before you could fully process it, he leaned close to your ear and whispered, “Happy New Year, y/n.”

⭑.ᐟ sungchan

Like every year, you were planning to go to a New Year’s party with your friends. Unfortunately, you woke up on New Year’s Eve feeling sick, so you had to stay home. You figured spending the night alone wouldn’t be so bad, you could relax without worrying about getting ready. You made yourself a homemade pizza and settled in to watch one of your favorite movies. It was almost midnight when you heard someone desperately knocking at your door. Confused by the time, you got up to see who it was. To your surprise, you found Sungchan at your door, completely out of breath. He glanced at his watch, and before you could say anything, he stepped closer, cupping your face in his hands and kissing you slowly. When you finally pulled apart, you stood there, stunned. “Sungchan, what are you doing here?” “I didn’t see you at the party, and… they told me you were home, so I came here to… um… Happy New Year!” he said, grinning nervously.

⭑.ᐟ wonbin

The moment you arrived at Wonbin’s house to pick him up, you could tell something was up by the look on his face. “You don’t want to go either, do you?” you asked with a laugh, stepping inside. You’d both agreed to join your friends to celebrate New Year’s Eve, but truth be told, neither of you felt like being around so many people. Without needing to say anything more, you both settled on the couch, getting comfortable and snuggling as you turned on whatever movie was playing on TV. It was no surprise when you both fell asleep before midnight. Wonbin woke up around 2 a.m. and gently nudged you awake. “Happy New Year,” he whispered, giving you a small peck on the lips. You responded with a sleepy kiss of your own before the two of you drifted back to sleep.

⭑.ᐟ seunghan

The last thing you expected at your family’s New Year’s Eve party was to run into your best friend, and first love. Your families had always been close, but you hadn’t seen each other since high school, so seeing him there was a shock. You were both thrilled to see each other, spending hours talking about everything new in your lives and reminiscing about old times. As midnight approached, everyone gathered near the TV to watch the countdown. You started to move toward your family, but Seunghan grabbed your hand, motioning for you to follow him silently. Smiling, you followed him outside to your backyard, where you both sat on the grass, laughing softly. “I’m glad I got to see you today…” Seunghan said before leaning closer, placing one hand on your cheek, and gently pressing his lips to yours. The two of you shared a tender kiss as fireworks exploded in the background. “Happy New Year, y/n” he whispered.

⭑.ᐟ sohee

You were celebrating New Year’s Eve with your group of friends, and before you realized it, midnight was approaching. It seemed like everyone had paired up or was ready to share their New Year’s kiss, except for you. Looking around, you noticed Sohee leaning against a doorframe, also alone. Sohee, the guy you’d had a crush on for so long… Was this a sign? Without thinking much, you walked up to him. Before he could react, you gently cupped his face in your hands and kissed him. It took him a moment, but he kissed you back, his touch soft and tender.

⭑.ᐟ anton

“Wanna get out of here?” Anton whispered in your ear, looking at you with a small smile. You were both at your company’s New Year’s Eve party, but it was painfully boring. With a smile, you nodded. “I’ll grab a pizza; you take care of the drinks, and we’ll meet on the rooftop,” he said. You grabbed two glasses and a bottle of alcohol, then headed to the rooftop, where Anton was waiting. The two of you spent hours talking and laughing. Even though he was your coworker, you’d always had great chemistry. Before you knew it, fireworks started going off, it was already midnight. “Happy New Year!” you both said, giving each other a hug. When you started to pull away, you realized Anton’s hands were still on your waist. The two of you locked eyes, a charged silence hanging between you, until he leaned in and kissed you, sealing the moment with your first kiss.

masterlist // taglist: @regularsuh @gacktsa @totheseok @kkumistars @taroddori @enhacolor @ladylilith @electric-hearts @astrobymarwa @layluv123 @sunflowers1610 @nctrawberries @synkjellies @ramyeonzprincess @yuzuksi

[ruruumin]

betting on dogs.

₊˚ ᗢ itoshi rin x gn! reader.

⤷ confessions under the rain // based on the isle of dogs

“i’m not a violent dog.” 

is the first thing you told him. sitting underneath a worn sheet metal, rain pours heavy above your heads. you’re bundled up in one of rin’s jackets while he stands in nothing more but a pair of sweats and a turtleneck. after a quick run to the convenience store, the light sprinkles that were forecasted soon turned into a downpour.

you don’t know how things got to be the way they are. you don’t remember, nor do you bother recounting the days you’ve spent with the stoic, soccer-headed boy from eighth grade. its been too long to describe the decades long friendship you’ve kept with him. the only thing you know is that the world is out to get you. whether it be by stranding you in the middle of an empty street or the chirping crickets that fill the air. 

“i don’t know why i bite,” you continue, scrunching your nose when water hits the fabric of your shoes. 

rin doesn’t say anything to your words. he only swallows as he tilts his head up to the sky, watching the clouds overhead move in slow waves. he knows the movie you’re referencing. he remembers seeing it in theaters the day it came out. not because he wanted to, but because he knew you liked it. 

he thinks you’re just like him. unfriendly, cold, and dismissive, especially by the way you turn your shoulders on someone the moment they get too close. even when he was practically forced to introduce his team to you, your attitude never changed. and while he doesn’t mind it all too much, he finds your words quite humorous at times, he sees the way it pushes everyone else away.

unlike him however, you care too much. the idea of being close to someone scares you. while everyone else smiles with their flat pearly whites, you bare your fangs. he calls you a fighter by the way you didn’t cry despite getting pushed off the high bars for defending his destructive behavior, and falling onto the wood chip floor with nasty splinters. he calls you a survivor for living through his darkest hell and inhabiting his kingdom of ice. and while you think of yourself so little, he thinks of you too highly.

