#this is a rather self-indulgent story but i hope it will still be enjoyed

[ladystormcrow]

POTO Fic: Trio Sonata

Chapter 1

Summary:

To save Erik from the mob’s wrath, Christine asks him to leave the lair with her and Raoul. But what was meant to be simply one final act of compassion leads to escalating consequences, and soon all three of them find themselves on the run from France – together.

Can former enemies learn to trust? Forgive? Even care for each other?

Can fear truly turn to love?

And who is the mysterious masked man hunting them, who seems to know all of the Phantom’s deadliest tricks?

~~~ The first chapter in the canon divergence E/C/R longfic I've been plotting and researching for the past several months. It's going to be a bit of a slow burn (with more than a little danger and angst on the way), but hopefully readers will find it worth it!

NOTE 1: Nothing NSFW happens in the first chapter, but the M-rating will apply in later chapters.

NOTE 2: This takes place in the same continuity as Imprints In Time, and references some things from that (mostly involving Madame Giry's history with Erik). Reading the first story isn't strictly required, but it helps.

[zara-renata]

Control | ao3 | masterlist

Summary: You are feeling a bit depressed after completing a mission that didn't go 100% the way you wanted. Mephisto, and then Sylus, pay you a visit to cheer you up.

Notes: Sylus x gn reader, Sylus x mc, second person POV, a little Sylus POV This is not actually strictly part of the Sylus series, but rather a bit of an interlude outside of the series I'm writing because it doesn't advance the plot and I don't know where I'd fit it in. I was having an awful day earlier this week and wrote this purely to make myself feel better. I hope it does the same for others. It doesn't contain all the same triggers as the series (but I'd still advise checking the CWs) and can be read as a standalone if you'd like. This story contains: sfw, pure self-indulgent hurt/comfort for overachievers who, despite doing their very best, still feel like they didn't do enough, fluff, banter, tender Sylus, clingy Sylus, still-bit-of-a-jerk-Sylus, CWs: grief, discussion of the realities of law enforcement and innocent civilian death as a result of criminal activity, violence typical of the game and Sylus's criminal tendencies, mention of slight depression and feelings of emptiness.

Here you are, again. It has been a long day, a long week, a long month. You’ve been called out almost every shift to counter an increased spurt of wanderer attacks, while also trying to execute a carefully orchestrated undercover mission to stem the tide of illegal modified protocore weapons that recently flooded the black market by arms smugglers.

No, not Sylus. He’s too clever to put himself on the Association’s radar for his arms dealing in a way that could result in a trap being set for him.

No, the idiots you were going after couldn’t hold a candle to Sylus.

But their activity resulted in civilians being caught in the crossfire, and you had spent the last month seeing firsthand the carnage left behind after a gang battle erupted on the outskirts of Linkon City. You forced yourself to look at the broken bodies and broken families of the people affected, boots crunching on shattered glass, trailing bloody footprints on the cracked tarmac of the street. You would not allow your… situationship with Sylus to blind you to the reality of what his line of work could do to people. People just trying to live their lives, make their rent, raise their children–to survive a life that’s already painful and short enough already, without people like the assholes you just finished bringing down tonight arming other assholes with weapons that no one should be able to access. Weapons designed with one purpose in mind: maximum damage, minimum finesse. Weapons designed as if collateral damage is a feature and not a bug.

You’re tired. Days like this have always happened to you, even before you became a Hunter. The lethargy seeping through your body, the disinterest in doing anything that normally makes you happy. You lie on your bed, staring blankly through your gauzy curtains, the autumn wind driving the intermittent raindrops against the glass of your window. Each one a crystalline jewel, splattering, liquid diamonds trailing down the pane like tears. 

You have the evening stretching before you, and you want to enjoy it, you do. But you can’t seem to make yourself get up, as your mind drifts to the images you made yourself engrave in your brain. The least those people deserved was you to bear witness, and ensure that you never forget, since your work as a Hunter came too late to help them, in the end. 

You turn your gaze away from the gloomy late afternoon, let it wander over the riot of plants hanging from your ceiling and along the shelving in your room. Life continues. Proof of it is right here in your bedroom, the plants turning carbon dioxide into oxygen for you to breathe with your healthy lungs. You’re fine. You’ll be fine.

Before, you might have dropped in on your grandmother, making her a meal and sharing it in quiet companionship. If Caleb weren’t on a flight mission, you might have asked him to go on a run or to the gym with you, worked off some of this jittery aggression on the mats or by pushing your lungs past their capacity in an effort to leave him laughing in your dust.

But they’re gone now, of course. Victims of the same type of assholes you took down today.

You should be reveling in the success of your mission, but all you can see is the still form of one victim in particular, a snapshot in your memory of their slender wrist, their half-opened hand, lying in the street amongst the glittering shards of glass and scorch marks on the asphalt.

This empty feeling will pass. You know that. You have enough life experience to understand that feelings like this, moods like this, ebb and flow like Rafayel’s tide. So what if it’s harder now, to pull yourself out of them when you find yourself drifting in this sorrowful sea, because your support network has been washed away? That doesn’t mean you’ll feel like this forever. Only that it might take a little longer to drag your tired body off the bed, to refill your empty tank and survive and maybe enjoy another day.

Suddenly, you hear a tapping. You turn your head back to the window. Mephisto is perched on the other side of the glass, gently pecking the pane. He tilts his head and regards you with one glittering red eye.

You haven’t seen Sylus for several weeks now, both of you busy with your respective occupations, and you, doubly busy with the undercover mission. He has sent photos, here and there–blurry pictures of a black cat, a flock of birds in flight against an evening sky, the setting sun’s rays the color of fire and blood. He has asked how you’re doing, and you’ve lied and said you’re fine. He sent you a photo of a glass of wine on a low table near a roaring fire. “You should be here,” he’d captioned it.

Despite all of your complicated feelings about who he is, who he was to you when you first met him, what he does to afford his huge open hearth fireplace and all the finest things in life, you wished you were there with him too.

But you weren’t, and you haven’t been for awhile now. Over the past few weeks, you’ve seen Mephisto in the trees, heard his grating call over the sounds of traffic. But he hasn’t approached you, until today. Normally you would play your typical cat and mouse game with him, or rather, crow and worm, and you’d grab your paintball gun and see how good your aim is as he flaps outside your window, or you’d lure him in with a treat and lock him in the bathroom and wait and see how long it takes Sylus to send Luke and Kieran to set him free. You like to think of it as enrichment activities for both the crow and his owner–you’re not going to make it easy for Sylus to stalk you. He might get bored, after all.

But you just don’t have it in you, today. You slip off the bed and pad to the window, throwing it open. Rain mists your face, drawing goosebumps up your bare arms. Mephisto watches you, and caws softly. You’d call it a coo, if it wasn’t such a horrible sound. Much like his owner’s attempt at a lullaby. You back away, slip back onto the bed. If he’d like to come in, he’s welcome.

You return to staring at your bedroom walls. After a while, you hear the flapping of wings, and suddenly Mephisto lands next to you on the duvet. He shakes his mechanical feathers, and water droplets are flung onto the fabric and the mountain of pillows.

“Thanks, buddy,” you murmur, watching as he uses his beak to groom himself. It’s uncanny, sometimes, how alive-acting he is. Like a real bird. You’ve always wanted a pet. You know that Sylus insists that Mephisto is not a pet, but you really can’t see the difference. Mephisto clearly likes his owner, and does his job dutifully, and sometimes you think, with great pleasure. He drops little destroyed bits of surveillance hardware at Sylus’s feet on occasion, like a real crow bringing something shiny to a human who was previously kind to him. 

Curiously, but without much expectation, you extend your hand to the bird. He hops backward, away from you, but remains on the bed. “May I pet you?” you ask.

He cocks his head, makes soft little chirruping noises in his mechanical throat. You let your hand fall to the duvet, palm up, and close your eyes. It’s nice to have company, in any case.

After a while, you feel him hopping again, and then something cold and smooth hesitantly nudges your palm. You open your eyes. Mephisto is gently pecking your palm. He nudges it, then bobs his head, observing you with his beautiful ruby eye.

“Is that a yes?” you ask. In response, he sits down, nestling into your duvet. You lift your hand, and he lets you run your fingertips along the top of his head and along the smooth, cool metal feathers along his back. 

Every few minutes, he ruffles his feathers and readjusts his position, slowly inching his way closer to you on the bed. Finally, he is resting against your thigh, within easy reach of your hand, head tucked into one of his wings like he’s ready for a nap.

The open window lets the brisk, rainy autumn evening in, and the light slowly fades. Eventually, you manage to drift off into a dreamless sleep.

And this is how Sylus finds you, towards midnight. He lets himself in through your front door, using the fingerprint scanner he reprogrammed to accept his own as well as yours. He enjoyed seeing the look on your face, when you figured out that’s how he had gotten into your apartment without the key you had offered and he had refused. Your angry facial expression is worth more than all of his dragon’s hoard of wealth, in his trustworthy opinion.

He notes that the temperature in your apartment is surprisingly cool, even through the warm wool of his thick black coat. He had sent Mephisto to check on you, but he hasn’t managed to get an update since the bird was tapping at your window, sending back images to Sylus’s phone of you lying on the bed in your sleep clothes, awake, but not looking at your phone or watching your wall-screen, even though it hadn’t even been dinner time yet. He had told himself not to worry, that you were probably just tired after the past grueling month. But now he is worrying. He slides off his black monk strap shoes, and places them neatly along your entryway wall. Despite the faint worry edging up his spine, he takes the time to neatly line up your own hastily kicked off boots next to his, because he also worries that you’re going to trip and break your neck one of these days on all the shit you just leave scattered around on your floor, too exhausted to immediately tidy them up and put them away.

He makes his way through your dark apartment, picking up discarded clothing and folding them over his arm to put in your laundry basket, and quietly steps into your bedroom. 

No wonder it’s cold in here–your window is wide open. It’s no longer raining, but the chill night air drifts into your bedroom and stirs the leaves of your indoor plants. You’re buried in your duvet, curled around an equally nestled Mephisto, who deigns to lift his head from where he had it tucked under his wings. He caws softly, as if to tell Sylus to be quiet and to not wake Sylus’s sweet little Hunter.

“This is dereliction of duty,” Sylus quietly scolds the bird, lifting the lid of your laundry basket next to your closet and neatly putting the clothes inside. He goes to the window and shuts it, and then draws the gauzy as well as the blackout curtains against the night outside. He returns to the living room, hangs up his coat, and brings a glass of water back to your bedroom.

He leans over the bed and pokes Mephisto. “You’re in my spot.” The bird puffs up his feathers a little in indignation and caws quietly.

“Nope, out. You’ve had your turn.” Sylus prods him again, and finally Mephisto ruffles his wings, hops to his feet, and flaps off to the living room, making disgruntled noises as he goes. Sylus sympathizes, but doesn’t feel guilty at all for dislodging him from your side. It’s Sylus’s turn now.

He slips out of his slacks, pulls his sweater and undershirt over his head, and slides under the blanket next to you. You sigh in your sleep, frowning a little, and Sylus runs his finger between your eyebrows, smoothing the furrow there. If he could, he’d reach into your dreams and crush anything that would cause such an expression on your face in his bare hands. Unfortunately, that’s not one of the perks of the aether core in his eye. He settles for plastering his body against your back and wrapping an arm around you, running his nose along your neck and inhaling the scent of your hair. The distance between Linkon City and the N109 zone is getting harder and harder for him to handle gracefully.

While you’ve been busy taking down the low level morons playing at being arms smugglers, Sylus has also been busy for the past few weeks, negotiating deals, consolidating his power, tightening his grip in his efforts to acquire a monopoly on the illegal protocore arms trade in both the N109 zone and Linkon City. He’s making progress, but his work is not yet done. He’s tired, and he has spent every day of the past month missing you. Now that he knows your latest mission is over, he intends to soak in your presence for as long as you’re available, before he has to head back out into the cold gloom without you again.

Sylus closes his eyes. Just for a moment. He’ll check in on some online auctions in a few minutes, review the stock market moves of the day and reconsider investments, but for just this moment, he’ll hold you in his arms, and warm your cold hands in his warm palms.

And that’s how you find yourself waking up in the early hours of the morning, a big warm body pressed against yours. You blink, note the time of two in the morning. You reach out and feel around, setting your bedside lamp to its dimmest setting so that you can see in the pitch-black room. You turn your head, and find Sylus’s sleeping face on the pillow next to yours, looking more peaceful than he ever appears when awake. The furrow between his brows is almost nonexistent, and his mouth is soft, plush lips parted a little. In this moment, you can imagine him as a little boy, angelic in sleep, mischievous while awake. Your heart hurts a little, imagining what kind of life that little boy had to endure to become the sleeping panther next to you tonight.

You turn fully, brush your nose against his, and then cuddle into him, head tucked into his neck. You breathe him in. He smells like warm, sleepy Sylus, a little sweaty under the duvet. You resist the urge to lick him.

“This is the best way to wake up from a nap,” his hoarse, sleep-filled voice vibrates through you.

You laugh softly. “Good, because this is the only package we offer tonight. No refunds.”

“I wouldn’t dream of returning this experience.” You can hear the smile in his voice.

You both lie like that for a while, the sound of the wind outside and your combined quiet breathing the only sounds filtering through the room.

You had fallen asleep feeling empty, but waking up with this elusive man in your bed has you feeling sated. Refueled. Full. You sigh. How is it possible that a man who is responsible for the same things as those assholes you apprehended yesterday can make you feel like this? You remember that person lying in the street, eyes that will never see again, a parent who will never come home again. As if they were just sleeping. But as you stood over them, you knew better–your heart was the gravity well of a black hole, and you felt like you would fold in on yourself from the weight. If only you had been a little quicker, a little cleverer. If only you could disintegrate another human being like Sylus can, with just a gesture. You could have disappeared the assholes who were responsible for this person’s death, an entire life, someone’s baby at some point, brought into the world with love and effort and surviving each and every day, right up until the day you found yourself standing over them, as they lay broken in the street. And they died, for what? For some senseless, stupid feud over money? Turf? A feud they had absolutely nothing to do with. Fuck . You’re feeling sick again.

You burrow deeper into Sylus’s warmth.

“Speak,” Sylus says.

You pull back slightly and look up into his sleep-bleary face.

“Speak?”

“Are we a parrot tonight?” He smiles, eyes heavy-lidded.

“A parrot?”

“And a comedian, ladies and gentlemen,” he leans forward, nuzzles your nose with his.

“Don’t get too close, I probably have morning breath,” you murmur.

“Ah, so you can formulate your own thoughts.” He nuzzles the side of your mouth. “Do I look like a give a fuck if you have morning breath? I probably do too.”

“Fine, don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Then you yawn, widely. 

He runs his hand down your side and pinches your hip. You yelp.

“Don’t change the subject,” he commands. “Tell me what’s on your mind. I can hear it racing from here–I’m pretty sure it’s what woke me up from my pleasant nap.”

“Oh, did I disturb his royal highness’s beauty sleep?”

“Yes, so you owe me. The compensation is telling me what had you staring into the void yesterday, and what made you sound so sad just now while enjoying being wrapped in my extraordinary arms. Many people would pay a lot to be in the position you’re in right now,” he says smugly.

“Yes, in order to slit your throat.”

He huffs. You note that he’s wrong; you’re probably the only one with morning breath. He somehow manages to just smell good. Toothpaste and mouth. You want to lick his teeth. “You’re probably not wrong.” He pauses. “Please talk to me. I’ve gotten used to hearing your worries. You can shut everyone else out, but I don’t like it when you shut me out too.”

You roll away from him, but his arm around you prevents you from going far. You glance at your windows, but the blackout curtains block even the city lights. 

“I’ve just. I’ve been thinking about a lot of things over the past few weeks.”

“Uh oh. Nothing ever good comes from that,” he teases. You swat him in the chest. His body shakes with quiet laughter.

“Do you want to know or not?” you gripe.

“It’s not my fault that you didn’t make it clear that you won’t be accepting editorial commentary at this time. But I’ve learned my lesson. Continue.”

You throw your arm over your eyes and laugh. You can’t help it. Even when you’re feeling at your worst, this man manages to make you laugh. But you feel guilty for laughing, because the person you can’t get out of your head, this stranger who you were unable to save, will never laugh again. You hate it.

You sigh. “I’ve always struggled with the fact that my evol seems to have only a support function. Like, I often need a partner in order to be optimally effective in battle against wanderers, because otherwise it’s just me and whatever my physical talents are. Which, though amazing,” you sniff, “are often just, not enough when dealing with the kind of creatures that I often have to deal with.” You fall silent, imagining if you could set shit on fire like Rafayel without resorting to a flamethrower, or freezing a swathe of enemies all at once like Zayne. The battles you would wage would be epic.

“And I’m obviously competent at eliminating wanderers–I can usually arrive before the damage occurs. I can actually help people. And wanderers, they’re not like human perpetrators. They have no ill intent. They’re like animals, driven by instinct. Even when I do arrive too late, it feels more like a natural disaster than a malicious injustice. Of course, it’s still awful when someone dies for something so senseless, but that’s been the case for all of humanity’s history in the face of stronger predators.” Your mind races. You’re trying so hard to articulate what has been weighing on you. “But that’s only one part of my job. The other side of it, the side that involves going after humans with ill-intent, that’s a lot more complicated. So often, I arrive after the damage has already been done. I feel like the cleanup crew, completely useless to the normal people who just are trying to get through the day who get caught up in other peoples’ cruelty. It’s not like evil assholes announce their arrival with a metaflux fluctuation like wanderers do. I’m just.. too late, too often.” You try to imagine everything you’d do if you had Sylus’s power. You’d probably turn into a supervillain too, to be honest.

You fall quiet again. Sylus props his head on his hand and runs a finger along your clavicle with his free hand. You enjoy the feel of his calloused fingertip along your skin.

“And what else? I’m sensing there’s more to this story.”

You don’t want to hurt him. But you also don’t want to lie to him. “I just can’t reconcile the fact that I spent the last month tracking down the arms smugglers that I managed to catch yesterday, and I’d have gladly killed them if given half a chance. If I could snap my fingers like you, and just fucking annihilate them. But here I am, lying here in bed, with you.” You can’t bring yourself to look him in the face as you say this.

You feel Sylus’s fingers begin to trail up your forearm and gently encircle your wrist, pulling your arm away from your eyes. You turn and look into his face. 

“I’m certainly glad you’re not in bed with them now, sweetheart,” he says drily. “I don’t think there would be room for all of us, what with your army of plushies and my impressive physique.”

You groan.

“So let me get this straight. You’re upset because you feel like your skills aren’t sufficient to protect every single person who is in need of help. You’re upset that you can’t kill with a thought. And you’re upset because you would have killed these guys, who are in the same business as me, but you refuse to do the same to me?”

It sounds so simple, succinctly listed like that, for how heavy your heart feels. For the emptiness you felt, instead of triumph, after successfully protecting a lot of people over the last month, and getting a few more petty dealers off the street so they can't contribute to hurting anyone else in the future.

The bit about Sylus being the same as those criminals, without meeting their fate, on the other hand. That doesn’t sound simple at all.

You nod. “Instead of feeling like I did well, and taking the free time I have after I’ve completed a job to enjoy myself, or do something that makes me happy, all I can do is think about all the ways I failed, or how could have done it better, or how I’m still not doing everything I should be doing to help people. That’s why I was …staring at the void, as you put it. I couldn’t imagine one thing that I wanted to do with the free evening I had.”

Sylus pokes you in the forehead. “I knew you were arrogant, and greedy. I just never realized how much until this moment,” he says, narrowing his eyes.

You jerk back from his touch. “I pour my heart out to you, and you call me arrogant and greedy?” He lifts his eyebrows at your outburst. “The fuck, Sylus?”

“Quiet, or you’ll wake Mephisto.” He drapes an arm back over you and pulls you back into his warmth.

“Oh nooo, wouldn’t want to wake your mechanical murder bird,” you bite out, but quietly. You feel like you have a new understanding with Mephisto now that he let you pet him and you shared a nap with him. It’s not his fault that his owner is an insensitive asshole.

“No, we wouldn’t,” he agrees placidly. “Would you care to know why I am rightfully pointing out that your attitude about what you 'should' be capable of is arrogant and greedy? Or do you just want to stay upset about it for a little longer? I can wait.”

You scowl at him. “Oh, I’m happy to wait if you keep looking at me like that,” he murmurs, nuzzling his nose into your hair.

You put your palm on his face and push him away. He rolls away with a soft laugh.

“Just tell me,” you grumble. “And then go home. I’m suddenly not feeling like company anymore.”

“Hmm,” he props himself back up on his hand. “You have an incredibly powerful aether core in your heart, one that is coveted by countless people.” He rests his other hand over your heart as he speaks. “You've recently increased its power by absorbing the power of another aether core. You can heal other evolvers, resonate with them to exponentially increase their power, and probably do a lot more than you’re aware of yet. You’ve probably not even scratched the surface of what it can do for you.” 

You look away, but enjoy the press of his palm against you.

“You have extraordinary physical capabilities–I’m not just patronizing you when I said that I’d rather have you at my back than anyone else I know, even without your evol.” He reaches for your cheek, and gently tilts your head to look at him again. His wine-dark gaze drifts over your face. “And you’re not the only Hunter in the Association. If only one person were capable of doing your job, there would be no Association at all. You can’t expect to be one-hundred percent successful, one-hundred percent of the time. Not even I am greedy enough to feel like I should be able to have that kind of success rate. And I’m also not arrogant enough to expect that of myself. I can’t run Onychinus alone. I rely on many subordinates and competent people to take care of the business when my attention is elsewhere.” He looks at you pointedly, as if you’re the elsewhere slurping up all of his attention.

You blow a raspberry at him.

More quickly than you thought he could move, he snatches your tongue between his thumb and forefinger and gently wags it. His skin is salty. “Da thuck, Thylus?”

“Keep it in your mouth if you don’t want me to take it,” he wags it once more, as if to emphasize his point, and then lets go. “Next time I won’t give it back.”

You suppress the urge to just slobber all over his face in retaliation.

“So yes. I find the expectations you have for yourself to be arrogant and greedy, and entirely excessive. Do you think that your colleagues are failures, or haven't done enough, when they return from missions that went tits up, or when they failed to protect one hundred percent of those threatened?"

You scowl. Of course not. You know that they work their asses off to the best job they can. You'd never think less of them for having a bad day, or a bad mission. For people dying on their watch. But they're not you.

"Kitten, you’re doing your best, with everything you have in you. The world is cruel, and so are the people in it. You can’t control that. But you can control what you do about that cruelty. You're already fighting as hard as you can--too hard, if you want my valuable opinion."

"Trying as hard as I can with as much hardware and bodywork I can exploit. But it's just no the same as having your evol," you grumble. You might be slightly jealous of Sylus's power. Just slightly. 

Sylus huffs, sounding a little impatient. "If it's not enough for you to be a walking grenade launcher, and you're frustrated that you can’t disintegrate those you want to eliminate with a snap of your fingers, just bring me with you. You can control me, and I’ll do all the heavy lifting.”

You just stare at him, mouth hanging open a little. He lifts his hand and chucks you under your chin with his thumb to close it. “Why so shocked?”

“Aside from the fact that you just offered to murder for me?” you ask, shaking your head a little.

“I already have murdered for you. I’d do a lot more than that, for you.” He pulls you into his side again and rests his head on your shoulder. “So don’t be too greedy. You're already very talented at what you do. You have control over the most powerful person in the N109 zone. The people you work to protect every single day are lucky that you are on the Association’s side, and not anyone else’s. You can’t save the entire world from injustice. But you can continue doing your best, with your already impressive skills, to protect as many people as you can. And if anyone tries to tell you that what you’re doing isn’t enough, you can send them to me. Including yourself. I will take care of them for you.”

You turn your head and rest your cheek in his silky hair. You breathe deeply and feel your heart settle in your chest. You notice that he hasn’t addressed the fact that he’s involved in the same business as the people you took down yesterday. But you don’t care. You know, somehow, in the calm beating of your heart, that he isn’t anything like them. He isn’t anything like them at all.

Your thoughts drift to a slender wrist, to an open palm. You will never forget this person. Hopefully you can honor them, in some small way, by continuing to force yourself to look, and not surrendering to the horror of it. You will keep going. Maybe next time, you'll arrive in time. You hope it is enough. And you'll also try to hear what Sylus is telling you. All you can give is your everything. No one can ask more of you than that, even if it's you who is asking.

As you continue rubbing your cheek in his hair like a cat, he speaks again. "And as for you not arresting me... or taking advantage of your position and slitting my throat." You freeze. You thought maybe you could just pretend you hadn't expressed this worry tonight. "Have you ever considered the possibility that, in order to treat an infection, it's not sufficient to just address the symptoms?"

For a second you feel like you can hear Zayne coming out of Sylus's mouth, and you're totally weirded out. "What do you mean?" you reluctantly ask.

"Sometimes, the only way to destroy a rotten core is to work from the inside out. It's not enough to desperately amputate the affected limbs. And that kind of work requires getting your hands dirty."

You feel like he just told you something very important. But you can also sense that he won't explain anything else tonight. This is the closest the two of you have ever gotten to actually discussing the substance of his work, and you're satisfied with that. The certainty you felt before, about him being utterly different than the others, settles deeper into your bones. You relax into him again.

“And your last worry. About not knowing what to do with yourself when you’ve completed something extraordinary, and find yourself with some free time on your hands… just call me. We can figure out what to do together.”

You can’t bring yourself to say anything. If you do, you might start crying and not be able to stop. He is everything you needed tonight. You just press closer into him, hoping he can hear everything you can’t say out loud yet.

“So, still not feeling like company anymore?” Sylus asks, after you’ve sat in peaceful silence for a few moments. “Or am I allowed to stay?”

“Would you go even if I asked you to?” You reach up and run your fingers through his soft hair, and he makes a pleased noise deep in his throat.

“If I thought that was what you really wanted, sweetheart.”

And you believe him.

[umemiyan]

𝙋𝙊𝙎𝙏𝙈𝙊𝙍𝙏𝙀𝙈 / 𝙋𝙊𝙎𝙏𝙋𝘼𝙍𝙏𝙐𝙈. — 𝖯𝖠𝖱𝖳 𝖨𝖨

𝘗𝘙𝘌𝘝𝘐𝘖𝘜𝘚 𝘊𝘏𝘈𝘗𝘛𝘌𝘙 ･ 𝘕𝘌𝘟𝘛 𝘊𝘏𝘈𝘗𝘛𝘌𝘙 ･ 𝗠𝗔𝗦𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗟𝗜𝗦𝗧 ･ 𝘛𝘈𝘎𝘓𝘐𝘚𝘛

𝗦𝗔𝗧𝗢𝗥𝗨 𝗚𝗢𝗝𝗢 𝗫 𝗚𝗡!𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗗𝗘𝗥. ⌇ sfw, but minors dni (nsfw future chapters likely) / an interpretation of "came back wrong" gojo (he's not necessarily wrong, just different) / yandere!gojo vibes / disabled-coded gojo with reader acting as caretaker; it's essentially a learning curve for everybody involved / some dubcon physical affection moments, but nothing serious / 3.4k words

well... we have made it to a second chapter!! this overall idea just really resonated with me, and after learning how it affected others as well, i just knew i had to do my best to keep it going. this is the first ever "part 2" of anything i've ever written, so i beg for just a shred of mercy! i'm trying my best, and thank you to everyone who has said kind things about this story so far. i hope you enjoy <3

The winter air is brisk and a little volatile, but you feel blessed to have it whirl past your skin—even more blessed to watch Satoru’s flesh prickle at the sensation. Alive.

You had done your best to rummage through the expanse of his closet to find a suitable coat for him to wear—one that would cut the chill of an afternoon breeze when it inevitably brushed across his body. January could be unforgiving at times—the harshest of winter moths. You wondered how cold death must’ve felt.

“Satoru, where are your shoes?” You inquired, voice muffled in his closet as you sifted through garments, multitasking in an attempt to compose an outfit for him.

He sat at the edge of his bed, eyes fixed on your movements as they often were, mind turning at your question for a moment. He stood then, paced towards the shoe rack that stood outside the closet door, and reached gently for one of your busied hands. Satoru points your fingers towards the collection of shoes.

You paused your movements, eyes curious as they followed his guidance before landing upon their intended target. “Oh, that’s right,” you said with a small shake of your head, bearing a self-defeating smile and feeling rather silly for your oversight. 

It was a challenge to become acquainted with someone else’s home amidst everything else, responsibilities stacking upon responsibilities. However, Satoru continued to prove that he could recall more than you initially thought, that he could act as your guiding light when called upon. A little ironic, you think. A little pathetic, too? No, you are human, after all. Just as he is.

He smiled in return. You swore there was even a hint of a familiar light-hearted, teasing glimmer in his eye, unless you were seeing things.

(You weren’t.)

For once, you are grateful for the rather serene nature of the school’s grounds as you stroll across them side-by-side with him, much like in days from a not-so-distant past. The remaining fallen leaves from the trees dressing the mountains rustle with the wind, colored by the touch of death but still beautiful all the same, just like something else you know.

“We can always go back if it gets too cold,” you say as a reminder to Satoru of his agency, his home on campus easy to circle back to should you take the notion. You fear he might choose to freeze himself into another early grave if that’s what you wished, and you can’t fathom the idea of making him suffer simply because he thinks it pleases you to do so. Your happiness is somehow his, and although this is a new quality you have yet to decipher, there’s still something about it that strikes you as indulgent and rather characteristic of a gluttonous Satoru Gojo.

He doesn’t respond, gaze flitting across his surroundings as he walks, nerve endings and six eyes absorbing a litany of information. A silent Satoru used to be a rare occurrence but is now the default, the air somehow punctured by the lack of his voice riding along it. However, his presence is still stark, his being brimming with energy as if to make up for the words he can no longer speak. 

Unbeknownst to you, he communicates with you not only with his physical body, but with his feelings, too—waves of energy that he projects outward on instinct, hoping you’ll have the means to grasp what he is trying to say even if he isn’t always sure what it is. It has been rather unsynchronized and sloppy thus far, but with each day that passes, your ability to hear him grows.

You can hear him now even with the only sounds being the breeze rushing in your ears and leaves crunching beneath the soles of shoes. There is something somber about him, more than usual, mixed with that same sense of being lost in a world that feels brand new. 

All of it is familiar to Satoru on a physical level—the paths, the buildings, the foliage—but what prickles his mind is attempting to piece together the myriad of strange feelings that arise as he is faced with more and more reminders of a past that he can’t fully recall. 

It’s as though the memories are trying to surface but can’t quite fuse into something tangible, something concrete, like when you feel a word forming just at the tip of your tongue but it never arrives. He can sense them deeply in his body, almost experience a brief image flashing like lightning through his mind before it disappears. Satoru’s frustration is palpable, and he reaches for your hand.

Icy-cold fingers nipped by winter intertwine with yours, tethering him in place as his fractured mind aches with the burden of obscurity. His physical affection is new to you, but you allow it—welcome it, even. As much as the earnest displays contrast with his previous tiptoeing around connection, it is yet another thing you can’t bear to turn down, not after everything that’s happened. 

You hope it isn’t simply guilt of all things compelling you to accommodate him, but wouldn’t it be equally bad to do it for selfish reasons? Could one misconstrue it as taking advantage, of feeding off his need to satisfy some part of you that had always wanted him?

The various implications make your head swim with conflict, so you force yourself to shut them down for the time being. Satoru is only holding your hand, nothing more, at least for the moment. There had of course been instances of his lips pecking against your own, wandering down to your neck, his hand settling on your waist as if to draw you closer… but you’d always managed to divert his attention in one way or another, severing the connection before either of you could become too engrossed in it. He never seemed overly perturbed to shift direction, but you couldn’t help but wonder just how long his patience might last, and if you’d be able to figure out what you even were to him before then.

Needless to say, nothing could have ever prepared you for something like this. What drives you forward more than anything is your contentment with the fact that he’s here walking the earth with you, as whole as he can be after having been stolen from the arms of death. And despite the abundance of challenges, part of you can’t help but feel special for being chosen to face them.

When your feet bring you near the school’s entrance, gates opening way for a path down the mountain, Satoru stops dead in his tracks, alert like an animal that’s suddenly caught a scent. His grip on your hand tightens, heart plummeting into his stomach as something takes hold of him, something he likely couldn’t put into words even if he had the ability to speak.

You turn to check over him with your gaze, concern etched upon your features at the immediate change of pace. “Satoru…?” you call softly, yearning for a chance to be able to peek into his mind. All you can do is feel the chill of his demeanor.

His name drifting upon your voice earns a split second of his attention, but he is, for once, captivated by something else.

Pierced gut. Blocked throat. Summer sun and the sounds of buzzing.

It’s a memory that lives in his body but not his conscious mind, an instinct telling him to heed the surroundings for a threat that once was. He relives it with a rapid heartbeat, knows it bears importance, but he can only recall shreds of information that don’t merge together to form a full picture. He simmers in mounting frustration.

