#this scene makes me want to scream for a thousand years

[okaydyke]

Halt and Catch Fire: The 214s

[usedpidemo]

Getting closer (Kang Hyewon)

“All I’m saying is—” Hyewon looks away, drink in hand, taking a little sip, calm and alluring as ever, “if you only want to see me naked, then you could have just said so.”

You widely stare back, silent, indifferent—or at least pretend to be. It’s gotten you a fair amount of awards, after all. It’s not the slightest bit of convincing whatsoever.  

She laughs, softly, as if this was the expected outcome. “So I’m taking that as an admission.” 

Setting down the near-empty wine glass on the bathroom sink, Hyewon attempts to walk away, only to be stopped by a sudden pull. Your hand appears tightly wrapped around her dainty wrist, unwilling to let go. Your eyes aimlessly wander up and down the empty void that is her black dress. There are hardly any thoughts behind that predictably empty head of yours, only the simplest of desires.

You catch the subtlest grin forming on her saccharine lips. You fucking hate how she makes you feel. How she makes your heart race with every exchange.

Despite all the time you’ve spent together, you wish you got to know her better.

—————

The last year and a half of your career has mostly centered around one thing, or in this case, one person: Kang Hyewon. There’s also this drama starring your pairing as co-leads, and you’ve been promoting together, but your names make up more of the headlines than the very show. Your names are synonymously tied together akin to an actual couple.

Unsurprisingly, Hyewon is damn gorgeous. It’s how she’s getting the calls to begin with. Another one of those former singers turned actors looking to be taken seriously within the larger entertainment industry. Most never make it past their first project and fall back on their old careers, with some completely flaming out of the spotlight altogether. She’s an exception. A minor part here, a supporting cameo there—until she’s more than pleasant eye candy. A starlet who knows how to pick what roles would showcase her talents the most. 

She’s the perfect blend of beauty goddess and hotshot young star that the internet can get behind.

So it comes as a surprise when she’s casted as second fiddle to you, the first billing—and everyone comes away talking about her more. The scene stealer. 

(This plucky rival agent, investigating a case your character has been trailing for years, barely scraping by with the thinnest of clues, only for her to uncover the mystery only days after starting the investigation. The writing screams Mary Sue, but she acts convincing and vulnerable enough to escape the scathing think pieces that’s commonly associated with such characters. Not to mention: you both look damn good together on screen and during your public appearances.

It’s a team that sailed a thousand ships—both for your characters and in the real world.)

The consummate professional you are, you don’t think much of it. Your filming experience can only be described as businesslike. Except for the scenes where you’re together on screen, you’ve been separated at arms’ length, only exchanging words between takes to keep any further relationship from developing. It’s only during the press tour where you’ve finally gotten somewhat close.

Perhaps a little too close for comfort. Enough to make video compilations by overzealous fans who think you and Hyewon are really an item. The evidence is everywhere—in interviews, behind the scenes content, and on both your Instagram pages. At least, that’s what they want to believe. Everyone else brushes it off as two hot people being hot together, and not much else.

Here’s the thing: you love Hyewon—that much is true. The question now is: does she love you back?

Thankfully, your duo doesn’t get in the way of the show being lauded, despite making up a majority of its fandom. Positive reviews from both critics and viewers, especially in regards to your chemistry. The connection between you two is one in a million, something that can’t be built over years and years of working together. It also helps your performances sell the dynamic incredibly well—well enough to create those delusional shippers that form the bedrock of your partnership. 

Your names were positioned to go far during awards season. Not the consensus top pick, but as dark horse contenders to steal one every now and then. And while you both won your fair share of accolades, neither of you ended up walking away with the top prize. The conversation during the final ceremony of the year consisted primarily of the media and viewers talking about how your appearances together these last few months—and how you’re a match made in heaven. 

Everyone’s gonna miss this pairing—and so will you.

Now you’re back at square one. Having snuck away from the afterparty currently celebrating the dozen or so awards your show won earlier tonight, you’ve brought Hyewon back to your hotel room. Neither of you cared once you both lost your respective categories. The pundits thought you each only had the slimmest of odds to win, so why bother. Hell, you were both itching to leave as soon as the red carpet concluded. 

It’s all behind you now. You’re finally free from the glitz, glamor, and chaos of these vanity ceremonies and can really focus on what really matters—the pretty girl that you most likely won’t be seeing starring tomorrow. Your careers and interests couldn’t be any further apart: your main focus is movies, while hers are dramas. Both of you remain booked and busy for the next few years with different projects, with not a single one reuniting you two for the foreseeable future.

Back to Hyewon. She’s looking down at her wrist, tightly held by your hand. She allows it. You can feel her pulse. You sense that your hearts are racing in unison, tense and anxious.

“Are you gonna do something?” she questions, daring you to pull the trigger. She knows something you don’t—or maybe you do. You’re blinded by fear to realize it. “The night is fleeting. If not now, then when?”

Her words ring through your head. 

If not now, then when?

The same five words, ordered in the exact same way—etched in tiny letters on her skin.

You still remember everything—frame by frame, down to the last details. On screen, it’s implied. In your mind, it canonically happened. She took her shirt off, exposing herself and the scars of battle, and you were gonna go there. In your characters’ supposed words, ‘Clean’’ in your own unique way.

It was ultimately never shot. Bare minimum of fanservice and completely unnecessary, the director said. 

The tattoo sticks out, not only because of how it's deeply embedded on her otherwise pristine, lithe figure, but also because it represents the last 18 months of your career.

During this period, there are a lot of things that you’ve regret—and will regret. The fact you’ve kept contact with her during filming at a minimum, keeping your interactions strictly between takes and creating a negative air around you in her eyes. The fact it took you so long to exchange numbers, only getting it done during the press tour. The fact that you never return her messages when she constantly reaches out to you, whether through text or on your Instagram. The fact you haven’t thanked her enough times during your acceptance speeches, even when you mention her name in almost every other sentence. If there’s anything you want to admit, it’s that Hyewon is everything.

Most importantly, the fact that you fucking love her, to the point where you’d yearn moments when you’re not beside her—and you still lack the will to confess to her. Even right now. When she’s right at your fingertips.

Perhaps she knows this. The signs were there all along. How she often posts your red carpet photos together and tags you in them. How she also mentions you as much during her acceptance speeches and credits you as a reason for her improvements in acting, even referencing specific advice you’ve given her. The biggest hint, however, are the dresses she’s been wearing to these galas, most evident being tonight. Simple all black, tailor made for her frame, showing off her assets for flaunting to the cameras. 

Earlier, she led you to an empty part of the theater to say something in private. “I wore this just for you,” she said—and from that point, you had to get her alone, whatever it takes.

Really, Hyewon has no intention to leave tonight. She’s just waiting for those magic words. There’s no other logical reason for her to be here, other than for you.

She might as well be holding up a huge signpost with all her requests written in capital letters. 

“If you’re not gonna do anything,” she says, tone casual, slipping one strap of her dress down her shoulder, the one half of the fabric dropping a fair amount. “Then I might as well do it myself. I was hoping you’d take this off me—”

“Stop.” 

You grab her other hand, close to touching the other strap, the dress more than ready to fall down. She raises her eyebrows in amusement. Afterward, she puts the seized hand down, convincing you to release the grip. 

Another win for Hyewon. You’ve lost count as to how many times she’s been messing with you throughout awards season. Probably in the hundreds. Thousands if you count the interviews and little jabs during her speeches. Every mention of your name is an immediate sign of trouble. You can sense she’s enjoying every single moment, relishing the remaining time you have left. Meanwhile, it’s clear on your face that you’re stressed. 

But for what?

“If it hasn’t gotten through your thick skull, then I have no choice but to explain it.” Hyewon climbs atop the bathroom sink, strong enough to lift herself off the ground. She pours the glass with new wine; it’s not meant for you. Her attitude flips instantaneously like a switch, composed and readying herself as if it were another photoshoot. 

Taking a sip of the drink, she pours the rest all over her dress. It serves no purpose anymore. it’s undeniable that she knows what she’s doing. That elegant yet cocky smile is permanently seared into your brain. Someone this haughty shouldn’t be this beautiful and seductive. “You can stand there and waste the night away, or you can do something about it. All up to you.”

You can only sigh. Whether out of wistfulness or annoyance is up for interpretation. You can add taking her back to your hotel room and taking this role in your ever growing list of regrets. When it’s all said and done, it’ll definitely be as long as the career documentary they’ll make about you in 50 years.

What more do you have to lose? 

This will all be behind you soon enough.

You finally stop giving her the cold shoulder. “God, I really wish you weren’t such a tease,” you remark, pulling on the dress strap she previously slid down. “Because otherwise, it would have been so much easier.”

Hyewon seems to have taken your words seriously, because she suddenly kisses you—as in, relentlessly smothers you. Her arms wrap around your neck, slowly pulling you close into an embrace. She smells of alcohol and perfume. An unusual concoction that you can drown yourself in.

“Only if you say the magic word,” she says, gently laughing between kisses. The lower half of your face is full of pale lipstick marks. It was foolish to think she had turned a new leaf, knowing how intentional Hyewon can be with everything.

You’ve really got no other choice.

“I love you,” you confess, but in the smallest audible voice imaginable—hiding that reluctance behind your tone. 

Hyewon pulls herself back, smiling toothily at you, borderline snorting. Her expressions convey the idea that you told her a joke, which it may as well be. 

“That’s it? Doesn’t sound like someone who loves me,” she remarks, tone evidently disparaging.

“Fuck me.” The groan comes out instinctively, as if this wasn’t your first time getting burned like this. Your head is raised to the ceiling, asking the gods for an out.

“That’s my line,” she spouts, her response almost as instantaneous. Wit comes naturally to Hyewon. The countless viewers and interviewers who’ve laughed can speak on her behalf.

“You’re gonna turn everything I say into a joke, are you?” you ask, knowing you’ve willingly fallen for the easiest bait in the entire world.