“i’m sorry.” he can hear you choke on what sounds like a sob. it makes him anxious to think you’ll burst into a waterfall.

“don’t apologize.” 

you’re complicated, he knows that much. so you’ll overcomplicate his words as you always do. he leans against the store wall with an itch in his throat. 

“you’re doing fine.” 

“am i?”

“yeah.” he simply replies, “do you not think so?”

“not at all.”

“why?”

you press your lips together, mulling over the next few words. rin’s eyes flicker to your sitting figure as rain continues to trickle down the roof. his mouth feels dry every time he sees you in his clothes so he licks the bottom of his chapped lips, smoothing over the surface before he clicks his tongue. 

“i’m a horrible friend,” you say, pressing the palm of your hand against your forehead as you push away strands of hair, “dragging you out like this. being a total dickhead to all your friends the other day. you probably have better things to do then be here. stuck in the rain with an asshole.”

rin has half the heart to kick up the mud from under his shoes onto your face. “if i cared about you being an asshole then i wouldn’t have agreed in the first place.” 

“you don’t think you’d rather be somewhere else?”

“not really.”

he looks down at you, heart throbbing at the front of his chest at your expression. doe-eyed and laced with thin strings of tears, you look like you’re about to cry. if it wasn’t for your frantic wipes around your eyes using the sleeves of his hoodie, he would have crouched beside you, one finger dabbing across the bottom of your lid. 

“what are you crying about?”

“just…frustrated i guess.”

rin stays quiet this time, letting you think to yourself and piece together the words you’ve been dying to say. 

“and maybe a little tired. of always trying, and trying, and somehow failing each time. i’m—” you suck in a breath. 

somehow the memories you’ve kept repressed were coming back to bite you. times where you’ve raised your voice a little too high at the wrong person. moments where you crash into your bedroom like a meteor, throwing your bags into the ground as you count the hot tears that stream down your face. events that remind you about how insufferable you are as a person.

“i don’t want to die alone, rin.” 

squeezing your eyes shut, you feel the waterworks beginning to break free. its humiliating as it is awkward. you’re using his jacket to smear a thick layer of snot away from your face. the thick material starts to become moist and hot as you control your hiccups.

its pathetic the way you want to cling onto him. you want to hold him the way lovers do. the same way two people would in cliche romance movies. if it was anyone else in your shoes, like the cute and fashionable girl that sits behind him in psychology throwing heart eyes his way, things would be easier. 

but you’re stuck as his longtime childhood friend despite all these years of pining. or at the very least, thats what you convince yourself. after eating his snacks and drinking from the same water bottle, you refuse to admit there's anything more between you and rin. perhaps the real reason is that you don’t want to overcomplicate what might be platonic.

so you push and push. but pushing rin is like trying to force an immovable boulder to walk. which is why hes still here despite all the impulsive texts about walking to the nearest convenience store. 

“that's what you’re scared of?”

“a little, yeah.”

he slides down from the side of the wall while he shuffles next to you. his hand rests on the dry spot next to yours. he can feel the tip of your nail graze the surface of his skin. his longing for skinship creeps up on him. 

“i think you’re being stupid about it,” as if he knew you’d turn to him with an offended expression, he sighs and reaches out to squeeze your hand. “i don’t give a shit about any of that lukewarm stuff you say about yourself. i know none of it is true.”

“how can you tell?” 

“because i’ve known you for a while and i didn’t care before, and i don’t now.”

you lower your gaze, heart burning with unbridled shame. “i hurt people, you know that.”

rin shrugs his shoulders. “i hurt people too.”

“you don’t feel bad about it?”

“no. they need to get used to me being unfriendly.”

“it must be genetics because every itoshi i’ve met has been unfriendly,” you lean forward, resting your chin on your knees, staring off into the distance. “you and sae are like that.”

“that never stopped us from being friends though.” 

“i guess you’re right. even unfriendly people have friends.”

there is a pause in the conversation. however, instead of the usual heavy downpour filling the gap, its beginning to slow down. clouds were starting to part ways with each other. its oddly serene.

“i like you.”

you blink in surprise.

“i care about you.”

his voice is steady. almost rehearsed. as if hes been saying these things in the mirror, hoping that one day you will hear what he has to say, and you’re hanging onto your last breath as you listen intently. his ears are a flushed color of pink and it travels straight to his cheeks. when rin gets embarrassed, it shows in his entire body.

he holds you tighter than before, almost as if hes scared you’ll leave before he could even finish his sentence: 

“and i don’t mind waiting for you.”

the world turns into a fuzzy buzz. cottony, white noise plugs up your ears. you think you might be dying because you’re having flashbacks to the day you met rin at the playground, when he was covered and battered with bruises on his stomach and face for falling from the top of the monkey bars. you even remember the time you stayed over at his apartment, binge watching all the latest horror movies on his ipad that he's had since he was twelve. shoulder to shoulder with your best friend, everything was starting to become warm.

after breaking away from your flustered stupor, you gently hit his shoulder. an audible ‘thwop’ noise coming from when the long fabric of his jacket makes contact with his turtleneck. 

“thats not what chief says in the movie.”

“you’re right.” 

rin finally lets out a small chuckle to break the heavy air. if it wasn’t for his silly laugh the tension would have been too thick to cut with a knife.

“he didn’t say that. but...” he shuffles towards you, getting eerily close to touching noses.