Black hair. Sharp eyes. Boiling blood—the brink of death.

Satoru turns on a dime and faces a figure in the distance, on guard and brimming with a sort of defensiveness you’d never quite seen before, at least not coming from him. Muscles rigid, he squeezes your upper arm as if to warn you, to keep you close, his extraordinary senses absorbing information quicker than you can even pivot to see what it is he’s looking at.

From around the corner of a building emerges Megumi, clad in warm clothes and a mellow disposition. His distinctly unruly hair makes it easy to identify him even from where he appears down the path, hands in his pockets as he strolls towards you upon recognition. 

Satoru’s mind runs through calculations as the young student approaches, attempting to distinguish and fill gaps and create something he can take hold of as a semblance of fact.

Black hair. Sharp eyes. Something… different? 

Megumi’s cursed energy burns in a recognizable way, striking Satoru as peculiar as he instinctively studies it with the six eyes. But it makes sense to him—it’s familiar, even if he struggles to trust it in full. This is someone he hasn’t met since his awakening, but someone his eyes have certainly seen before.

You can sense the fear radiating off Satoru’s being and into yours, the presence of someone other than you agitating his already troubled state. You must act.

“Look, it’s Megumi,” you say softly with an encouraging smile, encasing his hand with your palm and hoping that your pleasant reaction takes the edge off. Satoru is reluctant to avert his gaze, but does so anyway, blue darting in your direction to witness the happiness written in your features. You appear to trust this person, and he trusts you, so despite the pounding in his chest, the sorcerer relaxes his grip.

You guide Satoru to take a few steps forward with you to meet Megumi as he draws nearer, a tired but welcoming smile turning your lips upward to greet him. It’s nice to see the boy alive and well in the aftermath of his own debacle—or at least as well as someone could possibly be. You wish there had been something more you could’ve done to help him recover, but it was known to many that you happened to have your hands full at the moment. Hopefully he will understand.

“Hey,” Megumi utters quietly, eyes scanning over your face and then his teacher’s, trying to briefly assess your individual states.

“Hi, Megumi,” you respond, appraising him yourself. He seems to be all in one piece, which you had been informed of, but had yet to see yourself. It’s nice to have visual confirmation. “How are you?”

“Fine,” he replies quickly, flatly, minimizing himself as usual. His voice is more sincere when inquiring about your wellbeing. “And you?”

You grin, finding a way to sum up your experience without overwhelming him. “Hanging in there,” you muse with a breathy chuckle. There’s no use in worrying him with all the details of Gojo’s current condition and how it has subsequently flipped your world upside down, but Megumi is shrewd, and you’re sure he can come to some sort of conclusion, especially when briefed by the others who have eyes on the situation.

Megumi awkwardly rubs at the back of his neck, skirting around vulnerability and concern as his next question arises. “Gojo-sensei… how are you doing?”

Satoru has been silent all the while, of course, but sorting through every detail while you and his former student exchange pleasantries. Neurons fire, rewiring frazzled connections, giving him a glimpse at how this boy is not the same as the one he bears a resemblance to.

Megumi isn’t sure what sort of response to expect; in fact, he feels silly for expecting one at all, posing a question that he’s fairly certain can’t be answered directly. But how else was he meant to conduct himself in such an interaction, to show that he cares? To speak as if Gojo weren’t even there would feel like even more of an insult.

You’re caught in the middle, watching Satoru’s face and seeing the gears turning in his head. “I think we’re all just… learning how to adjust to things, y’know?” you reply with a rather vacant smile, turning back to Megumi who understands your subtext with ease. Rather than speak for Satoru, you’ve made a blanket statement to provide just the slightest bit of feedback, and Megumi is well aware.

The student nods his head with a short hum of acknowledgment, doing his best to see his mentor in this new light—one he never thought would be possible, not when it came to someone who had always claimed to be so strong. But at least there is a light at all.

The wind tosses leaves around between the three of you, filling the silence with its quiet whispers. You wish there was more to be said. You wish you had a solid grasp of how well Satoru really was doing.

“I think Ieiri said she wanted to see you soon,” Megumi states, acting as a courier, trying to fill the space with words.

You nod. “Yeah, we’ve been in touch. We’re actually meant to meet up with her tomorrow.” 

Shoko, while expectedly rather removed, had been one of your primary contacts and supports thus far, apart from Ijichi who shouldered the burden of several essential tasks you hadn’t been able to complete on your own. You felt guilty for sending him out for groceries and back to your apartment for extra sets of clothes, but how else would you manage to make it by? Leaving Satoru alone or in the care of someone else wasn’t currently an option, and taking him outside the school grounds didn’t sound like an optimal idea either at the present moment. So you had to make do in the meantime, and you were truly grateful for the help, but you couldn’t help but hope that things would eventually fall into place. Maybe Shoko would have answers.

“That’s good,” Megumi replies with a sparkle of hope in his tone, then reluctantly adds, “and, uh… just let me know if I can do anything to help, okay?”

You respond to his gesture with a warm smile. “Thank you, Megumi. That’s very kind.” You don’t have immediate plans for taking the young man up on his offer, but you appreciate the sentiment regardless. He deserves to rest and seek peace, not fight any more battles for the sake of others.

A twinge of pink colors the apples of Megumi’s cheeks, and he recedes into the scarf wrapped around his neck, unused to accepting grace from others without feeling inclined to quarrel about it. He is at a loss for words, somewhat eager to make his escape before the vulnerability has the chance to further consume his dignity. You take that as something of a cue.

“Well, we—” you start, preparing to make a closing statement and depart, before being interrupted by a sudden movement to your left—Satoru, breaking free from his fixed state to perform a familiar gesture.

As if finally making a connection, he grins and mimics the Ten Shadows hand configuration for summoning the Divine Dogs, clapping his palms together and examining Megumi’s reaction with ardor. The student is startled out of his mild embarrassment, somewhat baffled by the sudden communication attempt and the implication that his mentor perhaps actually remembers who he is. It’s a pleasant surprise to you both, and a moment or two is required for it to sink in.

Your face lights up with glee, heart warmed by the simple action in a way that’s difficult to express. Megumi appears to be in a similar boat—taken aback, but ultimately stricken with joy.

A modest smile creeps upon Megumi’s lips as he softly mirrors the motion with his own hands, acknowledging Gojo’s revelation. “Yeah…” he says, voice faint but pleased. “Divine Dogs.”

Every brief glimpse into Satoru’s thoughts feels like a blessing, and this is certainly no exception. It’s refreshing to watch him have a moment of sincere connection with someone other than yourself, and it leaves you glowing with hope for the future as you bid Megumi farewell and make your way back home.

“Head back, Satoru.”

Water splashes into the bathtub as Satoru cranes his neck to peer up at the ceiling as per your request, a cup full of liquid streaming over his hair and carrying shampoo suds along with it.

After returning from your walk, you’d prepared something for dinner and eventually urged Satoru into the tub for a bath before bed—yet another activity that seemed to get a little easier every time you did it.

Figuring out how to get him to bathe had initially been quite the challenge, but you had managed to devise a method that had gotten the job done quite well thus far. He might’ve looked rather awkward sitting cramped in the shallow bath with a pair of swimming trunks on while you rinsed him with an old plastic cup you’d excavated from a cabinet, but it was the most effective way to get him clean and preserve both your dignities while doing it. Though you were the only one who seemed to be concerned with such things.

Satoru blinks when a few soapy droplets backslide into one of his eyes, causing him to squint, scrunch, and rub it with his fingers until the uncomfortable sensation eases. He looks at you, almost as if to say, “Hey! That burns!”

You chuckle and shake your head with a playful roll of your eyes. “That’s why you’re supposed to close your eyes, goober.”

He wants to submerge in a pout, but your playfulness rids him of the inclination. Satoru instead shifts his focus to the beauty of your frame perched upon the edge of the tub, a beacon of divinity as you cleanse him with care and devotion. He takes the notion to express an inkling of gratitude by leaning forward and placing a kiss against your lips, lukewarm water rippling around him as it gradually cools.

You’re somewhat stiff and unresponsive, the sudden gesture catching you by surprise as it usually does, but you don’t chastise him for it; in fact, it takes a certain level of concentration for you to avoid letting your thoughts linger on his current state: hair slicked back; flesh exposed and glistening with droplets of water; lips warm, wet, and eager for reciprocation…

Your mouth receives his but does not encourage him for more than a split second, pulling back gently from his advance until you can see Satoru shiver as the water chills his body. His eyes are glued to your face, waiting for a reaction as you prepare to make one more pass over his hair with the cup to see that he is fully rinsed, this time using your hand to shield his eyes from any backflow (and from your expression, which is surely indicative of your now rapid heartbeat).

The action is enough to distract him for the moment, but Satoru is still on edge, teeming with infatuation and need. He is unsatisfied with your response—or lack thereof—and is frustrated with his inability to express it, but your hands carefully wiping drops of water from his face act as a temporary soothing agent.

“Alright, let’s get dried off and ready for bed,” you say, standing to fetch his towel from the rack and bring it back to him before reaching down to trigger the tub to drain. “We’re going to talk to Shoko tomorrow.”

Satoru is less concerned with the meaning of your words than he is with how lovely you sound while saying them. He is once again caught in your spell, entranced by the need to be closer but settling for the scraps that you give him—for now.

You aren’t convinced of his comprehension of what you say, but nevertheless, you use the sweetened tone to deflect from the overwhelm of watching him stand and observe your every move as you help to dry his chiseled body. Satoru is tall and looming, scarred in the midriff, but compliant with your ministrations; however, his easygoing nature doesn’t keep your hands from wanting to shake against the towel that repeatedly caresses his physical beauty. You wish you could torch every thought in your mind, switch your brain off to preserve the strength and sanity that remains. 

You aren’t sure how long you’ll be able to remain steadfast and maintain this cycle of “temporaries” until something eventually changes. And what if it never does?

You suppose the only thing you can do for now is try your best and wait and see what the future holds. It certainly can’t be any worse than what you’ve already been through, especially now that Satoru is by your side once more. That is something you’ve realized you wouldn’t trade for anything.

[kumasakka]

idk if you guys are accepting rqs but ive been following since yall started so might as well shoot my shot 😹🤫

i am in desperate need of sugishita (windbre) x reader so may i request general dating hcs for a sugi x gn!reader who comes off as standoffish/cold but is really chatty when getting to know them??

THE PERSONALITY IS SELF INDULGENT BUT LIFES TOO SHORT and i wanna keep it vague sorry im rambling im nervous but thank you if you do!!! 💖💖

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ❝ 𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐎𝐃 ! ❞

⋆.˚ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆. s.kyotaro x reader .

⋆.˚ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘. general dating headcanon with our underrated favorite character, sugishita kyotaro <3 boy deserves much more love guys .

⋆.˚ 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓. ~0.99k . IT'S A LOT .

⋆.˚ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓. fluff. lots of fluff I think. gn!reader. It's my first time writing headcanons and gender neutral reader ( gender doesn't get mentioned though ). but I tried my best, anon. expect to be a little disappointed. still hoping you'll enjoy this though !! spoiler - free. <3

　୨୧ How did you two meet? Well, good question.

　୨୧ But I imagine you both definitely met through Umemiya. Like there aren't any reasons why you two should talk to each other. You're a student from another high school of course, not in Furin like Sugishita and Umemiya is. How you met umemiya is a different story.

　୨୧ Umemiya needs to do a lot so the two of you can get more comfortable with each other as if he was the bridge between two quiet cities, he does it unconsciously although. If he wasn't there, you'd probably stare at each other before returning to your own matters. You seemed like a cold person in Sugishita's eyes and Sugishita seemed like he would easily burst when not around Umemiya.

　୨୧ At first you thought he was rather hostile towards you, not really fond with the idea of someone other next to Umemiya, someone who's not even from Furin. And whenever he parted his lips to tell to you something, you thought he would threaten you in some way so you'd leave his precious Umemiya alone. He of course noticed your wariness, deciding to leave you alone so you wouldn't feel more uncomfortable next to him.

　୨୧ Seems like you misunderstood his actions though, since the reason behind his actions was once again Umemiya. Only because Umemiya mentioned it would be nice if you two understood each other. Yeah now you felt bad.

　୨୧ After learning this fact, you decided you should take the first step and apologizing for the misunderstanding. Sugishita accepted and took the opportunity to get to know you better.

　୨୧ To be honest, the first few interactions were quite awkward as you both watered Umemiya's plants, not knowing how to start a conversation or have a small talk. And damn, small talks are weird—weird awkward. But after some time, you got more and more comfortable, starting to converse with him about random things and enjoying to yap about the last few days.

　୨୧ Sugishita remains quiet while listening to your rambles and even caring enough to reply your questions or suggestions. Ah, the cold persona faded and it turns out you were a real chatty person who could smile a lot around people you feel comfortable with. Even if he doesn't admit it, he feels a bit honored to be a person you can get comfortable with.

　୨୧ Yeah one day you started dating which surprised the most. You don't seem to fit each other and your personalities didn't match. Oh how wrong they were...

　୨୧ I would imagine that he takes the chance to pick you up from school from time to time while patrolling the town, also walking behind of the rest of the group so you both are alone and have your own peace, not noticing how the others always glance back to you with a curious gleam in their eyes.

　୨୧ Well, you either hang out on the rooftop of Furin, at yours or walk through the town. I promise you, even if you both walk pass a street hundreds of times, you both just don't care, still enjoying every bit and savoring every second.

　୨୧ Surprisingly, he also spends less time with Umemiya than before, rather using his free time to spend it with you and to listen to your daily rambles. Wow Umemiya did the work of an Angel and he is proud that the relationship works out for both of you, god he's so happy for you two.

　୨୧ Except him to beat the shit out of anyone who has ill intentions towards you, who glares at you, who speaks shit about you— the list goes on and on. Don't be surprised if he goes away for a sec, just to return with some bruises ( if that person managed to land a hit on him, that is ).

　୨୧ Loves, loves, loves, LOVES when you patch him up after a fight and when you fuss about him. It just shows how much you care about him. And he is silently savoring every second of it, also using this to get your affections and comfort. He is not a baby. But he secretly is ( only a bit though ). If you tell someone about this side of his other than Umemiya, expect him to be not fond of getting patched up by you anymore ( he still loves it ). He's just a bit sad that you "betrayed" him. It was supposed to his peace between you two. So please don't tell anyone. Please.

　୨୧ Imagine you get hurt infront of him. Yeah now the hell breaks out and his inner demon is showing. The dude who hurt you probably sleeps in the hospital for some weeks.

　୨୧ He would inwardly blame himself for getting you into his shit while staying by your side the whole time. If the accident was really bad that you're also in the hospital, he would ask Umemiya to skip school so he can stay beside you and Umemiya, knowing the kind of guy he is, allowed him to. At this point, he would quietly follow you everywhere around, making other patients wonder. If you need to pee, he would stand infront of the door of course.

　୨୧ Sugishita even spends two third of his time with you, not making the same mistake again and protects you from any danger. You know how proud he would if you can fight? You're so badass, is his only thought. Well there are a lot of other praises in his mind.

　୨୧ Girl, if you ever worry that he doesn't love you, because he doesn't show much affection, worry not. If there are times he puts you over Umemiya, be assured. And if he puts you over Umemiya all the time, you shouldn't even dare to worry. He even cares to listen to your stories and remembers what your favorite things are.

　୨୧ On your birthday, there will be a basket of your favorite things in his hand. Cause he LOVES you.

© 2024 kumasakka — do not plagiarize , copy , modify , translate our work !

a/n's note — I HOPE HE ISN'T TOO OOC. by the way don't worry about rambling in your request <3 I'd love to listen.

[akutasoda]

me again sorry to interrupt ^0^

may I request a sort of part 2 for lynette!reader? like reader begins to open up more, be more expressive and maybe even indulge in their cat traits a lot more! (lynette is half-cat)

living in an environment like that and being mistreated would really ruin someones psyche and it would be hard to break out of that shell, lynette in genshin is thankfully doing well now, so I would like to see that with the reader too!

with moze, jing yuan,dan heng and blade please :3

saving trajectories [part 2]

synopsis - how are they with a lynette!reader?

includes - dan heng, blade, jing yuan, moze

warnings - gn!teen!reader, slight angst, comfort, fluff, wc - 903

a/n : your not interrupting at all ^^

dan heng ★↷

↪even if you opened up to him first, it took a while to get to that point and so it would take even longer to get to a point of full trust with just dan heng - the rest of the express would take even longer but nobody minded. it was very much understandable as to why you were so closed off, all they could wish and hope for was that you did eventually learn to trust them.

↪when dan heng first saw more emotions peeking out from behind your neutral facade, he was overjoyed, not that anyone could tell. he knew that you were on the right track and so he became determined to keep you on that right path and hopefully more progress could be made.

↪he would go out of his way to research anything you took interest in or brought up. that way, he could help you find some things to enjoy with you and therefore help build up that bond of trust - especially if it was more tailored to your cat-like origins as being allowed to be yourself was certainly important to help you recover.

↪he knew it would be a long road for your recovery, one that would certainly come with ups and downs. but that was perfectly okay as he would always be there for you, all he wanted was to help you break out of that shell. however long it took.

blade ★↷

↪it was no shock that blade wasn’t a good comforter. so it surprised pretty much all of them that you kept going to him during your adjustment. he wasn't exactly the most welcoming either. but he didn't mind, if it helped you then he wouldn’t push you away.

↪he was definitely more of a listener but that can do the world. so when you began opening up, blade would always listen and that became quite the comfort for you just having him listen to anything you wanted to get off your chest. occasionally he would try and help you however, mainly as the more you told him, the more he wanted to help you.

↪it didn't go unnoticed by blade when you finally became more expressive. your stories became much more lively and they became more about your day now and less about your past. even with the other hunters you became more open and expressive, dealing with the more lively bunch than blade in his somberness

↪he was proud of you when you began becoming, presumably, more like your old self - before everything happened to you. embracing your cat-like side more and becoming more upbeat and open. and he'd encourage that. blade may not have been the most positive person, but he certainly could be if it helped you.

jing yuan ★↷

↪due to his rather comforting way about him, you found breaking your way out of your shell rather quickly. of course it still took time but jing yuan was patient. he couldn't understand what you had been through but he had a decent grasp of how to help you.

↪mimi was also a great help to you. mimi was a great comfort whenever you needed it and jing yuan noticed the immediate connection between you two which he thought was sweet - he could even be confident in saying mimi preferred you over him.

↪jing yuan would always go out of his way to let you do anything you wanted, whatever helped you, he would throw all his effort into doing so. and he would be absolutely overjoyed when you showed signs of finally breaking out of that shell, any progress was good and he would always encourage that progress to develop into something greater.

↪ especially when you showed signs of embracing your more cat-like self, embracing your identity and not shying away from the person that you were - something that was concerning for him, if you never did, after what you had been through.

moze ★↷

↪it became quite commonly known to some that if they were to look for moze, they would just have to find you.

↪another listener more than a comforter, he isn't exactly great with his own emotions and a part of him was still confused as to why feixiao agreed to let him take care of you. but he would always make sure nothing ever happened to you again.

↪a good start was him helping you slowly break out of your shell by getting all your thoughts and feelings out by talking to him, once you trusted him enough of course. but once you did start, it wasn't long before there were noticeable changes in your behavior - becoming less closed off and more lively.

↪moze could say for certain that even after all you'd been through, you were faring much better than he ever did, and he was determined to ensure you broke out of that shell. that you would live a normal life after everything.

taglist - @little-miss-chaoss, @frankiesteinn

[c-e-d-dreamer]

Top Shelf Love: Prologue

A/N: So, if you know me, you know that I love hockey. But if there's one thing I don't love, it's hockey romances because they are always so inaccurate that it's take you out of the story SO QUICK! Like what do you mean the captain of this NCAA D1 team is undrafted? What do you mean she magically has access to an NHL locker-room in the middle of a game? So this is my response to that! A super self-indulgent Nessian Hockey AU. For additional hockey context: Cassian is a defenseman for the NY Rangers; Rhys is a center for the Montreal Canadiens; Az is a winger for the Nashville Predators; and Lucien is a winger for the Toronto Maple Leafs. Anyways! Hope everyone enjoys this prologue and this absolute meet-ugly! Happy final day of @nestaarcheronweek

Read on AO3 // Chapter Masterlist // Next Part

Nesta

Nesta sighs softly, tilting her head back against the leather of the seat. Almost instantly, she scrunches her nose, the stale scent of cigarettes, of sweat and previous occupants, flooding her senses. Eager for a distraction, she peers out the window instead. The skyscrapers loom like shadowed giants on either side of the road, a cascade of colorful lights spilling from their windows and reflecting off the wet roads, the puddles from the earlier rain. Throngs of bodies move along the sidewalks, neither the late hour or the dark clouds still clinging above deterring them clearly.

The city that never sleeps indeed.

The cab jerks to a stop along the curb, the driver not even bothering to turn around and say anything to her, merely tapping the fare display. With a roll of her eyes, Nesta fishes her wallet out of her purse to pay before finally slipping out of the cab. At least the driver pulls her suitcase from the trunk, setting it on the sidewalk beside her.

“Nesta! You finally made it!”

It takes everything within Nesta to swallow back down another sigh, takes all her willpower to force at least a hint of a smile to tug across her face. She can feel her earlier annoyance still simmering just beneath her skin, can still feel the exhaustion weighing down her bones. She’d give anything to be back in her own bed right now, anything to slip beneath her pile of blankets and curl up with a good book, but she’s here for Feyre, here to celebrate her baby sister.

So Nesta rolls her shoulders and plasters on an even wider smile before she turns around. But she should have known better, should have known that despite the physical distance between them, there’s no fooling her sisters. From the way Feyre raises an eyebrow, her lips twitching up in the barest hint of an unimpressed smirk, it’s clear she sees straight through Nesta.

“Sorry,” Nesta winces, her shoulders drooping already. “Journey from hell.”

“Sounds like you need a drink,” Elain offers with an easy smile, stepping forward and taking the handle of Nesta’s suitcase.

“Or five,” Feyre adds with a chuckle.

Nesta rolls her eyes, but she doesn’t exactly disagree. A stiff drink definitely sounds appealing after the nightmare of the day she’s had.

“I saw online that a lot of flights were just straight canceled, so I think you’re lucky to have made it at all,” Elain comments, leading the way along the sidewalk.

“I don’t know that I’d call a six hour delay lucky,” Nesta grumbles, practically shuddering at the memory of being stuck sitting and waiting in an airport for so long.

Nesta follows her sisters inside the building, but they take the elevator down, rather than up, Elain leading the way toward a black SUV. She tells her sisters more about the horrible journey as they walk. About the surprisingly long line at security. About the storms in the midwest and the delays and havoc they wreaked on all flights. About the child that seemed determined to scream for the entire five hour flight.

Once Nesta’s bags are securely locked away in Elain’s car, they return to the elevator and take it all the way up to the eighteenth floor, the doors opening with a soft ding. There’s no stopping the way Nesta’s jaw slackens as she takes it all in. A large centerpiece extends from the floor and fans out into the ceiling, the lights embedded within it casting the entire bar and its occupants in glittering golds. Live music seems to be coming from somewhere, twining and molding with the laughter, the conversations, filling the space.

But it’s the windows that really draw Nesta’s attention. Floor to ceiling windows seem to line every wall, offering a truly panoramic view of all of New York City and the Hudson. It’s a picture perfect view of the twinkling lights and night sky through the rain droplets still clinging to the panes.

“Wow,” Nesta breathes, taking it all in. “This place is definitely nicer than I was expecting.”

“If you think this is nice, you should see their venue.”

It takes a few moments for Elain’s words to register, but then Nesta is snapping her head toward Feyre. “You have a venue already? Does that mean you’ve picked a date?”

“Yes,” Feyre answers, unable to bite back her grin. “Next summer. July specifically, after Rhys’s season has ended.”

“Don’t you think it’s a bit optimistic to think he’ll still be playing through June?”

“Elain!” Feyre exclaims, reaching out to smack the middle Archeron in the arm. “I can’t believe you just said that.”

“What?” Elain shrugs innocently. “It’s true. I mean what’s their current record again?”

“Because the Leafs do so well when they choke every year?”

“At least they make the playoffs.”

Nesta snorts softly at her sisters’ bickering. “Since when did you become a sports fan anyways, Elain?”

“I guess Lucien’s been filling her with more than just his dick.”

“Feyre!” Elain squeaks out, her cheeks flooding with a blush.

“Darling,” a deep voice practically purrs, interrupting them. “There you are. I was wondering where my beautiful fiancée got off to.”

“Rhys, this is my oldest sister, Nesta,” Feyre offers, sidling up against Rhys’s side, her fiancé’s arm settling over her shoulders with comfortable ease.

“A pleasure to meet you at last,” Rhys greets, holding up the glass in his free hand in a mock cheers. The gesture is a bit sloppy, some of the amber liquid in the glass sloshing over the rim and spilling across his fingers, and Nesta realizes there’s a haze to his violet eyes.

“It’s an open bar,” Feyre mouths, clearly reading Nesta’s expression.

“You don’t have a drink in your hand,” Rhys suddenly says, as though he’s only just realized. “We need to fix that immediately.”

Rhys turns on his heel, pushing his way through the various guests gathered to celebrate him and Feyre without a care. Nesta rolls her eyes, but Feyre has a wide, soft smile on her face as she watches him go, eyes practically sparking with fondness. It’s clear this is the man that makes her youngest sister happy, so she can’t fault him too much.

“He’s right, you know. You do need a drink still,” Feyre says, looping her arm through Nesta’s.

Feyre leads the way toward the bar built around the large centerpiece. She leans over and gets the attention of one of the bartenders with ease, ordering what she tells Nesta is the couple's signature cocktail. It seems to be some sort of margarita, a deep blue in color with edible glitter that looks almost like stars swirling through the liquid.

“So…” Feyre starts, taking a sip of her own drink.

“So…?” Nesta echoes, although she has a strong suspicion she already knows where this conversation is going. She knows that expression on her sister’s face all too well.

“Rhys’s brothers are here tonight.”

“And you need to stop being such a busybody.”

Feyre sighs, turning so her hip leans against the bar, facing Nesta fully. “Why? I’m an excellent matchmaker. Just ask Elain…” Feyre looks over her shoulder, but frowns, turning in a full circle with her eyebrows pinched low. “Wait. Where did Elain go?”

“She and Lucien probably found some dark corner to fuck like the bunnies they are,” Nesta answers dryly. It’s certainly the trend with those two, vanishing for a few hours before appearing again with slightly mussed clothes and hair, pink often clinging to the apples of Elain’s cheeks and a wide, shit eating grin plastered across Lucien’s face.

“That just proves my point! At least tell me you stalked his Instagram or something.”

“Emerie and Gwyn did.”

Her best friends had been trying to convince her to get back out there for a month now. Even with how much time has passed since everything happened, it still feels strange. Of course, that hasn’t stopped Emerie from dragging her out to bars for trivia nights and karaoke as if they’re the best places to meet someone new. It hasn’t stopped Gwyn from trying to tempt her to start a dating profile on at least one of the plethora of app options.

It hasn’t stopped either of them from hyping her up after they spent so long helping Nesta to piece together the shattered fragments of herself, of her life, back together. It’s why Nesta loves them, why she doesn’t know what she’d do without them.

But when Feyre had suggested setting Nesta up with Rhys’s adopted brother, practically raving over the phone about what a good fit the two of them would be together, it had been like blood in the water for Emerie and Gwyn. Nesta had barely hung up with her sister by the time Gwyn had tracked down his social medias and had them displayed on the television ‘for the best viewing experience.’

Cassian Valdarez.

Any other emotions aside, Nesta can admit he’s attractive, that much was clear from the photos and videos on his Instagram. With his dark, curly hair tumbling down to his shoulders, his bright hazel eyes. He had been grinning widely in most of the photos, golden skin of his cheeks stretched and crinkles popping beside his eyes. But even the one where his lips were tugged up in a lopsided, cocksure smirk had Nesta staring.

Nesta had done a lot of staring.

Staring at the photo of him in sunglasses and shirtless, lounging casually on some sort of boat, wide shoulders and swirling lines of ink on full display. The photo of him in a locker room, dressed only from the waist down, showing off the tantalizing lines of his abs, his v-lines. The Reel of him working out, chest heaving and skin glistening, biceps bulging with every lift of the weights. The reel of him stick handling with just gloves, in a tank and shorts, the muscles and veins of his forearms working with each flick of his wrist.

“Okay, and?” Feyre’s voice draws Nesta back to the present.

“And what?”

“And what did Gwyn and Emerie think?”

Nesta sighs softly, fiddling with the stem of her glass. “I mean, they said I should go for it.”

“Ha!” Feyre exclaims, loud enough to draw the attention of a few others up at the bar. “See? I’m right. A perfect match.”

“Feyre, don’t you think—”

“Feyre, darling, I keep losing you.” Rhys slips into the space behind Feyre, wrapping an arm around her waist. He dips his head enough to press his lips to her neck before raising his gaze to peer at Nesta over Feyre’s shoulder. “Sorry. Do you mind if I steal my fiancée away for a moment?”

“Not at all,” Nesta assures him, but it’s Feyre’s gaze she meets. “I’ll be fine.”

Feyre and Rhys vanish into the crowds hand and hand, and Nesta settles at the bar, sipping her drink. Her eyes flit around, but she truly doesn’t know anyone here outside of her sisters. And despite her earlier words to Feyre, all the people, all the sounds and the lights, are starting to grate against her nerves, prickling and dragging along her skin like nails. Even downing the remains of her drink doesn’t seem to help, the alcohol only weighing heavy in her gut.

Leaving her now empty glass on the bartop, Nesta spins on her heel and stalks toward one of the walls of windows. She glances around at the different tables set up, the booths that line the windows and offer the perfect seats for the views beyond. Maybe she can find a dark corner to hide in for a few hours, or maybe, if she’s lucky, Elain and Lucien will decide they want to leave early to continue whatever they’ve started in an actual bed.

“Looking for me, sweetheart?”

The deep voice has a shiver skittering up Nesta’s spine, warm breath fanning across her ear. She spins around and comes face to face with a pair of hazel eyes, a cocksure smirk she’s only seen in photo-form before. Cassian Valdarez, in the flesh. He doesn’t even bother for subtly as his gaze rakes over her, and Nesta has to swallow hard as she tracks the way he licks his lips.

“And what if I wasn’t?” Nesta dares to ask, raising her chin.

Cassian chuckles, stepping closer into her space. “I think we both know you were looking for me. Why wouldn’t you be?”

Cassian’s hand reaches up in the space between them, snagging one of the stray strands of Nesta’s hair and twisting it around his fingers. Those same fingers skate down her neck, across her collarbones, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. His touch traces over her shoulder and down her arm before finally closing around her wrist, Nesta’s breath hitching at the warm of his hand, the size of it, and she can do nothing but follow along as he tugs her toward one of the booths by the windows.

He lets go long enough to fall back against the cushions, for Nesta to settle beside him, but then his hands are right back on her. This time, his palm slides against the skin above her knee, fingers teasing along the hem of her dress. His other arm stretches along the back of the booth, all but curling around her shoulders as he leans into her.

“You look gorgeous in this dress, you know.”

“But let me guess, it would look better on your bedroom floor?”

“You said it, not me, but I don’t disagree.”

Nesta snorts quietly, tempted to tell him that it was wrinkled when she yanked it out of her suitcase before she awkwardly changed into it in the airport bathroom. But she never gets the chance to. Cassian lifts his hand until his fingers curl around her jaw, tilting her chin up enough that he can slot their lips firmly together.

The kiss takes Nesta by surprise, but it doesn’t take her long to respond. She moves her lips against his, Cassian’s grip on her chin holding her exactly where he wants her. When his tongue slips into her mouth, she moans softly, fisting a hand into the front of his shirt to keep herself steady and to keep him close.

Cassian pulls back just enough that he can murmur, “Do you want to get out of here?”

“Right now?” Nesta blurts out before she can stop herself. She’s certainly not opposed to the idea, but with tonight being the first time they’re meeting, she thought he might want to get to know her more first. What exactly did Feyre tell him about her?

“You know what they say. No time like the present.”

“I should probably tell my sister I’m leaving then.”

Cassian’s eyes seem to glint, even beneath the low light of the bar. “Is your sister here? Does she want to join?”

Nesta is sure that she must have misheard him. “What?”

“It could be fun. Two sisters, one hockey player,” Cassian says easily, even daring to wink at her. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

Nesta can do nothing but gape at him, her mind reeling with this turn in conversation, but then it hits her like a ton of bricks. “You don’t know who I am.”

Cassian chuckles again, that cocksure smirk of his never slipping for a moment. “Am I supposed to know who you are?”

“Do you even know my name?” Nesta snaps, pulling further away from him.

“Oh, come on. Don’t be like that, sweetheart. All that really matters is you knowing my name so you can scream it tonight.”