“You’re gonna turn everything I say into a joke, are you?” she repeats, mockingly imitating your voice, much to your utter chagrin. This isn’t part of some romcom or a sketch. This is real. Everything comes back around to Hyewon. She laughs—basks in your suffering.

It’s the kind of trait that would leave you second guessing whether you really love her or not. As it turns out, the public loves celebrities with a playful sense of humor. Not even you are innocent—you’ve been caught red-handed on camera a few times. Hyewon doesn’t need to reaffirm herself.

But she would love to hear it straight from the source.

“Say it. Say it.” Hyewon is urging you—demanding you—as if it were a matter of life or death. Her hands are everywhere, gripping you by the cheek and the throat like her prized possessions, threatening to choke the life out of you. 

Truthfully, this was coming the moment she stepped through those doors for the first table read. Hyewon’s gravity is inescapable.

“Love you—Hyem, please—” 

Struggling to push back against her hold, you can tell that she’s taking pleasure in every moment she has you like this: wrapped around her finger, so whipped over her that it’s alarming. There’s little use in trying to be coy or subtle. If she wanted you to go down to the afterparty in nothing but your boxers, you’d fold in a heartbeat. She’s the kind of girl you’d happily end up in a scandal with, someone you’d throw your career away in exchange for one timeless night, against the advice of everyone who knows better.

She knows this too. Look at the coy grin spreading on her face. A smile perfect for the front cover of any magazine or commercial. It’s the perfect facade for the attitude hiding beneath.

“I love you Hyem,” you repeat, showing a bit more desperation and sincerity this time. You’re breathing against her neck, the idea of pressing your lips against her skin a dire need. It’s unfortunate you can’t make it look like an accident—as is the idea of your bodies sinking down on the bathroom countertop. “For the longest time, I wanted you, but—”

Only now do you come to the simplest realization: there are no accidents.

Normally, you should feel some shame for being this oblivious. How a girl like Hyewon is giving out all these hints, to the point where she might as well be spreading her legs wide and pointing down at her cunt with a colorful sign. Hell, a thigh is peeking through her dress, pressing on your leg right now. If there’s one thing you’ve learned about working with other actors, it’s that chemistry comes naturally—it can’t be taught.

And your bodies are doing exactly that. The friction between you can’t be any more tense.

“Then show me.” She sighs against your ear, pulling on the topmost button of your suit, pushing down the matching coat. Her leg extends around your limb, goading you to pull away, even though leaving the pretty sight right in front of you is the last thing on your mind. 

You can only breathe. Slow. Hesitant. There's not a lot of hours left, and you’re wasting more by taking your sweet time—resting your gaze on her pale shoulder, admiring all the little details. In essence, you’re doing the complete opposite of what Hyewon wants. She’s showing a little frustration, proving how much better of an actress she is than you. Imagine being in her shoes, beckoning to someone astronomically unaware for months. So much energy and effort could have been saved if she chose to leave you out to dry. If you weren’t so preoccupied with thoughts of her, the many ways this little scene can go, you’d be wondering why she’s this persistent. 

Maybe you’re just as important of a character in her story too, or you’re both stubborn in your own ways. Perhaps both.

None of that is your concern right now. You’re cupping Hyewon’s face, kissing her, nibbling down on her creamy skin, reaching up to her lips by the way of her neck, pulling on the strap of her dress little by little. In response, she’s whispering sweet nothings into your ear, removing your dress shirt one button at a time. It feels like you’re going through the motions, acting under the words of an intimacy coordinator and a director. Slowly but surely, it’s all coming together, until—

“Stop.” 

You pull back, noticing your shirt is nearly undone as you look past her and at the mirror. Both dress straps are halfway down her arms, the fabric a mess, waiting to be swept away. 

You raise an eyebrow, puzzled. “What’s up?” 

Hyewon tilts her head at an angle, unsatisfied. She’s staring at you intently, taking a moment to analyze you like you’re a problem to solve—which you are—before coming to a rather alarming conclusion. “You don’t seem like you want me that bad.”

The remark doesn’t register in your brain. “What do you mean—”

She yanks you forward for a deep kiss, cutting you off. Reciprocating her passion comes naturally—and so does everything else. The movement of your hands, taking lease of her back, tearing through the fabric of her dress, coming back to her cheeks, until you stop feeling cloth and register more flesh. Feeling her skin becomes your new addiction, something you can’t get enough of. 

Watching her other movies—for research purposes—you knew she was well endowed, even when they were not on full display.  Some of her previous gala dresses truly put a spotlight on her cleavage. Part of you thought it was editing trickery, a perfectly taken photo at the right time, or a bra doing the heavy lifting. All three even. But holding them now, with nothing in between, you simply couldn’t believe how well they’ve been hidden from you. 

Her tits fold, go flush, and her nipples stiffen at your touch. They feel so right—as if they were handmade for you.

“God, Hyem—” you breathe out, savoring the sensation of her mounds in your clasp, unwilling to let go. Her taut nipples jerk with every run of your palms. If only you could rest your head between them, but your current position won’t allow you. 

“They feel so good right?” Hyewon moans in response, shedding your unbuttoned shirt off your body and tossing it to the floor, taking lease of your muscles and back. Her dress bunches up around her waist, practically collapsing when she decides to get up from the sink. Although an expected outcome, you’re both surprised that you’ve managed to get each other’s clothes off.

And you’re only getting started.

Pushing you away, Hyewon meets you at your level. Gravity does the rest. She stands before you in nothing but heels. What a mental image to remember her after tonight. She leaves you frozen and trembling, jaw agape, your eyes in a daze, unable to find a place to settle your fleeting gaze on—until she rests her hands around your shoulders. You’re caught up in your own disbelief to meet her lovely gaze and that rather sweet smile, quite the difference from her bare state.

She lifts up a leg, pushing herself onto you for another passionate kiss. Taking advantage, her legs eventually wrap around your waist, bearing all her weight on your grasp. Despite her surprise attack, she’s feathery enough to carry around. It certainly helps that she’s not the heaviest girl you’ve lifted before; you have some experience—mostly unpleasant and usually backbreaking. Still, you’ll treat her like some delicate object that crumbles at the slightest touch. Something—or someone—you can’t ruin, or else you’d be ruined too.

You both end up in the living room, deeply engrossed in a fiery passion that’s too hot for cameras. Lifting her high, your lips find their way to her chest, pressing them in the place where they rightfully belong. Hyewon is stubborn, pushing your head further up to meet your lips in a direct, frantic kiss. Back and forth, you take turns between her tits and her lips, unintentionally slamming her against a wall, eliciting a few yelps out of her. 

It doesn’t bother you both in the slightest. You hold her there, kissing down her abdomen and ribs, coming to the tiny inked part of her figure. The same tattoo that’s been ingrained in your head since you first saw them.

You mutter the very words against her skin. 

“If not now, then when.”

They’ve never been so relevant till right now. You softly kiss the ink, silently thanking her for saving you from a lifetime’s worth of regret.

Hyewon winces, throws her head back, moans up to the ceiling. Her nails brush through your hair, then claw at your nape as you remain fixated on her tattooed rib. She deserves to be adored and worshiped.

“Look at me babe,” she murmurs, gently tilting you up, faint at your touch. Against your desires, you follow. “Put me down. You know why I’m here.”

You oblige without a second thought—and you’re both on a level playing field again.

Still, you can’t help but kiss her right after. She reciprocates the favor. You’re a perfect match. Even as you’re making out, you’re thinking of ways to get messy and get the jump on her while she’s preoccupied. 

It ends up being your biggest mistake.

Both of you wrestle for control over the other, a scuffle that ends up knocking down a few appliances and tableware. The sound of glass shattering rips through the hotel room floor louder than your collective moans ever will. For someone with a lithe figure, Hyewon proves to be much stronger than you were led to believe. It shows when you try to push her onto another table; you both end up crashing to the floor seconds later. 

From there, it’s whoever is the first to get up, and you knew it was all over from there.

Hyewon leads you into the sole bedroom, shoving you onto the mattress. Unrelenting, she slams onto you right after, pinning you down with her bare hands. Surprising her with your own strength, you reach for her raven locks through her ironclad grip of your wrists. Your lips continue to crash like waves against rocks, neither of you willing to back down. There’s a clear disparity between you: she wants you more.

To further prove her point, she presses her palms down on your chest, sitting over you upright, straddled on your lap. She’s never looked better.

Making quick work of your trousers, your cock is freed from its confines, only to be immediately caught up in Hyewon’s hand. Her grip spreads through your groin, turning breathing into an absolute nightmare. The one fear that’s been haunting your mind these last few months, finally realized. 

And it’s staring you down with an innocent yet wicked smile.

“You have no idea how long I wanted this,” she remarks, her sultry voice sending shivers down your spine. Arching down, she presses her tongue forward on your throbbing tip. Combined with the pressure she’s building with her hand, holes puncture through your lungs. And right on command, you’re leaking. She’s lapping your cock in circles, slow and agonizing, taking every little drop of precum seeping. You can only tremble beneath her, utterly defenseless. “Remembering when I was tapping your foot with my heel earlier tonight?”

She leaves you in such a dizzying spiral that you can’t even look directly at her, let alone formulate a reply. Meanwhile, her eyes remain fixed on you, doe-eyed with innocence, yet her actions are cruel. Breathing proves to be a struggle, let alone returning with a response. “What about it?”

“I wanted you to follow me to the bathroom. And I wanted you to fuck me in there.”

Honest to God, that was not the first thought on your mind. If anything, the presence of many proved to be the ideal shield in keeping yourself away from Hyewon. Losing best actor was the greatest blessing in disguise, as it meant you didn’t have to look straight into her magnetic eyes during your theoretical speech and make an embarrassment of yourself in front of hundreds in attendance, and millions watching on television. 

Now that you’re in bed with no way to escape, you can only accept your fate.

“I’m not the best at reading the room,” you comment, sheepishly shaking your head.