“i don’t care how insufferable you can be, dragging me to the convenience store for something as dumb as candy.” his gaze softens, “you on the other hand, care too much about what others think about you, and maybe i’m crazy to think i’m in love with you because of it.”

he quickly shuts his mouth, flicking his head away as you’re left flabbergasted. the last part was meant to be said in his head. not aired out. not vocalized to god and his angels. and especially not you. his brain was starting to feel like a melting popsicle. it must have been trickling out of his ears because he's becoming mushy.

“say that again.”

“huh?”

“say it, please—rin.” he hates the way you say his name because it makes his toes curl and body instantly fold. no one else has this effect on him.

he slowly but surely turns to you, aquamarine eyes swirling with a strange warm look. the tears you’ve shed have long escaped their cocoons. instead they grow into full-fledged butterflies that dance off your skin.

“i think i’m in love with you.”

it's hard to control the smile that's growing on your face. brushing away strands of hair covering the side of your face, rin presses his tongue against the side of his cheek, waiting for the next set of words that might make or break the friendship you’ve built together.

“you’ll wait?”

“yeah.”

“so you’re not attracted to tame animals.” 

“i’m not.”

your giddy laugh contradicts the soft, intimate whisper that slips through your parting lips. you rotate your hand over so that both your palms are touching each other, finally embracing the warmth he has always given you from the start.

his new profound confession made it all the more evident to you that underneath layers upon layers of insecurity and fear, was the desire to be loved and adored. with a fresh coat of relief washing over you, your head finally leans in his direction, dropping onto his shoulder as the two of you breathe out a sigh of relief.

“thank you, rin.”

[extinctlesspains]

OMG I LOVE UR WRITING, YOU GOT ME STAYING UP TILL 3 IN THE MORNING TO READ UR FIC<33

I was also wondering if you could write yandere fic for saebyeok, when her and the reader are dating, but then the reader finds out she has been killing people that are close to her and trys to break up with her but ends up getting kidnap by her.

I know it's a lot for detail, but I would very much appreciate it if u wrote about it<33

A/n: I'm so glad you enjoy my writing! And I appreciate you choosing me to write this for you!! I hope you enjoy! ♡

𝑂𝑏𝑠𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑒𝑑 [𝐾. 𝑆𝑎𝑒-𝐵𝑦𝑒𝑜𝑘]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚　˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚　˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

ʀᴇǫᴜᴇsᴛᴇᴅ: ʏᴇs ᴏʀ ɴᴏ

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ! ᴋᴀɴɢ sᴀᴇ-ʙʏᴇᴏᴋ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: ᴅᴀʀᴋ ʀᴏᴍᴀɴᴄᴇ, ʜᴏʀʀᴏʀ, ᴛʜʀɪʟʟᴇʀ.

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: sᴀᴇ-ʙʏᴇᴏᴋ’s ᴏʙsᴇssɪᴠᴇ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴅʀɪᴠᴇs ʜᴇʀ ᴛᴏ ᴇʟɪᴍɪɴᴀᴛᴇ ᴀɴʏᴏɴᴇ sʜᴇ sᴇᴇs ᴀs ᴀ ᴛʜʀᴇᴀᴛ ᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʀᴇʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴsʜɪᴘ, ʙᴜᴛ ᴡʜᴇɴ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴏɴғʀᴏɴᴛ ʜᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʀʏ ᴛᴏ ʟᴇᴀᴠᴇ, sʜᴇ ᴋɪᴅɴᴀᴘs ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴏ ᴇɴsᴜʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ’ʟʟ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ʙᴇ ᴀᴘᴀʀᴛ. ᴛʀᴀᴘᴘᴇᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛᴇʀʀɪғɪᴇᴅ, ʏᴏᴜ ʀᴇᴀʟɪᴢᴇ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ’s ɴᴏ ᴇsᴄᴀᴘᴇ ғʀᴏᴍ ʜᴇʀ ᴛᴡɪsᴛᴇᴅ ᴠᴇʀsɪᴏɴ ᴏғ ᴅᴇᴠᴏᴛɪᴏɴ.

ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇs: ᴘsʏᴄʜᴏᴛɪᴄ ʙᴇʜᴀᴠɪᴏʀ, ʙʟᴏᴏᴅ, ᴍᴜʀᴅᴇʀ, ɢᴏʀᴇ, ᴋɪssɪɴɢ, ᴋɪᴅɴᴀᴘᴘɪɴɢ, ғᴏʀᴄᴇᴅ ʟᴏᴠᴇ.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇　

Sae-byeok was never one for grand gestures. Her love was in the small things—the way she’d carefully tuck your scarf around your neck on cold mornings, her habit of silently refilling your water glass before you even noticed it was empty, the protective way she always walked on the side of the sidewalk closest to traffic. She made you feel safe. Cherished.

But that safety began to feel like a cage when the people around you started disappearing.

It began subtly. A friend from work, Jisoo, stopped answering your texts after Sae-byeok had glared daggers at her during dinner one evening. Then Minho, your old classmate who had a knack for teasing you, was suddenly "out of town indefinitely," according to his sister. And then there was the broken leg your coworker Hana mysteriously suffered after you mentioned her in passing to Sae-byeok.

You wanted to believe it was all coincidence. You really did.

But there was the way Sae-byeok’s eyes lingered on people too long, her lips pressed into a thin line whenever you laughed a little too loudly at someone else’s jokes. There was the time she came home late, her sleeves damp and her expression grim, brushing off your concern with a clipped, "Just a rough day."

The final straw was Jisoo’s disappearance. She was your best friend, someone who had been like family to you since childhood. When you mentioned your growing worry to Sae-byeok, her response was chillingly indifferent.

"Maybe she had problems you didn’t know about," she said, her tone light but her eyes cold.

You spent that night piecing together the fragments of your unease—the disappearances, the injuries, the way Sae-byeok always seemed to know too much about your friends’ lives.