“You didn’t even want to ask for it before you kissed me? You don’t even want to ask for it now?”

“Look. We both know what you came here for, what you puck bunnies are always looking for, and trust me, sweetheart. I am more than happy to give it,” Cassian offers, the way his eyes dance over her frame again nothing short of a leer. It stokes the anger flaring in Nesta’s veins higher, until it burns bright and hot.

“Wow,” Nesta scoffs, pushing up to her feet. “Fuck you.”

Nesta doesn’t even wait to hear whatever sputtering response he might give before she turns on her heel and stalks away from Cassian, pushing through bodies to put as much distance between them as she can. She’s never felt more stupid, can’t believe that she allowed Feyre to convince her that Cassian was some great guy, that the two of them would be some perfect match.

She can’t believe that she had started to believe her sister’s words, that that damned hope had started to bloom and put down roots in the gaps between her ribs.

Because of course. Of course, Cassian is just like every other guy, only thinking with the head between his legs without a single care for what happens once the sun rises. He’s exactly what Nesta expects from a professional athlete, cocky and sure of himself, expecting every girl to fall at his feet ready to worship him and suck his dick.

She finds Elain and Lucien in one of the other booths near the opposite side of windows. Elain has her legs draped across Lucien’s lap, giggling around the straw of her drink. Lucien seems to be smirking through whatever story he’s telling, his arm stretched across the back of the booth, fingers toying aimlessly with the soft brown curls of Elain’s hair.

“Can we go?” Nesta interrupts, looking between the two.

Elain blinks a few times, but then she starts nodding her head. “Of course. You’ve already had such a long day.”

Elain pushes up and to her feet, wobbling just slightly in her heels, but Lucien is there right behind her, his hands spanning across her waist to steady her. She smiles over her shoulder up at him before turning her attention to her purse, rooting around with a frown.

“Wait. Where are the keys?”

“I have them, my love,” Lucien answers, holding up the keys dangling from his fingers. He turns his attention to Nesta, offering her a wink. “Don’t worry. She’s not driving.”

Lucien slides his hand into Elain’s, leading all three of them through the party and back toward the elevators. Nesta keeps her head down as she follows behind her sister and brother-in-law, and she certainly doesn’t bother to look back. Besides, it’s not like anyone is watching her. She’s quite confident a certain hockey player has already found some other poor, unsuspecting girl to capture his attention.

And as they take the elevators all the way down to the parking garage and back to the car, she vows to herself that she’ll never think of Cassian Valdarez ever again.

—

Taglist (let me know if you’d like to be added or removed): @moodymelanist @nesquik-arccheron @sv0430 @talkfantasytome @bookstantrash @eirini-thaleia @ubigaia @fromthelibraryofemilyj @luivagr-blog @lifeisntafantasy @superspiritfestival @hiimheresworld @marigold-morelli @sweet-pea1 @emeriethevalkyriegirl @pyxxie @dustjacketmusings @hallway5 @dongjunma @glowing-stick-generation @melonsfantasyworld @lady-nestas @goddess-aelin @melphss @theladystardust @a-trifling-matter @blueunoias @kookskoocie @wolfnesta @blurredlamplight @hereforthenessian @skaixo @jmoonjones @burningsnowleopard @whyisaravenlike-awritingdesk @ofduskanddreams @rarephloxes @thelovelymadone @books-books-books4ever @tenaciousdiplomatloverprune @that-little-red-head @readergalaxy @thesnugglingduck @kale-theteaqueen @tarquindaddy @superflurry @bri-loves-sunflowers @lady-winter-sunrise @witch-and-her-witcher @fieldofdaisiies

[cherryrainn]

hii can u pls write onceler (dom) smut w a fem reader????

YEAH I CAN!! i dunno what to do for the story since you didn't ask for one, so i'm just going to write something random, hope it's okay!

☽ ༚  ༵ ۰ ✧ ۰  ༵ ༚ ༵ ۰ ✧ ۰ 

— eternal embrace

onceler (greedler) x reader

the room was bathed in the warm, golden hues of the setting sun, creating a cozy and intimate atmosphere. you sat comfortably on the window sill, enjoying a peaceful moment in the presence of your boyfriend, onceler. as he sauntered into the room, a confident smirk played on his lips.

"well, well, well, look who we have here," onceler remarked, his voice laced with playful arrogance. he ran a hand through his disheveled hair, his light-blue eyes fixated on you with a mischievous glint. "if it isn't my favorite partner in crime, sitting there, stealing the view."

he closed the door behind him, striding towards you with a self-assured swagger. leaning against the wall, he crossed his arms and cocked an eyebrow. "you know, y/n, i can't help but be so captivated by your presence. it's like a magnet, drawing me in with that irresistible charm of yours."

onceler took a deliberate step closer, his voice dropping to a seductive undertone. "you've got this way of turning heads wherever you go, babe. it's no wonder they say i'm the lucky one to have you by my side."

a smug smile played on his lips as he continued, his voice filled with unabashed confidence. "i've gotta admit, being with you, it's like having the key to the world. we make quite the pair, don't we?"

he reached out, lightly tracing a finger along your cheek. "but let's not keep it all business, babe. let's indulge in some well-deserved fun. tonight, we'll create our own adventure, just you and me. no rules, no limits."

he gave a wicked grin, eyes dancing with barely contained excitement. "we're gonna have us a time that'll last till dawn." as you stared at him, mouth agape, you felt your heart quicken. "so, whaddya say, love? wanna play nice and cozy with me?" you nodded slowly, still unable to speak.

onceler smirked, his hands sliding up your sides, cupping your breasts. "that's better. now, hold on tight, 'cause i'm about to show you a whole lotta love."

he pulled you close, wrapping his arms around you as he kissed you deeply, his tongue flicking out to tease your bottom lip. you felt yourself melt beneath his touch as he pressed you against the wall, kissing you feverishly. your legs parted, instinctively wanting more, and onceler obliged, pushing your skirt up over your hips.

onceler broke from your kiss, pulling back for air, his lips lingering on yours. "oh, you're a naughty little thing," he whispered.

you glanced down, noticing how his pants had slid further down, revealing the length of his thighs. as his fingers traced the curve of your spine, his gaze met yours, causing a shiver to run down your spine. you felt your cheeks burn with embarrassment at his blatant flirting, and didn't even bother trying to hide it.

"what would you like, sweetheart?" he asked, his voice low and husky. "tell me what you'd like, and i promise you, you'll get it."

you gulped, feeling flushed and breathless as you struggled to form the words.

"i...um..."

onceler leaned in again, his hands roaming freely across your body. "do you like the way i taste?" he breathed, sliding his hand between your thighs.

you shuddered, arching your back, moaning softly. "tell me if you like it."

onceler's fingers slipped inside you, gently stroking your wet flesh. you moaned, throwing your head back, shuddering as pleasure coursed through you.

onceler's grin widened, a devilish sparkle in his eye. "you like that, huh? i knew you were a dirty girl."

his fingers moved faster, rubbing you in a circular motion, making you whimper.

"you see, i could stop right now," he purred. "but i think you'd rather i didn't."

you gasped, gripping the fabric of his tailcoat in your fists. "yes," you breathed. onceler smiled, his fingers slowing their movements as he pulled away, gazing into your eyes. "good girl."

he slid his hands back to your waist, lifting you onto your tiptoes, his arms wrapping around your bare back. you laid your hands on his shoulders, watching as he began to unbutton his tie. as the buttons came undone, a flush crept up his neck, making his eyes glow with desire.

"oh, love," he breathed. he pulled his shirt off, tossing it aside, his chest rising and falling with each labored breath. you gazed hungrily at him, admiring every inch of his physique.

onceler's fingers grazed your collarbone, his thumb brushing across your throat. "here we are," he said, kissing your neck, his hand moving down your chest.

you parted your legs, allowing him access to you, already glistening with arousal. he dipped a finger inside again, your moans muffled by his lips.

you wrapped your arms around his neck, holding on for dear life as he thrust his fingers in and out of you, fucking you with slow, steady strokes

onceler pulled his hand free, sucking his digits clean. "your juices are so sweet," he murmured, staring into your eyes.

you nodded slightly, biting your lip. "please..." you muttered, your voice barely audible.

onceler moved between your legs, teasing your clit with feather-light touches. you panted softly, biting your lower lip. he finally slipped inside, stretching you open, eliciting a sharp cry from you.

"shh, just relax," he cooed, kissing your temple. "just let me take care of you."

as he spoke, he began to move in a slow rhythm, his thumbs rubbing against your sensitive flesh. his touch was gentle, yet firm, sending a pleasurable shiver down your spine.

"god, you're so beautiful," he murmured, running his hands over your body. "i could watch you forever."

you gripped his shoulder, shuddering as waves of pleasure coursed through you. you'd never been touched so tenderly, and it only made you crave more.

onceler glanced down, seeing how hard your nipples had become. he bent forward, capturing one with his lips, sucking it into his mouth, drawing out a deep moan from you.

you mewled, clutching the front of his shirt. "don't stop," you begged. "i need you to give me everything."

onceler sped up, plunging deeper inside you, making you gasp. you dug your nails into his neck, burying your face in his shoulder as he fucked you with quick thrusts.

he pulled free, he traced his fingertips down your stomach, grazing your clit, causing you to buck against him.

onceler chuckled, kissing the base of your neck. "you really do love it, don't you?"

you nodded, biting your lip. "please," you pleaded.

onceler grinned, placing his hand on your hip. "okay, baby, but just remember, you only get what you ask for. now, tell me, what do you want?"

you turned your head, meeting his eyes, your voice trembling. "i...i want you."

"all yours, my love," he said, bending down to capture your lips in a searing kiss.

onceler's member slipped inside you again, eliciting another sharp cry from you. he drew back, gazing into your eyes as he pushed inside, you cried out, wrapping your arms around his neck, burying your face against his shoulder.

onceler stroked your thigh, him moving inside you, playing with your clit. you whimpered, rocking against him, desperate to feel more. as he rubbed himself against you, you bit your lip, your breathing heavy.

onceler's thrusts became quicker, his member becoming rougher. you moaned loudly, your hips buckling against him. you grabbed his arms, your nails digging into his skin, the pain only adding to the pleasure. as he pounded you, his hands slid up your torso, cupping your breasts.

onceler moaned softly, rubbing your breast. you cried out, grinding against him, your legs trembling as pleasure rushed through you, pooling between your thighs.

onceler growled, his hips slamming against yours as he poured his seed inside you. he collapsed, gasping for breath, his weight resting on you.

you glanced up at him, seeing the love in his eyes. "i love you," he whispered, brushing your hair from your face.

note; don't write smut often, so it may not be the best. but i tried!

[corrieguards]

Confessions

Captain Rex x f!reader Summary: Fives not so accidentally lets the cat out the bag that the captain has a crush on you. Not quite knowing how to deal with this new information, you start avoiding Rex like the plague. He notices and decides to confront you about it. Word count: 2,6k T/W: none A/N: I am, and always will be, a sucker for soft!Rex so I hope you like this self-indulgent fic as much as I liked writing it <3. Also please enjoy the awkward Rex gif. He is too cute and needs to be shared as much as possible. my masterlist

Being assistant medic to the 501st meant you had a lot of dirt on a lot of troopers. The things these men were capable of coming out with when they were under even the lightest of meds never ceased to amaze you. It was like they lost their filter (not that the had much of one to begin with) and would just blurt out whatever came to their mind without a second thought.

You still remember when Tup had come to after being unconscious and admitted in a fit of giggles that you were “The prettiest girl he’d ever met”

Or that one time you’d had to stay overnight with Hardcase in the med bay after giving him some pretty strong pain meds. You’d spent your whole shift listening to him babble on about some girl who was apparently the love of his life and the one thing he couldn't live without. Later on when you were relaying the story to Kix you found out that he wasn’t talking about a girl at all, rather about his favourite DC-17 blaster that he insisted on carrying with him everywhere.

Anyway, the point was that you were used to having all these weird and random things thrown at you by the clones, so much so that you actually found yourself looking forward to hear what they were going to come out with this time. You were prepared for anything these men would throw at you. Or so you thought.

—

You were currently caring for Fives. He’d got knocked out by a detonator during the last mission, so as soon as you saw him start to open his eyes you rushed over to his side.

“Hey there trooper, how’re you feeling?”

He frowned up at you confused “Am I dead? Is this heaven?”

“Nope sorry Fives. You’re still very much alive” You chuckled “Just got a bit knocked up is all, but I’ll have you right in no time”

He groaned as he started to sit up “Are you sure? Could’ve sworn I was dead. You look like an angel right now”

Gently pressing on his shoulder you tried to get him to lay back down. He huffed but complied, letting you push him back and watching as you dipped a cloth in cold water, gently dabbing it on the gash that went from his temple to his jaw.

You talked to him as you worked, a gentle smile on your face “Trust you to almost die and then the first thing you do when you wake up is flirt with your medic. ”

“Oh no no. I wouldn’t dare flirt with the Captains' favorite medic”

He hissed when you pressed a little too hard on his wound. “Ow, what the hell-?

“What did you just say?”

He scowled up at you “I said ow-”

You shook your head at him “No no, before that. What did you say about Rex?”

“About you being his favourite medic?” he said frowning at you confused when you nodded in response

“Yeah, that”

“I thought it was obvious”

Now it was your turn to frown at him “What’s obvious?”

He lets out an incredulous laugh at your obliviousness, only making you more impatient “Fives, you better tell me what the hell you're talking about?”

“Oh come on, everybody knows the captains got a thing for the pretty little medic”

You freeze, eyes quickly dropping back to the cloth in your hand. “Don’t be ridiculous Fives” you mutter, pointedly going back to cleaning his wound.

He grabs your wrist to stop you, a disbelieving look on his face “Wait- Do you really not know?”

“Don’t mess with me, Fives.” you shake you hand free from his grasp “It’s not funny”

He looks taken aback by the coldness in your voice before a look of realisation crosses over his face. “You like him…” he whispers as if it’s the biggest secret in the galaxy

You blush slightly “No I don’t, I just- well I just-” you clear your throat, avoiding his eyes “I just respect him that's all.”

Fives lets out a chuckle “Bullshit. You like him!"

Shushing him quickly, you glance around at the other troopers in the med bay “Not so loud for kriff sake” you whisper at him harshly. This only makes him smile wider, pointing at your face and exclaiming loudly

“You do! You like Rex!”

You grab his finger angrily, shoving it back down “Ok fine I do. Now can you please shut up before the whole GAR finds out"

He smirks but settles down anyway "I knew it"

You scoffed, picking the cloth back up and wetting it again "Sure you did Fives"

"Did too" he replies smugly. You smile, shaking your head and getting back to work cleaning up his cut. After a few moments silence he breaks it again

"He likes you back y'know"

"Mhm I'm sure he does"

He sits up indignantly "It's true!"

"Fives…" you warn quietly

"I'm serious. He talks about you all the time when he's drunk. And he stares at you so often that it's actually kinda embarrassing"

You pulled back, staring into his eyes and searching for any hint that he's messing with you but were surprised to see him completely serious. A very rare sight for Fives.

Swallowing nervously you take in a shaky breath "Does he really like me?"

"Mhm he sure does. Tries to pretend he doesn't but we all know Rex can't keep a secret to save his life"

That gets a laugh out of you because it's so true. It's actually one of the things you love about Rex. The way he stutters and blushes anytime he tries to tell even the smallest of lies is something you find insanely cute and endearing.

You’d liked him for a long time, and who could blame you? This was Rex we were talking about. Handsome blond Captain Rex.

There was no chance of anything happening between you two. You’d accepted that and were content on just admiring him from a distance, occasionally sharing a few conversations, a couple glances from across the room. Never anything more.

But what Fives had just said lit a small flicker of hope in you. Hope was bad, very bad. Hope meant that you couldn't keep ignoring your little crush and pretending it didn't exist.

Hope meant you actually stood a chance.

You shook your head, clearing your thoughts before you could get too carried away in your fantasy.

"It doesn't really matter, it's not like anything could happen between us anyway"

Fives gaze snapped to you "What are you talking about? You two would be so good together"

"You know that's not what I'm talking about." you rolled your eyes at him

"Then what are you talking about?"

" I'm talking about what would happen if someone found out. Rex would be court-martialed Fives, you know what that means right?"

Fives open his mouth to answer you but you cut him off before he had a chance "This is his whole life Fives, I can't expect him to risk everything for me like that."

There was a moment's silence before Fives softly replied "Maybe he'd think you're worth the risk"

—

It had been a couple rotations since your interaction with Fives, and you had been trying desperately to avoid both him and the Captain, so far succeeding in both.

But as if he insisted on not leaving you alone, Fives voice kept echoing in your head. Repeating the same sentences over and over. Even though you tried to ignore it, it kept coming back and haunting you.

"Everybody knows the captains got a thing for the pretty little medic"

As if your thoughts had summoned him, the very same handsome captain you'd just been thinking about strolled through the mess hall door. His eyes doing a quick sweep of the room, giving you a double take upon seeing you and decidedly walking over to your table.

You quickly ducked your head down, panic beginning to rise in your chest. What if Fives had spoken to him? What if he'd told him about you silly little crush? What if-

Rex's shadow looming over you made you look up, eyes instantly locking with his and taking your breath away. Stars, those eyes.

"He stares at you so often that it's actually kinda embarrassing”

"Hey" his voice shook you from your thoughts "Haven't seen you around much lately"

"Yeah…" you chuckled nervously, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear " Um Kix has been keeping me pretty busy the last couple days"

"Oh." He slipped into the seat across from you "Well if he's working you extra y'know I can always stop by and have a chat with him."

"No no" you shake your head quickly "It's fine. Hard work’s what I sign up for after all"

Rex looks at you doubtfully, taking in your tired eyes and dark circles "Are you sure? You look pretty tired"

"I'm fine Rex." You smiled reassuringly "Promise"

"Okay, if you say so… Y'know I'm actually kinda relieved. Thought you'd been avoiding me or something" he chuckled, hand rubbing the back of his neck.

You stiffened and quickly looked back down at the table. His smile flattered. "But you haven't… right?"

Getting ready to answer you took in a shaky breath " Um…" You stalled trying desperately to come up with some excuse but his worried gaze was making it hard to think of anything

Suddenly you're comm chimed, breaking the tension and making you both jump. You stood up quickly "Sorry Rex, I've gotta go. Duty calls"

He looked taken aback as you hurried towards the door.

"We'll catch up some other time" you said over your shoulder. You heard his voice calling your name, only prompting you to walk faster.

Making it out into the corridor you heard your name again, this time louder. The med bay was just around the corner, if you could just make it there before he caught you, you would be fine

Breaking into a soft jog, you panicked when you heard his own heavy footsteps matching your pace. They were much too close for your liking.

The door to the med bay was just a handful of strides away now. You could see it.. C'mon almost there, almost there…

You almost screamed when you felt a hand grab you wrist, halting you and pulling you around to face him.

“He talks about you all the time when he's drunk”

Rex must've seen the panicked look on your face because he quickly released your wrist and took a step back.

"Hey, hey what's going on? Did I do something wrong?" He was slightly out of breath from running after you

"No no of course not" you shook your head before adding quietly "I don't think you could ever do anything wrong"

"Then why are you running away from me meshla?"

The pet name made your stomach flip, taking in a sharp breath and hesitating from a beat before replying

"It's nothing Rex, don't worry"

"Of course I'm gonna worry," he scoffed. "Something is obviously bothering you."

When you didn't reply he sighed and gently took one of your hands in his, holding it loosely

"I just wanna know what I've done so I can fix it," he whispered. Looking up and seeing the hurt in his eyes brought tears to your own.

"He likes you back y'know"

"It's just… something Fives said the other day" you said, keeping your gaze down to hide your embarrassingly watery eyes.

But he saw them anyway, jaw clenching and a hand tightening it's hold on your own "What did he say to you?" he growled protectively "Because if he said something out of line-"

"No no it wasn't anything like that" you answered quickly. A look of relief passed over his face

"Good. But it still something that obviously upset you"

You swallowed nervously before responding "It was about you actually"

Rex stiffened "Me?"

“Tries to pretend he doesn't but we all know Rex can't keep a secret to save his life"

"Yeah…"

"Well what- what about me?"

" He was suggesting that maybe- that you might-"

Rex could see you were struggling to say whatever it was you needed to say so he took a step closer, leaning in towards you "Hey it's ok, you can tell me."

"Maybe he'd think you're worth the risk"

Squeezing your eyes shut, you somehow mustered up a tiny ounce of courage, letting it all out in a rush "He said that you had a crush on me"

Keeping your eyes shut, you heard Rex's breath hitch and felt his hands tighten their hold on your own. After a few moments silence you slowly peeked your eyes open, heart beating fast as you took in the man in front of you.

He looked like he'd seen a ghost. "Well… I- I don't really know what to say…"

Nodding you tried to hide your disappointment by looking down at your feet. Of course he didn't like you, how could you ever think he did

You bit your lip as tears began brimming in your eyes How could you be so fucking stupid and start to let yourself believe that Captain Rex could possibly like you, a lowly medic.

"It's ok" you whispered, blurry eyes focusing on the ships shiny floor "Don't worry I knew Fives was just messing with me"

That really broke Rex out of his trance " What do you mean?"

"I mean of course you don't actually like me, why would you?" You replied, laughing sadly.

Rex frowned, genuinely confused "What are you talking about?"

When you didn't answer Rex called your name softly, making you look up at him, his breath hitching when he saw your teary eyes

"Oh meshla come 'ere" he pulled you into his arms, your head nuzzling into his neck and his hands finding their home around your waist.

"Listen to me carefully" he whispered into your hair "don't you ever, ever say that again."

You smiled into his neck but he wasn't finished "Of course I like you meshla, have since the moment i met you. How could I not love you when you're so fucking perfect?"

He pulled back and you immediately looked down shyly, avoiding his gaze. Calling your name, he gently lifted your chin with the crook of his finger, making you look him in the eyes

"I want to be able to call you mine"

You could feel you carefully built walls slowly falling down at his confession. Every second you spent this close to Rex another piece of them crumbling.

"But… what if someone finds out Rex. What then? How much are you willing to risk for this?"

He lent in impossibly closer, foreheads touching and lips brushing against yours as he spoke

"For you? Everything"

The last stone in your wall tumbling down, you closed the gap between you, enclosing your lips with his. He sighed into your mouth kissing you back hard, months of bottled up feelings pouring into this one single kiss.

Your hands travelled over his chest, one sneaking up behind his neck and into his short buzzed hair. He growled appreciatively, his own hands already grabbing your waist and pulling you into him, clutching onto you like a man drowning.

Breathless you both pulled back just far enough to catch your breath. He chuckled, nuzzling his nose into yours as you smiled softly.

"I love you Rex"

Your confession lingered in the limited air between you, his eyes flickering down to your lips before he gave them a gentle peck

"Love you more, meshla"

----

tag-list: @mirshebs-meshla

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[professorspork]

I hope this doesn't come off as an invasive question, I'm just curious how you came up with which fetishes to depict in each chapter of SDAU.

not invasive at all, if only insofar as the short answer is of course a) because i thought it was in-character and b) if I didn't at least find it at least nominally appealing myself i wouldn't have had any interest in writing it now would i so that's a bit of a tell

but short answers are no fun, of course, so let's break it down shall we?

Chapter 1: Thursday

This chapter was always intended to go hot and heavy, both as a genuine Watsonian introduction to Blake's world and as a sort of Doylist vibe-check for readers of "if you can't stomach this you're probably not going to enjoy the rest of this story, you can click the back button no harm no foul." but it's interesting to me that you specified fetishes rather than sex acts, because generally speaking that was a lot clearer to me in the conception of each scene. i knew what i was *going* for, even if I didn't always know from the outset how I would get there. so!

in this instance, I knew the vibe I wanted to nail (har har) was the degradation and humiliation aspect of Sun's kink. partially because I think that that's what canon Blacksun would have to be like-- if Sun didn't get something out of Blake being a dismissive and controlling sardonic shit to him they would never have stayed friends, jfc look at how she TALKS to him (and slaps him, twice!!!)-- but also because I really wanted to explore what that would be like for Blake, who doesn't *share* the kink (and in fact has some trauma around it) but still earnestly desires to indulge it, and gets something out of Sun's satisfaction in it.

I know I can write some Dora-the-Explorer-ass "seatbelts everyone!" sex scenes, but my goal is always verisimilitude that encompasses that-- never to break immersion. (I also find the sort of call-and-response ritual of verbal consent to be deeply erotic when actually portrayed like the act of intimacy it is rather than a chore or a checklist, so there's that.) i think i probably went a little more overboard than i had to in terms of in-prose justifications of the spicier moments, adding mental "because she knows he likes it so much" or "as they'd responsibly negotiated previously" caveats instead of letting things ride, but I also think that I got away with it because this Blake, like all Blakes, is deeply anxious and would feasibly have those self-soothing measures on the brain.

this (and what comes later in Dungeon Master) was also my avenue to explore just how "into character" Blake could get, because she goes full Domme performance here in a way she doesn't-- and in fact can't, constitutionally-- with Yang later on. she'll tease Yang, and isn't shy about being direct or even forceful, but I think she's hypersensitive to sounding *critical*-- due to a combination of a) her cognizance of her own responsibility as a sex partner of a trans woman generally and b) what being in love does to her and makes her feel specifically.

less under the umbrella of "fetish" and more in terms of erotica writ large and the broader goals of the fic, it was also very important to me to write a sex scene featuring (and glorifying in) bottom growth because THERE SHOULD BE MORE OF THEM OUT THERE.

Interstice: Sun

I saw an opportunity to put Blake in cat ears and I took it.

Chapter 2: Dungeon Master

listen, it is not my fault that Emerald Sustrai very obviously has a mommy kink situation that can be seen from space. that is in some ways the MOST obvious example of "I'm just depicting the character as I honestly see them, no agenda" in the whole fic. (well. tied for first place with Yang and the gag, but more on that later.)

the wax play with Russel was just a kind of scene I'd never written before that I thought would be fun and hot (lololol literally), and the come-on scene with Neon and Flynt was always intended to be more about Blake's social standing, experience, and inherent comfort at the club rather than the actual kinks involved.

Emerald, on the other hand, was supposed to be about the sort of... I'm not quite sure how to put it. the perils of unrestrained Id? a cautionary tale? Emerald *doesn't know herself,* that's part of her whole off-screen journey that gets paid off in in the end. she just knows that she Wants, but not what she wants, which makes the fact that she can only get what she wants by asking for it an immense frustration to her. she HATES that. so she tries to skirt by entirely on innuendo and provocation to force other people to make the decisions for her so she can just take whatever is given and deal with it, for good or ill.

and for Blake, that's a nightmare situation because she's basically used a sex club instead of therapy for the last several years of her life precisely because it's SUPPOSED to have these guardrails and people are supposed to know what they're looking for so nothing can cross lines. emerald basically shows her that that's a convenient lie she's been telling herself (one of many). emerald simultaneously shows Blake just how far she's come from where she's started-- which is quite far!!-- but also shows her she's gotten as much out of this particular coping strategy as she's ever gonna get. if Blake wants to grow more or get healthier, she cannot just keep doing what she's been doing. it's been clear to her friends for a while, but this is the moment it becomes clear to her. and if it hadn't already been, she could never have actually accepted it when Neptune says it at the end of this chapter.

Chapter 3: Beacon

no fetishes here. really the headline here is what i very much did NOT want to come off as a fetish, which is the way Blake becomes more attracted to Yang after she clocks her.

threading that needle and exploring that line-- the difference between "you are even more beautiful to me now because I see who you are and the fortitude it took to become that person, and the things I already found attractive before stand out even more to me now, and also Trans Women Are Hot We Don't Have To Make A Thing Of It" versus, like... getting weirdly prescriptive and flirting with straight-up physiognomy and ABSOLUTELY making a thing of it is not always an easy one to strike! honestly bless @alexkablob for being so patient with me because i had her read minutely different versions of that moment over and over and over again so the scene came across the way i intended it to: not being cutesy, not trying to obscure the fact that Blake is attracted to Yang BECAUSE she's trans, rather than in spite of or ignoring it.

i think-- or at least, i'd like to think-- that more cis writers want to be braver about writing trans-inclusive romance but don't for fear of sounding chaser-y. and this scene was always About That, in every way it's possible to be about that, for Blake AND for me

Chapter 4: Dirty Laundry

the fetishes depicted here-- electroplay and vampire roleplay-- don't have any significance unto themselves but instead are meant to be wider examples of Blake's true kink, which is indulging the kinks of others. Blake is GAME, not because she thinks she has to be or because it's an expectation Adam put on her, but because she's down for a challenge and likes to be the reason people get off.

Blake's just, embarrassingly, really into improv. that yes-and instinct gets her into weird sexy situations at the club, and also makes her very fun to play DND with.

Chapter 5: Proper Socialization

this is where we first start to see the signs of Blake's next self-inflicted mental health crisis, which is "i am somehow diminishing Yang by having sexy thoughts about her being submissive because obviously she'd never agree to that" blake. BLAKE what are yoU TALKING ABOUT

YOU COULD TRY. ASKING.

like Blake knows damn well that it's not degrading or insulting to sub, and a lot of this is just her being embarrassed about having lustful thoughts about Yang at all, but there IS that edge there of "if she knew that's how i see the world she'd never forgive me" that is... the self-obsession and fretting is in some ways a fetish, if that makes sense? like Blake's so far down the rabbit hole on this it's a fetish in the most clinical way, it's a fixation.

Prelude (1): Adam | Prelude (2) Adam Blake

... and once I got that far, it was obviously the right time in the story for me to dig the origin of that thought out at the root

this chapter is in many ways the other side of the coin from Thursday. just as it was important to me to show Blake owning her identity as a Domme with Sun, it was equally important for me to show her owning her identity as a sub with Adam. not as his victim, but as her own person. there was never a chance of this relationship being healthy because Adam's a manipulative groomer shitstain, but Blake *could* have had *a* healthy relationship as the submissive partner and truly enjoyed it, if she'd found a worthier person to crush on. that ability to trust and let go-- to surrender-- to submit, in the most basic meaning of the word-- is not something Adam forced upon her, but rather something he took from her. it was hers, and he ruined it.

I've also talked about this a lot in the author's notes and elsewhere, but it was also important to me to show that Blake chose this and wanted him. I think diminishing her agency in the development of their romance is a misread of the character that does a disservice to who she is and what she's overcome. what she has to accept here is not that she missed the signs, but that she SAW the signs and WELCOMED them. his being dangerous, edgy, and forbidden was a major part of the thrill and appeal to her; she'd gotten off on that. which: that's also a reason i could only ever explore this in an AU and not canon, because it's very different to put that on a precocious but ultimately consenting college student than a twelve-year-old but we don't have time to unpack all that

and... maybe it's very obvious to say it, but the other fetish that comes up here (and did previously in Sun's interlude) is just like Blake's fundamental awakening to the possibilities of polyamory and ethical non-monogamy. which isn't a fetish in and of itself, but is the mechanism by which every other fetish gets explored. it's a permission structure that lets Blake live her life in a way that feels natural to her without shame-- or would, if Blake were capable of not feeling shame lmao-- and that's the engine that makes everything else in this fic go.

Chapter 6: Four Questions

No real fetishes present other than Blake's fixation on Yang's bruise, which: see what I said about Proper Socialization.

Chapter 7: Body & Recovery

see above, again, more and harder (heyo). this is the first time Yang literally TELLS Blake "I like when you get toppy and particular" and Blake like... believes her but also decides this can somehow only apply to the most vanilla of instances and couldn't possibly translate into a larger dynamic because that would be Deciding For Yang somehow

also, dry humping is hot. the simulacrum of control vs the obvious and overt loss of control, the way it has an innocence to it despite being (literally, in terms of necessary cleanup) filthy... fun times. we see this come up again several times, the "I like getting messy," and that's just a thing I have about sex scenes generally that I think is deeply important. you have to want the bodily fluids around or why are we doing this.

Chapter 8: Balance

There was no way I was gonna get though a fic like this without a breathplay scene. there couldn't BE a more on-the-nose depiction of Blake's need for control-- but also, to her credit, the way she's thoughtful and responsible with the power she's given. it's a way of showing how her pathological mistrust of herself is unearned. like, people literally put their lives in her hands and homegirl doesn't even notice.

(see also, related: Blake promising Yang "I love when you say no to me" and meaning it like GIRL JUST LISTEN TO YOURSELF)

and going back to the polyamory point, it was important to me structurally to show Blake continuing to have encounters at Anesidora, and to tease out how they don't bother her or seem like cheating to her until she, as she always does, creates a mind prison about it.

Chapter 9: Power

well this one's a fun one for fetishes, eh?