“Not surprising, honestly,” she says, rewarding your candor with a kiss—on your tip. Then another. More heartwarming than arousing, if anything. “Anyone ever told you that you’re kind of a dork?”

“Not the first time I’ve heard it from a girl,” you say, in an attempt to show some wit, only to be met with a stiff grip on your cock. “Ah—fuck—”

A bit more force and Hyewon could break you in half with her mere hand alone. She’s cold, calculating, and cruel. Her expression seems apathetic, yet deep down, you can tell she’s having so much fun toying and teasing you, stealing what little semblance of willpower you have. And to think she’s this demure, sometimes funny celebrity with a certain image that’s universally admired by many. 

Behind that gaze, she’s thinking of more ways to further ruin you.

“I don’t think a dork like you has been with other girls,” she remarks, leaning forward to tease a kiss, only to leave you dry. “But looking at this cock—”

She stops to admire your shaft once more. Ultimately, she can’t help herself. She has to give your tip another ceremonious flick with her parched tongue in appreciation. Two, actually. If she doesn’t stop, you’ll soon be deep in her throat, and you know she’s not letting you go. Thankfully, she finally regains sight of what she wants in the first place.

Lifting herself ever so slightly, Hyewon takes a deep breath—then slowly melts into you. 

It’s a car crash you can’t look away from. It’s inevitable, but you’re completely powerless to stop her. You can only groan in agony as your bodies intertwine, creating a union that only she can break. Inch by inch, you helplessly watch as Hyewon slowly takes you into her suffocating heat. The sensation is unlike anything you’ve ever felt before: vicious, intense, and painful. 

It doesn’t help that she’s taking her sweet time, keeping you on edge for what may as well be an eternity, bracing for the certain explosion she’s going to leave in her wake. 

“Oh—fuck—it’s so perfect,” Hyewon throws her head back, her jaw dropping slow, every word delivered in a near-inaudible sigh. Eventually, she buries herself in you deep to the hilt—and she keens. “That—that’s it—that’s the fucking spot—”

Your hands cling to her waist, your maw similarly agape, breathing tensely as the pleasure slowly courses through your muscles. “God—you’re fucking tight—”

She hums in return, satisfied by your response, before losing herself in the sensation of your cock impaling her—and she begins to move.

As you fight the urge to cum right then and there, Hyewon slowly lifts herself off your lap, your cock reappearing with a fresh coat of her drenched pussy, before sinking back down. She rips the breath right from your lungs, while you’re forced to shut your eyes. Anything to keep your brain firing as the pleasure rushing throughout your body sends you into overdrive. 

You’re an outlet of ecstasy, a conduit for her to loosen all her pent-up frustration and lust. Her palms grip to your thighs, keeping you in place—as if you’re in any condition to move anywhere except for her whim. She’s crashing into you at a punishing pace as a result of keeping yourself away for so long. And she’s being open about it too: “Why did it take us so long—ugh—”

You can only moan back. Truthfully, you’re wondering the same thing too. 

As your eyes alternate between wide open and completely shut, you catch glimpses of Hyewon using every inch of you to fill her wanton pussy with cock. When she’s not cursing or screaming your name, her moans fill your ears with sweet, sultry music. It’s a sound not of her high class image. She’s riding you like it’s life or death, like her heart will stop beating if her cunt isn’t being stretched out.

With every bounce, so do her breasts. Up and down, settling into a rhythm, forming a hypnotic motion that your eyes get lost in. Your obsession reaches a point to where the movement of her tits stirs you on, reigniting your tired muscles. You can’t lie there and be a helpless viewer any longer.

And so, you meet Hyewon halfway, matching the grind of her hips with your thrust at the apex, setting her alight. This particular stroke. The hot sensation. It utterly shatters her. Her voice cracks. She trembles violently, giving you breathing room to sit upward and lean close to her chest. 

So while she staggers back, overwhelmed by your cock spearing her cunt, you go down on her succulent breasts, squishing your face between them. Despite having Hyewon’s body all to yourself, the friction between your bodies creates this wracking storm that drives you insane. It isn’t enough that you’re feasting on her tits, that her boobs are bouncing so hard it’s downright pornographic, and that she’s screaming her heart out in response to each stroke. This will be headline news tomorrow. Yet, none of that is your concern. You have to pour everything into her. It’s now or never.

“Fuck yes—oh fuck—fucking take me—fuck—” Hyewon’s riding your cock, forcing all the air out your lungs, rendering you speechless. Doesn’t matter, you’re drowning in her slick and her tits, pounding away with twice the effort. She’s swearing through her tongue like she’s a cop in a crime picture, biting down on her lip in a flimsy attempt to restrain herself, but anyone with a good ear nearby could have easily identified her voice through the four walls of this hotel room. Knowing her, it’s intentional. She’s determined to put you through a world of trouble, leaving you with no other choice but to shut her up.

And you’re going to do just that.

You end up yanking her by the waist as your bodies repeatedly collide with each other. Each impact the equivalent of a cosmic explosion, the aftermath echoing through the room. The sound of skin slapping skin fills your ears louder than what it seems in the movies. Sex with Hyewon is much, much better than in your fantasies. Here’s another thing that can’t be found on camera: her soft pleas begging you to keep going, interlaced between harsh whines and airy moans that can’t be faked.

“God, I’m gonna fucking cum, Hyewon.” There you go, your silly side showing at such a serious moment. Everyone knows you don’t proclaim your impending climax. Rookie mistake. You’re not shooting a porno, but you might as well be with how hard you’re fucking her. She can’t help but cackle even as you relentlessly pound into her cunt. What should be a moment of weakness immediately gets brushed aside as you hold her when she slams down, and you finally fall apart.

Impaling your cock hilt deep inside Hyewon, you’re digging your palms deep into her soft flesh, unwilling to let go. She rests her head beside yours as you blast her with thick, warm cum. Her prolonged, saccharine-sounding moan is nothing compared to the loaded groan that ripples through the room. The supplication she makes, demanding you to fill her with every little drop goes through deaf ears. Your dick seems to have heard it loud and clear, though. The amount you’re filling her is enough to rip through her body violently too. She follows with her own peak afterwards, hitting a previously unheard octave higher, your bodies finally melting into one. 

Just like that, she’s clinging to you like you’re her personal life support, completely drained of all her strength. 

The ecstasy lasts for a brief moment. The fall off happens too soon for your liking. Like her, you’re sapped of energy and you fall down to earth with Hyewon in your arms. The end comes—not with grandiose drama or spectacle, but by a calm, uneventful stir.

You should be done at this point. It’s been a long day. You’ve been up as early as sunrise, spent hours behind makeup and measuring tape for a suit you won’t wear more than once. Smiling comes natural, if not downright fake; in front of the cameras, on the red carpet, on screen, and even during the afterparties. Every time you step out in public, there’s an image, a reputation to uphold. You’ve done this a dozen times in the past few months alone, bearing a lifetime’s worth of and it never gets more comfortable or easier. It’s a miracle you haven’t cracked or had a public breakdown, even though your mind is calling for it.

And yet, all that labor and agony is worth it for what you have now. The awards, the recognition, the adoration—but most especially the girl. What are you now, taken out of a story. One that feels all too familiar and done to death, but it never grows old or tired. 

By all accounts, it should be a happy ending. 

Except you’re not done. You’re not satisfied, and so is Hyewon. Even though she’s settling down in your embrace, resting her head against your heartbeats, mumbling these sweet nothings about how much you’ve ruined her and fucked her to shreds, she’s quietly begging for more. It isn’t about keeping a sanctimonious image anymore; it’s about how far you’ll push her and use her. Your throbbing cock buried inside her cunt says it too.

If there’s anything you’ve learned about acting, it’s that one take isn’t enough.

Like a damsel in distress, you scoop Hyewon into your arms. Through what you might consider a second wind, you carry her into the bathroom again on wobbly legs, stepping into the shower, showing that you’re ready to take your relationship a step further. You’ll hash out the details in the morning—if she hasn’t left by then.

The sound of running water serves as background for the airy, lewd noises that quickly fill the shower. 

Hyewon feels incredibly soft to touch. Pliable in your grasp, like a doll to bend, twist, and use at your whim. You’re squeezing her flesh, fondling her mounds tightly till you’re seeing red everywhere. Her tits, her shapely ass, and everything in between. Kissing down her body, giving every little part its much needed attention. You’ve fucked her to pieces, yes, but she’s still housing a divine figure that deserves the same level of praise. 

With two fingers stroking at her cunt, she’s keening, her head tilted up to meet the relentless downpour rushing down over your bodies. Her voice is in tatters after an hour of tireless screaming, in addition to all the mindless chatter from earlier tonight. Part of you wishes to have taken up her offer. Something this good shouldn’t be kept secret, but you’re more than selfish enough to keep Hyewon all to yourself. 

Your raging impulse gets the better of you, and you slap her tits from behind. She yelps a cry of pain and pleasure. The recoil and sound activates something in your brain like a sleeper agent. You do it a second time, then a third. You stop counting after, indulging yourself in the satisfying noise of her mounds smacked over and over, every squeal, every strike equally as gratifying as your cock slamming into her pussy. She’s clinging to the walls as a respite, her body shuddering vigorously, but you don’t give her a moment to breathe. It’s what she would have wanted: to be used and taken like a ragdoll.

Hyewon screams again when you swing her around, lifting one leg around your waist, and slam your cock inside her. No pleasantries, no talking through the process—only a desire to fuck. Burying your face against her neck, growling into her skin like a ravenous beast, you hammer away without care for neither your comfort nor hers. You’re counting the hours, minutes, seconds before she disappears from your life, and you’re gonna make sure that years from now, she remembers this night in particular.