It wasn’t until you found the blood-stained scarf stuffed at the back of her closet that your suspicions solidified into a horrifying truth.

The confrontation happened the next night. Sae-byeok returned home, her face lighting up when she saw you waiting for her in the living room. But her smile faltered when she noticed the scarf clenched in your trembling hands.

"You killed them," you said, your voice breaking. "Jisoo. Minho. Everyone. It was you, wasn’t it?"

Sae-byeok’s face remained eerily calm. She stepped closer, and you instinctively backed away.

"They were bad for you," she said simply. "They didn’t deserve you."

"Deserve me?" you repeated, incredulous. "They were my friends! My family! You had no right—"

"I had every right," she snapped, her calm facade cracking for the first time. Her voice trembled with emotion. "They would’ve taken you away from me. I couldn’t let that happen. I won’t let that happen."

Your heart pounded as you realized how deeply her obsession ran. "I can’t do this anymore, Sae-byeok," you whispered. "We’re done. This... this isn’t love. It’s sick."

The silence that followed was suffocating. Sae-byeok’s dark eyes bored into yours, unreadable and unrelenting. Then, she smiled—a small, heartbreaking smile that sent a chill down your spine.

"You’re upset," she murmured. "You’re not thinking clearly. You’ll see... this is all for the best."

Before you could react, she moved faster than you thought possible. Her grip on your wrist was like iron as you tried to pull away, panic surging in your chest.

"Sae-byeok, let go!" you shouted, but she didn’t budge.

"You’ll thank me someday," she whispered, her voice soft yet resolute. The last thing you saw was her determined face before the world went dark.

You woke to dim lighting and the smell of lavender. Blinking groggily, you realized you were lying on a bed in an unfamiliar room. Your wrists were bound with soft fabric, tight enough to keep you from moving freely but gentle enough not to leave marks.

Sae-byeok sat in a chair across from you, her posture relaxed, as if she hadn’t just kidnapped you. Her gaze softened when she saw you stirring.

"You’re awake," she said, a small smile gracing her lips. "I was starting to worry."

"Sae-byeok," you rasped, your throat dry. "What is this? Where am I?"

"Somewhere safe," she replied. "Somewhere no one can hurt us. Or take you away from me."

Tears burned your eyes as you struggled against the bindings. "This isn’t love, Sae-byeok. You can’t keep me here!"

Her expression hardened, the gentleness in her eyes replaced by something far darker. "I can’t keep you here?" she echoed, her voice dangerously low. "Do you think I’ve done all this for nothing? I’ve killed for you. I’ve bled for you. And you think you can just walk away?"

Her words sent a shiver down your spine. "You don’t have to do this," you pleaded, tears streaming down your face. "Please, Sae-byeok. Let me go."

Her expression softened again, but it was almost worse—her love was twisted, her obsession suffocating. She leaned forward, cupping your face in her hands.

"You don’t understand," she murmured, her thumbs brushing away your tears. "No one will ever love you like I do. No one else deserves you. I’ll keep you safe, even if it means protecting you from yourself."

You sobbed as her lips pressed gently against your forehead, the act so tender it felt like a cruel mockery of love.

Sae-byeok pulled away, her dark eyes gleaming with a terrifying mix of devotion and determination. "You’ll see," she said softly. "You’ll thank me one day. When you realize that we’re meant to be."

And as she stood to leave, locking the door behind her, you realized that there was no escape—not from Sae-byeok’s love, nor from the nightmare she’d made of it.

[boofeine]

New Year's Kiss

pairing: seventeen x reader

genre: headcanons, suggestive

warnings: mdni, kissing, nothing much... it's kinda fluff

a/n: happy new year!!! wishing a wonderful 2025 ahead for you, and i hope all of your resolutions come to reality <3

tags: @huen1ngk4i @aaniag @svteensworld @kooqitas @unlikelysublimekryptonite @kwannibalism

seungcheol runs to a taxi with your hands together, trying to hide from the sudden hard snow. you both sit breathless in the back seat, the air cold and funny as you both giggle around. the tip of your nose pinky that seungcheol finds cute and your plumpy lips way too tempting. "you look so cute" he suddenly bursts out, his palms hugged on gloves cagging your cheeks on an attempt to arm your face; but it just affects your stomach instead, the little butterflies as he stares your eyes and then your mouth. "can i kiss you?" he asks. your mouths connecting with the muffled cheers from outside telling you it's a new year ahead.

jeonghan has been flirting with you shamelessly for hours now. you know, you know this, you watch this happen with your group of friends a lot, you were just never the chosen one. he keeps teasing you, saying absurds and laughing later, you're actually getting frustrated... that's until you know it's a real thing. "thought new years would be a good place to start" he says when the clock is approaching midnight. you ask confused what he means, and he simply adds, "i really like you, would you let me kiss you?" and when the kiss is said and done, jeonghan stares into your eyes and asks you out.

joshua is sweet like the gentleman he is. he hugs you softly, wishing you a happy new year, his smile making his bambi eyes tiny, making it hard not to feel a little in love. he stays in your embrace, a kiss to the top of your head "happy new year, yn-ie" he says, and you reply with your cheeks aching from so much happiness. he breaks the silence after a few minutes "can i make a wish for this year?" he says and you nod on his chest "i hope i get a kiss from you" he concludes. you swallow dry, finally looking up at him "you have to wish something else" you were a little mean, you think, because his whole face twists but you're fast to add "because this one is already coming true" you say coming closer as your lips finally fits together with a air of relief.