this chapter is the first hint at Blake's fantasies regarding Yang's mirror, which will come up a LOT from here on out. I could (and honestly probably should) write a whole other essay about what I did with mirrors in this fic, and what their presence throughout signifies, but in terms of kink and fantasy I imagine it's pretty damn clear even here at jump: she sees Yang for exactly the woman she is and wants Yang to see it, too.

then we've got the juxtaposition of Yang In Panties and the rimming scene, and like... I don't think I'm being subtle here, you know? Yang is deeply vulnerable about her relationship with her own femininity, her desirability, her acceptability on like a basic level, and Blake... wants to devour her. Blake sees all of it, loves all of it, wants all of it. the things Yang sees as potential dealbreakers because they're shameful or subpar or ~gross, Blake just sees a goddamn sexy dreamboat. which Yang, like a hero, actually REALIZES at the end, while Blake then spirals out like a moron

this is another one where this is also just an act I don't see very often and had never attempted myself, and both were worth remedying.

Chapter 10: The Ropes

and-- see title-- the complete lack of subtlety continues.

Yang literally says this in her POV section in the next chapter, but the collar and leash was also a very deliberate and very linear, obvious choice. Yang WANTS to be bound to Blake, wants to be kept close and to have physical, tangible proof of their intimacy, and she picks the objects that tell Blake so. Collaring scenes are also A Big Deal in D/s stories and putting my (/their) spin on it-- having Blake present it to Yang to do it to herself, to put that agency in her hands-- was important to me. Blake's terrified of taking too much, of being this greedy conqueror, and Yang's trying so hard to say "you can't take what's already yours."

and of course just when Blake finally hears and accepts it, she misses that she's been so up her own ass about HER shit she hasn't at all been paying attention to the rest of Yang's or she'd have picked up the prior signs Yang dropped re: the ways her abandonment issues do and don't manifest

which brings me to the other major thing here, which is Yang's flirtation with cucking and depersonalization fetish and her own relationship to polyamory. Yang does genuinely find the idea of Blake with other people hot. and you can chalk that up to her always sublimating her needs to others, or you could see it as something she inherited FROM her parents rather than developed due to her proximity to their bullshit, or any number of other interpretations. but the way Blake's reveal to Yang goes-- with Yang wanting to be walked through the process of Anesidora and being turned on by it in this slightly-removed proxy way-- was one of the earliest things in my outline for this story. yang is stressed out about it Happening To Her and having to Do It Right in a way she isn't when she can just enjoy the idea of it as a voyeur without having to Perform.

Insterstice: Yang

So. The gag.

I have been on the record for years about my belief in this being a kink Yang would have, and I think I was fairly explicit about it in the fic itself. Yang is desperate to have her Class Clown instinct suppressed. she has gone out of her way to make herself likeable so she will not be abandoned again, and being explicitly shown that she does not need to do or say anything and will still be adored is deeply healing for her. this is why a lot of dommy or toppy takes on Yang leave me cold-- not because of the caretaker aspect, which I think she'd excel in and enjoy, but because it feeds into exactly that same charismatic (yet inherently performative) part of her that like, beats up on Junior and the show is clear FROM THE VERY OPENING TEXT is not truly who she is. it's a front she puts up.

and the thing about the mirror, which gets its first big culmination here, is that there is NO front Yang can put up. all she is faced with is her own actual reality, and the inarguable truth of it. it also plays into the voyeur thing I was talking about before, where there's this sort of pleasure at the idea of seeing Blake work and getting to see it on HERSELF, where she is simultaneously some other girl but also cannot escape the fact of "that girl is me." does that make sense? it's like the two circles finally converge into a venn diagram and then align.

Chapter 11: Play

This being its own chapter didn't exist in my original outlines. it was only when i got to this moment as I was writing linearly that I realized the audience both needed and deserved a chance to bask in the new normal before i started wrapping things up

actually rewarding everything I'd set up in terms of how they would approach Anesidora *together* seemed the obvious thing, and then going a few steps further to take it to the shibari and chastity cage place, well

*polite cough*

i have it on some authority that there is a hunger for that among my target audience

but seriously, it's all just more of what i've said. yang's desires revolve around being tethered and contained because she's had a lifetime of being gregarious and on her own. but she's also intrepid and COMPETITIVE, so blake making up rules she can WIN at stokes that fire in her to explore the unknown and also make it her bitch

and blake sees all of that, and wants desperately to indulge it

Chapter 12: Home

not really sure if the shower scene here rises to "fetish" level but to touch on it briefly

--or NOT touch, as is sort of what happens here--

i... hmm. i think in a way this is sort of my thesis statement about where blake's coming from with domination. which isn't touching, or being serviced, but is literally just talking Yang off and guiding her to her own pleasure.

Blake wants to be RESPONSIBLE for that, likes knowing she's a force for good, and the control she exerts is about learning to trust herself just as much as it is thriving at the evidence that her partners trust HER

blake obviously enjoys sex tremendously, but that's not what makes it erotic for her. her own pleasure is really the smallest part of it....

Epilogue: Surrender

... which sort of brings us full circle, to Blake's inevitable realization that her pleasure DOES matter and her desires CAN be identified and sated. even despite all she's been through; even if those desires don't seem coherent or consistent to her

the what of this, the improvised rock climbing bondage, was the very last thing to come together for this story. i knew i wanted Blake to experience full body restraint in an unconventional way, but I didn't have a solid plan on how to achieve it. which, because you asked about the fetish and not the act, I suppose is really entirely incidental

and like, as far as How I Chose To Decide Blake Wants To Be Tied Up, that did not feel like a choice at all. the excessive ribbon wrapping up the arms of her beacon-era outfit made that call for me. gambol shroud's existence AT ALL made that decision for me. Blake getting captured by Yuma and Trifa, Blake getting caught in the vines in the Ever After... you'll have to ask CRWBY about this one, not me, because that's just literally lifted wholesale from the show as Blake's obvious and inevitable Thing lmao

... and apparently this post is 3.5k so you know what i'm gonna cut it off there

THANK YOU FOR ASKING THIS WAS FUN

[muiitoloko]

I swear, I live for your Eli fics. 😔💗

Title: Forbiden love

Summary: He was yours and you were undeniably his.

Pairing: Eli Michaelson × Fem! Reader

Warnings: Smut, forbidden love, self-criticism, fear, abandonment, guilt and possessiveness.

Author's Notes: I'm so happy to hear you enjoyed the story! Your feedback means a lot to me and I am grateful for your continued support. And now speaking of my portrayal of Eli Michaelson, I must confess that I may have taken some creative liberties and deviated slightly from his original character. I recognize that this departure may not be perfectly in line with how he was originally portrayed, and for that I apologize. However, I hope the story still resonates with you despite these changes. Thank you for your understanding and for allowing me the creative freedom to explore different aspects of the character.

First part here.

Eli finally broke the kiss, a soft sigh escaping his lips as he leaned back slightly, his fingers gently caressing your cheek. He gazed into your eyes, a mixture of desire and admiration reflected in his own. Despite his typically stoic demeanor, there was a hint of vulnerability in his expression as he savored the moment.

Your lips, swollen and inviting, beckoned to him, and Eli couldn't resist the urge to lean in once more, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead before speaking. "My apologies, darling," he murmured, his voice low and husky with desire. "It seems our little indulgence has caused me to neglect something rather important."

He gestured towards the back seat of the car, where a grocery bag containing a tub of ice cream sat forgotten. "It appears my ice cream is melting," he remarked, a hint of amusement tugging at the corners of his lips. Your confusion only served to amuse him further as you looked at him quizzically.

"Yes, indeed," Eli confirmed with a nod. "Ice cream. A mundane necessity, but one that mustn't be overlooked." He chuckled softly, the sound warm and genuine as he reached for the bag and retrieved the tub of ice cream.

And Eli, driven by his impulsive desires and fueled by the allure of the forbidden, wasted no time in taking charge of the situation. Ignoring any semblance of propriety or restraint, he declared his intentions with a confidence that bordered on arrogance.

"We're going to eat ice cream in your apartment," he announced, his voice commanding and authoritative as he met your bewildered gaze with an unwavering stare. Before you could protest, your mind reeling with a mixture of guilt and confusion, Eli had already taken action, stepping out of the car with the tub of ice cream in hand.

You watched in stunned silence as he locked the car with a casual flick of his wrist, the gesture oozing with an air of entitlement that left you feeling increasingly uneasy. As he strode towards the entrance of your building, you couldn't help but feel a sense of trepidation creeping into your heart.

Following in his wake, you fumbled with the key to your apartment, your mind racing with a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. This was wrong, you knew it deep down in your bones. Eli was Barkley's father, and you had no business entertaining him in your home.

But despite your reservations, you found yourself unable to resist his magnetic pull, drawn to him like a moth to a flame. As you entered your apartment, the weight of the situation settled heavily on your shoulders, a sense of unease gnawing at the edges of your consciousness. Despite Eli's assurances, you couldn't shake the feeling that this was all wrong, that you were crossing a line that should never be crossed.

"You know, Eli," you began, your voice trembling slightly with apprehension. "I don't think this is a good idea. You're Barkley's father, and... and we shouldn't be doing this."

To your surprise, Eli's response was not what you expected. He turned to you with a look of genuine sincerity, his usually stoic expression softened by a hint of vulnerability.

"You're right," he admitted, his voice surprisingly gentle. "I shouldn't have put you in this position. I promise you, I won't do anything you don't want. I just... I just wanted to spend some time with you. To talk, to... to eat ice cream."

His words caught you off guard, and for a moment, you found yourself at a loss for words. Despite his flaws and his questionable behavior, there was something undeniably earnest about Eli's demeanor, something that stirred a sense of empathy within you.

Taking a deep breath, you nodded slowly, a flicker of trust blossoming within your heart. "Okay," you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "Okay, let's eat ice cream."

As you retrieved two spoons from the kitchen, you couldn't help but notice the way Eli's gaze lingered on you, his eyes tracing the curves of your body with a mixture of longing and admiration. But instead of feeling uncomfortable, you found yourself strangely comforted by his presence, a sense of warmth spreading through you like a gentle embrace.

Returning to the living room, you handed Eli a spoon with a tentative smile, your fingers brushing against his in a fleeting touch that sent a shiver down your spine. He accepted the spoon with a grateful nod, his lips quirking into a small smile as he presented the tub of blueberry ice cream with a flourish.

"Blueberry ice cream," he announced with a hint of excitement, his eyes sparkling with anticipation. "My favorite."

As you settled onto the couch next to him, you couldn't help but marvel at the simplicity of the moment, the way in which the tension between you seemed to dissolve in the warmth of the shared experience. Despite the complexities of your relationship and the uncertainties that lay ahead, you found solace in the simple act of enjoying ice cream together.

For Eli, the realization that he had managed to keep his promise and resist the urge to make a move on you filled him with a strange mixture of pride and confusion. It was a rare moment of introspection for a man who prided himself on his unwavering self-assurance, a glimpse into the depths of his own psyche that left him feeling strangely vulnerable.

Was he getting old, he wondered? Was this the onset of a midlife crisis, a sign that he was losing his edge and succumbing to sentimentality? Or perhaps, just perhaps, there was something more profound at play, something that defied rational explanation and defied the boundaries of his carefully constructed reality.

As he glanced at you from the corner of his eye, his heart fluttered with a strange mixture of longing and uncertainty. You were a mystery to him, a tantalizing enigma that defied categorization or definition. And try as he might to resist the pull of your allure, he found himself inexorably drawn to you, like a moth to a flame.

As you glanced down at your spoon, a pang of guilt washed over you. Barkley also loved blueberry ice cream, and here you were, sharing a moment with his father that should rightfully belong to him. "You know," you began, your voice tinged with remorse, "Barkley loves blueberry ice cream too."

Eli's spoon froze midway to his mouth, his expression growing solemn as he fell silent. His usually sharp gaze softened, clouded by a flicker of introspection as he processed your words. You couldn't help but wonder if he felt guilty too, if he shared your remorse over the undeniable intimacy of the moment.

But when you turned to him, seeking reassurance or understanding, Eli remained silent, his lips pressed into a thin line as he withdrew into himself. It was as if a shutter had fallen over his emotions, masking his true thoughts and feelings behind a façade of stoic indifference.

"Barkley doesn't deserve you," Eli finally muttered, his voice tinged with bitterness. "Today only confirms that."

"It doesn't matter, Eli. I don't deserve Barkley either," you whisper, your voice trembling with emotion. "I'm such a... such a bitch." you put the spoon aside and brought your hands to your face, feeling like the worst human being in the world.

Eli's expression softened even further, his eyes reflecting a mixture of empathy and concern. With a gentle touch, he removed your hands from your face, his touch surprisingly tender despite his usual aloof demeanor.

"You're not a bitch," Eli insisted, his voice firm and unwavering. "Don't ever say that about yourself." His words were like a soothing balm to your wounded soul, offering a glimmer of solace amidst the turmoil of your emotions.

But despite his reassurances, you couldn't shake the overwhelming sense of guilt and shame that threatened to consume you whole. Tears welled up in your eyes, cascading down your cheeks in silent streams of remorse as you struggled to contain the flood of emotions raging within you.

Eli's hands remained a comforting presence against your face, his touch a tangible reminder of the fragile connection that bound you together in this moment of vulnerability. And as he wiped away your tears with gentle strokes of his fingers, you couldn't help but feel a flicker of warmth stir within your heart.

"Why do you care?" you whispered hoarsely, your voice trembling with uncertainty. "Why do you care if I'm hurting?"

Eli's response was immediate, his gaze unwavering as he met your eyes with a fierce intensity that took you aback. "Because I... I don't know," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "I've never felt like this before. I've never cared about anyone's well-being other than my own."

His confession hung heavy in the air between you, a stark reminder of the depths of his emotional turmoil. And as you gazed into his eyes, you couldn't help but wonder what had brought him to this moment of revelation, what had sparked this newfound sense of empathy and compassion within him.

But before you could voice your thoughts, Eli pressed a finger to your lips, silencing your protests with a gentle gesture. "Let's pretend this never happened," he murmured, his voice tinged with regret. "I'll go away and leave you alone. Just... just don't cry."

You reached out to him, grasping his hand in yours with a desperate plea for reassurance. "But I don't want you to go," you confessed, your voice raw with emotion. "I don't want to be alone."

Eli's eyes softened at your words, a flicker of understanding passing between you as he gently brushed away the tears that stained your cheeks. "Then don't let me go," he whispered, his voice barely audible above the pounding of your heart. "Stay with me."

But even as you clung to him, desperate for the fleeting comfort he offered, you couldn't shake the nagging sense of doubt that gnawed at the edges of your consciousness.

And as you tried to protest once more, your words stumbling over your lips in a desperate attempt to convey the magnitude of the situation, Eli silenced you with a kiss. His lips crashed against yours with a fervent intensity, erasing any semblance of resistance as he poured his emotions into the passionate embrace.

Fuck wrong, he thought, his mind clouded with a tumultuous whirlwind of conflicting emotions. He had never felt like this before, never experienced such a visceral reaction to another person. Was this what being in love was about? Did he fall in love with you?

The realization hit him like a bolt of lightning, sending shockwaves of panic and confusion coursing through his veins. Love was a foreign concept to Eli, a weakness he had always scorned and dismissed as beneath him. And yet, here he was, grappling with the overwhelming certainty that he was utterly and irrevocably in love with you.

But even as the revelation settled like a heavy weight on his chest, Eli couldn't help but recoil from the truth. Love was a vulnerability, a weakness he couldn't afford to indulge in. It was a betrayal of everything he had ever believed in, a betrayal of the cold, calculating persona he had spent a lifetime cultivating.

Why was he hurting so much? Why did seeing you suffer make him suffer too? The questions echoed in his mind, taunting him with their relentless insistence. He had always prided himself on his emotional detachment, on his ability to remain unaffected by the pain of others. And yet, here he was, consumed by a turmoil of emotions he couldn't begin to comprehend.

As he broke the kiss, his breath ragged and uneven, Eli gazed into your eyes with a mixture of longing and anguish. "I'm sorry," he whispered hoarsely, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm sorry for everything."

But before you could respond, before you could make sense of the maelstrom of emotions raging within you, Eli kissed you again, his lips hungry and demanding as he sought solace in the fleeting embrace. And in that moment, as you surrendered yourself to the overwhelming tide of passion and desire, you couldn't help but wonder if perhaps, just perhaps, there was hope for the two of you yet.

But as the kiss deepened and the world fell away around you, a sense of unease lingered in the back of your mind. Eli was Barkley's father, a fact that couldn't be ignored or dismissed. And no matter how deeply you cared for him, no matter how much you longed to be with him, there were lines that should never be crossed.

As you reluctantly pulled away from the kiss, your heart heavy with guilt and uncertainty, you couldn't help but meet Eli's gaze with a mixture of fear and longing. "I can't do this," you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion. "We can't do this."

But even as you spoke the words, a part of you knew that they were futile, that the bond between you and Eli was stronger than either of you could ever hope to resist. As he kissed your jaw, his lips tender and insistent, he murmured softly, his voice tinged with a mixture of longing and regret. "Send me away, darling," he pleaded, his breath hot against your skin. "Tell me to leave, and I will go. I promise."

But you remained silent, your heart torn between conflicting desires as you struggled to make sense of the tumultuous emotions raging within you. Eli's words hung heavy in the air between you, a silent plea for absolution that went unanswered as you grappled with the weight of your own desires.

Undeterred by your lack of response, Eli continued to shower you with kisses, his lips tracing a path down your neck with a relentless determination. He leaned into you, his body pressing against yours as he urged you to lie back on the couch, his touch igniting a firestorm of need within you that threatened to consume you whole.

With each fleeting caress, each tender kiss, Eli knew that he was pushing the boundaries of propriety and decency. He was the one who had pursued you, who had chased after the forbidden fruit with reckless abandon, knowing full well the consequences of his actions.

But in that moment, as he gazed down at you with a hunger that bordered on desperation, Eli couldn't bring himself to care. He wanted you, needed you, with a ferocity that defied reason or rationale. And if it meant crossing lines that should never be crossed, he was more than willing to pay the price.

As he slid his hand up the length of your thigh, his touch sending shivers of pleasure coursing through your veins, Eli felt a surge of triumph swell within him. You were his, body and soul, and nothing would stand in the way of claiming you as his own.

"Send me away," he whispered once more, his voice barely audible above the pounding of your heart. "Tell me to leave, and I will go. But if you ask me to stay..."

"Kiss me," you interrupted him, your voice barely above a breathless murmur. "Please, Eli, kiss me."

And in that moment, as the world fell away around you and the boundaries between right and wrong blurred into obscurity, Eli's resolve crumbled like sand slipping through his fingers. With a low groan of surrender, he captured your lips in a passionate embrace, his kiss a fervent declaration of desire and longing.

As his hands roamed freely across your body, tracing the curves of your silhouette with reverent awe, Eli couldn't suppress the surge of possessiveness that coursed through him. You were his, he realized with a fierce determination that bordered on obsession. And no matter the consequences, no matter the cost, he would do whatever it took to make you his own.

For better or for worse, he was yours, and you were his. And as he kissed you with a fervent intensity that left him breathless with longing, Eli knew that he would do whatever it took to keep you by his side, no matter the cost.

In that moment, as the world faded into oblivion and time stood still, Eli found himself lost in a whirlwind of emotion unlike anything he had ever experienced before. Love, desire, longing... they all merged into a single, overwhelming sensation that threatened to consume him whole.

But as he clung to you with a desperate intensity, as he poured his heart and soul into the kiss that bound them together in a tangled web of passion and desire, Eli knew one thing for certain.

He would do it all over again in a heartbeat.

Eli moaned against your mouth as you arched beneath him, your clothed core rubbing against his cock that was already straining in his pants. 'Fuck, when was I ever turned on by just one kiss?' he thought, his mind clouded with desire as he struggled to maintain control.

He looked at you, eyes dark with desire as he questioned where your bedroom was, and you chose to show rather than tell. Getting out from under him, you stood up, taking Eli with you. And Eli followed you eagerly, the ice cream forgotten on the coffee table in front of the couch.

You entered your bedroom, and Eli looked around curiously. Your bedroom was quite tidy and small, but that didn't matter at that moment. You sat on the edge of the bed to take off your heels, and Eli did the same with his own shoes, not being in a hurry to undress.

But he stopped for a moment after taking off his shoe, placing a hand on your thigh as he questioned if you had condoms. You nodded, going to get a box from the bedside table drawer, saying that you use them with Barkley. But when you mention Barkley, you feel guilty again, and Eli interrupts you.

"Don't think about Barkley now," he murmured, his voice husky with desire. "Just you and me, darling. Just us, here and now."

With a soft sigh, you pushed aside your doubts and fears, surrendering yourself to the overwhelming tide of passion and desire that threatened to consume you whole. And as Eli leaned in to capture your lips in a searing kiss, his touch igniting a firestorm of need within you, you knew one thing for certain.

There was no turning back now.

As Eli undressed, carelessly tossing his clothes aside, you watched him with a mixture of admiration and desire. His physique was impressive, he was not a muscular man but was attractive with hair on his chest. But it was when he revealed himself completely, with his thick, throbbing length on display, that you couldn't help but gasp in amazement.

He ran his hand along his shaft, his touch sending shivers down your spine as you watched with rapt attention. It was like watching a masterpiece come to life before your very eyes, each stroke a brushstroke in the canvas of your desires.

With practiced ease, Eli rolled a condom onto himself, the latex sheathing his hardness in a barrier of protection. And as he turned to you, his eyes dark with desire, you felt a thrill of anticipation coursing through your veins.

"It's time to undress you, my darling," he murmured, his voice husky with longing. And with a tenderness that belied his usual arrogance, Eli began to strip you of your clothing, each garment falling away like the layers of an onion, revealing the treasure hidden within.

As he peeled away the last of your clothing, leaving you bare and vulnerable before him, Eli's gaze lingered on your form with an intensity that took your breath away.

"You have no idea how much I fucking dreamed about this," he admitted, his voice raw with emotion. "I imagined you, I touched myself thinking about you. And now, to see you here, beneath me, it's more than I ever dared to hope for."

And with that, Eli bent down, his lips trailing a path of fire across your skin as he worshipped every inch of your body with reverent devotion. When he took one of your breasts into his mouth, sucking and nibbling with a hunger that left you trembling with desire, you couldn't help but moan his name, your pleasure echoing in the quiet confines of the room.

You grabbed his hair, chanting his name in a breathless whisper as Eli's lips curved into a wicked smile, relishing in the power he held over you. With deliberate slowness, he teased and tormented you with his lips and touches, each caress igniting a wildfire of desire within you.

He played you like a finely tuned instrument, his every move calculated to drive you to the brink of madness. And as he whispered sweet nothings in your ear, his words a symphony of seduction, you found yourself falling deeper and deeper under his spell.

"Tell me," he demanded, his voice low and husky with desire. "Did you dream about me? Did you think about me, even when you were with Barkley?"

Your cheeks flushed crimson with embarrassment at his probing questions, but you couldn't deny the truth. "Yes," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "I thought about you more times than I care to admit. Sometimes, even when I shouldn't have."

Eli's smile grew even more smug at your confession, a self-satisfied smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "Naughty girl," he purred, his tone dripping with amusement. "Thinking about me when you were with Barkley. You've been a bad, bad girl, haven't you?"

But instead of feeling ashamed, you felt a thrill of excitement coursing through your veins at his words. There was something undeniably thrilling about being caught in his web of desire, about surrendering yourself completely to his dominant will.

And as Eli continued to lavish you with kisses and touches, tormenting you until you begged for more, you found yourself unable to resist his magnetic pull any longer. "Please," you whimpered, your voice hoarse with longing. "I need you. I need to feel you inside me."

With a predatory gleam in his eyes, Eli finally relented, his desire matching yours with an intensity that left you breathless. "Spread your legs for daddy," he commanded, his voice rough with desire. "Wrap your legs around my waist, and let me show you what you've been missing."

You couldn't help but gasp in surprise at his choice of words. "Daddy?" you questioned, uncertainty flickering in your eyes. "Is that... is that okay?"

Eli just responded nonchalantly, his smirk never faltering. "I'm used to being called that by younger women," he admitted, his voice dripping with arrogance. "But if I could choose, I prefer my title to be used: Doctor. However, I don't mind indulging you in your little fantasy."

You nodded, not bothering to respond as you eagerly wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer. Eli wasted no time, sliding into you with a smooth, deliberate motion, his movements fueled by raw desire.

As he leaned closer to you, his hands on the sides of your head, you couldn't help but let out a soft sigh of pleasure. "Doctor," you whispered against his ear, the word feeling strangely illicit on your tongue.

Eli shuddered at the sound of his chosen nickname, his control slipping slightly as he cursed under his breath. "Fuck, that's... that's sinful," he groaned, his voice husky with desire. "Shit, what are you doing to me?"

But instead of answering, you simply tightened your grip on him, urging him deeper with each thrust. And as he buried himself completely inside you, you couldn't help but moan his chosen name again and again, each utterance driving him to the brink of madness.

"Oh, Doctor," you whimpered, your voice filled with need. "Please... I need more."

With a feral growl, Eli complied, his movements becoming more urgent and desperate as he sought to satisfy your every desire. He continued fucking you with an intensity that bordered on savage, his every thrust hitting all the right spots with unerring precision. As he watched you beneath him, moaning and squirming in ecstasy, a smug grin spread across his lips, his narcissistic side coming to the forefront.

"Fuck, you're so tight," he growled, his voice rough with desire as he buried himself deep inside you. "You like that, don't you? You like being filled up by Doctor Michaelson's big, thick cock."

Your breath hitched at his words, a shiver of pleasure coursing through you at the sheer arrogance of his tone. But even as you struggled to maintain your composure, Eli's relentless thrusts drove you ever closer to the brink of ecstasy, your body trembling with need.

With each thrust, each deep, primal growl that escaped his lips, Eli seemed to revel in his power over you, his dominant nature on full display. And as he leaned down to capture your lips in a bruising kiss, his hands roaming freely across your body, you surrendered yourself completely to the overwhelming tide of pleasure that threatened to consume you whole.

"Harder, Eli," you whimpered, your voice barely above a desperate plea. "Fuck me harder, I need it. I need all of you."

Eli's eyes darkened with lust at your words, a feral grin spreading across his lips as he complied with your request. With renewed vigor, he pounded into you with an intensity that left you breathless, your senses reeling from the sheer force of his desire.

"You want it rough, huh?" he taunted, his voice dripping with arrogance as he drove himself deeper and deeper into you. "You want me to fuck you like the dirty little slut you are?"

Your cheeks flushed crimson at his words, a mixture of shame and desire flooding through you at his brazen display of dominance. But even as you struggled to maintain your composure, Eli's relentless assault on your senses left you trembling with need, your body aching for release.

With each thrust, each delicious moment of agony and ecstasy, you felt yourself spiraling closer and closer to the edge, your orgasm building with an intensity that bordered on unbearable. And as Eli's movements became more urgent, more desperate, you knew that you were teetering on the brink of oblivion, on the verge of surrendering yourself completely to the overwhelming tide of pleasure that threatened to consume you whole.

And then, finally, it happened.

With a primal roar of ecstasy, you felt your climax wash over you like a tidal wave, your body convulsing with pleasure as Eli continued to pound into you with an intensity that bordered on savage. And as you cried out his name in a breathless whisper, your voice lost in the throes of passion, you knew one thing for certain.

You were his, completely and utterly, and you wouldn't have it any other way.

And as you arch against him, your body trembling with the force of your orgasm, Eli holds you close, his strong arms wrapped around you in a comforting embrace. He whispers soothing words in your ear, his voice a gentle murmur against your skin as he calms you from the storm of sensation that threatens to overwhelm you.

"You're doing so well, my little slut," he murmurs, his words a soft caress against your ear. "Just let go, give in to the pleasure. You belong to me now, completely and utterly."

With a contented sigh, you sink into his embrace, basking in the warmth of his touch as he holds you close. But even as you revel in the afterglow of your climax, a sense of anticipation lingers in the air, a hunger that refuses to be sated.

Eli turns you over, positioning you on all fours on the bed, your body trembling with excitement as you await his next move. He grips your hips firmly, his touch possessive and commanding as he positions himself behind you, his cock throbbing with anticipation.

With a low growl of desire, Eli plunges into you with a single, powerful thrust, filling you to the brim with his hardness. You gasp in pleasure, the sensation of him stretching you to your limits sending shivers of ecstasy coursing through your veins.

But Eli shows no mercy, his thrusts relentless and unforgiving as he pounds into you with an intensity that leaves you breathless with need. You grip the sheets of your bed tightly, your nails digging into the fabric as you struggle to hold on to your sanity in the face of such overwhelming pleasure.

And as Eli's balls slap against your clit with each thrust, sending shockwaves of pleasure rippling through your body, you can't help but moan like a wanton slut, your cries of ecstasy filling the room with their sweet melody.

"Yes, yes, just like that," you whimper, your voice a breathless moan of pleasure. "Fuck me, Doctor Michaelson, make me yours."

Eli's grin widens at your words, his eyes gleaming with triumph as he claims you as his own once more. He grips your ass tightly, squeezing and kneading the flesh as he pulls you closer, his desire consuming him completely.

"You're mine, all mine," he growls, his voice rough with desire. "I'll never let you go, my little slut. You belong to me, body and soul."

And with that, Eli drives into you with renewed fervor, his thrusts growing more desperate and urgent with each passing moment. And as you feel yourself hurtling towards the edge of oblivion once more, you can't help but revel in the overwhelming bliss of surrendering yourself completely to his dominant will.

As the intensity of your lovemaking reaches its peak, Eli's movements become more frantic and desperate, his hips driving forward with a primal urgency that leaves you both teetering on the edge of ecstasy. With a guttural groan, Eli spills himself into the condom, his release accompanied by a deep, resonant moan of your name that reverberates through the room.

You collapse onto the bed, spent and sated, Eli following suit and falling on top of you with a satisfying weight that leaves you breathless. For a moment, you revel in the intimacy of the aftermath, the heat of his body pressing against yours in a comforting embrace.

But soon, Eli pulls out of you, his softening member still wrapped in the condom as he rolls onto his back, his chest heaving with the effort as he catches his breath. You snuggle into his side, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat as he pulls you closer, his fingers tangling in your hair as he strokes your curls with a tenderness that surprises you, making you fall asleep against his chest.

As Eli stared up at the ceiling, his fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns in your hair as you lay nestled against his chest, your breathing slow and steady as sleep claimed you. He knew this was his chance to slip away, to leave behind the tangled mess of desire and longing that had consumed them both in the heat of the moment.

He had already taken what he wanted, had tasted the forbidden fruit of your passion, and now he could simply walk away, leaving you to deal with the aftermath on your own. It was what he had always done in the past, after all. Take what he wanted and move on, with no regard for the consequences.

But as he looked down at your peaceful face, your skin glowing with the remnants of your lovemaking, Eli couldn't shake the feeling of unease that gnawed at him from within. Why did the idea of walking away from you bother him so much? What hold did you have over him that made him hesitate, even now?

Gently pulling away from you, Eli laid you down on the pillow, his gaze lingering on your sleeping form as he contemplated his next move. What would he do with you now? Would he turn you into his pet, his plaything to be used and discarded at his whim? The thought sent a shiver down his spine, both thrilling and terrifying in equal measure.

But as he caressed your cheek with a tenderness he hadn't known he possessed, Eli realized that he couldn't bring himself to treat you like just another conquest. You deserved better than that, he knew it deep down in his soul.

But why was he hesitating so much? If it were anyone else, Eli wouldn't have even given it a second thought before leaving. But with you, it was different. With you, everything was different.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Eli ran his hands through his hair, feeling more confused by a woman than he had in years, maybe even never before. The thought both intrigued and frightened him, stirring up emotions he had long buried beneath layers of arrogance and self-assuredness.

But as he removed the condom from his shaft and made his way to the bathroom to discard it, Eli couldn't suppress the arrogant smirk that tugged at the corners of his lips. Once again, he had won. He wanted something, and now he had it, like always.

But as he stared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror, a nagging voice in the back of his mind whispered words of doubt and uncertainty. Was this really what he wanted? To use you and discard you like yesterday's trash?

No, he realized with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. You deserved more than that. And maybe, just maybe, so did he.

With a heavy sigh, Eli made his way back to the bedroom, his heart heavy with the weight of his own conflicting emotions. He knew he couldn't stay, couldn't give you what you deserved. But he also knew that he couldn't simply walk away, not without at least trying to make things right.

And so, with a sense of determination that surprised even himself, Eli leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering against your skin for a moment longer than necessary.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice barely above a whisper. "I don't know what I'm doing. But I promise, I'll figure it out. For both of us."

As Eli started to pick up his clothes from the floor and get dressed to leave, he froze when he heard you moving in bed, waking up softly and calling for him. He hesitated, torn between his desire to stay and his fear of the consequences of his actions. But before he could make a decision, you spoke up, your voice tinged with bitterness as you realized that Eli was preparing to leave you behind like nothing more than a one-night stand.