You’re too engrossed to see her expressions twist in impossible ways that average humans can make. But that’s the point: Hyewon is no ordinary person. She’s one actress, something that can be found in others who are more talented and have more resounding qualities, but more than that, to you, she’s everything. The clench of her cunt on your cock continues to invigorate you and push you further. With every thrust, she jumps and sends aftershocks coursing through your veins. God, you love how incredibly well she fucking takes it, and the slightest tilt of her lips struggling to form a grin reinforce this. You’ve got nothing else to say, really; you easily lose yourself in your own lust, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

It doesn’t take too long before you feel it again. The end. It’s approaching faster than you can react. You knew it wasn’t going to be a drawn out affair, but you’re so desperate to reach that high, no matter how brief it may be. It was too good to pass up, and you’re beyond waiting a second more.

You’d give everything up for even a single minute longer, but the period of bargaining has long passed you by.

“Gonna cum again—fuck—” is all you can muster, your first words after a long while. Her pussy feels so good to form coherent words. Lust has utterly consumed your brain more than anything. The entire time, Hyewon’s mewling, keening in every direction, trying to find purchase on the walls or the shower door, only to fall a few inches short. She ends up coming back to you, hanging on for dear life. You’ve never let up, terrified that she’ll magically disappear into nothing at any second. 

Acting fast, as if you’ve got a ticking bomb in hand, you draw your cock out, coated in a thick sheen of your own cum and hers, pumping yourself with a few strokes of your hand until you finally explode. The shower washes down the milky white blot you’re unloading on her skin, never leaving a permanent mark. It does, however, bring you back to the place that began your undoing.

The tattoo on her rib. 

Water wipes the cum blocking the view. Despite those same five words occupying your mind for the last few hours, it still hits like a fresh revelation. You hear her voice repeating them inside your head as you come to your senses, your lust being satiated—for now. Even when Hyewon is completely broken before you, reduced to a quiet pile of flesh. One hand on the surrounding wall, the other in limbo, her leg still coiled around your waist, forcing oxygen into her tired lungs wherever she can. 

With the ‘quick’ shower done, and after hardly any cleaning was made, you carry her back to the bedroom. 

You don’t even make it past the living room before your legs finally give up. You end up crashing onto the floor together before you both finally call it a night.

—————

“This is your fault you know,” says Hyewon, drawing circles on your chest, over your calm heartbeats. “I’m supposed to be in London tomorrow for my table read. And yet I’m still here. My flight was five hours ago by the way.”

It’s already high noon when you finally regain consciousness, your head still spinning despite not taking more than one alcoholic drink the night before. Hyewon’s doing marginally better, having woken up 30 minutes earlier. No wonder it feels so hot; her body is snuggled up on you, your limbs tangled. Despite the urgency she’s speaking about, she doesn’t seem to be interested in moving any time soon.

At least you’re awake and sensible enough to fire back. “Who’s fault is that? I wasn’t the one inviting you to come over and have you fucked senseless.”

She chuckles into your skin, little ripples forming where her lips are gently pressed. “And I wasn’t the one who spent the last 18 months saying we’re just friends.”

You’re already lying flat on the floor, but the rebuttal only makes you want to get up only to fall back down. So you settle with an expressive sigh. 

Hyewon laughs. It’s what won over millions, including you. You’re taken back to that fateful day you first met. Right then and there, you knew there’d be no one else like her. If given an opportunity to go back and change a few things here and there or, you’d do it over again, mistakes included. Last night was worth all the waiting and teasing. 

“So—about that show,” you lean up, pushing her closer to your face, “What was it again? Something about you being a nymphomaniac? Delete what?”

“You mean Delete This? Let’s not.” 

Mention of the premise alone is enough to set her gummy cheeks on fire. For someone whose career has been built up on mostly more general audience friendly programming, leading a sexual soap opera is quite the jump.  

She buries her head on your neck, embarrassed, feeling guilty. “Yeah. I mean, last night was—different, you know? I’ve shown my tits and body already, but I’ve never had sex—on screen before.”

You should have known. She needed a reason to get in your pants without your working relationship only centering around your bodies. And those were clearly stand-ins based on how her face is never shown during her older scenes.

“Jesus, Hyem. If you wanted to have sex, you could have asked anytime. You have no idea how annoyed I was when they scrapped our scene last minute. It was only you taking off your shirt too.”

“On the bright side, we didn’t have an intimacy director getting in the way, right?”

She does have a point. Still, your personal cold war didn’t need to last 18 months before either of you would make the first move.

But with all that tension a thing of the past, the chains are unfettered. Now both of you have the ability to take this little secret in any direction you desire. You could simply be a workplace couple; it’s been the story of your year so far. Or you could take things a step further. The possibilities are truly endless.

Hyewon’s cheeky grin slowly reforms, her hand snaking up to cup your cheek. “Shame we only had one night. I could spend the rest of the day here, but—” she huffs, “I’m running late. Too bad I won’t get to have this cock for a long, long time.”

You lift an amused eyebrow, barely able to keep your new cockiness from showing. “Will you, though?”

She’s taken completely by surprise. “What do you mean?”

“Check your phone.”

After rising to her feet, Hyewon walks over to the console table where her purse is set. Fishing her phone from the handbag, she scrolls through the apps, her attention di–vided between the screen and you on the floor, finally getting up as well. 

Her stare then lingers on the phone, as if whatever headline of the day has caught her attention. 

Next thing you know, she’s grabbing you by the chest, dragging you back to the bedroom before shoving you back onto the mattress—right where you belong. Pinning you down and dead to rights, Hyewon mounts herself on your lap, your cock pressed against her aching core, ready to receive a fresh beating.

Some jokes can go a little too far.

“You fucking asshole. You mean that—”

“Yep.”

“And it’s not—”

“It’s not.”

You can feel her hips slowly grinding against yours. You’re gonna love—and hate—the next 18 months with Hyewon.

“I’m going to kill you. And I mean: kill you.”

“No better way to go out.”

—————

(A/N: Thank you for the commission! That Hyewon dress is so ripe for material, and I had to incorporate her tattoos into it somehow. She doesn't show them quite often—heck, she hasn't publicly addressed them even once, I believe. That little nod at the end is for everyone still waiting for Delete this to return. At this point, a reimagining or remake must happen first before the next actual episode because good God my writing back then versus now is night & day. Even comparing the last update from 2022(?) to today is also radically different in style. I'm still interested in reviving it; it's just a matter of when, not if. Thank you for reading!)

[covid-safer-hotties]

To My Unmasked Friend in the Fifth Year of COVID - By: Anna Holmes - Published Aug 17, 2024

I’m going to be honest with you, because I love you, and you deserve nothing but honesty. I’m going to try really hard not to be angry while I do it, but it’s probably going to slip out every now and again. But I need you to hear me out, all right?

By now, we’ve talked about my reality. My personal struggle with long COVID, the isolation I live in, why I am so angry all the time.

But let’s talk about you. You just went to a big convention overseas. You got on a plane, got a little gussied up, talked shop with some insiders, geeked out over awards and merch, ate, drank, were merry, left with your social cup and your heart full.

You’re a good person. We wouldn’t be friends otherwise! You’d never dream of tripping a person with a red and white cane, using the r-word, excluding a disabled person from an event because of something they can’t help.

You might even acknowledge that the COVID response from governments and organizations has been ableist and inadequate.

But you didn’t wear a mask.

For whatever reason — you wanted to show off your makeup, it makes you itchy, you believed the messaging that COVID is endemic (what does that actually mean?), you just don’t think about it anymore — you made a choice that actively excludes people like me from participating not only in an event like a convention, but society at large. And yes, it is a choice. Every time you step out into the world without a mask on your face, you have made a decision that your very good reason, whatever it is, supersedes the right of disabled and at-risk people to exist safely in your orbit.

Well, hold on, you say. It’s not any one individual’s fault, it’s the inadequate public health messaging. Isn’t that what you’ve been saying?

And I have. In the past, I have talked about how it is unconscionable that health authorities have thrown their hands up and rescinded guidance that would have saved hundreds of thousands of lives and prolonged a pandemic that, to hear them tell it, has been bested. It hasn’t. Worst of all, the financial motivation that we all know is driving this premature victory lap isn’t even being fulfilled. Long COVID and other post-COVID complications are costing the global economy one trillion a year. Meanwhile, article after article handwrings about nobody wanting to work anymore, about the sagging college application scene, about declines in military enlistment, and the strain on our healthcare systems.

All of this is very much the fault of our leaders, who have decided the political ramifications of “normalcy” are more important than the health and lives of the 400 million people living with long COVID across the globe, the immunocompromised folks who are increasingly being shut out of every conceivable public space, and the disabled community which has been screaming into the wind about our marginalization since before the virus even hit US soil.

But I want to be very clear. You are helping them do this.

The reality is that we have been living in this deeply flawed landscape of “personal choice”, and you’ve made yours. You’ve opted not to look into how densely clustered cases are. You’ve stopped listening to your friends who have informed themselves. You’ve given yourself permission to put COVID on the back burner. You’ve earned it, right? Four and a half years of trauma?

COVID doesn’t care if you’re tired of being scared or careful or considerate. COVID is not something you can personally overcome by being smart or virtuous or brave. It is a virus which only seeks to infect and replicate, and it is getting very good at those things. While you’ve looked away, my community has been scrambling to avoid variants that skirt immunity and don’t show up on rapid tests until day five-seven. The constant battle has changed since you were last in it. It’s not sufficient anymore to get your shots and test before a big event. You could well be asymptomatic and infectious, or have symptoms and convinced yourself it can’t be COVID because that second line hasn’t popped up.

You have come to the conclusion sometime between 2022 and now that you just have to decide what level of risk you’re comfortable with and live with it. The problem with that is scale. It’s you and everybody else doing that, and a lot of people have decided they are comfortable with a high level of risk. Despite what you’ve been told, you’re not just making that decision for yourself. You are making it for every person you come in contact with.

Think back to the early tense days of 2020. We were told to select a “bubble.” Those people would be our social lifelines, and through those, we could control our exposure.

My bubble is quite small. It includes my husband, my sister, and two friends I see relatively frequently.