jun sees you laying on the door frame by yourself. people are starting to run around, screaming it's close to midnight. you stay there watching the commotion with a vision of the outside, that you don't even realize jun joining you. his low tone catching your attention when he starts to count down as everyone does. you look up smiling to him as he does the same for you, his sight moving up and then back to your face. as you follow his eyes, you can see the mistletoe just above you two on the frame, you can feel your face flushing when he shoots "i guess you own me a kiss" his steps coming closer, the fireworks exploding outside, not even close to your heartbeat as your lips touches his.

soonyoung pulls you up on his arms with a tight hug while the fireworks explode around you. you both smile happily as he twirls you around on his arms, greeting you the new year with warmth and so much happiness. everything happens too fast, your kiss on his cheeks getting on the side of his lips before he drops you down, and everything stops around you, the pinning stare as you both lean to a real kiss this time around.

wonwoo just bumps on you in the middle of the party chaos. that being the first time you two make yourselves known on the place. you stop, greating each other warmly, completely forgetting new year is soon and you both should probably go find your friends and family before midnight. you just keep chatting and updating each other of how your lives are going, the kiss happening so suddenly and naturally. the fireworks startling you both as you just giggles on each others mouths, accepting the new start.

jihoon hates to make you sad, and he knows that chosing to stay alone at home on new years is one way to do it. he stares at the snow going down his window, reminiscing the call that happened just a few minutes ago, with you, and how he wanted to say he was sorry. the bell suddenly rings, and jihoon comes to open the door, with your figure right in front of his eyes, wet hair from the rain as you embrace him in a big hug. "i wouldn't spend new years with anyone else" you say, your lips coming together with his and passion as the clock hits midnight.

seokmin was wanting this for a while now but never was able to gather enough courage. and when he finally does, it's not in the greatest scenario, but he wouldn't lose that one last hope. the loude music and chatting echoes in the room as you both dance beside each other. he suddenly comes closer "can i kiss you when the new year turn" he shouts, and you wonder if you heard it wrong around all that noise. the sudden confection making you flush. your head screams YES!! but you're unable to word it out. but when midnight comes, he will know your answer with your lips pressed on his own.

mingyu is just as clumsy as you. your ways of greeting each other happy new year all over the place. you laugh together when you almost bump heads before the hug fit. the smiles dying down when your heads move to the side together, both with the same idea of landing a sweet cheek kiss that turns into a peck when you reach each other's lips instead. your eyes go big, and your body stiffs, but none of you pull out as you relax on his embrace and just kiss.

minghao is one of those people that you meet without warning, he's a friend of a friend of yours that came along for the year turn. it's been a few hours of conversation, but you're sure he'll be someone to keep for the next year. you can already tell honesty is his cup of tea, and he proves you right when he openly tells you how beautiful and easy to talk you are. "that's been actually the best conversation i've had in ages" he concludes and you want to die in shyness, you feel little butterflies in your stomach and the way his perfect shaped lips move when he's talking makes you want to try it. you go silent and he askes... as he is, you answer honestly "i was just wondering how your lips might taste", "you can try it out" he says and your lips meets more times than the whole year throughout this night, making it not different on midnight.

seungkwan promises to take you home after the new years party you both were. it's just on the door of your apartment that he makes out with you in the back of his car. it comes at a surprise how into it you are and how his hands hug you perfectly as he kisses you. the hot air around you both blurrying the windows as you just see the smug flashing lights from the fireworks that announce you it's a new year. "Happy new years, yn-ie" he says, caressing your cheeks as if you haven't kissed as you were hungry for it minutes before. — (edited from ripe clementines :D)

vernon had joked about it, how "funny" it would be if you get too tipsy on new years and ended up kissing each other. you laugh it out but he looked a bit too serious to be kidding. new years came and none of you were nearly drunk. just chatting and gaming until midnight. when it's close, vernon comes to you "turns out we are not tipsy nor kissing" he plays and you think 'what a shame', either way it's not from neither of your personalities ending up on this scenario. you decide to be bold and reply "is being drunk a requirement?", "to kiss me?" he asks, cleaning nonexistent dust from the tip of his nose while you just hum, looking up at him. "you can kiss me if that's what you asking" he's smiling but you're serious, coming to peck his lips before giving a real kiss that is very much welcomed. as the last seconds of the day ends, another year being gone, you think 'what a happy new year'.

chan spends new years with you every year since you were teens. he's someone you know from a family friend with yours, you both kinda grew with each other in small gatherings like this. night felt particularly different this time around, he grew a lot and suddenly talks and acts like a man, but jokes like a kid as always, has you laughing from literally anything he says. for chan, he knows his ways, he has a eye on you since forever and he finally sees a chance that he wouldn't waste. gathering all the courage to ask you out, he's surprisingly met with your lips on his. you just kiss and say nothing as he melts, feeling like he's in a dream... he will take it as a yes. maybe that's the magic of a new year.

[lailols]

Txt when you share a New Year’s kiss

If you see any mistakes, no you didn’t. Also Happy New Year! <33

Soobin

You look over at Soobin when there are five minutes left til midnight and find his eyes already on you. He smiles softly, nodding his head to the door. You both get up and head out together. You thought it would be a smooth operation until you heard a yell behind you.

“Look, guys! Mom and Dad are off to make out while their kids are distracted.” It’s Beomgyu, of course, it’s Beomgyu. You have to pull Soobin out of the room before he turns around to wrestle him because tradition is tradition damnit, and you’re already late.

As soon as the door closes, Soobin releases a heavy sigh and runs a hand down his face.

“Don’t mind him, Bin.” You place a hand on his arm. “I mean, it’s not like he’s wrong.”

“We’re not making out.” He emphasizes and his next words make your heart ache despite their truth. “It’s been the same every year since we were 15 and it’s never been like that.”