Desperation clawed at your heart as you watched him dress, your mind racing with a million questions and doubts. Would he really just leave you here, alone and abandoned, without a second thought? Were you nothing more than a fleeting moment of pleasure to him, a distraction from the monotony of his existence?

Eli's response was evasive, his words carefully chosen as he tried to placate your growing anger and frustration. But as you pressed him for answers, demanding to know what his intentions were, Eli's patience began to wear thin.

"What the fuck do you want from me?" he snapped, his voice tinged with frustration. "I told you, I don't know what I'm doing. I'm confused, okay? Can't you see that?"

But your anger only intensified at his dismissive tone, your fear and insecurity bubbling to the surface as you lashed out in frustration. "Confused?" you scoffed, your voice trembling with emotion. "You think you're confused? Try being in my shoes for a fucking second, Eli. You waltz in here, make me fall for you, and then expect me to just let you walk away without a second thought? What the hell kind of game are you playing?"

Eli's eyes narrowed at your accusation, his jaw clenching with barely contained anger. "I'm not playing any games," he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "I came here looking for one thing, and one thing only. And now that I have it, I'm leaving. End of story."

But as he moved to leave, you couldn't suppress the surge of anger and betrayal that welled up within you, threatening to consume you whole. "So that's it, then?" you spat, your voice dripping with venom. "I'm just supposed to let you walk out that door, without a backward glance? Is that what I am to you, Eli? Nothing more than a disposable fuck toy?"

Eli's expression softened slightly at your words, a flicker of guilt flashing in his eyes. But before he could respond, you continued, your voice trembling with emotion.

"I'm scared too, you know," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "Scared of what this means, of what will happen if Barkley finds out. But I can't stop thinking about you, Eli. I can't stop wanting you, even though I know I shouldn't."

For a moment, silence hung heavy in the air between you, the tension palpable as you both grappled with the weight of your emotions. But then, with a soft sigh, Eli moved to sit next to you on the bed, his hand reaching out to gently caress your cheek.

Eli's hand trembled slightly, his touch hesitant and uncertain. "I... I don't want to leave," he admitted softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "Part of me... part of me wants to stay, to be with you. But..."

He trailed off, his gaze dropping to the floor as he struggled to find the right words. "But you have to end things out with Barkley first," he continued, his voice tinged with sadness. "I can't... I can't share you, not with him. I won't share you, not with anyone, especially not my own son."

You felt a surge of emotion welling up within you at his words, a mixture of relief and longing washing over you like a tidal wave. He chose you, you realized with a sense of awe and wonder. Despite everything, despite his arrogance and self-assuredness, Eli chose you.

You reached out, taking Eli's hand in yours and squeezing it gently, your heart pounding in your chest as you waited for his response. But instead of returning your gesture, Eli tensed at your touch, his hand pulling away from yours as if burned.

"Why are women always so complicated?" he muttered under his breath, his frustration evident in his tone. "I just want... I just want to go out and think. I just want... damn, I don't know what I want."

You could see the uncertainty in his eyes, the conflict raging within him as he grappled with his own emotions. Part of him wanted you, you realized with a pang of sadness, but the other part of him was afraid of getting too attached, too involved.

You sighed, feeling the weight of his indecision bearing down on you like a leaden blanket. "Okay," you said softly, your voice trembling with emotion. "If you want to leave, then go. I won't stop you."

Eli looked at you in surprise, his brows furrowing in confusion as he called your name hesitantly. But you ignored him, your heart heavy with disappointment and hurt. "Just go," you whispered, your voice barely above a whisper. "I won't stop you. I won't blame you. I won't expect anything from you. Let's just forget..."

As all this happened, you turned around and laid down with your back to Eli, burying your face in the pillow as you fought back tears. You couldn't bear to see him go, couldn't bear the thought of being abandoned by him so callously.

Eli stood still for a moment, his gaze lingering on your bare back as he struggled with his own conflicting emotions. He sighed, his shoulders slumping in defeat. "Damn woman," he muttered under his breath, his tone laced with frustration. "Fine, I'll stay. But give me some of the covers, will you? I'm freezing here."

You turned around in surprise at his words, your heart skipping a beat as you realized that Eli hadn't left. He had chosen to stay, chosen to face the challenges that would come with you. And in that moment, a weight lifted off your shoulders, replaced by a sense of relief and gratitude.

"Thank you," you whispered, your voice filled with emotion as you reached out to share the covers with him. "Thank you for staying."

Eli just grumbled in response, his facade of indifference slipping slightly as he settled down beside you. But despite his gruff exterior, you could see the warmth in his eyes, the flicker of something genuine that he couldn't quite hide.

He cared about you. He was in love with you.

With a surge of emotion, you threw your arms around him, holding him close as you whispered words of love and gratitude into his ear. And as you melted into each other's embrace, you knew one thing for certain.

Eli might be complicated, he might be arrogant and self-centered, but he was yours. And you were his.

Together, you would face whatever challenges lay ahead, hand in hand, heart to heart. For in each other, you had found something worth fighting for, something worth holding on to.

Eli continued to grumble as he shifted uncomfortably in bed, the chill of the room seeping into his bones and sending shivers down his spine. "If we're going to be together, you'd better invest in a better heater," he muttered, his tone gruff with annoyance. "It's freezing in here, you know."

You couldn't help but laugh at his complaint, the sound echoing softly in the quiet of the room as you snuggled closer to him. "I'll make sure to add it to the shopping list," you teased, your voice laced with amusement. "But for now, why don't we just share body heat? It's much more efficient."

Eli rolled his eyes at your suggestion, but he didn't protest as you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him close until there was no space left between you. And as you pressed yourself against his warmth, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your chest, you couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment wash over you.

Maybe things weren't perfect, maybe there were still challenges to face and obstacles to overcome. But in that moment, wrapped in each other's arms, you knew one thing for certain.

You were home.

[elliethejellie]

There Are Two Types of Dancers

A oneshot with both Fool and Sol from the renowned @venomous-qwille story - Ghost in the Machine

I've been working on this for so much longer than I expected to pfff- I just wanted it to be perfect for Qwille and all the readers of GITM! A bar has been set with that story and I wanted to at least reach it hahah-

Fool and Sol have become my personal favorites so far (although I'm sure it'll change as time goes on and I learn more about the others). Sol was rather easy to write in my opinion. But my lordy - Fool was a challenge! A fun one, at that, but still! I'm glad I got to challenge my writing and receive some amazing constructive criticism from others as I went!

Also - this is entirely self-indulgent hahah! I just love dancing scenes and I'm too impatient to wait for the possibility of such a scene happening in the story! So here you go, and I hope this lives up to your standards Qwille!!!

Read it on AO3 Instead -> Here

Or read the oneshot under the cut <3 Enjoy!!

*****

Fool definitely fascinated you.

His odd ramblings that always either ended in your confusion or laughter were somewhat... endearing.

Something told you that he didn't spend as much time with the others as he did with you. He seemed to make it a point to bring attention to his loneliness in jest when you would show up to the storage shed looking for different things. He would pursue a conversation with you every time without fail - whether with friendly banter or mocking jests or cheeky jokes all depended on the day. But each instance would still somehow end with you staying longer than you originally intended.

This time had been no different. You had allowed him to convince you to linger and play a game or two of mahjong (although you were pretty sure he only offered the particular game because he knew it had become your favorite). He used the excuse of not letting you walk back the short distance to the house in the rain - which you didn't wholly disagree with. Without your jacket back from Sol (or a replacement, at this point), you really didn't want to deal with the chilling water soaking through your clothes again. So you allowed him to entertain you with a few rounds.

Now you rested within the nest of pillows that filled the resin chariot as light thunder rumbled overhead - watching curiously as Fool shuffled a deck of cards with practiced precision. He was humming a tune you didn't recognize - but it filled you with memories of running around with friends and stuffing your mouth full of pink fluff that melted when it touched your tongue. You made a mental note to ask him about it later, given that you didn't want to interrupt him.

"Hasn't anyone told you that staring is rude, Sweetling?" he piped up suddenly, setting the cards up for a game of solitaire. You scoffed.

"I get told by Sol practically every day." The bot's eyes upturned into crescents, amusement sparkling in the dim lighting.

"My, my, then we'll have to fix that staring problem of yours," he fired back. " It can come across as terribly impolite. Although you are rather lucky I am so gracious as to accept your presence as a most humble apology." You mocked a scoff, fighting the grin that threatened to pull at the corners of your mouth.

"I think the circumstances of my arrangements should allow me some breathing room in that regard."

Fool didn't miss a beat with his response. "Oh, so you find me alluring enough to stare~?"

"Don't flatter yourself. The others are just as interesting as you."

The bot placed a hand to his chest as he did every time you managed to get in a silly insult. "Why must you always be so very cruel," he cried, using his other hand to dramatically scatter the cards on the table as he fell backwards to the floor. You couldn't help the giggle that fell from your lips.

"Oh no, have I broken you finally?"

He lifted his head slightly to peer at you over the edge of the low table. "Finally?" he repeated, sounding somewhat discouraged. "Is that really your harrowing intention? To break me down with your beautiful voice spewing malicious language until I am nothing more but a hunk of wires and metal? All so you can woefully put me back together and claim me as your own charming creation?"

"Who knows?" you asked mysteriously. He dropped his head back down.

"Hm... Would this be the right time to inform you that I've been keeping track of your insults to compliments ratio? I think it tells quite a lot about your character."

"Oh really?" You didn't need to be sarcastic - you were genuinely interested. "And what conclusion have you come to about my 'character'?"

He sprung up suddenly - startling you a bit further into the nest of pillows. He grabbed at his baton - spinning it around a few times before settling on placing the moon side in front of his face. "You're a terrible friend. Naughty. Rude."

"Surprising." You rolled your eyes and resettled yourself on the edge of the chariot, looking down at the mess he'd created with the cards. "How ever shall I make it up to you?"

There was a pause from the jester bot as he dropped the baton from his face and smiled. Mischief sparkled in his expression. "Oh, I thought you'd never grace me with such a question, Sweetling."

Before you had the opportunity to object, you were being lifted from your comfortable resting place to stand in the clear area in the center of the shed (which wasn't very much space, honestly). "Fool," you said, irritation clinging to the edge of your voice as you tried to regain your balance.

"Hm?" he hummed, listing his head to the side in an attempt to feign innocence. "Is something the matter? You're wearing quite the nasty scowl upon that pretty little face of yours." You placed your hands on your hips.

"Fool."

"Have I told you just how much I adore hearing my name from your beautiful lips, Sweetling?" He snatched up one of your hands and brought it to his mouth, ignoring your tone. He bowed his head down and spread his free arm out to the side. "Dance with me."

Seriously?

"I don't know how to dance."

He lifted his faceplate enough to peer at you from the tops of his eyes. "Ah, and neither do I," he whispered, before standing back to his full height and emitting that musical laughter you had come to adore. He tilted his head down and gave you a cheeky smile. "But you, dearest, had so graciously promised to make it up to me~"

"I didn't promise you any- Ah!"

Fool swept you away through the door of the shed before you could protest. Before you knew it, you were standing in the backyard as light rain poured down on the two of you.

"I thought you didn't want me to walk in the rain?" you questioned, quirking an eyebrow up at the bot - already feeling the chill of the water on your back.

"Correct!" he blurted, tugging you towards him with the hand that still held yours. You crashed into his chest embarrassingly. "But I never said anything in relation to dancing in the rain," he corrected, spinning around in a circle with you pinned to his body.

"Fool! Squishy human, remember?! Easily breakable!" you exclaimed. Fool released you immediately - drawing his hands away like a child discovering a hot stove for the first time. You didn't give it much thought, though. You were too busy trying to catch your breath.

"You need to work on your breathing, Sweetling. Hyperventilating in such conditions can give you a nasty bout of dizziness," he tutted, snatching up one of your hands again. He looked at you expectantly.

"You're not going to let me go back inside until I dance with you, huh?" you questioned once you stopped heaving. His smile stretched wider as he shook his head. It must've been contagious, because you chuckled and let a soft smile lift the corners of your mouth. "Fine. But how do you expect me to dance if we have no music?"

The bot tugged you again - gentler this time. You let him spin you around and dip you down so you were leaning back in his arms, looking up into his monochromatic eyes. "Ah~ But we need no accompaniment when the sound of your voice is already music to my ears, Sweetling," he mused. Then he lifted you back up and grasped your waist. "Can't you hear it now?" he called up into the downpour. "I think my sweet is bound to sing again soon!"

A giggle fell from your lips as you watched him. He mocked a gasp and looked back down to you. "Why look at that, the music is back! Now we must dance before it disappears again!" 

Laughter overtook your body now as you joined him - dancing lively in the chilly rain. You almost didn't notice the water slowly drenching your clothes. Somehow, Fool was actually a pretty good dancer in your opinion. He kept you moving - swiftly pulling you closer to him and pushing you away with the same precision he had when shuffling cards. It was fun all the way up until you caught something out of the corner of your eye.

When you turned towards the house to investigate, you barely saw the curtains being tugged back to the closed state you were used to seeing them in. The only thing you could make out in the blur was a low, glowing blue. Maybe you hadn't seen anything. The rain was really starting to come down now, and it wasn't exactly like you were standing still.

Fool must have noticed it, too. He had slowed the speed in which the two of you were dancing and pulled you closer to him again - although this time, he brought your hands up to rest on his shoulders and then dragged his own down to rest upon your waist. "There are many a people I've danced with in my lifetime," he started. You swore he shot a smug glance towards the house, but it could have just been your imagination. You were starting to feel the chill of the rain through your wet clothes now that the two of you were merely swaying from side to side, and it was proving to be rather distracting. "But you, my Sweetling, have been the most pleasurable to enjoy such a spontaneous moment with."

A shiver forced its way through your body. "Uh, thanks?"

The bot stopped his swaying, took hold of one of your hands, and dragged you back towards the shed. "Now - if you'd so please - I believe we were just about to indulge in a marvelous game of Go Fish, were we not?"

You rolled your eyes to the best of your ability despite Fool not even looking your way. "I believe you were setting up a game of Solitaire, actually."

"Oh my, was I now?" he asked as the two of you reached the door to the shed. He held it open for you. "How very forgetful of me. I guess my distraction must have been a rather breathtaking one to indulge in for me to forget such an important detail."

You felt your cheeks warm despite your steadily dropping temperature. "I guess so."

*****

The silence between a stare can relay a million emotions even with no words exchanged.

One stared from the window. One stared from the rain.

*****

"I saw the two of you," Sol piped up, keeping his hands clasped behind his back as he watched you work from the other side of the workbench. Your brows knitted together as you tried to decipher what he could possibly be talking about. A moment of silence passed as you hoped he would elaborate, but he didn't.

And then you remembered - the pull of curtains in the kitchen window and the blur of the glowing, pale blue you saw darting behind them. At the time you thought it to be nothing but a funny reflection from the gloomy lighting, but now...

"Are you talking about when Fool and I were dancing in the rain?"

A sound reminiscent of a scoff emitted from the bot as he leaned away from the work table, dragging your gaze from your work to look at him.

"You call that dancing?" he asked, listing his head to the side ever so slightly. The faint sound of mechanical clicks and internal fans emitted from his body - making his tauntingly benign smile take on a sinister shadow. "The imbécile didn't stay in time at all, and you kept tripping over your feet." You shook your head and went back to your work.

"What, thinking you can do better?" you asked, offended by his words. He grew silent, but you thought nothing of it. You didn't have time to appease Sol's unusual sudden interest in your time spent with Fool. You had to finish this, and his questions were only going to distract you and cause some sort of mistake in your meticulous work. So you turned back to your task at hand.

That was, until your wrists were being seized by the bot. You opened your mouth to object, dropping the tools from your clutch as you were dragged away from the table and to the only free spot in the room. What the hell was with these bots and their lack of understanding in regards to personal space? "Sol, what the fu-"

"A basic waltz is simple," he interrupted. He placed one of your hands on his shoulder, grasped your other hand with his, and then rested his free hand on your waist. "It starts with a box step."

Your brain fumbled for words as he gently pushed you backwards. Why was he teaching you how to waltz? Dancing in the rain with Fool had been a spontaneous decision with a rather large lack of judgement - leaving you freezing and shivering by the time the two of you had gone back inside. There wasn't anything proper about said dance, and you especially hadn't anticipated anyone watching it take place to begin with.

"Are you even paying attention?" Sol's voice pulled you from your thoughts as you stepped on his foot.

"S-Sorry," you muttered. Why were you sorry? You didn't even ask for this!

"You're not stepping in the right direction," he said simply. "This is a 3/4 time signature dance, not 4/4. You have to focus."

He started over, pushing you backwards yet again. You let your right foot fall behind you while he pulled you gently to the left, your left foot following suit. When he pulled you forward, you were unsure of which foot to move first, so you hesitated. Ungracefully, you tripped forwards and almost smacked your head against his chest.

A light blush defiantly dusted your cheeks as he sighed. You started over yet again, and your competitive nature made itself known with the bubbling frustration in your stomach. If he said it was simple, why were you struggling so much?

After a few clumsy tries, you eventually understood the rhythm. Backwards, sideways, together. Forwards, sideways, together. Repeat. You were by no means perfectly in time with Sol's feet, but he silently continued nonetheless. The only thing that messed you up was when he brought the hand that rested on your waist up to your chin.

He tilted your face up until you looked into his eyes and were no longer staring at your feet. "Darling, it's considered rude not to look at your partner while dancing."

The same frustration from before returned as you tripped over your feet again. "But I can't know where your feet are going to be if I'm looking at you," you huffed, avoiding his gaze.

"Relax. And focus." His smile loomed eerily over you as you looked up into his eyes nervously. There had to be some kind of trick to this, right? He talked about it as if it were the easiest thing in the world, yet here you were, unable to focus on the movements of both your feet and his at the same time without looking.

You shoved your frustration back down and drew in a breath. Backwards, sideways, together. Forwards, sideways, together. Repeat.

It took longer to get your feet to move the way you were telling them to, but once you ran through the steps three full times without messing up, you smiled.

"I'm doing it!" you said excitedly, almost tripping up at the deviation from your concentration. Sol didn't praise you, though, instead informing you that there was a lot more to it than what you were just starting to get a grasp on.

"You have to turn counterclockwise with every half box," he said, pulling you to the left. You couldn't remember what step you were on, letting out an exasperated breath as you kicked his ankle.

"Gah- Why can't we just be happy that I learned the beginning and leave it at that?" you cried, attempting to pull your hands away from him. But his grip on you tightened enough to make you look up into his eyes fearfully for a moment. Memories of your first encounter with the bot danced across your vision - bringing the ghost of an ache to your wrist. He loosened his grip at your expression, but still refused to let you go.

"There are a lot of things I let slide when it comes to you. But this, I simply will not let go." You felt your mouth go dry.

"What do you mean you let a lot of things slide? You're not my parent," you retorted, narrowing your eyes to accompany an annoyed glare. There was a long moment of silence after that as he just stared at you - perfectly still as his unchanging smile sent a shiver down your spine.

But then he was pushing you backwards again, restarting the steps and ignoring your comment entirely. You gave up, simply redirecting your attention on the steps you had to implement a counterclockwise turn into. You figured that it would be easier to learn had there been music playing or even a metronome sounding off your beats, but you were too stubborn to ask.

It took an embarrassingly long time to relearn the steps with the turn. But once you started to understand the pattern, it seemed to click in your head where your feet were supposed to go and when. You held Sol's gaze a little more confidently after that - even smiling at one point at the realization that you had been going on fifteen or so rotations without tripping or hesitating once.

Sol's blue eyes seemed to flicker for a moment when you smiled, but it could've just been the dim lighting of the workshop playing tricks on you as the two of you spun around. You actually felt yourself starting to enjoy the simplicity of the dance - wondering if there was anything else you were supposed to add.

When Sol stopped and dropped his hands from you suddenly, you frowned. "Wha- Did I do something wrong?" you asked, brows furrowed in confusion. "I thought we were doing pretty well."

"I was doing well," he countered. "You were only following my lead."

You scoffed and settled your hands on your hips. "Why can't you just be nice for once and compliment me?"

There was that silence again. But Sol's gloved hand shifted as he clenched it into a loose fist, filling the quiet space with the soft sound of silk on silk. You swore you could see emotions shifting behind his pale eyes for a fleeting moment, but you couldn't decipher which ones. As the quiet stretched on longer, you felt your frustration dwindle - hesitant anxiousness replacing it.

"Nevermind," you mumbled, pushing past him to your work table. You took your seat again and felt the frustration boil your blood as you fought the blush that warmed your cheeks. There was no reason for it. Sol was just being the same bot he'd been since you showed up - cold and blunt and honest.

So why did his refusal to compliment you make you feel so... bad?

You picked the tools back up and tried to distract yourself from the sunbot as he approached the side of the work table again, hands clasped behind his back once more. You ignored him - continuing with your task. After a bit, you started to hum to yourself while you worked. The melody was familiar, though you couldn't recall where you'd heard it. But soon you became so engrossed in your work - paired with your curiosity as to the tune you were emitting - that you almost completely forgot that Sol was even in the room with you.

"Do you prefer his company over mine?"

The question startled you to silence. You held your gaze to the table, though, as his words echoed in your mind. Was he referring to your time spent with Fool? You honestly hadn't put much thought into comparing the bots with each other besides physical appearance. There just wasn't a need - they were all different to you. Far too different for comparisons.

Your lack of a response must've struck a nerve, because Sol placed both of his hands on the table and leaned forwards. As you looked up at his smiling face, goosebumps erupted down your arms as a small reminder of the lack of warmth in the workshop. A faint click, click sounded from him before he spoke. "You were humming the same dreadful tune he does."

So that's why you'd sworn you had heard the tune before.

"I don't think I can answer your question without eliciting some kind of negative response from you," you quipped, peering back down. "I'd prefer if you would just let me work."

Apparently, that was the wrong answer as well.

Sol rounded the table in an instant - spinning your stool around and pressing you back into the wood's edge as he loomed over you. A gloved finger hooked under your chin and forced your eyes to meet his - that same unnerving smile burning its image into your mind. "Oh mon dieu," he tutted, the disappointment in his tone making unease cloud your mind. It almost felt as if a slow finger dragged its way up your spine, eliciting more goosebumps across your body. "Ma poupette, what ever are we going to do about your poor manners?"

*****

A/N: I wanted to leave what happens next up to your imaginations~

But ahhhhh how did I do?! Is it good?? Or is it GOOD??? I'm literally shaking right now as I'm typing this because I'm so excited and nervous for everyone to read this rahhh-

But as always, likes, comments, kudos, and reblogs are VERY MUCH APPRECIATED!! Stay sweet, my lovelies~!

[cupids-chamber]

SUMMARY: What if Scaramouche, loses his memories and returns to his old self, way before the betrayal? How would he treat his lover, what would happen? What if he gets his memories back, when you've grown fully accustomed to his old self, How would he treat you after all that?

TAGS: Gender Neutral Reader, Pre-wanderer, Fluff, Slight angst? (Not really), Scara slightly opening up to you, Sweet/Soft!Scara feul.

Scaramouche losing his memories came as an unexpected discovery to you, he had always been able to remain somewhat safe on his expeditions, so needless to say you weren’t worried in particular, though there was always that small lingering feeling that something bad might happen, however your lover as distant as he may be, made sure to reassure you despite his misgivings. 

All though your worries weren’t in vain, when he couldn’t even remember your name, surely it was beyond heartbreaking already to witness the injuries your lover sustained during his little mission elsewhere, but to forget your name was a different kind of pain. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me” you mumbled underneath your breath, but even an idiot could realize how serious this situation was, Scara’ wasn’t one to joke about serious issues.. or joke in general. His standoff-ish nature resulted in him being distant and rather cold, and breaking that exterior was hard for you, yourself. And you were his partner, the one he loved and cherished most. 

You spend the next few days showing Scaramouche around the house, explaining to him about his current lifestyle, what he does… who you were.. During which time, you learned that Scara’s real name was ‘Kunikuzushi’, something that came as a surprise as you were unaware of this fact, but then again Scara never really enjoyed opening up about his past, he preferred focusing on the present, though it upset you now, realizing how much you really didn’t know about your lover. 

“That’s quite a long name, do you mind if I call you Kuni?”, to your surprise he didn’t seem against the idea at all, which was a pleasing discovery. 

The two of you spent time learning about your interests and whatnot, it pleased you to know more about Kuni, who seemed so different from Scara, he was much more open and energetic. He was expressive too, the two of you indulged in stories and much more. He seemed like the opposite of Scara’, his cold exterior replaced by a much sweeter and kinder version of itself. The revelation itself came as quite the shock to you, but you couldn’t help but indulge yourself in the change, hoping that maybe, your Scara’ could have been as sweet as the one from the past. 

“You’re a really good cook!” you stated, chowing down on the meal the Kuni had made for the two of you, “Why, didn’t I make you good meals in the past?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at you. “Yes but this is different!” you didn’t think much of your words, letting out a small smile. 

It’s been quite the while since Scaramouche had gotten his memories back, at first he can remember being curious as to how far he could take this act, he wanted to see your genuine reactions to the change in behavior, because deep down he was well aware of how distant he could be, he was curious if your opinion on him would change, especially when he looks back to the time he wasn’t yet aware and still hadn’t received his memories back. You were kind, and forgiving, that alone was a huge factor as to how someone like Scaramouche fell for you. 

He was quite certain that you’d never figure him out, but he failed and underestimate your intellect, you’ve lived under the same roof with him for a year now, and you could easily tell the difference between ‘Kuni’ and ‘Scara’, the way his face would go pure blank in an ounce of praise and affection, while if you were to say something of a similar style to Kuni he'd react with a energetic response, or a large grin would be plastered onto his face. If that wasn’t the only change, you could see the change between Kuni and Scara, in their habits as well, Scaramouche was much more punctual and well coordinated, following a Schedule and planning things accordingly, compared to Kuni who seemed to be carefree and would follow and do as he wished. 

The two of you were huddled on the pavement, watching the stars, settled together with little to no space in-between the two of you. “How long are you going to keep up the act?” you asked, your voice a bit above a whisper. You didn’t feel like yelling nor did you want to confront him in a direct way, “So, you’ve figured me out.” 

“For a while now, you’re quite predictable.” 

He let out a small breezy laugh, “How so?” 

“I could make an entire list if I wanted to, but I’d rather not.. You just are.” 

“...” a comfortable silence filled the area, as the two of you had a silent battle over who would speak out next. “So are you going to explain?, I think you owe me one this time.. Kuni.” 

He let out a sigh, “I do owe you an explanation, this time around” you let out a soft hum in agreement, “But I’m not ready to explain to you everything, so if you don’t mind waiting, I’ll open up to you in due time.” 

You leaned down onto his shoulder, and let out a sigh of relief, “I’ve waited this long, I suppose I can wait for a bit longer…”

© cupids-chamber, do not repost, plagiarize, translate, or adapt my work without prior permission and or confirmation from me.

[sugamehhq]

His Angel (Johnshi)

Quick things before you indulge;

This is an au I've started working on where these characters are placed in a world of demons and angels. For this specific story part, a process known as "marking" or "claiming" is done.

In the realm of demons and angels there are rankings. The higher your rank, the more privileged you are. Anyone who falls in the 7-12 range are not lucky people. The only way to climb in the ranks is either by someone above you dies, or by a higher up claiming you as their own (with consent). The marking/claiming process can never be done without consent. An action of consent is required to begin the process.

In Johnny's case, he was born a rank 12. Being a rank 12 means he's been treated poorly most of his life. Of which leads me to say CW/TW for mentions of Sexual Harassment/Sexual Assault. Please stay safe!

(Art is included at the end for visuals :] )

--

“Remind me why you’re here again,” Johnny stated, avoiding Kenshi’s gaze.

The demon was a little confused by the sudden request, but complied, “I wanted to spend time with you.”

“Right,” the angel fidgeted with his fingers, “and why is that?”

Kenshi sighed, “I’ve told you already. I enjoy your company, you’re comforting to be around.”

He paused before asking a question, “Do you not enjoy our time together?”

The angel’s brows furrowed as he searched for an answer.

“Would you prefer I leave?”

“No,” Johnny replied quickly, “I’m just confused is all.”

Kenshi raised an eyebrow before placing himself by the angel’s side. His hand gently took Johnny’s, the other’s small wings moving to cover his face.

“If I may ask,” the demon spoke softly, “what’s confusing you?”

Johnny hesitated, his hand accepting the demon’s touch while he thought how to word his concern.

“Who told you about me?”

His voice was gentle, but rough enough to get the point across. He felt this wasn’t genuine. That Kenshi was sent to keep watch over him for something worse, that there were no real feelings. The fear in his mind was making it hard to see the truth. Johnny was aware there was some connection. The demon had spent months visiting, doing everything he could to protect his lower rank self, showing him respect, bringing him gifts, and yet there was still the strong feeling of it being too good to be true.

“I’m not sure I’m following.”

“If you’re just here to use my body for satisfaction, then use me. There’s no need to butter me up for months if that’s all you want.”

Kenshi’s heart hurt knowing that thought has been stuck in the other’s mind for months, yet all he could do was repeat the same thing over and over, hoping one of these days it would get through that horrid road block in the angel’s mind. He found himself standing in front of Johnny, gently pulling his feathers from his face, revealing an expression of fear yet acceptance.

“Starlight, look at me,” the demon placed his hand against the other’s cheek, “there’s no need to be afraid of me.”

Johnny’s lower lip twitched as he fought back tears.

“You know that, and I know you’ve been through a lot, but please don’t be afraid of me,” Kenshi wiped the singular tear that fell, “I’d rather die than ever think of hurting you in such ways.”

The angel’s hand shakily met the demon’s wrist. His eyes closed, allowing the tears to fall.

So Kenshi continued, “A close friend of mine told me about you, how you’re a good person, that you don’t deserve what you’ve been through, so I came to see for myself. I started spending more time here than in my own territory. It occurred to me that you really are something special.”

The demon hesitated, his words feeling way too corny for himself, but he chose to keep speaking his mind.

“I grew fond of you. I’ve wanted nothing more than to bring you up from this hellhole, not only because it’s the right thing to do, but because I truly fell in love with you, and I want you to see that. So, over the last few months, I’ve tried my best to prove myself to you. I’ve brought you things I thought you’d enjoy. I respect your wishes. I avoided anything you disliked. I wanted to make you feel safe and give you a safe space. I’ve grown territorial of you. I want to protect you. I-”

The demon’s mind went blank. He had so much more to say, but couldn’t figure out how to word it. It sunk in that he admitted to the fact of wanting to claim the angel, take him as his lover. His mouth hung open, slight nerves settling in his gut as he waited for a slap in the face, assuming the angel would think he was crazy.

How many people have told him the same thing, only to turn around and hurt him for no reason at all? What he did just now, he was probably no better than the other disgusting demons that tried to get a taste of Johnny.

A laugh entered the air, a song the demon would kill for just to hear again.

“You’re so blunt,” Johnny laughed.

Kenshi’s face relaxed, assuming he didn’t mess up his words.

“Not blunt, honest.”

Johnny pulled Kenshi’s hand away from his face, squeezing it in his other hand. He admired the claws of the demon, the color of his skin, how rough yet soft his touch felt, the jewelry that adorned his arm. His eyes trailed up to his shoulder, chest, opposite arm, back to his chest, to his feet, and finally up to his blindfolded eyes. Kenshi stood still, his posture stiff in fear he was presenting himself wrong, which earned another laugh out of the angel.

“You’re trying too hard for someone like me,” Johnny smiled, wondering what his eyes looked like under the cloth.

“I beg to differ,” Kenshi sighed while relaxing his shoulders.

Johnny continued to laugh at the demon. Even if it was to make fun of him, Kenshi enjoyed the sound.

“So, run that by me again,” Johnny spoke, “what’s this about love?”

The demon’s tail twitched nervously, but he obeyed, “I said I fell in love with you.”

“Right,” the angel leaned closer to the other, his voice softening, “and what did you say you wanted to do?”

“Bring you up from this hellhole,” Kenshi replied automatically.

Johnny smiled, taking in Kenshi’s features once more.

He really did love this demon. So why should he feel guilty about this? Kenshi himself just stated he loves him, but that word doesn’t mean anything when you’ve been told all your life how loved and beautiful you are, only to be used and thrown around like a damn toy. 

Even still, Johnny followed his heart. The angel planted a soft kiss on the demon’s cheek. A silent way of inviting the demon into his heart.

Kenshi was hesitant, his heart grew louder, his tail swishing slowly behind him. Was he really allowing him into his life? Was all his hard work finally paying off? 

“Johnny,” Kenshi whispered in awe.

“Yes?”