My husband goes to work via the bus, and to the grocery store. Every person he comes in contact with there has the potential to infect him, and then he has the potential to pass it along to me. He mitigates this by wearing a well-fitted respirator at all times.

My sister goes to work at a busy public place. She masks when public facing and takes it off in the back office. She goes to restaurants, bars, concerts, hangs out with friends and her own partner unmasked. About 75% of her interactions have the heightened potential to infect her, which she might then bring into my house when she visits me.

My friends do not mask anywhere except my house when asked. They attend concerts, shows, cons, bars.

Obviously, I am in control of whether I wear a mask around these people. And as we approach one million new cases a day, I will be around everyone but my husband. But science is clear: reciprocal masking is more effective at infection control than a single person masking — especially when that single person is trying to protect themselves, not others.

This is settled science. We’ve known this since 2020. It says clearly that the choice you make is not personal- it has implications for everyone you come in contact with.

And being clear — if I could, I’d make everyone wear a mask for their own health. I don’t want people suffering with what I have. But you’ve been told this lie that you can take your risks for yourself, so you feel comfortable going out without a mask. You’ve been told this lie that it’s possible to completely recover from a COVID infection, so you assume that even if you do catch it, that’s what’ll happen to you, despite evidence showing that every body is indelibly changed by an infection, and that risk only grows with each subsequent infection.

And the greatest lie of all — that only the sick or elderly have anything to fear from COVID — has given you unfounded confidence in your own “good” genes or immune system or fitness. You can get long COVID even if you’re in peak form — in fact, may even be more likely to be hit hard.

So you have decided, individually and collectively, that only the sick or elderly should have to take precautions, and you freewheel through life, only to get surprised and dismayed when you bump into COVID in the wild. It’s back, people declare every summer or winter, as though it ever left.

But I want you to really think about the implications of your choice. Besides yourself. Because let’s be honest here, that’s who you’ve been thinking about, right? Your risk. Your comfort. Never mind your bubble, never mind the bubble of everyone you come into contact with, never mind the people like me who are literally hiding from people like you.

You’re not masking at the doctor’s office. You’re not masking at the airport. You’re not masking at the giant superspreader you just attended, and you’re not masking in the bars and restaurants where we know the virus flourishes. And then you’re bringing that exposure back to your family and friends. Back to the grocery store, where you run across people like my husband, shopping for someone who is unsafe to leave the house, or your elderly neighbors, or an immunocompromised employee.

You’re a good person, or you like to think of yourself that way. That’s why when you’re asked to mask, you dismiss it out of hand — because that changed behavior implies that you’ve been doing something wrong.

And my friend, I’m telling this because I love you: you have been. You might have been doing that on faulty information, but be honest with yourself and with me — you’ve heard me begging people to take this seriously. You’ve seen the information I’ve been sharing. You have had the opportunity to seek out the correct information all along, and you have chosen not to.

It isn’t too late to change your view of the risk you’re imposing on the people around you. It’s not too late to push public health to become more effective. It’s not too late to act in solidarity and be the inclusive person you think you are. It’s not too late to take care of yourself.

Ultimately, that’s what I have been screaming myself hoarse about. I don’t want you to end up with what I have. I don’t want you to inadvertently impose that on someone else. And yes, I’ve been angry, because you’ve been advertising your absolute lack of concern with group shots of your naked faces on social media. It doesn’t seem to bother you that I am stuck at home like it’s 2020, except for doctors’ appointments that I literally have to risk my life to go to. You’ve told yourself that it’s not your problem, because only the sick and elderly have to take precautions.

You know better. You can do better. For your community, yourself, and me, do better.

Please. I love you.

Anna

PS. If you’re feeling upset and embarrassed right now, the best thing you can do is take action. Get yourself good masks (the surgicals and cloth ones don’t cut it anymore), donate to mask blocs so others can access good masks, write to your representatives and the President, comment on upcoming CDC guidance, schedule yourself a booster, and talk to your loved ones about doing better, too. The only way we get out of this is with community care. So care.

[bixels]

Portal 2 is still the perfect game to me. I hyperfixated on it like crazy in middle school. Would sing Want You Gone out loud cuz I had ADHD and no social awareness. Would make fan animations and pixel art. Would explain the ending spoilers and fan theories to anyone who'd listen. Would keep up with DeviantArt posts of the cores as humans. Would find and play community-made maps (Gelocity is insanely fun).

I still can't believe this game came out 12 years ago and it looks like THIS.

Like Mirror's Edge, the timeless art style and economic yet atmospheric lighting means this game will never age. The decision not to include any visible humans (ideas of Doug Rattmann showing up or a human co-op partner were cut) is doing so much legroom too. And the idea to use geometric tileset-like level designs is so smart! I sincerely believe that, by design, no game with a "realistic art style" has looked better than Portal 2.

Do you guys remember when Nvidia released Portal with RTX at it looked like dogshit? Just the most airbrushed crap I've ever seen; completely erased the cold, dry, clinical feel of Aperture.

So many breathtakingly pit-in-your-stomach moments I still think about too. And it's such a unique feeling; I'd describe at as... architectural existentialism? Experiencing the sublime under the shadow of manmade structures (Look up Giovanni Battista Piranesi's art if you're curious)? That scene where you're running from GLaDOS with Wheatley on a catwalk over a bottomless pit and––out of rage and desperation––GLaDOS silently begins tearing her facility apart and Wheatley cries 'She's bringing the whole place down!' and ENORMOUS apartment building-sized blocks begin groaning towards you on suspended rails and cement pillars crumble and sparks fly and the metal catwalk strains and bends and snaps under your feet. And when you finally make it to the safety of a work lift, you look back and watch the facility close its jaws behind you as it screams.

Or the horror of knowing you're already miles underground, and then Wheatley smashes you down an elevator shaft and you realize it goes deeper. That there's a hell under hell, and it's much, much older.

Or how about the moment when you finally claw your way out of Old Aperture, reaching the peak of this underground mountain, only to look up and discover an endless stone ceiling built above you. There's a service door connected to some stairs ahead, but surrounding you is this array of giant, building-sized springs that hold the entire facility up. They stretch on into the fog. You keep climbing.

I love that the facility itself is treated like an android zooid too, a colony of nano-machines and service cores and sentient panel arms and security cameras and more. And now, after thousands of years of neglect, the facility is festering with decomposition and microbes; deer, raccoons, birds. There are ghosts too. You're never alone, even when it's quiet. I wonder what you'd hear if you put your ear up against a test chamber's walls and listened. (I say that all contemplatively, but that's literally an easter egg in the game. You hear a voice.)

Also, a reminder that GLaDOS and Chell are not related and their relationship is meant to be psychosexual. There was a cut bit where GLaDOS would role-play as Chell's jealous housewife and accuse her of seeing other cores in between chambers. And their shared struggle for freedom and control? GLaDOS realizing, after remembering her past life, that she's become the abuser and deciding that she has the power to stop? That even if she can't be free, she can let Chell go because she hates her. And she loves her. Most people interpret GLaDOS "deleting Caroline in her brain" as an ominous sign, that she's forgetting her human roots and becoming "fully robot." But to me, it's a sign of hope for GLaDOS. She's relieving herself of the baggage that has defined her very existence, she's letting Caroline finally rest, and she's allowing herself to grow beyond what Cave and Aperture and the scientists defined her to be. The fact that GLaDOS still lets you go after deleting Caroline proves this. She doesn't double-back or change her mind like Wheatley did, she sticks to her word because she knows who she is. No one and nothing can influence her because she's in control. GLaDOS proves she's capable of empathy and mercy and change, human or not.

That's my retrospective, I love this game to bits. I wish I could experience it for the first time again.

[tusswrites]

Sold For A Soul (i)

pairing: jeon wonwoo x idol female reader (idol AU)

genre: strangers to lovers

synopsis: “Just so you know,” he said softly, his voice laced with sincerity, “I’d do anything to keep you close like this. Just come to me , when you have bad days like this . I want to be the one who gets to hear your complaints and worries. I want to be your rock. I want to start loving you , and to show you what love feels like. It’s not the worst feeling in the world, to be vulnerable.” or

making bargains with the devil in exchange for a chance to glory. lies, deception and uncovered feelings in a world of glitz and glam.

word count: 14k+

warnings: mentions of mistreatment, profanity, cheating (not between Y/N and Wonwoo) , eating disorder, nothing in detail but brushed over implications of abuse, power play, self loathing reader, mentions of toxic family, a lot of angst before the rainbow

rating : 18+ (no actual smut but yeah, suggestive content)

a.n. : my baby is finally being posted! truly grateful for haneul @chanranghaeys for suffering through actual garbage into producing this..thanks to eunha @svtiddiess for having to unintentionally be my beta reader for several scenes, and to kat my love @hee0soo for getting roped into it. also indi for everything you said to give me the courage to actually pen this down.

behold the masterlist that lies here!

disclaimer: I am sorry it took over two months to post this after the teaser came out! This has been in my drafts for over two months and long before, existed in my head. please understand that almost every incident in this fic, although it is set in idolverse, is fictional. unless stated otherwise, everything comes from my head and articles I have read through reddit regarding the entertainment industry in general. If you notice any similarities, please realize that it's purely coincidental, i had no intention on making a fic through anything that happened in kpop this year or the year before. however, there are some heavy topics mentioned here, so please heed the warnings and proceed with caution. if you comment , send asks or reblog with thoughts, know that for every one of these i am screaming into my pillow and kicking my feet out of giddiness!

It was never meant to come down to this. You were supposed to be a lawyer, following the predictions of Doljanchi after having picked up a mallet, destined to lead a life weighed down by the same misery that burdened your father, and his father before him. If a genealogical study were to be taken, it could be proven that the gene of misery passed down through the L/N blood. Shouldering the weight of a thousand suns on your shoulders, you’ll push your way forward, trying to attain even a bit of nirvana in this lifetime.