For the last nine years, you and Soobin have shared a New Year’s kiss. It started out when you were teenagers at a party, and everyone had a person to kiss except you two (not that you wanted to kiss anyone else, even then). It was an easy decision then, and it has remained the same until now.

“We all know that. He just likes to tease you.” You say with a strained smile. “I don’t know why you get so upset over it.”

“I get upset because it makes you uncomfortable when they say shit like that.” Your brows pinch together in confusion.

“No, it doesn’t.”

“I’ve known you for nearly our entire lives. It makes you uncomfortable, I know it does.” He scoffs. “You always laugh it off and joke along but after you clench your jaw and get quiet. Every time.”

“Well, maybe it makes me uncomfortable.” You look away from him. “But not for the reasons you think.”

“What else am I meant to think? I've never seen you get as uncomfortable as you do when they bring it up.” He pauses for a moment before continuing. “There’s nothing wrong with being uncomfortable with it, y/n. It’s okay, really.”

And just as Soobin knows you, you know him. You see the way his eyes glaze over as if he’s about to cry. You see the line of his shoulders go tight. You see the way his dimples pop out from the tense set of his lips.

“Soobin…”

“It’s okay, y/n. I’m fine with the way things are now. I would never pressure you into anything but it hurts." He opens his mouth again to continue before shaking his head and falling silent.

“I am uncomfortable when they bring it up.” You hesitate a bit at the way he deflates with your words. “But only because I know you don’t want me in that way. When they say it, it makes me imagine a world where you’re mine and I’m yours and it makes me sad.”

“What?”

“Yeah.” You then hear the sound of fireworks going off and you shake your head. “We missed it. Our tradition..”

“I’m okay with that.” He grabs your hands and pulls you closer to him. “I don’t need the excuse of New Year to kiss you anymore.”

“I really liked it though.” You pout up at him dramatically.

"Are you really going to complain when I can kiss you like this instead?" He marks his words by pressing your lips together gently once before pulling back to tilt your head and then diving in again. His hands cradle the sides of your face and he bites down on your bottom lip making you gasp. He takes advantage of the gap by sliding his tongue inside your mouth and mapping out the newfound space. He meets your moan with a sigh of his own and just as his hands start moving lower you’re interrupted by a shout.

"They really are making out!" Your heads snap to see Beomgyu peeking out the door. You don't even bother to hold Soobin back from grabbing Beomgyu by the hair and pulling him into a headlock.

Yeonjun

You’re having the time of your life on the dance floor. If the middle of a frat house counts as one. It may be a bit too hot and sweaty for your usual tastes, but the two drinks you had gave you a wonderful buzz that makes the night enjoyable. You’ll probably need more soon though…

You danced with Yeonjun until he was surrounded by a group of people each vying for a chance to be his New Year’s kiss. You went through this same song and dance the past few years. Yeonjun drags you to this same house on New Year’s Eve, you drink and dance together, he gets swarmed by admirers, he picks one to welcome the new year, and then you go home together.

You wonder which type he’ll pick this year. The shy type that only approached him with some liquid courage. The bold type that made eye contact with him the minute he walked in. Or some secret third type that is lying in wait. You briefly wonder if this will be the year your heart stops breaking when he inevitably picks someone who isn’t you.

You hadn’t always been one of his many admirers. You kind of hated him out of principle before you got to know him. Until you found out that he wasn’t some pompous asshole, but just a guy that carries himself with a confidence that is well deserved. That he was such a mother hen to your friend group. That he was just as scared of the ‘real world’ as the rest of you. That he was moved by the smallest things. That, yes, he was as cool as everyone insisted. That-

Your musings are cut off by a tap on your shoulder. You turn to find Yeonjun? It’s a surprise that is unexpected but not unwelcome.

“Hey, Junie. What’s up? Did you find someone already?” You smile at him despite the way your heart breaks.

“Not exactly. Can you come here for a second?” He doesn’t bother waiting for a response before grabbing your hand and leading you outside.

“Sure?” You doubt your words matter much since you’re following him anyway. You allow him to pull you through the doors and out to the backyard before planting your feet and pulling him back. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I just wanted to get out of there.” His words set off more alarms in your head rather than easing you.

“Why? What happened?”

“Nothing, I just… wanted to be with you.”

“Oh.” Your heart warms at his words and though you try to suppress a smile, you can feel your lips curling up. “Well, I’m here, what’s up?”

“Do you want to kiss me?”

“No.” Your words are immediate and they shock Yeonjun almost as much as they shock you.

“Oh.” Yeonjun fumbles for a bit, which is out of character for him but his words are also out of character so what do you know? “That’s fine, of course, but um, why not?”

“I- um” You’re also fumbling but this is very in character for you, so you pay it no mind. “I’d like for it to mean something? I think. Not that there’s anything wrong with it but, um, yeah. I can't do casual.”

“It doesn’t have to be casual.”

“What? You can’t just say that to get me to kiss you.”

“You really think that low of me? That I’d do something like that?”

“Well, no. But it makes more sense than..” you wanting me goes unsaid but from his reaction, you’re sure he got it.

“Of course, I want to be with you. I was just overthinking it.”

“Why do it now?”

He sports a bashful smile when he answers. “I think an anniversary on the New Year would be cute, y’know? New Year, New Us, and all that. Imagine the posts we could make.”

“That’s so you. I almost hate it.” You wrap your arms around his shoulders.

“Yeah yeah, so are you gonna kiss me or not?” His hands find your waist and pull you closer.