“Are you sure?”

The angel froze. Did he mess something up?

“I-I mean are you okay with me. Are you sure you’re okay with it being me?”

“Kenshi,” the angel placed another kiss on his face, “I wouldn’t want it to be anyone else.”

The demon’s lips broke into a smile, his heart pounded in his ears. He could only imagine how stupid he looked at that moment. His head fell against Johnny’s shoulder, his arms embracing him.

“You do know it’ll hurt like hell, right?”

Johnny sighed, “I’m sure I’ve felt worse.”

Kenshi cringed at the statement. Both for what it implied as well as the idea Johnny might be overlooking how painful a marking for them would be. Regardless, if Johnny was okay with it then he’d gladly deliver.

The demon lifted his head, taking the angel’s face in his palms. His lips found the other’s, testing the waters. He gave Johnny the opportunity to back out, but the angel returned the kiss.

His left hand gently trailed its way down to Johnny’s right hip, where his initial “12” mark was exposed. As if staged, Johnny’s left hand found its way to Kenshi’s exposed back, his finger tips grazing over the demon’s “3” mark. With a consenting kiss and connected marks, their palms began to glow, signaling the start of the marking process.

The two stood together, hands grasping at each other’s marks. It took about a minute for the pain to creep into the angel’s muscles. A burning sensation ran down his thigh to his knee. While Kenshi remained unphased, Johnny’s leg started to shake lightly.

Pulling away from the kiss, he rested his head against Kenshi’s shoulder, a hesitant growl resonated from his throat in response to the pain. As another agonizing minute passed, his knee started to give out, the only thing keeping him from falling over being Kenshi’s hold on his hip.

“Use your other hand,” Kenshi spoke, his voice ever so slightly shaking, “you can hold my arm.”

Without thinking, Johnny did as told, his right hand finding Kenshi’s upper arm. His fingers dug into the underside of his arm. The pain from his hip spread to his side creating a combined feeling of a horrific side stitch alongside a massive leg cramp. 

In an attempt to mask the pain for the other, Kenshi returned to his prior position in providing a kiss. Unfortunately, it didn’t take long for Johnny to pull away again. He tried to speak, but the pain took his breath away, though Kenshi could tell what he was trying to say.

“You’re alright,” Kenshi sighed in an attempt to combat his own aches, “I’ve got you.”

The angel rested his forehead against the demon’s in an attempt for comfort. Having been in immense pain for about three minutes, all he could do was stand there and listen to the other’s calming words until the pain subsided.

After an agonizing four and a half minutes, the pain started to dissipate. Johnny’s body collapsed on itself, all his energy had been used connecting his energy to Kenshi’s. The demon’s hands immediately moved to embrace the other, guiding him to the ground safely. While the process was draining for both of them, it wasn’t nearly as bad for Kenshi as it was for Johnny.

The angel struggled to keep his eyes open, fatigue catching up with him almost instantly. As his eyes closed, Kenshi laid him on the ground comfortably so he could rest.

As much as Kenshi would’ve loved to take a nap as well, he dedicated himself to staying by his partner’s side, keeping watch for any suspicious higher ups. Fatigue wouldn’t stop him from protecting the angel at all costs.

As the angel opened his eyes, he felt disoriented, like his world was on a tilt. He blinked a few times trying to take in his surroundings, to understand where he was and what happened. He felt a sense of fear being unsure of where he was or who was around him, but that slowly ceased as his mind registered the gentle messaging of his hip.

Kenshi had found himself instinctively brushing over the mark on Johnny’s hip, a way of comforting the other. He wasn’t sure how much it actually helped, but he did it anyway. The demon waited for a bit to eventually speak.

“How do you feel?”

Johnny hummed in response, still tired.

“Is this helping?”

The angel nodded, the comfort he felt from the other’s touch kept him from seeing the world upside down. Kenshi huffed in response, acknowledging the silent request to keep at it. 

As Johnny slipped in and out of sleep, Kenshi grew tired. He too wanted to rest from prior events. The next time Johnny opened his eyes, Kenshi asked if he could move them to somewhere more secluded.

“Can you stand?” Kenshi asked while helping the other sit up.

“Mm, doubt it,” Johnny shook his head, barely able to lift himself up from the ground originally.

It was a little worrying the effect marking the angel had, but Kenshi pushed his concern aside in favor of picking the other up. He lifted Johnny into his arms, noticing his leg was still stiff, he quickly moved to somewhere more hidden, somewhere that he wouldn’t have to worry about anything happening to his angel.

It didn’t take long for the demon to join the other on the ground. Without any sort of bed, the floor was just barely tolerable, but for a fatigued pair such as them, it was the comfiest thing in the world. 

Having been newly bonded, Johnny joining Kenshi in being a rank 3, the two settled for cuddling each other for a while. They’ll save rank discussion and their future for a later date.

Right now, the only thing that mattered was the fact that Kenshi’s goal was met. He had saved him.

His angel.

--

Some extra details to think about:

Markings hurt for every pair that consents to one. For Johnshi their marking is the most painful one of the list of character's I have.

Pain of markings is basically like a cramp in your muscle.

Receivers' markings can be found in three places: Their hip, cheeks, or their necks.

Givers markings can be found in three places: Their back, chest, or stomach.

Markings are extremely draining, specifically if the rank distance is large like Johnshi's was. (Johnny had to sit through four and a half minutes of burning pain as his mark switched through the nine stages of ranks before ending at Kenshi's rank 3.)

When bonded with another being, your energies are tied to one another. You can feel what the other feels, comfort them by touching their mark, and overall, just feel closer to your other half.

Angels and Demons all have three types: Angels can have white wings, brown wings, or black wings. Demons can have spiked wings, pinched wings, or rounded wings. (There's more to this, but I don't want to make this too long.) Johnny is a lower-ranking brown wing while Kenshi is a higher-ranking spiked wing.

Ranks also determines the kind of jewelry a person would own. Kenshi's on the higher end, so he possesses golds. Johnny originally being the lowest rank of 12, he possessed bronze.

Kenshi's whole goal in this au was to bring Johnny up from a rank 12 to a rank 3 to keep him safe, of which clearly, he won.

Here's some art to give you an idea of what this looks like :))

@s-icarus-hofmann designed their outfits ! Everyone thank them for the help :))

Anyways, I hope you enjoyed!

[mint-yooxgi]

{2} - Written in the Stars - Yandere!Idol!Yeosang X Tall!Chubby!Reader

Soft Yandere AU & Idol AU

Genre: Mature, Horror, Angst, Fluff, Slight Humor, Slow Burn

Pairing: Yeosang X Reader (ft. platonic Ateez ensemble)

Words: 16,875

Warnings: Slow burn. This story is going to be very self indulgent on my part, so please bear with the first few chapters. Mentions of Jonghyun. Fatshaming, name-calling (not done by any male idols), Wendy and Irene of RV are bitches towards OC, OC is a bit of a 'pick-me' girl but oh well. I think that's all. This is a Yandere story, it will contain themes such as stalking, violence, obsession, possessive natures, and just general overall creepiness and swearing. You have been warned.

A/n: Shamelessly, this part is probably even more self indulgent that the first lmaooo I apologize in advance for that. Still, I do hope you enjoy it, as I had a really fun time writing this chapter out. I actually had to split it, as originally I was going to make all of chapter two both the rehearsal day and actual performance of the award's show.

Also, gentle reminder that I don’t do tag lists.

Disclaimer: The first little portion of this chapter when the OC is speaking is implied that the OC is speaking in English. It is not until OC arrives at the venue where the following takes effect:

"This represents a line spoken in Korean."

"Bolded represents a line spoken in English."

"Bolded and italics represents a line spoken in Japanese."

Mini Masterlist - Part One

“Hello, everyone!” Your smiling face stares back at you from the screen of your phone as you go live on instagram. “I’m just on my way to rehearsal right now.”

The low voice of your publisher in the front seat reaches your ears, telling you not to talk so loudly while in the car.

“Oops, my bad,” you chuckle, turning back to face the camera. “Anyways, I wanted to do a brief live like this since I’ll be busy for the rest of today and tomorrow. I won’t be able to have my biweekly live on Friday night tomorrow cause of my event.”

Your eyes scan the comments, a small quirk to your lips.

“What event you say?” Your eyes gleam with mischievousness. “Well, as a few of you may or may not know, I’m in South Korea right now. I’ve been asked to perform an original piece of writing at the award’s show tomorrow night.”

A giddy smile stretches across your features.

“I know! I’m so excited!” You cheer. “It’s such a high honour to have been asked to create and perform a piece of written work for the show.”

A comment catches your attention briefly.

“I mean, I’m not sure if I’ll be hanging around any idols, but we’re all there to do a job, so I wouldn’t want to disturb anyone if that’s the case.” You reply, eyes briefly looking out of the window at the passing scenery. “As to if Mark Lee will be there or not, I’m not sure. If NCT is set to perform, then probably. I only know of a few select artists that will be there.”

A flood of ‘who’s and ‘omg really’s appear in your comments, a few popping up in different languages such as Korean and Japanese. You remain speaking English for now, but the other comments still make you smile. You’d just rather surprise everyone that watches tomorrow with your language skills.

“Why, whoever’s on the website listings, of course!” You wink playfully, shoulders shaking in laughter. “Nah, even if I did know, I’m not at liberty to say.”

That grin never leaves your lips as you scan the comments once more.

“Let’s see…” your eyes flit back and forth as you pick a question to answer. There seems to be one popping up repeatedly, more so than the rest. “Is it true you were on the same flight as Ateez heading to Korea?”

Your eyebrows raise slightly, amusement dancing on your features.

“Was I?” You hum, the familiar sight of those heads peeking over their seats filling your vision for the briefest of moments. “I don’t recall.”

Though, with the wink you send the camera, your comments are flooded once again.

“Nah, I’m just playing.” A knowing grin stretches across your features. “They’re all really nice people. Friendly, too. They are people after all, which I feel like a lot of others tend to forget about their idols. I don’t know why it’s so hard in general to treat others with basic dignity and respect.”

Immediately, your defence squad rolls in, asking if you’re okay and if something happened.

“I’m fine, everyone! Really!” You smile at how enthusiastic they are in protecting you. “It was more of a general comment than anything.”

Of course you don’t really want to divulge the small incidents you’ve already incurred while being in the country. You know that South Korea has a very lookism centric society, but even when you’re prepared for it, you still cannot help the way certain interactions make you feel. The looks you receive from the older crowd, many of them muttering under their breaths while shaking their heads, sometimes do not go unnoticed.

You may be a popular author, but not everyone knows who you are. Nor is everyone willing to accept the way you look, unfortunately.

Then again, it would probably hurt less if you didn’t understand what some of them were saying. Though, you will never forget when you were in a café the other day, and two taller women came up to you who didn’t necessarily fit into those typical Korean beauty standards. They were a little thicker than those around them, and goodness, were they gorgeous. The fact that both of them were your fans, and thanked you for giving them more confidence with your writing, and just who you are in general, really made your day. You could never forget them, even if you tried.

Thinking back on it now, a small smile pulls at your features.

“What am I thinking about?” You hum, noticing a few comments, only for your eyes to go wide. “My Ateez bias?” You laugh, shaking your head in amusement. “I mean…” you tilt your head, teasing smile pulling at your lips. “Well, if you know, you know.” A wink. “But nah, I’m thinking of a really lovely interaction I had the other day with two women at a café. Saeyoung, Haesoo, if you’re watching, thank you for making my day!”

The two weeks leading up to this point in time have been fairly hectic for you. Between settling into your new apartment, getting used to the time difference, and writing for your new novel, you’ve barely had time to relax. Not to mention the hours you’ve spent practicing your performance for tomorrow. You’ve barely had time to visit your friends, yet.

On the other hand, you’ve been messaging quite a few people quite often lately. 

The first few days after exchanging contact information with Ateez were a little silent, but you just chalked that up to busy schedules on all of your parts. However, you weren’t expecting Hongjoong to message you in the middle of the night complaining about a song he just couldn’t get right.

Needless to say, he wasn’t expecting you to respond so quickly. In fact, he had been surprised that you had still been up at three in the morning. Only, when you explained the jet lag, and the fact that you had also been working on your writing, he understood. You’ve both sort of become night owl buddies now, messaging each other when you’re working on projects until the early hours of the morning. A hilarious fact, especially when you both start chastising the other for not getting enough sleep.

Then came the group chat.

You woke up one day to at least seventy-five Kaotalk messages from a new chat. Thinking it had been an emergency of some sort, your heart rate had skyrocketed. Only, you soon found out that it was just the guys speculating what you could be doing since you weren’t responding to any of them at two in the afternoon.

The moment you sent them a meme of a tired cat waking up with squinting eyes, and a message that only said, ‘wtf’, the real chaos began. 

Wooyoung is convinced that he’s your Ateez bias, immediately rubbing it in the other’s faces. At that, you promptly received selfies from Seonghwa, Mingi, and Yunho just ‘casually’ wanting your opinion on them before they posted them to their instagram and twitter accounts. You also received photos of what each of the guys were doing from Hongjoong, telling you that this was the chaos you incited by finally responding.

Yeosang would comment one liners here and there that would absolutely knock the shit right out of you. The way this man had near perfect timing still amazes you, laughing to yourself every time you think back on his responses.

Both Jongho and Wooyoung are the most talkative in the group chat, but Jongho tends to message you a lot outside of it, anyways. More so than Hongjoong now, considering his main thing was that he didn’t want to bother you at first with his thousand and one questions about your writing.

You found out later it was both Hongjoong and Yeosang keeping him in line.

Mingi and you share anime recommendations when you can, and you’ve even started planning a day where you’ll binge some of your favourite shows together. You heard that San may or may not tag along, but that’s yet to be decided.

Speaking of San, he’s one of the most quiet in the group chat. You assume it’s probably because out of all of them, he’s the one you spent the least amount of time talking to. You cannot fault him for that; you both hardly know each other.

Yunho likes to crack jokes every now and then, along with Seonghwa, but they’re both really level headed guys from what you’ve gathered so far. They like to flirt, but not nearly as much as Wooyoung does. Besides, with the two older members, you can tell it’s just friendly, so you have no problem teasing them back. Wooyoung, on the other hand, you can’t be too sure. Though, if it truly bothered you, you’d get him to stop.

“Anyways, we’re getting closer to the venue, so I’m sadly going to have to say goodbye for now.” A dramatic pout pulls at your lips. “I know! I promise to do another live soon, and I’ll answer some questions about my newest novel and upcoming works then.”

The way the chat immediately starts flooding with happy messages and people saying they’re looking forward to it makes your heart swell in your chest.

“Alright, lovelies,” you smile just as the car pulls into the parking lot. “Thanks for tuning in. See you next time!”

With a final wave at the camera, you’re ending the live.

Letting out a low sigh, you tuck your phone back into your side pocket. Grabbing your purse, you notice that you’ve pulled up to the side entrance of the venue. Both you and your publisher step out of the vehicle, thanking the driver all the while.

Immediately, you’re greeted by security who escorts you inside and to the backstage area. Your publisher talks lowly with the head of staff, ensuring all of the requirements are met and getting all of the details you may need for now. They’re really only here to drop you off and then head back out for the day. Besides, the event organizer and stage manager will look after you if need be.

You follow quietly behind, taking in the space of the venue as more staff mill about. A few recognize you as you walk passed, their eyes lighting up as you shoot them a polite smile in return. Some of them must be on break currently, for you can see snacks and drinks scattered around a few the deeper into the arena you get.

Finally, you reach backstage.

“So, all of the groups are currently occupying the green rooms, or milling about. That means, unfortunately, you won’t be getting one to yourself.” The head stage manager turns to you once you reach them, speaking in English for the moment. “You’re more than welcome to observe the soundcheck from the floor, or from the seats instead of staying back here the whole time, as well.”

“Please, don’t feel like you have to speak in English for my sake.” You say, noticing how you catch all of the staff off guard with your Korean. “I can speak and understand Korean. So please, let’s all speak comfortably. Thank you for hosting me and including me in such a monumental show.” You bow politely in their direction. “The room situation most certainly will not be a problem. I don’t mind at all. Just tell me where to go, and when, and I will do my best to stay out of everyone’s way.”

You can hear the familiar boom of music from the stage area reaching your ears, though it’s more of a background noise right now.

The stage manager nods approvingly in your direction, a smile pulling at their features. “I understand. Thank you for being so accommodating. I cannot stay and talk long, for I’m needed elsewhere, but help yourself to drinks and refreshments. If you need any help, Riley will be more than happy to assist you. She’s been assigned to be your personal assistant today.”

At their words, a girl with long, chestnut hair steps forward. A giddy smile rests on her features, and you can see her visibly shaking in excitement.

“Hello,” she bows, addressing you formally. “It’s very nice to meet you.”

“It’s wonderful to meet you, too, Riley,” you smile, telling her to just call you by your first name to make things easier.

“Alright, well, I’ll be off. Itzy is supposed to be having soundcheck right now, but we’re a bit behind.” The stage manager rushes off after that, speaking quickly into their headset.

“You’re not scheduled until the very end, so you have plenty of time to lounge around and do whatever you’d like.” Riley informs you with a smile.

“Oh, sweet,” you grin back. “Thank you for taking care of me today.”

“Really, it’s no problem at all!” She’s quick to answer. “To be quite honest, I’m a big fan so I jumped at the opportunity to be able to assist you in any way I could.”

“That’s very sweet of you! I really appreciate it.” You nod, moving to stand off to the side so that you’re out of the way.

“Your books are incredible, and reading them gave my boyfriend so much confidence.” She comments, a faint blush beginning to dust her cheeks.

“Ah, really?” Your eyes light up. “That makes me so glad to hear! I’m so happy for the both of you.”

“I can’t wait to tell him that you can speak Korean!” She says, grabbing a water bottle off of the table closest to you and handing it to you. “As long as you’re okay I share that with him, of course.”

“Of course!” You confirm. “By tomorrow night, most people will know, anyways.”

“Oh, are you performing your written piece in Korean, then?” She asks, eyes sparkling as you thank her lowly for the water.

“It’ll be a little bit of a mix,” you tell her, a small smile pulling at your features. “Korean, and English. Though, I contemplated adding Japanese to the speech. I opted out at the last minute.”

“You can speak all three?” Her eyebrows raise, voice incredulous.

“Yes, I can.” You confirm with a nod. “I’m working to learn Mandarin next.”

“That’s incredible!” She praises, and you avert your gaze somewhat bashfully. “I’ve been learning Japanese, but I have a hard time practicing it. Lack of conversation partners, and all that with the way my schedule is.”

“Well, if you’d like to practice with me, I’d be more than happy to help!” You say. “I may not be the best for correcting your pronunciation, but I can most certainly help with conversation practice.”

“Really?” Her eyes flash with excitement. “That would be wonderful, thank you!”

“Would you like to start now, or hold off until later?” The way you ask her this in Japanese catches her slightly off guard.

A blink, and she’s setting her expression into one of determination. “Now would be a good start.”

“Wonderful!” You smile. “So, then, Riley, tell me about your favourite animal.”

“Well, I absolutely adore sharks. I just think they’re really neat, and it’s so sad that some of them get hunted for sport.” She begins, taking a moment to think of her next words carefully. “Half of the time, they’re hunted after attacking a human, but they don’t know any better. I watched a documentary once where it explained that because of their poor…” her brow furrows slightly, “Oh shoot, I can’t remember the word.”

“Eyesight?”You supply, to which she nods, eyes lighting up in recognition. 

“Yes, eyesight!” She replies enthusiastically. “Because of their poor eyesight, humans on top of surfboards look similar to dolphins and other aquatic mammals from below.”

“Oh, I know exactly what you’re talking about!” You nod along with her. “I literally could not agree more. It’s sad that they get hunted just for following their instincts. I understand some of the reasoning behind it, but at the end of the day, you’re right. Sharks are just living and hunting in the wild like they always do.”

“Yes, exactly!” Riley turns to grab another water bottle off of the table for herself. “I just wish more people would understand that.”

“Me too, honestly.” You agree.

“Anyways, enough about me.” She chuckles, somewhat bashfully. “What about you? What is your favourite animal?”

“Oh, that’s easy, it’s-“ the words get stuck in your throat as your own brow furrows this time. You blink, thinking hard. A slight chuckle escapes you, “Now I can’t remember the word.”

“Maybe I know it?” She offers, but at the way she shakes her head once you say the animal, you know she doesn’t know the term.

Luckily for you, someone just so happens to be walking passed you for the moment, and without thinking, you stop them.

“Excuse me, but what’s the word for turtle in Japanese?” You meet the male’s gaze, noticing how stunned he seems to be for the moment.

Blinking, he tells you the word.

Recognition flashes behind your eyes as you turn back to Riley. “Right! Turtles are my favourite animals. I just think they’re so cute.” In the next second, you turn back to the male. “Thank you so much! I couldn’t remember for the life of me.”

“No problem,” he nods, somewhat in shock, before walking away.

Only, when you turn back to Riley, she wears an expression of mild awe on her features.

“I can’t believe you just asked the Yuta of NCT that question so casually.” Her jaw drops, a giggle falling from her lips as you shrug sheepishly.

“He was the closest person around.” You laugh along with her. “Though, I feel like he was expecting me to start freaking out about who he was when I stopped him.”

“Yeah, sometimes the extra staff we hire to help out don’t always act professional around the artists.” Riley explains, a sort of grimace to her features.

“Really? I would have thought there’d be a screening process for that.” You comment, brow mildly furrowed.

“There is, but sometimes they still slip through.” She comments. “That, and some people say they’ll act one way, but then when it comes down to it, act another.”

“Oh, believe me,” you hum in acknowledgement. “That I do know.”

Around you, you can hear some whispers beginning to float around about your arrival. A fact which you find a bit odd, considering you’ve already been at the venue for at least a half hour or so. Out of the corner of your eyes, you notice some more idols beginning to linger about as well.

Just as you go to continue the conversation with Riley, you hear a shout in the background of someone’s name. You watch as her eyes go wide just as you feel a weight jump onto your back.

“Zhong Chenle, you get back here right now!” Whoever it is, they sound mad.

“You’re real! Holy shit!” A voice right by your ear sounds, and you blink in shock, hands naturally coming to support the body now clinging onto your back. “Mark hasn’t been making you up this whole time in some elaborate fever dream!”

“Zhong Chenle!” The angry voice finally caches up to you, and you turn to see Kun from NCT frowning at the younger male clinging like a koala to your back. His gaze softens as he meets your own. “I am so sorry for him. Once Yuta came back to say you had arrived, he darted out of the room to come see for himself.”

“It’s no problem, really,” you laugh, and you notice your response catches them both off guard. “Yes, I can speak Korean.”

Beside you, Riley giggles.

The sound of feet hitting the ground reaches your ears, and you see some more males rushing over to you.

“Way to go, Chenle,” Renjun deadpans. “Way to make a great first impression on Mark’s author friend.”

Softly, you set Chenle back onto his own two feet. A second later, and Kun is reaching over to drag the younger male over to him by his ear. Renjun shakes his head disapprovingly all the while.

“Ow! Kun, stop it! That hurts!” The younger complains, batting the elder’s hand away.

“Once again, I am so sorry for him.” Kun apologizes, and you notice the faintest hue of pink dusting his cheeks.

“Really, it’s no problem,” you assure him, noticing too many pairs of eyes on you now.

You shuffle in your spot, beginning to rub a hand over the side of your one arm nervously.

“If he bothers you again, just come find me and I’ll deal with him.” Kun replies, sending a small smile your way.

You nod. “Thanks, I appreciate it.”

Wordlessly, Kun begins dragging off Chenle, Renjun in tow. 

A few more people step forward.

“Not even a ‘hello’ for your biggest fan?” Mark quirks a brow, walking up to you with both Johnny and Taeyong on either side of him.

Teasingly, you begin to look around the space. “Why? Did you see Jongho from Ateez around?”

Mark looks truly scandalized by your words, his eyebrows raising significantly as his voice almost cracks. “Excuse me?”

“Oh, hi, Mark.” You reply casually, hearing Johnny snort at the intonation you use.

“No, no, I see how it is,” an overdramatic pout pulls at his lips as he crosses his arms over his chest. “Spent all of three months convincing half the guys to read your books and this is the thanks I get once we meet.”

You lowly hear him muttering about how he is your biggest fan, not Jongho from Ateez.

“I don’t know, he was pretty excited when I met him on the plane.”You hum.

“So, you did meet Ateez on the plane ride over here.”Johnny observes, amusement dancing in his gaze.

“I did,” you nod in confirmation. “They’re all very nice.”

You notice Taeyong following along with the conversation, brow furrowed slightly as the music stops for the moment. “I think they just finished soundcheck. They should be back soon.”

“Then I’ll say ‘hello’ to them soon,” you reply, noticing the slight surprise that graces Taeyong’s features at your response. “If I happen to see them.”

“Anyways, it’s so nice to finally meet you!”Mark smiles, and you notice Johnny grinning smugly while nudging him not so subtly with his elbow. “Shut up!”

“What?” Your brow quirks, amusement dancing in your eyes.

“Well, are you going to ask her, or not?”Johnny teases the younger male beside him.

“I’m getting there!” Mark pushes the elder male back slightly.

“What can I do for you, Mark Lee of NCT?” The grin that pulls onto your features says it all.

“I- uh… um…” he stutters over his words, palms nervously rubbing over the thighs of his jeans for the moment.

“Where’s that confidence now, Markie boy?”Johnny laughs before turning to you, completely ignoring the glare the younger sends his way. “Mark wanted to know if you would be willing to give him a hug when you finally met.”

Mark looks about read to strangle Johnny, a bright red lighting up his features.

“Well, why didn’t you just say so!” You chuckle, extending your arms out to him. “Hugs are one my favourite things! As long as you ask first, or I’m offering, I usually don’t mind at all. Besides, I think Chenle technically already beat you to it.”

Mark immediately sinks into your embrace, wrapping his own arms around you and squeezing you tightly. You can feel the chuckle he lets out against your chest as he responds. “Yeah, sorry about that. Again.”

“Really, it’s no worries.” You tell him as he pulls away, holding you at arms length.

“Impromptu piggybacks are kind of his thing when he gets excited.” Taeyong sighs, shaking his head.

“No fair, I want a piggyback ride, too!” A loud voice draws your attention from the side.

Looking over, you see Wooyoung happily skipping over to you, the other members of Ateez in tow. It seems as if they’ve just finished their soundcheck.

“I’m sure it wasn’t a case of her offering,” Yunho chuckles, and you see the red-headed male pout.

“Hello boys, it’s nice to see you again.” You smile, tilting your head politely in acknowledgement.

“How come Hongjoong was the only one to know that you’d be in attendance today and tomorrow?” Jongho crosses his arms over his chest, a pout tugging at his features.

“You didn’t tell people?” Mark turns to you.

“I was told not to,” you shrug. “Privacy, and all.”

“Really? Cause Mark was more than happy to literally shout it out at practice when you told him.” Johnny blinks, a teasing grin pulling at his features.

“Which now makes sense why Chenle practically bulldozed me fifteen minutes ago.” You nod, turning your amused gaze towards the male standing beside you.

“You told Mark, but not us?” Mingi pouts, crossing his arms over his chest.

“To be fair, I’ve been chatting with Mark a lot longer than I’ve personally known all of you guys.” You say, a casual shrug to your shoulder. “Not my fault Hongjoong didn’t tell you.”

“Wait, but how come Hongjoong knew?” San’s brow furrows, turning to look at the aforementioned male.

“He’s not the only idol that should have been informed.” A slight frown tugs at your brow. “Speaking of, Riley, when’s the briefing meeting supposed to be?”

The woman, who had been silently standing to the side all this time observing the interactions straightens in her spot. “You’re set to meet with the idols you’ve requested to join you for your presentation just before we break for lunch. The rehearsal for your speech won’t be until the very end, though.”

“Requested?” Yeosang’s brow furrows.

“I’ve seen a few of them around, but I’ve yet to speak to the majority of them.” You comment.

“I’m still mad that you didn’t ask me to do it.” Mark crosses his arms over his chest. “Some friend you’re suppose to be.”

“I’m sorry!” You raise your hands in your defence, a hint of exasperation to your voice. “The organizers told me I could only ask so many people on such short notice. I only thought of the idea less than two weeks ago. I’m lucky to get even eight of them to agree!”

“As long as you haven’t forgotten about our bet.” He huffs, quirking an eyebrow at you.

“I most certainly have not forgotten about our bet.” You meet his gaze, eyes wide in exasperation. “You’re about to owe me ten meals, Mister. Anything that I want, too.”

“I sure hope you don’t mean him cooking for you.” Johnny snorts.

“Oh, god no.” You huff out a laugh. “Not after I saw the ‘egg incident’ of Resonance era.”

“Not the egg incident!” Johnny cackles right along with you, and you notice Taeyong grimacing as he remembers it as well.

Mark’s eyes are wide, a tight smile on his face showing just how exasperated he is. He almost looks as if he wants the ground to open up and swallow him whole.

“Bet?” This time, it’s Hongjoong that quirks a brow.

“Oh, you haven’t been told? She bet him that she could learn-“

Johnny gets cut off by Mark’s nervous laugh.

“Mark Lee, you told me that you didn’t tell anyone about our bet.” Slowly, you turn your head to look at him, a tense smile on your face.

“Oh, the ‘Seventh Sense’ bet?” Taeyong tilts his head slightly in inquiry. “The whole of our group knows of it. We all want to watch you, what’s the phrase? Wipe the floor with him.”

“Mark Lee!” Your jaw drops. “I told you how I feel about dancing in front of other people! Especially when they’re idols! Not to mention the original performers of the song!”

“I’m sorry! You still said you’d do it!” He replies, lifting his hands in front of himself in his own defence. “I just got too excited!”

“More like carried away,” Johnny chuckles.

Casually, Yunho leans into Johnny’s side. “What’s this bet they have going on?”

“Oh, they were talking about some of her favourite NCT dances one time, and she commented on how one of them was, ‘The Seventh Sense’.” Johnny explains. “She admitted to always wanting to learn it just to say she knew it, but never actually got that far, yet. Mark decided it would be a good idea to discourage her from learning it since it is pretty difficult, and she doesn’t usually dance like we do. Hence, a bet was made that she would prove him wrong.”

“Listen,” you sigh. “I may not be a dancer, but don’t tell me what I can or can’t do. I will prove you wrong. I just wasn’t expecting to have a crowd when doing it. I don’t really like dancing in front of other people all that much anymore.”

“Why not?” Yeosang’s brow furrows, a slight downturn to his lips.

You curl your arms over yourself, holding your elbows delicately in you hands. A small grimace crosses your features as you seemingly curl in on yourself. “Personal reasons.”

A hushed understanding settles over all of them. That is, until Mark is breaking it.

“Is this about Kite?”

“Don’t-“

“Isn’t Kite your significant other?” It’s Riley that asks, and you notice all eyes on you.

“My ex, yes.” You sigh.

“Oh, I’m so sorry! I didn’t realize you weren’t together anymore.” She’s quick to bow to you, but you wave her off.

“It’s alright,” your expression falls, a grimace crossing your features. Out of the corner of your eyes, you see Yeosang take a half step towards you. Only, you don’t chalk it up to much, as so do Mark, Jongho, and Yunho. “I just don’t like talking about him anymore.”

“Sorry for bringing him up,” Mark pats you comfortingly on your arm. “Anyways, Ten says he has to watch you dance for the bet.”

“Not Ten!” The instant mortification is clear on our features. “Anybody but Ten.”

“And Doyoung, and Jaehyun.” Taeyong nods.

“It could be worse. It could be worse.” You begin to mumble to yourself, blinking at the ground a few times.

“Well, if you want to owe me ten meals, you can always back out.” Mark comments casually, a hum to his tone.

“No way in hell.” Your eyes narrow. “I have to prove you wrong.”

“Now, this I can’t wait to see.” Johnny chuckles, eyes crinkling as he smiles.

Just then, a voice from across the way draws your attention.

“Holy shit, is that who I think it is?” 

Looking across the backstage area reveals Vernon from Seventeen staring at you with wide eyes. Though, you notice that you’re not the only one who’s now staring at him in response.

Quickly, he bows, apologizing lowly before making his way across the backstage area. You note Mingyu, Seungcheol, Seokmin, and Jihoon all following behind him silently.

The crowd around you slowly begins to get bigger, and you notice some other idols lingering around the edges of the room, waiting to catch a glimpse of you. A fact of which that has a heat rising to your cheeks, shuffling once more in your spot.

Vernon stops on the edge of the circle you’re now apart of, smiling at you politely.

“I didn’t know you’d be here!” He inclines his head towards you in greeting, introducing himself and his group mates in succession. “It’s so nice to meet you. We’re all pretty big fans of your work.”