Which brings you here, to this dingy, roach-infested dorm, beds overlapping each other-nowhere suitable for young women to sleep. You have no time to wallow in your misery at this absolute shitshow of a place; you can only rush in haste, packing your bag and running out the door and into the sleek black van that will transport you to your destination.

Music Bank MC Hong Eunchae is on a world tour overseas, as are other popular artists, which leaves space for smaller company artists to fill up the slot as guest MCs, even if it’s just for one week. It’s a bloodbath getting a position in the nation’s finest music show as an MC and interviewing other big artists. You were never interested in the first place. In fact, your bandmate and second youngest, little Sorin, had jumped at the opportunity to take this position, excited at the prospect of being near her all-time favorite band, Seventeen. You have nothing against them; you know they’re popular, but that’s just about it.

Years of singing, dancing, and rapping have desensitized your overall love for the art form of music. You take no pleasure in keeping up with trends and fads. Your company however prohibited Sorin from her dream role and instead forced you into this. You hadn’t missed Sorin’s sidelong glance; you know she is upset, but there’s only so much you can do, after all. In your head, you promised her an autograph to make up for your company’s lack of empathy.

Music Bank’s dressing room for the MCs was much grander than you could have imagined, your stylist was thrilled at the idea of more space without having to jab elbows with one another. With your makeup fixed upon your face, you rush off to don the outfit that was picked out for you, only to be dismayed as you watch the blouse—a little too bold to call it a blouse—turn out to be a tight corset, purposefully two sizes too small for you. Any mishap and you could be bursting at the seams, your boobs spilling out, and putting on a free show on live TV.

You sit down to peer over your script, pondering over the several social cues you have to follow. A laugh after Seungcheol-ssi recited his ‘scripted’ joke? Shaking your head you continue to read through, bemused at all the ill witted acting you have to do. Notwithstanding the cringe that has to come from your mannerisms ( you have to tuck your hair behind your face and bat your lashes when Mingyu-ssi makes eye contact with you?) ,you are overtaken by the sudden shaking feeling that you were being watched. Never one to escape the overthinking allegations of your brain, you simply shrug it off and keep scrolling through.

But no, there’s a certainty that has come over you. You were being watched and that thought was rattling you.

Your adrenaline on high alert, you jerk at the intrusion of someone in your personal space,and do the first thing that comes to your mind, watching in horror as you fling a six-foot boy onto the ground. The boy looks up at you in slight bewilderment, surprised by your strength to push him like a can of potatoes, while you stare amazedly at your hands. Where was all this superhuman strength when you needed it earlier?

“ I am sorry I know this looks bad I-”

Oh it did look bad. For you, the company, the fans. Because what possessed you to shove a Jeon Wonwoo onto the floor? Why had said man been peering over your shoulder in the first place? 

Questions. So many questions and so little answers.

“Please don’t press charges, I can explain,” Wonwoo hurriedly says, his eyes staring worriedly at you, bottom lip drawn tight.

You say nothing, instead reaching out a hand to help him up. You get pulled down slightly due to his weight, but he manages to hold you just in time, getting steady and standing still.

“Look this is going to sound stupid but I didn’t intend to scare you you know? I was done with hair and makeup a little earlier than the boys  and I had some time to kill and so I wandered. I saw you holding the booklet labelled ‘Seventeen’ and I just wanted to see our script- and-” —I know it sounds super stupid, but I—well, I—” His hands flail in all directions, trying to nail down one emotion. 

 “I am sorry, but I didn’t think you’d turn around this fast, I was going to tell you I swear.” his nervous rambling continued.

Awkward silence lingers.

A conversation you had with your younger bandmate minutes prior to accepting this role pops off in your head.

“Sorin, I am really, really sorry about this. I had no choice; please understand. I’ll get you an autograph if I see Wonwoo sunbaenim, though?” 

“Can I have an autograph?” you finally muster

Now it’s his turn to stare at you, befuddled, as if you had grown two heads. You hadn’t spoken a word till now and he did not expect this to be your opening line.  Were you a fan? Hope rises. When he had still not uttered anything, you begin- “Look, umm, that’s fine, haha.” You begin, cringing inwardly at your tone, awkward and forced, trying to diffuse the tension. The boy raises an eyebrow, clearly unsure whether to laugh or be concerned. You can feel your heart racing, and the weight of the moment presses down on you.

“I don’t mind, but can you please sign something for me? My little bandmate is a huge fan of yours and she would be ecstatic if she got one.”

He looks a little forlorn as he replies, “I am sorry, we are not allowed to give out autographs as per company orders.”

You are a little upset, but you can understand. Hybe did have strict rules about artist security.

 Seeing your downcast eyes, he comes up with an idea.

“How about this? Can you do a TikTok challenge with me for 'God of Music?' I’ll get you that autograph. The company has been on my back, trying to get an idol to do this challenge with me. I think it’s fair that I give you an autograph after that? I’ll just say it's a tit for tat situation? ” He looks hopeful.

You simply nod, a little disappointed at the prospect of doing a TikTok challenge. You weren’t a huge fan of this trend that made other idols dance to your group's songs, and you sure as hell weren’t interested in doing another group's song, especially one as hard as Seventeen's. But you have no choice. This is the only way you can get Sorin to be a little less hostile with you—she could hold a grudge for days.

Wonwoo’s methods for teaching you the steps are a huge contrast to your hostile choreographer who has no patience for your inability to remember steps as quickly as your bandmates do. Wonwoo is patient and understanding of your long limbs, probably owing to his own long limbs. You quite welcome this style of teaching, as opposed to merciless taunting and jeering of your slow pace in nailing a step right. For every mistake, all Wonwoo does is giggle and although you should be offended, you can’t find it in you to be.

The Music Bank interview went better than you’d like to give yourself credit for . “So Wonwoo-ssi, " That was Dokyeom-ssi mimicking the voice of Santa and taking over the interview. You panic a little, Dokyeom ssi speaking wasn’t part of the script. The director behind the camera looks bewildered as do you. But years of media training did prepare you to prolong a poker face so you remain infixed, even with the fact that Mingyu standing next to you couldn't remain still for a single second. Seventeen were thirteen men and this was a tight fix for several men. No sooner had you entertained the thought when you felt a slight shove from your left and there you were, getting pushed again.

A hand comes from behind, to get you to remain still, for which you are grateful, you didn’t want to fall face flat on live TV. You turn around and shoot Wonwoo a thankful smile, gladly reciprocated by your new acquaintance.

You come back home ,finally crashing  after five straight hours of practice for a comeback that was still not approved by the management, exhausted and hungry.

That very night, SNS went viral. Pictures of you spread across the internet, capturing the moment you were mid-fall, with Wonwoo’s hands securely holding your waist. Cropped images of his face, paired with 10x zoomed-in shots of his hands wrapped around your hips, flooded timelines everywhere.

“It’s so obvious Wonwoo has a crush on her; just look at his eyes. The eyes never lie.” —carathoshiminwon97

“Look at the way he is looking at her in worry. Me when?” -aespasnakekyeomie

Yn you lucky bitch -@svtiddies

“I want someone to look at me the way Wonwoo looks at Y/N. “ junslastlimbofinesse

I have no idea who I want to be . Am I jealous of Wonwoo or Y/N?” confusedbisxeual

“I had no idea that a HYBE idol’s dating life would become public, especially for someone like Jeon Wonwoo. Man’s secretive as hell.” —sawdeintellgraphhwahwa88

“It’s over, y’all. My heart is in a million pieces. My bias is gone.” —wonnieismyhusband

“Aww, my eyes are blessed with the double visual attack! Y/N and Wonnie for life! Fighting!!!” —multistanarmycarat

“Happy for you, but also sobbing in my room! 😩💔 Can’t believe I’ll never be your one and only! #DramaticFan”

Fanarts, tiktok and reel edits, fanfiction even? In just a matter of moments you were being circulated everywhere. You don’t miss the vile shit either. There are AI images of you and Wonwoo, morphed and pasted into the most repugnant poses. You scroll past, heart sinking and disgust never leaving. The pros and cons of being an idol you guess.

There are some nasty comments, too. You choose not to linger too long on them, though words like “slut,” “untalented,” and “nugu group” stand out. You figured as much.

“PD-nim wants to see you in his office now.”

You freeze midstep. It’s not the first time Kim Hangyuck has asked you to come visit his office privately , but after your last stunt you’d reckon he’d have some shame before calling you in this quickly. Was what you did last time not enough for him?

“Unnie, this is exciting news. Do you think he called you over to give news about a comeback?” That was Chul, the maknae of your group, excitedly jumping in glee at the hopes of a prospective comeback. Poor innocent child . The plethora of information you held back from her to protect the youth she will otherwise not have.

Giving her an easy nod, you walk with trepidation to his office, a prayer in your heart and head held high. Men like him can smell fear from far away, eagerly stamping over it.

“Come in.”

You hadn’t even knocked. Which probably meant he was spying on you all this while.You’re not in the least surprised. Sounds just like him.

Upon entering you're greeted by one of your nightmares in human form seated behind a chair, fingers tapping impatiently against the table. For what reason. You hadn’t even taken two minutes to attend to his whims and calls. Not like you could.

With a condescending nod, he signaled you to come closer. Anxiety rose high but you pushed it back down, inching closer to his table. Every moment in his proximity kickstarted your fight or flight response.

He slides a photocard across the table and you glance down to see oh-

“Jeon Wonwoo” he slurs out.

You know. You’ve been trying hard to drive his image from your head after that unfortunate meetup backstage. The photocard across the table wasn’t helping much with that affirmation. Confusedly you turn back up to look at his leering gaze right on your cleavage. With as much discomfort as you could try to hide, you stand straight, never giving him that satisfaction again.

“Han Sung-Soo from Pledis called today. He asked for your number. Looks like someone here caught the eyes of a handsome young man.”His beady eyes glint at you expectantly as if he was passing the good news except you feel nothing of that sort.