“I guess I can spare a kiss or two.” Your eyes flutter closed when your lips meet. The kiss starts light with smiles and giggles exchanged more than actual kisses. It's odd because Yeonjun, from what you've heard, wastes no time in getting to the point. Right now he’s just savoring the moment, letting himself smile and laugh with you as if you have all the time in the world (you do, you’d give him everything if you could).

Beomgyu

“I wish we could be frozen in this moment together forever.”

“Why?”

“So nothing would change.” At your words, Beomgyu flips onto his side, facing you.

“What if things changed for the better?” You turn to meet his eyes and see a world of emotions in them. “Change doesn’t have to be scary.”

“Change is always scary.” You bring a hand up to trace the squares of the blanket to distract yourself. “There’s so much uncertainty in change. But if we stay here like this, we don’t have to be afraid.”

"I'm not afraid because I know we'll always have each other." He grabs your hand before he speaks again, drawing your eyes up to his. He then goes on to say something you’ve heard before. "Things will change, we can't stop that, but we will always be together."

“You don’t know that.” You remember this from your talk too. The way his every word was met by a denial from you. Not because you don’t want him, but because you’re scared. You can’t lose him. Why can’t he see that?

“I do.” He says it with such passion that it makes you want to believe him. Oh, how you want to.

“How do you know that? How are you so sure?” You sit up so he doesn’t see the tears pooling in your eyes. “I don’t want to lose you. I’d rather have you like this and know that nothing will change than risk it.”

“Why are you giving up on this- on us before we even try?” He sits up too. “Y/n, I wouldn’t pressure you if I didn’t know you felt the same. I still feel shitty doing it now but- I just- I want to be with you. I love being friends but I just know we’d work well as more. And I know you feel the same.”

“What if we break up? What if we end up hating each other? We’re good now- great even. Are you really willing to risk it? Just to call me yours?”

“I am. I can’t tell you that we’d never break up, but I can tell you that I would never just let you go. I love you, y/n. Even if we broke up, I’d still want to be in your life. And I know you feel the same.”

“I’m just scared, Gyu.”

“I know, but why don’t we just try? If it works then great and if it doesn’t then it would make a great speech at our weddings.” His words pull a laugh out of you.

“Right. ‘So glad to see you marrying the love of my life! Don’t worry, we tried it out and it didn’t work so you don’t have to worry about me!’” You let out some more giggles until you realize Beomgyu isn’t laughing along with you. He’s just staring at you with wide eyes. “What’s wrong, Beomie?”

“You love me?”

“Of course, I love you. I’ve told you this before.”

“Yeah, but never like that.”

“You said you knew how I felt.”

“I do. But it’s different to hear it, y’know?” He smiles a bit. “It makes it feel real.”

“It is real, Gyu. It’s always been real. I think that’s why it’s so scary for me.”

“Well, I think you just need a big strong man to chase away those fears.”

You scrunch your nose. “When you find one can you point him in my direction?”

He lets out an offended squawk at your words but you quickly dissolve into giggles leaning on each other. It’s at this moment that you realize that while, yes, this is scary- terrifying even- maybe it won’t be so bad if it’s Beomgyu you’re going through it with. Maybe things will work out. And if they don’t you’ll just say ‘I told you so’ with tears in your eyes and a broken heart in your hands.

You look up at him from your place on his shoulder drawing his attention down. He looks at you like you’re everything, he always has. He was never good at hiding his feelings. You're surprised he waited all this time to tell you. You look down at his lips before making eye contact, hoping he’ll catch your hint. He leans in slightly before pausing and tilting his head as if asking ‘Are you sure?’. You nod slightly and that’s that.

Your lips meet in a kiss and immediately after you can hear the sound of fireworks going off. You think it’s all in your head until you remember what day it was and why you both came out here and you can't help but laugh into his lips.

“What’s so funny? Am I that bad of a kisser?” Beomgyu pouts and uses his hold on your face to bring you closer.

“We kissed for the first time and fireworks went off. That’s so cheesy.”

“I don’t think it’s cheesy. I think it’s beautiful.” It never fails to amaze you how quickly Beomgyu can switch from joking to serious in a matter of seconds. How he can go from laughs and twinkling eyes to serene and serious. You think he’s beautiful and your brain-to-mouth filter stops working for a moment.

“I think you’re beautiful.” He pauses for a bit before putting on a cocky face and shrugging but you know him. You see the way his eyes seem to glaze over and how his hand shakes slightly as he glides it over your face before tilting your head slightly. It hits you then that maybe this change is scary for him too.

Maybe it always has been. It was probably hard to bear your heart out to someone and be met with rejection and still show up as if nothing changed. You probably wouldn’t have done it. But Beomgyu has always been braver than you. You call him reckless, but you know how strong he is. How he never lets others dull his shine or make him pull back his love. You want to do right by him. You only hope he sees the same in your eyes.

“I’m going to kiss you again.” He cuts off your response (which was a rather embarrassing ‘please’) by pressing your lips together softly at first before deepening the kiss. Fireworks continue to sound off around you but this time you can't tell if they're real or all in your head.

Taehyun

“I can’t believe I let you convince me to do this.” Taehyun says looking at your phone screen displaying the countdown to midnight.

You’re both crammed under your desk with a bag of grapes waiting for the right time to begin eating them.

“I’m telling you, Tae, it really works!” You bump his shoulder with your own. “I did this last year and had the best year of my life!”

“One, you did it wrong, and two you’ve told me multiple times how this year was horrible.” He corrects with a teasing smile.

“I didn’t know there was meant to be a specific number!” You pout dramatically. “I just saw a video of a girl saying she did it and had a great year.”

“So you ate an entire bag of grapes under your desk to bring good luck?”

“And it worked!”