“Thank you so much,” you bow back to him politely. “It still boggles my mind knowing the idol groups I enjoy listening to know who I am. Not to mention read my writing.”

“You’re a fan?” Seungcheol blinks at you in shock.

“You can speak Korean?” Seokmin is equally as shocked, though there’s a hint of pleasantness to his tone.

“Yes, to both.” You chuckle, noticing how Jihoon shoots you a polite nod in acknowledgement. You smile back, leaning into Mark in the next second, “looks like Jihoon knows how to keep a secret.”

“Hey!” He whines, and you notice how most of the males around you look at the aforementioned one in confusion.

“It’s nice to finally meet you,” he smiles.

“You as well,” you return the look. “Thank you for agreeing to be a part of my presentation on such short notice.”

“Wait, is that why you nearly collapsed at practice during break about two weeks ago after looking at your phone?” Mingyu’s brow furrows, turning to look at the shorter male beside him. The height difference in person nearly makes you chuckle.

The way the shorter male elbows the taller one in the side is all the answer you need.

“That’s nothing,” another voice draws your attention from the side. “You should have seen the panic Hyunjin went into when we got the call.”

Wordlessly, the members of Stray Kids now begin to crowd around you, and you notice a few giddy smiles sent your way. Though, what makes you laugh is seeing Hyunjin’s exasperated look that he sends towards Bang Chan after the words escape the elder’s mouth. The way you see some of the members greeting Ateez excitedly has your heart warming in your chest. To be able to see all of the friendly interactions between the different groups makes you extremely happy for the moment.

“Holy shit, you weren’t kidding when you said she was tall.” A voice from your left draws your attention, and you notice Changbin staring at you with an awe filled expression while standing beside Wooyoung.

“I told you.” Wooyoung replies, a smug grin tugging at his features.

“Speaking of height, Jaehyun and Jungwoo owe me twenty bucks.” Johnny hums, walking off back towards the green rooms with Taeyong in tow.

You turn to Mark, a questioning look on your features.

“They didn’t actually think you’d be taller than me.” Mark grumbles, averting his gaze.

“I take it you didn’t, either.” You chuckle, noticing how a few males shift closer in order to see just how tall you are compared to them.

“To be quite honest, I didn’t,” he chuckles, and at the way you quirk a brow, he’s quick to continue, “not that it’s a bad thing! I think you being tall is really cool!”

“Thank you!” You grin. “I do, too!”

“By the way, since Chan is too much of a scaredy cat to ask,”the deep voice of Felix draws your attention to the side, “would you mind taking some pictures with us later? We think the fans would love it.”

“First of all, your voice should come with a warning.” You notice him grin at your words, and you return the smile, eyes crinkling at the sides. “And sure! I’d love to.”

“Us, too!” Vernon is quick to jump in.

“Listen, if anyone is getting a photo first, it’s me!” Mark voices loudly.

Out of the corner of your eyes, you notice quite a few female idols looking your way. Some of them look on at you in awe, while others cannot hide their distaste seeing you surrounded by so many males. Even some other male idols begin whispering about your appearance quite openly, but you ignore them for now.

“Yeah, yeah,” you huff out a laugh, “and I’m pretty sure you mentioned how Yangyang wants to do karaoke at some point?”

“He just wants you to perform WAP with him.” Mark sigs, shaking his head disapprovingly.

Your eyes widen in amusement, a subtle heat rising once more to your cheeks. “Does he?”

“Oh, karaoke sounds fun!” Vernon nods enthusiastically.

You jaw parts in mild shock, pure mirth dancing in your gaze. “Did the Vernon of Seventeen just invite himself along to karaoke with me?”

Lowly, you register Hongjoong and Chan whispering to their groups in Korean.

“I’m coming, too!” Jongho nearly shouts, drawing almost all of the attention of everyone backstage.

“Right, you still need to serenade her,” Yunho nods, and instantly he’s running for his life as Jongho chases him with murderous intent around the backstage area.

You turn to Mingi, “you still up for shouting anime openings at the top of our lungs at some point?”

At this, the remaining members of Ateez turn to look at Mingi.

“Of course!” He grins widely, nodding enthusiastically.

“Sweet.” You mirror his grin, noticing a few other idols commenting on wanting to join in on the fun.

“No, I’m telling you Shotaro, she can speak Japanese.” A voice coming from off to your right says.

“Just because she asked you what one word is, doesn’t mean she can speak it.” Another voice replies, getting closer with each passing second.

“She immediately jumped right back into conversation with Riley about animals afterwards.” Yuta rounds the corner, Shotaro right beside him.

At the way both males see the group you’re currently surrounded by, they immediately freeze in their spots. Briefly, each male nods their head in acknowledgement, eyes flashing in recognition as they see Mark standing a little ways away from them.

“Mark, tell Shotaro that your author friend can speak Japanese.” Yuta meets the male’s gaze, stepping in closer with Shotaro in tow.

“Hi, Mark’s author friend here.” You lean forward slightly, waving a bit so you catch their attention. “I can speak Japanese.”

The way Shotaro stubs his toe on the table against the side wall in shock nearly has you laughing in response.

“See! I told you!” Yuta crosses his arms, turning to glare pointedly at Shotaro.

“You can speak Japanese?” Another voice from in front of you catches your attention, and you see Momo, Mina, and Sana from Twice making their way over towards you.

“That’s incredible!” Mina comments, her eyes wide as they join your little circle of idols.

“Thank you!” You smile widely at the three of them.

“By the way, these guys aren’t bugging you, are they?” Sana shoots you a knowing look. “You seem a little crowded.”

“No, no, not at all.” You shake your head. “I appreciate you checking in on me, though. That’s very kind of you.”

“We’re all really big fans of your work.” Mina adds, a light blush dusting her cheeks. “We overheard Riley saying how you gave her boyfriend confidence through your writing, and you’ve done that with a few of our members, too.”

“You’re really beautiful in person.” Momo compliments, a soft smile painting her features.

The way your hand comes up to cover your mouth is so natural, a vibrant heat rising to your cheeks.

“Thank you so much,” you cannot keep the awe from your voice. “I think you’re all very beautiful, too. Not to mention talented. I always have fun singing and dancing along with your songs, especially when I need a pick me up.”

All three of their eyes light up, excitement coursing through their veins as they grip each other giddily.

“You like our music?” Mina cannot keep the joy off of her features.

“Of course I do! I listen to a lot of the groups currently around me.” You admit. “I find a lot of inspiration from them.”

“Who’s your favourite?” Shotaro cuts in, noticing how both he and Yuta casually lean against the side table now.

You smile at him knowingly, a gleam to your eyes. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

The way he blinks back at you has you laughing lightly. Though, before you can say much more, the familiar music that begins to play from the stage area has you freezing in your spot.

“Mark Lee,” you turn to him with wide eyes, “how dare you not tell me.”

In the blink of an eye, you’re rushing towards the seating area to get a better view of the stage, quite a few of the idols blinking at you in shock. Riley seems to catch on quickly, following behind you as a few of the other idols do as well.

Pushing through the door, you step out onto the floor before the stage. You completely bypass the steps leading to the seats in favour of walking out onto the empty standing area where you can see some staff milling around. Some other idols seem to be watching the soundcheck, too. 

Out of the corner of your eyes, you notice another familiar idol shoot a friendly smile your way before she turns her head back to watch the four males on stage.

A small squeal of excitement escapes your lips as you watch SHINee do their soundcheck on stage. Each male even gets a portion during their set to perform a part of one of their solos, and you vaguely hear a staff member commenting on how there will be a SHINee special this year. Which explains why they’re getting the longest stage time out of all of the groups set to perform.

The moment SHINee finishes their soundcheck, you find yourself leaning back against the little guardrail leading up into the stands. You can feel your heart racing in your chest, and you blink, finally coming back to the reality around you.

“Surprise?” Mark chuckles from beside you.

“‘Surprise’ my ass!” You smack him lightly on the side of his arm. “You want to complain about being friends for so long, and you can’t even tell me my favourite group is performing at the award’s show I’m attending!”

A few chuckles are heard from around you from passing staff, as well as a few of the idols who followed you out.

“So, I guess it’s true that SHINee is your ult group, huh?” Vernon comments, a small quirk to his brow.

“Oh, most definitely.”You nod. “At least, one half of them.”

“Who’s the other half?” Felix asks, his eyes wide and hopeful.

“Oh, that’s easy,” you notice quite a few of them hanging on to your every word, “VIXX.”

“Damn, two tough groups to beat.”Vernon whistles lowly.

“By the way, you keep mentioning this performance you’re going to be having, but who did you all ask to be in it?” It’s Seonghwa who asks, looking between you and some of the idols around you.

“Well, it was short notice, so my publisher only managed to contact a few groups that we knew were going to be here,” you reply, a slight quirk to your lips upwards. “And a few that we did not, just in case.”

“I think you asked me first before our manager did,” Hongjoong laughs, arms crossed casually over his chest.

“Since my performance is going to be on the different forms of art, I wanted to showcase different idols who matched different art forms.” You explain, noticing how you draw in a few more people’s attention with every word. “I wasn’t expecting so many to agree to help.”

“Okay, so we know Joong is one. Jihoon, and Hyunjin are two others,” Mingi comments. “Who are the rest?”

“Well, I asked all of SHINee to be in it, and a few EXO members, but I never heard back from SM. Same with Seulgi of Red Velvet. The only confirmation I got that Ten, Renjun, and Taeyong all agreed to help, was from Mark, cause he wouldn’t stop complaining that I didn’t ask him to join. Twice’s Momo and Dahyun both agreed. Bang Chan, too.” You say, listing all of the idols off on your fingers. “I tried to have at least two per category, but it didn’t always work out that way. Plus, multiple could definitely fit in more than one.”

“Categories?” Yeosang asks, blinking at you curiously.

“Dancer, vocalist, rapper, fashion, visual art, composer, actor,” you list off. “Art takes many forms, and I wanted to emphasize that with their help.”

“We were told our respective categories when we got the call,” Hyunjin voices from above you, casually leaning over the railing of the stands and watching everyone with sharp eyes. “I don’t know about you guys, but I was asked if my art could be included in a video slide show thing to go along with it.”

“Oh, mine was, too!” A feminine voice cuts in from off to the side.

Turning your head, you see Seulgi join your little circle of idols. You smile at her, noticing how she nods her head politely at you just as she did during SHINee’s soundcheck.

“It’s so lovely to meet you, I’m a big fan of your books!” She leans in to grasp your hands lightly in her own, giving them a gentle squeeze. “As are Joy and Yeri, but they’re backstage for the moment. They’re going to be so jealous I’m meeting you right now.”

“I didn’t know you were going to be joining the presentation.” An awed look crosses your features, and you can feel your hands trembling slightly in her hold. She squeezes them once more. “Thank you so much for agreeing, I’m a huge fan of yours, too.”

“Then, I’m glad we could meet like this.” She replies. “I overheard that SHINee is set to join us for the briefing soon, too. Same with some of the EXO members.”

“Really?” You cannot prevent the way your eyes shine with excitement.

“So, then, who’s in which category?” Yeosang’s voice cuts through the crowd, his arms crossed over his chest. Though he leans against the side of the stands casually, he looks a bit tense.

Just as you go to answer, a call for you and your presentation team goes out for everyone to gather in front of the stage for the designated meeting. Lunch is called for everyone else, for now.

“Good luck,” Mark pats you on the side of the arm before heading out with some of the other idols in tow.

“Thanks, Mark.” At the intonation you use, you notice Vernon’s shoulders shaking in laughter this time as he walks backstage with some of the others.

Heading over to the stage area, you situate yourself right by where you see the stage director and event organizer appear. Seulgi, Chan, Hongjoong, Hyunjin, and Jihoon all follow you over, standing around you as the other idols that have agreed to help you gather.

A few minutes later, and you are surrounded by all of them. You notice that the artists practically group themselves by company.

“We’ll let you lead.” The stage manager says.

“Whenever you’re ready.” Says the event organizer.

Across from you stands Jihoon, Hongjoong, Ten, Taeyong, Renjun, Bang Chan, Hyunjin, Seulgi, Baekhyun, Kyungsoo, Minho, Key, Onew, Taemin, Momo, and Dahyun. They all arrange themselves in about three lines facing you.

“Thank you.” You nod once to them before turning to face all of the idols before you. Quickly, you introduce yourself, a sense of professionalism taking over quite quickly. “I understand that this was asked of all of you on short notice, and I would like to take the time now to thank each and every one of you for agreeing to aid me in my presentation. That being said, I was uninformed that some of you would actually be joining me for my speech until a short while ago, so I will have to adjust a few things.”

Nods of understanding are seen from most of them.

“You all should have been asked a few questions when you received the offer, confirming that it is okay for my video editor to either use clips from your music shows, dramas, behind the scenes footage, livestreams, songs, events, and, or, any type of artwork you have created.” You scan the small group of idols before you. “I want to confirm now that I have your express permission to do so. Otherwise, my editor and I will adjust the video clips to be shown along with the presentation.”

Nods greet you all around, a few in mild shock that you would ask them such a thing again.

“Good.” You smile. “Now, I believe you should have all received a copy of my speech, and instructions along with it as to which categories I would like you to be sorted under. Again, if you have any issues, let me know and I will adjust accordingly.”

At the silence that greets you, a few of them sending reassuring smiles your way, you feel a tension beginning to release from your shoulders.

“I understand that these categories might not be what you usually get sorted under. That being said, I want to focus on different aspects of art using familiar faces to the public that were already attending these ceremonies.” You explain. “The lines I would like a few of you to read are meant to showcase art as collaboration, as expression, and as our passions. Again, if you have any issues, let me know, and I can rearrange some things.”

The way they all wait for you to continue warms your heart.

“I want to thank all of you for helping to bring my vision to life.” You smile. “If you have any questions or concerns, please, do not hesitate to let me know.”

“Are we allowed to see the video before it’s finalized?” Dahyun asks, her eyes wide as she blinks excitedly at you.

“Of course!” You return her smile. “The finalized version will be edited and submitted tonight, along with the script. You’ll all receive a copy of that as well. There’s simply one more thing I need to confirm before then.”

“What is it you still need to confirm?” Kyungsoo asks you, meeting your gaze.

“Well, making sure I had all of your consent to use your own forms of art was one of them.” You say. “The other, I would like to speak with all four members of SHINee about. Privately, if that’s alright?”

All four members turn their attention to you, both Minho and Onew smiling kindly as they nod their heads. You notice Taemin blink a few times, caught off guard by the sudden request, while Key’s expression remains neutral.

“If you’ll all follow me for a moment.” You step off to the side a little ways away from everybody, even the stage manager and event organizer.

Luckily, all four members follow you quickly, and you notice the other idols beginning to chat amongst themselves to give you some more privacy.

Once you’re far enough away, you’re turning to all four of them. Nervously, your hand begins to fiddle with the strap of your purse still slung over your shoulder.

“There is an additional piece I would like to add to the end of my speech, but I wanted to discuss it with all of you first.” You begin, swallowing somewhat thickly. “As you may or may not know, I have always been a big fan of your group as a whole, and have found inspiration from all of you. The reason I am pulling you all aside to ask you this, is because I respect all of you, and I would never want to do something to offend you, or disgrace his memory.”

You notice Key’s one eyebrow twitch upwards slightly.

“I would like to end my speech both making reference to, and quoting Jonghyun and his artistic views. If you would like to read what I have penned for it, I have copies ready for you if you believe that will help influence your decision. If even one of you disagrees, or is uncomfortable with such a thing, I will not do so, and leave my speech the way it is now.” You tell them, feeling your heart about to beat right out of your chest as you take the time to meet each of their gazes. “I only felt it right to ask permission from you before doing so, as again, I do not wish to tarnish or disrespect any of you, or his name.”

A beat of silence passes over all of you as they consider your words. What makes it even more nerve wracking is how you cannot read any of their expressions.

The four of them briefly share a look before Jinki is turning towards you.

“May we see what you have written?” His voice is soft as he meets your gaze once more.

“Of course.” You nod, quickly opening your purse and pulling out a few slips of folded paper.

Gently, you soften the creases, separating the two sheets with the same ending portion of your speech on them. A moment later, and you hand one piece to Key while Minho takes the other.

The silence that stretches on around you as Taemin leans into Minho’s side to read, and Jinki into Key’s, is deafening. Sweat begins to form on your hands, which continue to nervously fiddle with the strap of your purse. You even go so far as to start rocking on your feet to dispel your energy, your eyes darting every which way as they read your writing over for themselves.

You notice a single tear begin to trail down the side of Minho’s cheek.

The four males share a brief look with one another before Jinki looks up in your direction. You notice that he blinks away tears of his own.

“We appreciate the consideration you have extended to both us and him,” he begins, voice catching in his throat. “Thank you for asking before wanting to honour his memory like this.”

You blink at him, breath catching in your throat as his words wash over you. Perhaps you heard him wrong, but is he saying what you think he’s saying?

Again, they all share a look, Minho straightening himself while wiping at his cheek.

“Please keep this as the ending to your speech.” He says. “It makes a great addition to what you already have.”

The familiar burn of happy tears begins to make itself apparent behind your eyes.

“I know we don’t know each other, but the fact that you went out of your way to ask us permission before doing this shows just what kind of person you are.” Key adds, a gentle smile being sent your way. “Thank you for considering our feelings on this matter.”

“I think we are all in agreement that we would like you to use this ending to your speech.” Taemin confirms, a soft nod to his head.

“Really?” You cannot hide the way your eyes shine, heart swelling in your chest.

At the four nods you receive from all of them, a large smile breaks out onto your face.

“Thank you so much.” You bow deeply to all of them, eyes fluttering shut as you do so.

“Thank you for asking.” Jinki smiles kindly at you once more.

“Of course,” you right yourself. “It was only the natural thing to do.”

“We appreciate it.” Minho smiles your way as you all begin to make your way back over to where the other idols are.

Seeing you approach with SHINee in tow catches all of their attention, hushed whispers dying out to a silence once more.

“Alright, so the way I’ve grouped you all off means there should be at least two of you per category,” you address them all. “I know I’m probably repeating myself here, but I want to focus on how we all have different outlets for our art. You’ve all been told the category you’ll be under, so if you can all just stand with your ‘buddies’ for the moment it would help me explain the next part.”

Again, nods greet you in understanding.

“Great!” Your eyes crinkle as you smile. “If I could get the composers over here.”

You point to your immediate left, seeing Bang Chan, and Jihoon both move to their new spot.

“Visual artists here,” you point beside the first group, a little ways to their right.

Hyunjin, Renjun, and Seulgi all stand together.

“Men of fashion, next.”

Both Hongjoong and Baekhyun stand side by side.

“Dancers, if you please.”

Ten, Taemin, and Momo form a small group.

“Then, the actors beside them.”

Kyungsoo and Minho stand together, nodding politely at each other in acknowledgment.

“The rappers.”

Both Taeyong and Dahyun move to the side, smiling at each other politely.

“And finally, the vocalists.”

Lastly, Key and Onew shuffle off to your right, completing the semi-circle around you.

“I will represent the author aspect to my speech, but I think that one is pretty self explanatory.” You chuckle, nothing how a few of them smile along with you. “Now, each of you were given a specific line to go along with your category. You may decide amongst yourselves who says it, or if you all wish to speak it in unison. However, for effect, it would be best if we all came to a decision on whether the lines will be spoken in unison by the groups, or individually. I really want to emphasize the collaboration between all of us artists with these lines.”

You notice each of the groups briefly talking amongst themselves before a few are nodding. A minute later, and you have all of their attention on you.

“Unison, or individual?” You quirk a brow.

“Individual might work best.” You see Baekhyun nod in your direction as he responds, the rest muttering their agreements.

“Great!” You smile, shifting to pull a small spiral bound notebook and a pen out of your purse. “Let me just write down who you’ve all agreed to speak each line between you all for reference. It also makes the technicians jobs a bit easier.”

A few minutes later, and you’ve written down the respective idols that will be saying each designated line.

“While each of you are speaking your lines, the category you represent will appear on the screen behind us along with visual aids showcasing you performing, demonstrating, or working on said topic.” You explain, and you see some of their eyes light up in awe. “There will be a strong emphasis on timing, especially on my part. A lot of what I say will be synced to the video behind me, as well as serve as audio cues for both you and the lighting techs.”

“You’ve put a lot of thought into this.” Key observes, clearly impressed.

“Well, I went to an arts high school, and I was also a theatre kid.” You cap your pen, smiling widely. “I do also have a flare for dramatics at times.”

“What type of arts high school?” Chan asks, tilting his head mildly in curiosity.

“It had quite a few different disciplines, but I was in for vocals.” You tell them.

“Not drama?” Minho’s eyebrows quirk, clearly surprised.

“No, but that would have been my second choice.” You close your notebook.

“Wait, you sing?” Momo’s lips part, an eager gleam to her eyes.

“I was trained operatically for over seven years.” Your words have clear shock pulling at all of their faces. “Don’t know how good I am now, it’s been quite a while since I last had a lesson.”

“I can’t wait to tell Jongho, he’s going to lose his shit.” Hongjoong mumbles.

“Wait until Seungmin hears this,” Hyunjin huffs out a laugh.

“Would you ever sing for us, sometime?” Seulgi asks, her whole face lighting up as she looks at you eagerly.

Your eyes nearly bulge right out of your head, heartbeat thundering in your ears.

“Uh,” you blink, attempting to wrap your head around the situation fully. One of your favourite female Korean singers has essentially just asked you to sing for her sometime.

“She’s already agreed to karaoke with some of us,” Hongjoong hums, a chuckle falling from his lips.

“Oh, I want to come, too!” Dahyun chimes in, smile wide as she meets your gaze.

“Is there a karaoke space big enough for everyone?” You put your notebook back into your purse, motioning to all of them that you’re done for now. “That’s all for now, by the way. Thank you again for agreeing to help on such short notice. We’ll practice the timing during the actual rehearsal portion designated for us at the end of the day.”

You notice the members of EXO and SHINee all nod their heads, heading off for lunch with one another after bowing to you politely in leave. You bow back, smiling faintly as they head off.

“I’m sure we can find one,” Jihoon says as the rest of you begin to head backstage as well.

“Damn, I’m gonna get to hear you sing and dance today?” Ten grins, stepping right up beside you for the moment. “I must be extra lucky.”

“What do you mean ‘dance’?” Seulgi tilts her head curiously.

“Oh, the ‘Seventh Sense’ bet she has with Mark.” Taeyong mentions casually.

“Oh!” Seulgi’s eyes widen, nodding in understanding. “That!”

“Does everybody at SM know of that bet?” You exhale an exaggerated puff of air.

“Only the people Mark told,” Renjun chimes in. “So, naturally, everybody knows. Man has a loud mouth at times.”

“At times?” Taeyong laughs.

“Do you know any other dances?” Momo asks, Dahyun nodding along with her as they walk side by side. “You mentioned that you enjoy singing and dancing to our songs earlier.”

“I know a few, but I usually don’t like dancing around other people.” You reply.

“How much is ‘a few’?” Ten quirks a grin, eyes tinkling mischievously.

“I have a few mixes my one friend made for me that I’ve learned.” You shrug. “Kind of like my own personalized random dance plays.”

“That’s pretty cool!” Dahyun comments, quite enthusiastically.

“Wait, how come you don’t like dancing around other people?” Renjun’s brow furrows, turning to look at you briefly.

By now, you’ve all made it backstage once more, and you notice many of the staff and other idols have dispersed for lunch. Only a few familiar faces linger around the space from earlier.

Again, it’s like you shrink into yourself. “Personal reasons.”

“Then, how are you going to win the bet you have with Mark?” Ten tilts his head curiously at you.

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice a few more Twice members, such as Jihyo, Jeongyeon, Mina, and Sana all join your group. Even some more NCT members are present, and you see Mark come to stand right beside you for the moment.

“You see, my need to prove him wrong is much stronger than anything else.” You reply, noticing how you see Yeosang watching you from the corner that the rest of the Ateez members are currently lingering around.

“Name the time and place.” He grins, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Well, who knows when we’ll get another chance to do this,” you say, quirking a brow knowingly. “It’s going to have to be today, is it not?”

“Now would be an opportune time since the stage area is clear of most people,” Taeyong suggests. “Riley can help with the soundboard and play the song through the speakers. Everyone would probably think it’s just us getting in another round of practice again. Sometimes we do that before shows.”

“I’ll go get Doyoung and Jaehyun!” Ten rushes off before a word of protest can escape you.

“Would dancing with someone else make you feel better?” Momo offers.

You think about it for a moment before nodding. “Perhaps it might.”

“Oh my goodness, come dance with us, then!” Sana grabs your wrist, pulling you back out towards the stage area with some of the others in tow. “Now, where’s Riley?”

You notice the aforementioned female appear from down the hallway.

“Riley, soundboard for us for a bit!” Mina begins pushing the somewhat stunned female along with all of you and back to the stage.

“What?” Riley blinks. “Oh, okay!”

“I would love to dance with you!” Jihyo grins, walking alongside you as Sana continues to pull you along. “The other girls are eating lunch, but I hope us six will do!”

“You’re more than enough.” Comes your instant reply, a firm nod of your head. “Though, I warn you, I’m probably going to be the ‘standing guy’ emoji when the music starts.”

Jeongyeon lets out a boisterous laugh from your opposite side. “It’s okay, we’ve got you!”

“I’m about to dance with pretty girls,” you mumble, causing all of the girls around you to smile. “Someone pinch me, I must be dreaming.”

Instead, you receive teasing pokes to your upper back from Dahyun who currently stands behind you.

“What song would you like to start with?” Momo asks, the members all flanking you on stage as Riley sets up the soundboard from the middle of the floor.

“Uh…” your brain refuses to function for a moment as you process her words.

“Wait, you said you had some mixes your friend made you.” Dahyun recalls. “This might be presumptuous of me, but do you have any Twice mixes?”

You blink. “I do, actually.”

“Great! Why don’t we do that, and we’ll support you!” Sana grins, shaking your arm gently in excitement.

“You all really want to dance with me?” You ask, voice meek as your eyes shine with your emotions for the moment.

“Of course!” Jeongyeon’s reply is immediate. “Not only would we be getting a chance to dance with our favourite author, but we’ve got to show those guys how it’s done.”

The wink she sends your way makes your heart leap for joy in your chest. You cannot help the way a bashful smile pulls at your lips as you pull out your phone.

“If you want, we could even do our best to follow another of your mixes.” Mina offers. “It would be like a random dance play for us. Plus, I’m sure more people would join! It’s whatever makes you most comfortable.”

“We can start with the Twice mix, and go from there?” Even though you sound a bit unsure of yourself, you notice the girls all eagerly nodding around you.

Already, a small crowd of both idols and staff members begin to form around the stage. Some stand in the wings, while others look up from the ground around the stage. There’s a good mix of eager looks and curious ones, but the smiling faces of the six girls around you manage to distract you from the less than savoury ones right now.

“Alright,” you say, walking to the edge of the stage with your phone in hand. Crouching down, you hand it to Mark. “Mark Lee, I will personally shave your head, and dye all of your white shirts bright red if you fuck around with my phone. I will also never gift you spoilers to my books, or watermelon taffy again.”

The wide-eyed nod he gives you says it all, and with the added way he swallows thickly, you giggle lightly.

“It’s mix three,”  you say, handing him your phone.

Again, all you receive is a nod from him in response before he’s walking over to Riley and passing her your phone. A moment later, and she hooks it up to the soundboard, looking up at you in preparation to hit play. After doing a few light stretches with the girls, you straighten your back, cracking your neck all the while.

“The first song is ‘Fancy’, which leads into ‘Talk That Talk, and then ‘I Can’t Stop Me’ after that.” You tell them, seeing them all nod excitedly at you.

“Do you usually dance a specific part, or is it all just chorus stuff?” Momo asks, standing beside you to your right.

“When I learn a full song, I usually learn either my bias, my wrecker, or whoever ends up being easiest to follow. For the mixes, it’s mainly just chorus stuff, though.” The way you see them all nod along at your words has your heart warming in your chest. “There’s a small intro, and then the pre-chorus to ‘Fancy’, though, so you have time to get into position.”

“We’ll follow your lead!” Jihyo grins, a firm nod to her head.

“Whenever you’re ready,” Sana smiles at you.

Meeting gazes with Riley across the way, you smile, shooting her a small thumbs up. Immediately, the music starts blasting through the speakers, and you can feel the adrenaline beginning to pump through your veins.

“You know, if you would have told me I’d be dancing on a stage with Twice today, I would have never believed you.” You comment, a light chuckle to your voice as you get into position.

“Well, believe it, girly!” Mina laughs, lightly going over the pre-chorus part of the dance as you all get into position. “Cause guess what?”

The only thing you have time to do is blink at her in response as all six of them shout out a loud ‘We’ as the chorus hits.

A large smile breaks out onto your face, whole body heating as you begin to dance along with the six girls around you. Lowly, you all sing along to the lyrics, losing yourself to the music as it surrounds you. The way their eyes light up as they watch you dance along with them sets your heart racing even more so than usual, absolutely revelling in this euphoric feeling.

Cheers erupt from some of the staff and other idols standing around the area, and you can hear Mark exclaim a loud ‘holy shit’ from beside the soundboard.

“Damn girl!” Dahyun bumps hips with you playfully as the song switches. “You can really dance!”

“Really?” Your eyes shine as you meet her gaze, noticing the other five members encouraging you all the while. At the nods you receive, you smile bashfully, tears threatening to gather in the corners of your eyes. “Thank you.”

From the crowd, you hear Ten beginning to shout in Mark’s direction. “Damn, Mark, you didn’t tell us your author friend could dance!”

At the way Mark shakes his head, blinking in shock, you can just tell he calls back an ‘I didn’t know’ lowly in response.

“You are so going to lose that bet.” Doyoung laughs loud enough for both you and Mark to hear.

“Hey, Chan, do you think she knows any Stray Kids dances?” Changbin calls over to their leader as a few more of the members join the crowd.

“Back off, Bin! She’s dancing to Ateez, next!” Wooyoung shouts at his friend, and you notice Jongho standing there with his mouth hanging open beside him.

The moment you hit the drop with your leg extended in ‘I Can’t Stop Me’, more cheers erupt from the crowd, even more staff and idols coming to see what all the commotion is about. The way you can see some people’s jaws drop in awe makes you grin, getting more and more into the moves the more time passes. It makes it even better when Johnny and Ten start hooting and hollering encouraging things your way as you dance. Even Wooyoung and Changbin get in on the action, Felix cheering along with them.

The moment the mix ends, the six girls are crowding you, talking excitedly about how much fun that was, and that you should all do that again some time.

“Thank you so much for dancing with me,” you meet each of their gazes, noticing how they all look at you fondly.

“It was our pleasure,” Jihyo smiles widely at you, squeezing your arm gently.

“If there’s ever any dances you want to learn, let us know!” Dahyun grins, giggling all the while.

“Yeah! We’d be more than happy to teach you.” Momo nods enthusiastically.

“You kept up with us really well,” Sana adds. “Most trainees can’t even do that.”

“I may not be a dancer, but I do put a lot of effort in to everything I do.” You avert your gaze to the floor bashfully, tapping the tip of you foot lightly against the floor of the stage.

“It shows.” Mina reaches over to squeeze your arm this time, smiling kindly at you.

Slowly, a chant begins to build from the surrounding crowd.

“Seventh Sense. Seventh Sense. Seventh Sense.”

“I think you’re being asked for an encore.” Jeongyeon winks at you, and you chuckle along with her.

“After you’re done proving him wrong, we should do one of your mixes!” Dahyun eagerly says, excitement shining in her eyes. “I wanna see how many songs we can get.”

“Plus, like I said earlier, more people might join that way!” Mina repeats, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear.

“We’ll give you space now.” Jihyo says, beginning to usher the other girls away from you. “As long as you’re ready.”

“I’m ready.” You nod once firmly in confirmation.

“Good luck!” Momo cheers, shooting you an encouraging thumbs up as they make their way to the side of the stage.

Stepping towards the front of the stage, you get into position. Lifting your head, you make eye contact with Mark who still stands beside Riley, looking completely stunned for the moment.

“Be prepared to lose the bet, Markie Boy.”You grin, flicking your gaze towards Riley for the moment. “Hit it.”

An awed hush settles over the crowd as you wait for the music to start. Not even a moment later, the opening beats of “The Seventh Sense” can be heard through the speakers. 

Your body instantly begins to move, the dance having been ingrained into you with how often you practiced it since making this bet with Mark. Even your expression moulds to fit the theme of the song, and as soon at the lyrics begin, the crowd erupts into cheers.