“I don't’ understand -”

‘Well, you’re in luck, gorgeous- “ you wanted to gag. Nicknames from him reflexively brought out such reactions. -Wonwoo here says he hopes that you will go on a date with him.”

You don’t want to go on a date with Wonwoo. You have nothing against him but you also have nothing for him. Why waste time on another man that was sure to break your heart in more ways than one?

“I don’t-”

“Well lucky for you, I said yes”. You don’t have it in you to lose energy. This is typical of Kim Hangyuck. Making decisions in your personal life with no thoughts whatsoever to ask you. He leans back, looking shamelessly proud of himself.

“I thought we were not supposed to be in a relationship based on our contracts.”

“Is that why I caught you with your boyfriend the other day?”

You gulp. What?

“Don’t act so surprised gorgeous, remember what I told you? I have eyes everywhere. Everywhere.” A shiver of disgust coursed through your veins, any second longer with him, you were going to throw up in his face.

“What do you want me to do?”

“Go on a date with him, lure him by your beauty, entice him enough to make him your boyfriend.” You could see the smug grin on his face like he was proud of his terrible idea.

You want to refuse but the consequences of defying an order run far deeper than you could possess to think right now.

“Why?”

‘Because gorgeous, we need funds. If you girls want the next comeback out soon, we need the publicity to attract fans to Blush Girls. This way, if we leak the news of your relationship to the press, a scandal breaks out and we gain something from this. Don’t forget this is someone from Hybe Labels. He’s high profile.”

“I thought he asked for my number because he liked me . If this is a romantic relationship, isn’t this breaching the contract of trust Hybe will endow upon me?”

He shrugged, least bothered about your emotions here. Obviously your thoughts don't matter.

‘I don’t care Y/N . Seduce him, get him in your bed, make him fall in love with you and get into a relationship with him. This is the only way ‘Blush Girls’ will get a breakthrough. Follow the plan or I will scrap your project. No comebacks, instant contract termination." Venom oozed out from his warning. He was every bit the cruel man to carry out that threat. You knew it. You couldn’t let down your members like this because your morale came in the way. You owed it to them at least.

“Fine. One date. But I get to choose the restaurant and I want Yoon to accompany me .”

“Nice try, gorgeous. We have already selected the restaurant for you. It’s on us. Victor will be accompanying you. We need to keep an eye out on you at all times.”

Victor was a pervert. During your trainee days you kept a knife under your pillow, for fear of that sleazy man. Unfortunately, the company refused your demands to fire him despite the multiple protests by artists. He was also Hangyuck’s right hand. His extra pair of ears and eyes. You knew exactly why he was accompanying you.

“Alright”. You agree. You have no choice after all.

Shaking hands with Kim Hangyuck on this deal feels like signing off your soul to the Devil.

The first date comes before you have time to reflect on it or find ways to escape the plan at all. 

It started off awful. You began on the wrong foot, clad in a busty outfit that left little to the imagination, especially for someone like Victor, who required none. Your protests against your outfit were silenced with a strong threat from your manager, quelling any audacity you had to question management's generosity in providing you with a ‘branded’ dress and paying for this date.

Makeup had covered his handprint well, but you had enough rage to flip a table. You arrive at the designated restaurant, surprised at the luxury of it. With the cheap budget decisions your company made over and over again, you didn’t think they had it in them to indulge in fine dining.

Wonwoo greeted you at the table with a ninety-degree bow.

 Sorin had told you he was older; just like a Naver search had confirmed. As your senior artist, you were supposed to bow to him, and this was an informal meeting? Then why was he bowing?

As if to mend the awkwardness, Wonwoo extends his right hand to shake yours in a cordial gesture, leaving you even more confused. Who shakes hands before a date?

The date was extremely awkward, for lack of a better word. You were very uneasy. 

Victor was set to accompany you as mandated by PD nim, but his beady eyes never left your body, making the air feel thick with discomfort. You kept trying to sit up straight every time you unconsciously bent down to look at the table, only to meet Victor's leering gaze on your cleavage.

“So, how was your day?” Wonwoo asked, hoping to break the silence between the three of you.

“Good,” you replied curtly.

“O-okay. Cool.” Dead silence followed.

He called a waiter over and placed his order. You opted for just wine. He looked a little bewildered at your choice to abstain from eating but made no comments, sending the waiter away with both your orders. And Victor’s, who hadn’t made a move except to continue undressing you with his eye and order off the whole menu.

In a true heroic moment, Wonwoo intervened, gently ushering Victor out. You watched with mild curiosity as Wonwoo slipped a few thousand-won bills from his pocket into Victor's stubby hands. Victor flashed a grin, showing his yellow teeth, and walked away from the table. Wonwoo returned, sending a charming smile your way.

Finally noticing your agitation with your dress, Wonwoo stripped off his jacket and handed it to you.

You were unsure of what to do with a new piece of fabric.

“Ahh, he’s probably uncomfortable with the jacket behind him,” you thought. Taking it from him, you place it on your lap, clutching tightly. He dropped his chopsticks mid bite, staring at you in astonishment.

“What?”

“Y-you—”

“I?”

“Nothing.” 

He went back to his stew, and you returned to your wine.

“So, how’s the wine?” he asked, once again trying to strike up a conversation.

“It’s nice. Tastes like wine.”

“Ahh, okay.”

More silence followed.

Was it your turn to ask something for a change?

“How is yours?” you ventured.

“My what?” he countered.

“Your wine.”

“I didn’t order wine. I ordered soda.”

“Oh.”

Nobody utters a single word after that.

Safe to say, dinner wasn’t going too well.

But Wonwoo is a gentleman, so after dinner—however awkward it was—he offers to take you home, silencing all your formalities as you begin to look for Victor. Wonwoo tells you he has left. Your company was not going to take too kindly to sending off your bodyguard, you could only hope the greed in Victor , satisfied at the bills thrown his way, would silence his complaints.

You know you shouldn’t trust Wonwoo over another man, but you’d take any man over Victor and Hangyuck, and that was saying something. Feeding your location into his GPS, you embark on the long, awkward journey back home.

The location you recited  to Wonwoo is a lie.

This was not the exact location of your dorm, but you’d be damned if you showed a HYBE artist where Delaware Labels housed their trainees. It was enough to attract a lawsuit—not the kind of publicity your company was willing to take.

Wonwoo catches on pretty quickly when he parks the car in front of a park that has no building in plain sight. 

He fixes you with another look that prompts you to chant your real address this time. You cringe as he nears the poor excuse for a building where you live, shoulders drawn tight.

Sorin, in her endless gushing over her dream man and explaining Carat lore, had always claimed that Wonwoo was hot but naive as hell.

With firsthand experience, you'd confidently say she was wrong about that. He looked carefully into your eyes reading every micro-expression on your face like a book. When he stopped the car at your entrance, he turned to look at you. You glanced down at his jacket, still clutched in your hands, and, as if remembering to return it, you placed it on his lap.

“Oh,” he exclaims, taking the jacket from you. It was meant for you to cover up, but you clearly hadn’t caught onto the hint, and he was too shy to ask you to, believing it would make things more awkward.

“Y/N,” he finally croaks out from his perch on the driver's seat, one hand on the wheel  and his body turned wholly toward you.

You look back at him, blinking at the earnest expression in his eyes.

Was he going to do something like kiss you? God, you hoped not. He had been decent so far, and you didn’t want that to be ruined by some unwanted advance. Was that his payback for his good character? Was that why he sent Victor home? Oh, how things were clearing up.

“Y/N?” this time his head was tipped to the side, a questioning look dancing across his eyes. 

In true fashion, you had assumed the worst and drifted off into several meaningless thoughts. His name calling brought you back to the present. You cock an eyebrow , waiting for a response. 

“You know,-  he starts -“when Seventeen started out, we had a small dorm too. There wasn’t enough room and way too many young boys. We didn’t have any active listeners or great brand deals; we just had each other. We made the best of it. It’s a gradual curve, you know? Release comeback after comeback, with no wins, working your ass off, and one day that hard work pays off. Now I’m not scared to admit it, but I love your group’s songs; I bought two of your albums, and my bias is you.

You jerk your head at that and feel a small blush creep up his face, his eyes darting around nervously , hesitant to look at your face. Cute.

The kindness bestowed on you by a total stranger was not lost on you, your eyes watering reflexively at his sudden graciousness.

Seeing your red rimmed eyes, Wonwoo panics, offering any consolation to get you to stop crying- tough luck. You kept sniffling, but no tears streamed down thankfully. 

“I can’t go home like this," you state woefully. “They'll think something happened to me and I can’t afford them questioning me right now."

Wonwoo nods sympathetically. 

“Can I drive you around the block?” he asks with a hopeful look on his face.

Well, the night is still young. 

“Yes, that would be nice, thank you.”

You settle back as Wonwoo reverses the car, your breath hitching as he casually drapes an arm around the back of your seat. His focused gaze shifts behind him, steering the car with practiced ease as it glides smoothly in reverse and into the chilly night.

“Fighting, Y/N.” he sends you off an hour later with a big grin on his face and the leftovers of the food he had ordered for you at the restaurant , despite your refusal to eat. He wouldn’t take no for an answer, so you walk home, a dopey grin on your face and a bag filled with food.

Tiptoeing into the dorm, you’re surprised to see none of your hooligan bandmates asleep except for Chuul. They were actively awaiting your return. A warm smile spreads across your face as you share the boxes of leftovers, watching in amusement as they all dig in, your heart full . Diets be damned. 

You need to take these empty containers and throw them in the trash bins outside the building before your manager finds them in the dorm though. 

To an eager crowd of four, you announce your date was ‘great’, even though that is the last you will go on a date with Wonwoo.

You had followed the company’s orders; a couple of photos were taken—they could go viral or not; you don’t care. But in an ideal world, you and Jeon Wonwoo will never date.

“So, Y/N, how’d the date go last week?” Hyanyuck asked, his tone deceptively casual as he strolled into the rehearsal room a week later. His presence always felt like a storm cloud, ominous and charged with tension.