“And why do you think that?”

“Because I met you.” You say easily. “You even had purple hair when we met and I ate purple grapes!”

“So meeting me somehow negates that one class you cried over every homework assignment for?”

“Well, no.” You share a laugh at that. “But I genuinely do think that someone or something led me to you. I know I’ve said it a lot and you brush me off because you’re too cool to admit it but you’ve really made my year- hell, my entire life so much better since you’ve come into it.”

Taehyun’s big eyes search your face for a moment. Tracing over the lines of your serene smile and the glow in your eyes before taking a breath. “I feel the same. And while I don’t think it happened because you ate an entire bag of grapes last year, I do think we were meant to find each other when we did.”

“Not earlier?”

“God, no.”

“And why not?”

“I was a different person back then. Not unlike I am now, but I saw the world and the people in it in a different way.” He sighs looking down, seemingly collecting himself before meeting your eyes again. “I don’t know if I would’ve let you in before we met. If I would’ve opened my heart to you in the ways I have now.”

“Opened your heart?” You urge.

“Yeah. I may not be nearly as dramatic as you about it-“ he glosses over your offended ‘hey!’. “But you’ve made my year and my life so much better, too. I may not think the universe brought us together but I’m glad we met. I’m glad I get to have you like this and maybe…” He opens his mouth again before closing it. You know what he wanted to say. You’ve always known that Taehyun would be so much more to you than just a friend.

“And maybe we can be more than that.” His eyes widen a bit before closing in a smile.

“Yeah, I’d like that a lot.” He catches himself. “But not right now.”

Your jaw drops and you see the way his grin widens. “Why not?”

“Our anniversary is not going to be New Year’s Eve. I refuse.”

“When will it be then?”

“You’ll find out when I ask you to be mine.”

You pour for a bit before thinking it over, moving your hand into the bag to grab a grape. “Fine. But you have to do something for me now.”

“What?”

“Since you won’t ask me out, how about we do something to hold us over?” You flick your eyes to the phone and pull him closer while holding a grape between your fingers. “Come here! Come here!”

He watches you in confusion until you put the grape between your lips and lean closer to his face. He looks at you fondly, maybe even with a whisper of love, before leaning in.

And maybe you don’t eat an entire bag of grapes under your desk alone this year, but when Taehyun’s lips meet yours around the grape and the juices spill over your chins with giggles filling the room, you just know in your heart of hearts that this year will be better than the last. You hope you can do it again with him, next year as well, and every year after that.

Kai

You are at least ninety percent sure you don't believe in love at first sight. Though in this dimly lit club on New Year's Eve, the remaining ten percent is working overtime.

It is not love that makes you look over at the man standing in the corner, you insist to yourself. Nor is it love that makes you look a second, third, or fourth time. Since it's not love, you will call it an itch. Well, maybe not an itch, that sounds weird. You'll call it an inkling.

You decidedly do not take the time to consider what that inkling could mean. You are certain it’s not love but if it’s not, why is your heart trying to beat out of your chest just from some glances?

What is it about the man standing in the corner that makes you want to approach him? Is it how his dark hair frames his face and makes him appear almost angelic? Is it the way he shuffles from foot to foot as if uncomfortable? Is it the way his friends approach him but he gives a (blinding) smile and nods for them to go back to dancing?

That inkling leads you to gather all of your confidence and make your way to him. As you’re walking towards him you make eye contact and he tenses a bit before standing straighter. ‘I could love that.’

“Hi.” You say, shooting him a smile.

“Hi.” He returns before falling silent, but that’s okay. You didn’t exactly have a script planned out, just an inkling.

“Why’re you standing here all alone?”

“Ah, I was dancing with my friends earlier,” he gestures to where four guys are standing a bit away. Maybe they were dancing before but now they’re hitting each other and making kissy faces towards you. You look back to the man but he just shakes his head and smiles fondly at them. “Sorry about them. They can be a bit…. much.”

You wonder if they tease him often. Make little jokes to get him to share that same smile and headshake every time. You wonder if he would ever turn that smile to you one day. Maybe after you get to know him, you could tease him like that and wait for that smile. ‘I could love that.’

“It’s fine. I don’t mind…” You trail off looking at him expectantly.

“Kai.”

“Well, Kai, I would like to kiss you.” You see his eyes widen and if the club wasn’t so dark, you’d probably see a flush spread across his cheeks. ‘Cute. I could love that.’

You could leave it off there. But the inkling comes back and you know that’s not all you want from him. “And maybe I could take you on a date sometime?”

"Oh."

"Is that okay?" You ask because regardless of the thoughts swirling in your head, you aren't fond of forcing yourself onto this man. Hell, you don’t even know if he’s single.

"Ye-ah, yes! That's okay. I'm okay with that." You note the way his voice cracks with his words and how his body leans into you slightly. An all too familiar bell rings in your head that sounds suspiciously like 'I could love that.'

For all the hyping up you gave it in your mind, the kiss is nothing special. There are no fireworks or cheering, and you didn't even wait for the countdown to happen. It's just you and him, kissing in the corner of a dim club. You're pretty sure at least two people have bumped into you and it's hot and you're a little sweaty. So, yeah. The kiss is no big deal. He is no big deal.

It's just the way he squeezes your waist gently before pulling you flush against his body. It's just the way he tilts his head slightly to get a better angle. It's just the way his lips are soft and sweet with the faintest hint of alcohol. It's just the way he pulls back slightly to let out a sigh just to lean into you again. When he does place space between you, it's to let out a few words.

"Wanna get out of here? Maybe go on that date?" He sports a bashful smile and that bell goes off again. 'I could love him. I could. I could.'

"I'd like that a lot."