You hit every beat, noticing how both Doyoung and Jaehyun wear expressions of complete and utter shock on their faces. Even Mark cannot keep his mouth from falling open as he watches you incredulously.

About halfway through the routine, you notice Taeyong hoist himself up onto the stage, joining in to dance with you for the remainder of the song. The way you sing along softly to the lyrics only becomes apparent when he gets closer, his eyes widening ever so slightly as his lips part in awe.

During Mark’s iconic line, you purposely look his way, shouting it at the top of your lungs with a wink sent in his direction. You notice he still wears that same expression of shock on his features, and even you can tell how red his face has gotten from your position on the stage.

The way you can keep up with Taeyong has even more cheers erupting from the crowd. Ten practically begins shaking Doyoung beside him, screaming about how you’re dancing his part right now, a giddy smile on his features. Hell, even half of Stray Kids and Ateez look about ready to fall over, their wide eyed stares encouraging you to continue.

The moment the song comes to an end, a roar erupts from the staff and idols around you. You hear some shouts from certain groups asking you to dance their songs next, and it makes you smile. Your chest heaves with every breath you take, and you turn to face Taeyong just as he turns to face you.

“You proved him wrong.” He smiles, extending his hand out to you for a high five. “You’re an incredible dancer.”

A large smile stretches across your features as you meet his hand halfway in the air. “Thank you so much!”

“Really, do you know any more dances?” His eyes are wide as he looks at you, an eager gleam shining within.

“From start to finish?” You tilt your head slightly.

“Yeah, or just in general.” He nods.

“Well, from start to finish, I know Red Velvet’s Psycho and Bad Boy, EXO’s Monster, BTS’ Fire, and GOT7’s If You Do.” You list off. “There’s a few more I know larger portions of, but the rest I just know from the mixes. I, uh, do also know a few duet dances, cause I used to dance them with my ex.”

Out of the corner of your eyes, you notice both Hyunjin and Wooyoung chatting with Riley, of whom looks a bit reluctant to be apart of the conversation.

“I owe you ten meals.”Mark comments, stepping up onto the stage. “You really did prove me wrong.”

“I told you I would!” You stick your tongue out at him playfully, wiping at the sweat forming at your brow.

“You’ve also really drawn a crowd.” He wiggles his eyebrows. “I don’t think anybody was expecting you to be able to dance like that.”

Out of the corner of your eyes, you see Jaehyun approaching you.

“You can really dance.” He comments, blinking at you a few times as his dimple appears.

“Thank you.”You incline your head in his direction, a warmth blooming on your cheeks.

“You mentioned knowing duet dances?” Taeyong inquires. “Which ones do you know?”

Your eyes widen slightly, noticing Wooyoung, Hyunjin, and Changbin now all making their way onto the stage towards you.

“Uh…” you chuckle nervously. “Well, I do know Baby Don’t Stop, Seulrene’s Monster, and, uh…” your voice drops into a mumble, “Troublemaker.”

“You know Troublemaker?” Changbin’s voice is full of awe. “Okay, we’re dancing that.”

“Get your own dance partner, Bin, I’m dancing Troublemaker with her first!” Wooyoung crosses his arms over his chest, huffing all the while.

“Oh, you all think I know Hyuna’s part, don’t you?” You glance at him with amusement dancing in your eyes.

Taeyong’s brow furrows. “You don’t?”

“Oh, I know some of it, but the only Hyuna dance I really know is Lip and Hip. I learned Hyunseung’s part.” You chuckle. “My best friend learned her part.”

“You dance often, then.” Hyunjin observes, calculating gaze fixed on you for the moment.

“I mean, I used to.” You shrug. “I’ve always enjoyed it, even though I’m not a dancer. It used to be my ex’s and my thing.”

“Is that why you don’t like performing in front of other people?” Changbin’s brow furrows.

“Kind of,” you mutter. “But that’s not a can of worms to get into today.”

“Okay, well, we need to plan a day where we have a dance party, clearly.” Wooyoung comments, slinging his arm around your waist as he pushes Mark out of the way.

“Dance another mix for us!” You hear Mina call out from the side where you see all of the other Twice members now standing.

At the way you hesitate, the crowd starts chanting for you to dance more.

“We tried convincing Riley to play another one anyways,” Hyunjin shrugs casually. “She wouldn’t budge unless you were comfortable with it.”

You chew on the skin of your bottom lip. “Well, I guess one more wouldn’t hurt.”

Wooyoung shakes you lightly in excitement as he laughs giddily. “Yay!”

“If you join, and I see any of you mocking girl groups, I will punt you off of this stage.” You threaten, pointing your finger threateningly at the males around you.

At the way they raise their hands mildly in their own defence, you know you have them.

“Alright, hang on,” you say, quickly hopping down the stairs at the side of the stage to make your way towards the soundboard where Riley is.

Along the way, some staff members and idols send compliments your way. A few of them are backhanded, but you brush those off for now. Besides, you feel as if nothing could bring you down.

Reaching Riley, you’re quick to unlock your phone for her once more.

“We’re gonna do another mix, but I figured my phone had shut off by now.” You chuckle, and you see her nod enthusiastically. “When I give the signal, play mix four.”

“Roger that!” She mock salutes you, and you giggle along with her.

Making your way back to the stage, you notice quite a few more idols having gathered around. Some eagerly talk amongst themselves, while more have moved to the front of the stage in order to get a better view of the dancing about to take place.

“Alright, you guys ready?” You quirk a brow as you stand back into position.

“Oh, hell yes!” Both Wooyoung and Changbin cheer.

“As a curtesy, the first song is The Eve.”You tell them. “This is my longest mix, so I might not do all of it.”

“Understandable.” Taeyong nods your way.

“Whatever makes you most comfortable.” You notice Momo has come back to join you, nodding all the while.

With a smile pulling at your lips, you send a nod Riley’s way. A moment later, and the familiar sound of music is playing through the speakers.

The more you dance, the more you notice that even some of the backup dancers join in on the fun. You cannot keep the joy from radiating off of you, a brilliant smile on your face as you move around the stage with the people around you. The way even Seulgi comes to join you for some of the Red Velvet songs that you have in the mix makes your heart swell, laughing along with the others gleefully.

The whole time, you can feel eyes on you. Whether they’re judgmental, or in awe, you no longer care, for you get lost in the way dancing like this makes you feel. You haven’t had this much fun in a while, and you’re not about to give it up now.

Once the mix has finished, another cheer rises up from the crowd. A few of the dancers even come up to you and start up a conversation about where you learned to move your body like that. A fact which makes you all the more bashful.

An intense feeling of eyes focussed on your back has you turning to face the crowd. Only, when you look in the direction you felt such a gaze coming from, all you see is Yeosang staring at you with an unreadable expression on his face. Mingi seems to be talking his ear off excitedly at the moment, the shorter male nodding along quite firmly to whatever is being said. However, you’re not even sure if he’s listening to what his group mate is saying, or not.

Smiling softly his way, you notice him blink suddenly, as if to clear his vision.

Mark catching your attention from beside you has you turning away from Yeosang for the moment. Only, you fail to see the way the male’s eyebrow twitches slightly, the corner of his lips tugging downwards.

A short while later, and you’ve cleared the stage area so rehearsals can continue as scheduled. Riley makes her way back over towards you with your phone in hand, passing it to you with awe still clear in her eyes.

“I didn’t know you could dance like that!” She exclaims, visibly shaking in her spot. “You’re incredible!”

You chuckle at her enthusiasm. “Thank you.”

Now, as you settle back into the backstage area, you notice quite a few more idols and staff around. The way their gazes dart over to you is obvious, whispers reaching your ears.

“Have you eaten, by the way?”It’s Mark that asks, handing you a fresh bottle of water as you lean against the wall.

“I ate a big breakfast before I came, so I’m not really hungry right now.”You reply. “But thanks for checking in.”

“He was just hoping to get a head start on those ten meals he owes you,” Johnny chuckles, joining your little circle.

You notice Hongjoong, Jongho, Yeosang, Wooyoung, and Changbin all join you as well.

“So, when are you coming over to learn more Stray Kids dances?” Changbin asks casually.

“Um, after she learns some Ateez dances, obviously.” Wooyoung answers for you, a roll to his eyes. A second later, and a smug grin is pulling at his features as he stands proud. “Her bias is gonna teach her everything he knows.”

“Wait, you’re her Ateez bias?” Changbin’s eyes nearly pop out of his head before turning to look at you. “Please tell me you have better taste in men than this idiot over here.”

“Hey!” Wooyoung whines.

“I never said Wooyoung was my Ateez bias,” you chuckle, and you notice how said male’s pout only deepens.

“Then, who is?” Hongjoong quirks a brow, a teasing smirk pulling at his lip.

Again, a knowing smile pulls at your features.

“You mean, you won’t tell them?” Mark frowns. “You had no probably telling me that Ten was your NCT bias.”

Johnny looks absolutely scandalized by Mark’s words, placing a hand over his heart as his jaw drops in shock. “And here I was thinking what we had was special.”

“I met you today, John.” You deadpan, blinking once.

Laughter erupts around you.

“Wait, Ten is your NCT bias?” Jongho looks at you, somewhat incredulously. “I would have thought it was Jaehyun with how often you reference him in your writing.”

You shrug casually. “Some things are the same, others are not. I mean, Ten’s not my only NCT bias.”

“You have more than one?” It’s Yeosang who asks this time, his brow quirked and gaze unreadable.

“Of course I have more than one, there’s over twenty-one members in counting, and multiple sub-units.” You reply, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “I’ve got a bias per unit.”

“Yet, none of them are me.” Mark pouts, crossing his arms over his chest.

“When I was first getting into NCT you were.” You remind him.

“It’s not the same.” He whines, shaking his head.

“So, you’ll tell him your biases when he asks, but not us?” Hongjoong quirks a brow, amusement dancing in his eyes. Though, at the way his jaw twitches, you can tell he’s slightly exasperated by this fact.

“Again, I’ve talked with him for much longer than I’ve personally known you.” You chuckle. “Plus, you’re not as persistent about it as some people.”

The way you shoot a playfully pointed look at Mark says it all.

“Oh, okay,” Wooyoung nods, a maniacal grin tugging at his features. “We’ve just got to annoy it out of you.”

“That’s one way to ensure I never tell you.” You huff out a laugh, a smirk dancing on your lips. “Though, I don’t know why you guys are so obsessed with knowing who my bias is. Really, you should be asking about my wreckers. Haven’t you ever heard the phrase that a person’s bias is most like them, but their wrecker is their ideal type?”

Without waiting for a response, you walk over to join Mina, Sana, Jihyo, and Jeongyeon, leaving all of the males stunned for the moment.

“Mark, who’s her NCT wrecker?” Johnny immediately turns to the aforementioned male, noticing the others do the same.

“I- uh…” he swallows thickly. “I don’t know.”

Your shoulders shake in laughter as you begin conversing with the girls. A few hours later, Joy from Red Velvet joins in on your little circle of friends, her introducing herself and expressing how big of a fan she is of your writing. Easily, she falls into conversation with all of you, and she even brings up the fact that she and the other members saw you dancing with Seulgi earlier.

Again, you feel eyes on your back, watching your every move closely. When you spare a quick glance over your shoulder, you see Yeosang watching you with a neutral expression on his face. His arms are crossed over his chest as he leans back against the wall, one leg propped up behind him so that his knee is bent slightly.

Unfortunately, you don’t have time to dwell on it for too long, for the girls are all asking to exchange contact information with you. Of course, you readily agree, the Twice members even going so far as to create a group chat with you and the few other members that danced with you earlier.

Loud whispering draws your attention to the right where you see Irene, Wendy, and Yeri all standing to the side. You send a polite smile their way, but the only one who somewhat smiles back is Yeri. On the other hand, both Irene and Wendy could not look more disinterested by you. In fact, you’d say they almost look annoyed that you looked their way.

The moment you see Seulgi hop over to them quite excitedly, overhearing your name being mentioned, scowls pull onto Wendy’s and Irene’s faces.

Pointedly, Wendy leans into Irene, whispering quite loudly as you turn back around.

“Can you believe they invited such filth to perform at these awards?” Wendy’s voice reaches your ears, and you cannot help the way your shoulders tense. “I hope they wash the stage after she’s been rolling around on it. I can’t believe we even have to breathe the same air as that thing.”

From the muffled laughter you can hear behind you, you know it’s not just Irene that finds these comments funny.

“Wendy, stop it, you’re being extremely rude.” Seulgi chastises, an immediate frown tugging at her features. “And I can’t believe you two would laugh along with her! She’s been nothing but kind to everyone this whole time.”

“Did you see her dancing earlier?” Irene snorts out a laugh. “You know we stopped doing charity events, right, Seulg?”

“You call that dancing?” Wendy cackles. “More like flailing. She looked like a fish out of water.” A pause. “Wait, let me describe it more accurately: a beached whale.”

Again, more laughter can be heard from around the room, the loudest emanating from that specific corner where they reside. Though, the sneers and smug looks from some of the idols and staff that you’ve felt judging you all throughout the day no longer can be ignored. You have a feeling that they’re all finally getting the vindication of hearing their negative thoughts and feelings towards you finally be said out loud.

Jeongyeon places a comforting hand onto your back, noticing how you visibly deflate at the harsh words being thrown your way. Jihyo, Mina, and Sana all look about ready to cut a bitch, and Joy just looks embarrassed, her eyes widening in shock.

“People like her make me sick.” Irene comments, somewhat casually.

“Watch. I’m gonna go over there and compliment her in English, and it’s going to make her day.” Wendy laughs, already moving to push herself off of the wall.

“Wendy,” Seulgi warns, grabbing the aforementioned female’s wrist and holding her in place. “You’re making a fool of yourself, disgracing our group, and embarrassing the rest of us. You know she can understand you, right?”

You hear Wendy scoff, “I doubt that.”

Tugging her wrist harshly out of Seulgi’s grip, Wendy continues to make her way over to you. The ominous presence you can sense that is her approaching makes you tense, your hands nervously wringing themselves together.

Just then, a squeal is heard from behind you.

“Oh my gosh! Aren’t you that really famous author? I love your work!” Wendy’s voice reaches your ears, causing you to turn around to face her.

The expression she wears is one of awe, but it doesn’t take an expert to know that it’s not genuine. You can see how her gaze not so subtly trails over your body, a brief look of disgust pulling at her features as her lips twitch downwards. Though, in the blink of an eye, that expression of ire disappears, replaced by that overtly friendly one she attempts to wear.

You don’t even have to say anything, for Mina, Sana, Jihyo, and Jeongyeon all step in front of you, shooting harsh looks her way. Even Joy shakes her head disapprovingly, crossing her arms over her chest at her group mate.

Wendy looks clearly taken aback, blinking a few times at the silence that stretches on around you.

“What’s that look for?”She chuckles, somewhat nervously. “I just wanted to come over and say that I saw you dancing earlier and it looked like so much fun!” She nearly chokes on her own words, blinking as if she cannot believe what she’s about to say. “You’re a really good dance-“

“Are you sure it wasn’t more like a fish out of water?” You meet her gaze, a blank look in your eyes as you tilt your head slightly to the side.

You can just tell that your words catch her completely off guard.

“What are you talking about? I only came over here to tell you how pretty I think you are.” Wendy blinks at you in shock.

“Do you expect me to thank you for insulting me not even two minutes ago?” You continue. “The only thing I hate more than dishonest people, is someone who thinks they can get away with being two-faced just because of who they are.”

“How dare you!” Wendy inhales sharply, anger pulling at her brow. “You bitch-“

“Did you eat a stone, Wendy?” Jihyo’s gaze is nothing short of furious as she stares the elder down.

“You should be ashamed of yourself.” Jeongyeon spits, brow furrowed in distaste. “You of all people, judging another person based solely on their looks.”

“Why are you defending her? Can she not speak for herself?” Wendy replies, incredulously. “And Joy, why are you wasting you time with filth like her?”

“Unlike you, I don’t judge a book by its cover.” Joy deadpans, blinking at the girl before her blankly.

“Are you that unhappy with you life that you have to bring down mine?” You ask her, tilting your head slightly to the side.

Wendy rolls her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest. “Stop acting all high and mighty. You’re nothing, anyways.”

“I’m not the one that went out of their way to insult the other.” You reply, holding your elbows in your hands once more as your arms cross over your body for support.

You can see her getting more angry with every lack of reaction you give her.

“Yeah, well, you’re writing is mediocre, and you’re just a fat, ugly pig.” She spits, and it goes so silent that you can hear a pin drop around you. “No wonder your ex cheated on a bitch like you.”

Gasps are heard all around.

You wish you could prevent the way you inhale sharply from her words, but you do. What makes it worse is the way she grins after hearing you do so.

Out of the corner of your eyes, you see Mark needing to be held back by Johnny.

You blink, swallowing thickly and doing your best to maintain your composure. The familiar sting of tears burns behind your eyes, but you refuse to give her the satisfaction of seeing you break.

Taking a deep breath, you school your expression.

“Wow, Wendy, not many people know that fact. I only ever talked about it once or twice during my lives.” You comment. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that you’re obsessed with me.”

A loud scoff leaves her lips as she turns away from you, rolling her eyes all the while.

“Whatever,” she mumbles, beginning to walk away. “You’re not worth my time.”

Your eyes widen significantly, appalled by her comment for the moment considering she was the one that approached you. Luckily, though, you don’t have time to dwell on it, for the girls surrounding you are immediately turning back to face you, asking if you’re okay.

“Yeah, yeah,” you shoot them all a tight smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “I’m fine.”

“I am so sorry about her,” Joy looks the most distressed, her cheeks red in embarrassment. Instantly, she bows to you. “I know it’s no excuse, but I hope you will accept my apology for her instead.”

“It’s not your fault, Joy,” you say, stepping out of the circle of girls for the moment.

“Where are you going?” Mina asks lightly, concern clear on her features.

“I just need some fresh air. I promise I’ll be right back.” Again, another tense smile is sent their way that doesn’t quite meet your eyes.

Not even giving them time to respond, you’re quickly making your way back down the hallway that you first arrived in. Pushing open the side door, you make sure you can get back inside first before letting it fall shut. Luckily for you, no one stops you, nor bothers you for the time being. Doing a quick scan of the area, you ensure that you’re alone.

It takes a moment for you to be sliding down the side of the wall. Another for the movement to become synonymous with the first of your tears escaping your eyes.

You don’t care that Wendy insulted your writing. You recognize and understand that it’s not for everyone, nor is everyone going to like it. If people telling you they didn’t like your writing, or that you were a shitty writer stopped you from pursuing your passion, you wouldn’t be where you are today. Hell, you don’t even care that she insulted you. You’ve had people insult your appearance your entire life, so that’s nothing new.

No, what hurts you the most is the fact that she would use such a traumatic incident against you. How she even knew about it confuses you, for you only ever disclosed the information publicly once, and not even all of the details. The memories are still just too painful for you, even if they happened over six months ago.

You crouch against the wall for a good few minutes, your muffled sobs being your only accompaniment. That is, until you hear the side door creak open.

Quickly, you’re wiping away your tears and standing back to your feet. You figure it’s probably some staff members either needing some air themselves, or going for a smoke break. 

You’d rather not have anyone see you cry right now.

What you don’t expect, however, is to see Yeosang peeking out at you from the small opening. He says nothing as he meets your gaze, and you don’t know whether to thank him for that, or not. What he does offer you, though, is a tissue, wordlessly extending a small packet out to you with the top already open.

Silently, you take one from him, nodding your thanks. The smile you send him is small, and tense, but it’s something.

“Riley said that your rehearsal for your speech is on deck.” He says lowly. “I came to get you.”

“Oh, okay,” you swallow your remaining emotions for the moment. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

A nod is all you receive in response as you dab at your eyes while turning away from him for the moment. Scrunching your nose, you sniffle.

“Are you okay?” His tone is soft, and you notice how concerned his eyes look as you turn back to face him.

“I’ll be fine,” you nod assuringly at him, but he doesn’t look all that reassured. So, you divert the topic as you head back inside. “You said it’s time for my rehearsal?”

“Riley’s gathering the other idols with Joong as we speak.” Yeosang replies casually, clutching that little package of tissues in his hands still.

“I see.” You hum, bringing the back of your hand up to rub at the side of your cheek.

Wordlessly, he offers you another tissue.

“Thanks.” You say, grabbing another from him.

He nods, which is the only response from him that you get.

“Hey, do you mind watching my purse while I rehearse?” You spare a glance at him just as you breach the backstage area, ignoring the few other worried looks sent your way by familiar faces.

“Not Mark?” He quirks a brow, the corner of his lips twitching upwards faintly.

“I don’t trust him not to go snooping through my bag to search for spoilers to my next book.” You chuckle lowly. “Besides, I know Jongho won’t be able to convince you to let him sneak a peek, either.”

Yeosang cracks a small grin. “You’d be correct.”

“I may not have the best judge of character, but I can tell that you’re a decent guy, Yeosang.” You say, and you watch a faint blush begin to creep onto his cheeks. “Thank you for not prying.”

Sliding the strap of your purse off of your shoulder, you hand it to him. Not even a moment later, he grabs it from you, slinging the strap over his own.

“It’s not my place.” He replies, blinking lightly up at you.

A call of your name from the stage manager draws your attention to the front.

“Good luck.” He nods, to which you nod back, leaving him without another word.

Yeosang smiles faintly, still feeling the warmth that continues to dissipate from his cheeks as he looks down at his feet. Shifting the strap against his shoulder, he slides the pack of tissues into the side of your purse, just in case.

Stepping into the wings of the stage, he watches on as you practice your speech for tomorrow, going over the stage directions and lighting cues with the staff. What he truly cannot understand though, is why, when every time he looks at you, he can feel his heart now racing inside of his chest.

[a-world-with0ut-dr34ms]

John Price x Journalist Reader

Gaz conducts a plan to set his Captain back up with an old flame of his. He'd hoped to recruit help from Laswell. However, the CIA operative wasn't as optimistic about this whole "reunion" as the Sergeant.

Fluff, Banter, Light Reading, Sappy Romance, One That Got Away Trope, Setting up Dates, Gaz just being an inquisitive sort, slight Character Study on Price

WC: 1.5k~

Prelude | Chapter One | Chapter Three

Masterlist

So I'm sorry to say that Price and the Reader are not in this chapter, as it is centered around Gaz and Laswell.

However, Price and the Reader are the topic matter of the entire chapter. I'm legit trying to tell a story versus it being kinda self-indulgent and smutty like my other stuff. However, we'll get there at some point, maybe 😏

Please Enjoy!

Chapter Two

"I'm afraid I can't do that, Kyle."

Gaz gives Laswell a slack-jaw look, though it does little to sway the CIA operative on her stance -- this was just something she would not involve herself with.

Of course, the Sergeant hadn't been content with a simple no. In fact, all day he's been at Laswell's side, his presence just around every corner, lingering a little longer each time. Anything in the hopes of finally convincing her to see some worth to what he was trying to suggest. After all, this plan wouldn't work without her.

Or... at least, he'd have to come up with something new if this didn't pan out, and that felt like more work than this. Though thus far, convincing her has only been an uphill battle.

"Oh, come on Kate," Gaz begins to whine, rather childishly, brown eyes growing deceptively puppy dog-like, a hidden talent of his, or rather a subliminal quirk. "You're telling me you can't help at all?"

Laswell sets her fork down beside her salad, knowing she wouldn't be able to eat how she'd like with the Sergeant still seated in her office. The woman had hoped she'd finally escaped him on her lunch break; the building was usually dead at this hour, seeing as the others were off contending to their own devices.

It had been the perfect timing to finally have a proper sit-down if you asked Gaz.

"I mean, really think about it," Gaz tries to explain his plan to the woman one more time. "We just throw a small little get-together, nothin' too fancy. All you'd be doin' is hosting, which is nothin' new for you. Then, we just invite them both over and simply... let things play out. Easy."

"Except you would be blindsiding them," Laswell says.

"Not blindsiding," Gaz retorts. "More like... surprising them. Look, it'd be doin' 'em both a favor I'm sure, yeah?"

"Look, it's not that I don't want to," she starts. "I just know it's a lost cause. Think of this as me trying to save you some time."

"Sheesh," he sighs. "That bad then, huh?"

"And then some, Kyle."

Kate gets back to eating the croutons she'd been picking through her salad for. She didn't want to ask when it was that Gaz would be leaving, however, she wouldn't complain if he did.

Gaz continued to leisurely spin in the spare rolling chair in Kate's office, sighing to himself in contemplative thought.

That bad and then some, huh? He thought. Gaz struggled to imagine a scenario where such animosity could exist between someone and the Captain. And yet this supposed relationship between him and you had existed, and the Sergeant couldn't be more intrigued by it.

"Well, what happened?"

"She cheated on him."

Gaz's mouth goes agape, his tone completely defeated. "No... really?"

Kate smirks. "No."

Laswell laughs to herself once she sees the sigh of relief the Sergeant releases. The woman's career revolved around secrets and lies. It figures her idea of fun would be pulling the Sergeant's leg.

Of course, the man's a good sport about it, chuckling to himself once he realizes it's a joke. For a second there, he really thought this had all been a waste of time.

"Seriously though," he says. "What happened?"

"To be honest with you, I still don't know," Kate admits. "Neither of them felt too up to talking about it when it happened. I just know that some kind of argument occurred, and they split up the following day. But I don't want to be the one to air out the Captain's dirty laundry, Kyle."

Laswell sinks back in her seat, thinking back on those days after the split. She had seen war slowly harden Price over the years, as it had done to all of them. For a while, he went through great efforts to try and keep a healthy work balance between that and his personal life.

Losing you had made something in him turn to stone, however. As though some other part of him had died, made up abundantly clear by the increase of his work. More eager to take assignments, less so to be home. Ops that had him away for months at a time became his favorite, and when those ops had finished, he went out to find more.

And by the time he'd become Captain, that time with his former lover merely became a bedtime lullaby for him, growing fainter by the years. No one ever really heard him talk about love again. Not until Gaz brought it up.

"So who was she anyway?" he asks. "Price said she was a friend of yours."

Kate chuckles to herself, seeing how observant the Sergeant had been in his conversation with the Captain. "That's right," she confirms. "A family friend."

"What was she like?"

"She was... is... a very interesting woman, to say the least," Kate sighs. "I can't really describe her; she was a lot of things."

"Not even a little?"

Kate thinks to herself for a moment, having gone through all the croutons in her salad now. "She was definitely a firecracker, always getting into some kind of trouble. She spoke her mind freely too. It didn't matter what it was; if a thought crossed her mind, at some point, you'd hear about it."

"Hmm," Gaz grins. "I don't know if that's what I was picturing. But, I guess I can see the vision."

"I was just as surprised," Kate says. "But... they stayed together for a long time. Six years, if I'm not mistaken."

Gaz's eyes grow wide at that fact. Longer than any relationship the Sergeant's ever been in. Though, it hadn't been for a lack of trying. Six years. That's not just enough time to know someone, that's enough time to be another half of them, at that point. Not a lifelong love, but someone who did once matter.

"So who shit the bed?"

"That would be John." Kate didn't even have to think about that one.

Gaz shrugs, having not been too surprised by that answer.

However, she then adds only seconds later, "Though... it's complicated."

"How so?"

"From my understanding, it hadn't just been an argument," Laswell says. "Honestly, I'd almost say life is what ended their relationship."

“And you really think she wouldn’t want to see him again?” he asks.

Kate pauses, short of an answer for a moment. It gives Gaz the drive to keep looking her in the eyes and pressing the matter.

"Why do you want this so bad?" she asks. No doubt, she'd been curious as to what it was that was driving Kyle to go into full investigation mode about this.

The man pauses, trying to come up with the right words to say, as he already knew his answer from the start.

Kyle thinks back on the Captain, and all the times he's seen him alone while the others had each other, wanting to be content with that. Adoring their love from afar, so he'd have something to warm him on his lonesome way home.

He thinks about that look Price had on his face the other day when he finally told him about this mysterious woman for the first time. As though he couldn't wait to talk about her again, given the opportunity.

"I just think it would be good for him."

Kate's expression softens at the Sergeant's words. Understanding that want he held to be there for Price. She's been there herself, many times before. And it makes her wonder.

She’s moved passed her matchmaking days, having tried to find Price a good match since she’s known him. Gaz’s determination to take up the mantle had been admirable to see, however.

The woman sighs, having finally been broken down by Kyle's stubbornness to not drop the subject.

“Look, I can help,” she says. “But if this backfires, I’m leaving damage control to you.”

Gaz practically jumps in his seat.

“Deal!”

Chapter Three Here!

I wanted this to be both character and plot development, so I can set up where this story is going.

The next chapter jumps back to 10 years ago, maybe a day or so after the last chapter. Price and Reader are going to have yet another cute encounter. It will be much longer than this chapter, hopefully. Stay Tuned!

~Also, I'm quoting a poem from Charlotte Erikkson - You're Doing Just Fine. I was gonna credit them at the end of the series, but I just wanted you to know so it didn't look like I was stealing their quotes!

@embers-of-alluring @quincessimus @urfavsunkissedleo @lacunaanonymoused @deadbranch @poohkie90 @glitterypirateduck @homicidal-slvt @random-thot-generator

If you don't wanna be tagged, please let me know! And on the flip, if you do want to be tagged for the next chapter, also please let me know! I feel super awkward tagging people unless they explicitly state it (I don't like to impose, I just wanted to tag people I thought were interested in the next chapter 😭)

dividers from animatedglittergraphics-n-more

[nebbyy]

Hello! I simply adore your writing!! It’s so sweet and the way you write about love is so captivating and beautiful! If you are able to take requests, I would like to make one! Please do not feel pressured to take it if you are busy, take care of yourself first and foremost!

This may be a slightly longer ask, so I do apologise for that! I’ve recently fallen into the Kingdom of Heaven rabbit hole and I do not see a way out, and this is purely going to be a self-indulgent ask based on a rather strange medieval themed dream I had.

Once again, please do not feel pressured to take this request! If you just want to enjoy reading this snippet of an idea, please do so! And I hope your day has been wonderful!

☀️ Strange dream anon

-

The newlywed wife of Baldwin, who is rather quiet and shy at first, the daughter of a lord or a king from a distant country (completely up to you on this one! It wasn’t clear in my dream), who has been taught how to wield a sword and is quite proficient with a weapon in hand after her father realised he would not be able to protect her his entire life, and defence against a weapon is a skill that she would need in a land foreign from her own.

It is a mere handful of months after the marriage that Baldwin has to leave the castle for a matter regarding politics that would take at least three weeks, if not more due to travel. While he is away, the new queen is left without a large number of the knights, who have gone with their king and thus, the palace is very still and quiet. There are of course enough men about that she would be safe, but it is still has a starkly different aura to when it is filled with people.

It is during this time that a group of assassins sneak into the castle at the dead of night, their intent is to murder the queen and her guards to leave a message for Baldwin that no matter how hard he tries, he would never be capable of defending his people (especially those closest to him). A tactic, to weaken him and make certain his enemies and subjects know he is a weak king.

They do not expect however, that the queen whom they’re attempting to kill can wield a sword in each hand and has been prepared to fight to the death from the moment a sword was placed into her hands years ago.

(In my dream I saw the queen silently running through the hallways knocking out the assassins, hiding in the shadows to strike, climbing out a window to get to a higher level of the castle, it was both awesome and rather funny). She gets the rest of the guards to help her, and together they manage to subdue most of the attackers.

Baldwin returns home the next day, exhausted and drained from the travel and stress, he simply wants to spend some time with his wife to forget about the world around him for just a moment, yet when he enters through the gates one of the guards informs him of the attempted assassination on the queen.

Imagine the surprise he felt when enters the castle to see half of the assassins knocked out, and the other half gagged and tied up, ready to be questioned.

And his wife? The worst of her injuries is a bloodied nose that stopped bleeding hours before he had arrived.

-

I’m not certain how to end it, my dream unfortunately stopped here, however I imagine there would probably be a rather sweet ending, Baldwin fretting over his wife after learning from the guards what she did, and his wife becoming more open with him, a much more relaxed and bubbly version of her coming out of her shell.

Thank you for reading!!

Hi anon, thank you so much for sharing your story! I myself find a lot of inspiration in my own dreams, so I'm glad to hear I'm not the only one lol.

As of now, I've been taking a break from writing, but your story is so interesting!! I might just save it up in my drafts for when I start writing again.

I honestly looove the idea of a strong and independent Queen to rule beside Baldwin, he just seems like the type of man to appreciate having such a woman by his side.

Also, thank you so much for your sweet words, it really means a lot more than you can imagine to hear them (or better read them)🫶🫶

Feel more than welcome to share other ideas in the future, I'll be more than happy to read them and eventually save them up in my drafts for the future!!