“It went badly, I don’t see a spark. I don’t think this will work. Sorry.” You focused on massaging your sore wrists, a futile attempt to ease the cramps that Vogueing had inflicted on you.

“She’s lying. Wonwoo-ssi had texted her the next day, and she still hasn’t responded,” Sorin chimed in from across the room, her tone sharp and teasing.

Your heart dropped. How did she know? Why was she going through your phone?

Hyayuck's smirk deepened as he turned to you. “So you lied to me?”

“It’s not like that, I—”

“Silence.” He held out his palm like a judge passing a sentence. “Give me your phone.”

“I can’t do that.” You felt a mix of defiance and dread, but your phone was swiftly passed to him by Yoonha, who shot you a triumphant look. Betrayal coursed through your veins.

As Hyanyuck scrolled through Wonwoo’s messages—sweet good mornings, soft concerns— all unanswered by you, your stomach churned with anxiety. Each text felt like a thread tightening around your heart, especially as Hyanyuck began replying with cringeworthy flirtations. Your cheeks burned reading what he wrote over his shoulder as he set another date.

You’d never text like that. Who even called someone “darling”? This was wrong—leading Wonwoo on like this was unjust. You resolved to confess everything to him tomorrow, the date Hyanyuck set for your next meetup. You couldn’t betray someone like this.

From the texts, it was clear Wonwoo was a little unsure about the sudden enthusiasm.

“Is this really Y/N?”

“Yes, yes darling. It is me. 😉😘”

You cringed again

When the second date arrived, it was oddly intimate. Victor was absent, leaving you and Wonwoo alone to navigate the currents of this charade. You slipped into your favorite pink dress, a small source of comfort knowing the stylist gave you freedom to choose your own outfit this time. Her way of apologizing for your obvious disinterest and being forced to do something you didn’t want to.

Wonwoo looked stunning in his olive green shirt, rolled up to his elbows, revealing forearm veins that gave anyone a good charity view. Under any other circumstances you’d have fallen for Wonwoo, and you can’t deny a handsome man when he was placed in front of you like this.

As you sat across from him, the atmosphere felt heavy. You glanced at your untouched plate, lying as still as your resolve to maintain this facade. This time he was visibly uncomfortable being the only one who ate. Wonwoo chewed nervously, and the sound seemed amplified in the silence between you.

Taking one more sip of your wine, you cleared your throat and he looked up mid chew, eyes widened like boba balls between the mandu in his mouth. Cute.

“So, I—” you stammered, anxiety prickling at the back of your mind. You rubbed your clammy palms against your dress, the fabric doing little to quell your unease.

“Y/N?” His voice was soft, inviting. You wished he was a little more inattentive and distracted like everyone else.

“Listen, Wonwoo-ssi, this is a setup. My company, uh, Delaware, is struggling to push their artists to go viral, and they used me to date you—to create a scandalous relationship that would get people talking. You know by now any publicity is good publicity.”

You expected anger or disbelief, but what met you was something far worse: a flicker of sadness in his eyes. It struck a chord deep within you, the weight of his disappointment settling in your chest like a stone. “I understand,” he said, his voice cracking just slightly, as if he were trying to hold back a tide of emotions.

The air between you thickened with unspoken words, and a part of you ached to take it all back, to rewrite this moment. You could see the hurt etched on his face, and it twisted something inside you.

Returning to the practice room later, dropped hastily by a Wonwoo that refused to look at you, you come back to see your members practicing dance to a new song.

You find maknae Chuul in the middle dancing provocatively to steps not age worthy and an overwhelming sense of protectiveness surged within you. This wasn’t right—how could anyone allow a child to perform something so suggestive? You strode forward, determination fueling your steps.

“Uh, no, Chuul cannot be doing this.”

Ampers, the choreographer, raised an eyebrow, his irritation palpable.

“And why should I listen to you?” You stood firm, the adrenaline coursing through you. “Because it’s my job to protect my members, especially the minors, I am the leader of Blush Girls.”

A silence fell over the room, heavy and electric. Ampers’ hand shot out, and the slap resonated like thunder, shocking everyone into stillness. You felt the sting, both physical and emotional. It wasn’t just the pain that hurt; it was the weight of the moment, the knowledge that you had challenged authority in a world where no one dared to.

Ampers was an eccentric man; no one dared to question his decisions—not even the CEO, and that was saying something. There were a lot of shady rumors about him being a drug lord or an underground mafia leader. Given the amount of leverage he had over Delaware Labels, you didn’t doubt it.

Eunsae and Mishal’s faces turned to rage, Yoonha’s expression shifted to one of shock, and the rest of the room held its breath, stricken. You turned to comfort Chuul and Sorin, their tears igniting a fierce protectiveness in you.

Eunsae rushes in with a pack of something cold, icing your face with tender urgency, but the sting lingers—both from the slap and the fact that Yoonha’s gaze bore into you with envy.

“You’ve stolen my best friend, too,” she murmured, the jealousy lacing her voice sharp enough to cut.

In that moment, you felt the weight of your choices, a complex tangle of emotions you couldn’t untangle. You wanted to protect them all, yet here you were, caught in a web of your own making, trying to figure out where you fit in this chaotic world.

You should have known Ampers’ pride was too high for him to go down without a fight.

Social media exploded. You watched as you, the darling of the nation for your unique beauty and obvious spotlight for a three second viral moment turned into a pariah overnight.

Multiple newspapers splashed your face across their front pages with the headline “K-Pop Star Under Fire: Workplace Harassment Reveals Idol’s True Nature.” Accused of harassment. You? What had you done to deserve this?

The article detailed how you, a visual member of a nugu group, had been accused by anonymous staff members of “bad behavior” and “rude remarks,” claiming your members lived in fear of you. It was a twisted narrative that made your stomach turn.

What stung even more was that all the fans who had once supported you now turned against you. Your relationship with Wonwoo became a target; all the dance challenges you’d done together were scrutinized and ridiculed. You were slut-shamed and deepfaked in the most grotesque ways. The sheer ferocity of the backlash was horrifying. The very people who had cheered for you now called you the vilest names online.

Your members walked on eggshells, unsure of how to act around you. All you did was feel hollow, surrounded by people yet truly alone. Then, your phone rang. It was your mother. Your heart sank.

“Eomma, hi.” your voice quavered.

“What did I tell you about keeping that tongue of yours in check? Now look at what you’ve done. If you get dropped by your agency, know that you’re not welcome here. I cannot afford to take care of a useless daughter and a useless husband.”

The “useless husband” in question was your father, who had become a quadriplegic after a heroic accident to save your mother’s life. Her gratitude had morphed into bitterness, and she had turned into the most spiteful woman you knew. Sometimes you couldn’t believe the hateful words that left her lips. There was tough love, and then there was this—whatever twisted means it took for her to show she cared. You have grown up raising yourself. Your mother was aloof, a total nightmare. Her yells echoed in your mind even now. Your older brother had gone no contact the moment he turned 18, and it hit you hard. It was up to you to help the family. Your aspirations to become a lawyer were met with disdain; she wanted easy money, not hard-earned success.

She had pushed you into pageants and modeling—things you hated, all driven by the toxic culture. Your mother had practically whored you out, contacting agencies to get you into acting or modeling owing to your obvious beauty. When that failed, she forced you into auditions at Delaware Labels, prohibiting you from attending college. The agency took one look at your face and signed you up, ignoring your protests that you couldn’t sing or dance. It was the only time you ever saw her smile at you. Wanting to see more of that smile, you signed a seven-year contract, effectively ending your dreams of law school and subjecting yourself to a regime of extreme diets and pain. The only blessing in your life had been your former friend Julie. When she left, you were left with four other young girls to protect from the industry’s evils.

“Eomma, it wasn’t my fault.” you pleaded with the woman that birthed you.

“You think I will believe your word against a well-established man in the industry? You lied to me about dropping out of law school. I had to do it for you when your manager called to tell me you were caught sneaking out for evening classes.” Her voice dripped with contempt, as if she abhorred you.

Typical of your mom.

“Y/N, I have no money. If I die today, your father—”

There she went again with her blackmailing. Her ability to drag your sick father into any argument was astonishing.

A nation was against you, your family was against you, your own band members were against you. And yet your agency stayed silent. There was no letter to warn the fans against the malicious rumors. No effort to clear your name. Nothing.

Pledis had contacted Delaware to inform them that while it was too soon to release a post clearing the mess and wipe Wonwoo’s name linked with yours, there would be no further relations between you two. Which explained the dead silence from his side.

Since you weren't the actual problem here, your company had no choice but to let you continue with practise as usual. The CEO hadn’t announced a comeback date yet but hopes were rising for one. Your publicity, albeit a negative one had given the public to raise eyes toward you, the next comeback was a sure step to bag some fans. Which meant the company was working hard to produce good music. You hoped they didn’t end up with some hard notes for you, given as you still couldn’t actually hold notes either. 

After five days of radio silence from Wonwoo you had begun to move on . Hating your heart for even hoping he’d call to ask. Of course he thinks you were the one at problem here too. 

However, today, your phone rings with a strange text from an unknown number. You were used to the spam texts from creeps, but this was a strange number signed ‘WW’. Which, if your Carat memory was right, was Wonwoo’s signature to end every text.

A small crack comes through and you dare to hope.

It was Wonwoo. He was outside your dorm and he wanted you to meet him downstairs.

You were stupid if you missed that chance.

Wonwoo leads you to the nearby park, well sheltered by a canopy of trees, illuminated by the small fluorescent street lights that were dimming at its ends.

And this time, he’d brought a picnic basket with him

“I made this for you," he says, shoving a messily assembled sandwich into your hands, all smiles and squinty eyes, you can’t help but crack a smile. An action that brings him to further his smile, you reciprocating thoughtlessly.

Well you can’t excuse not eating after he prepared it for you.

 The last time someone cooked for you was when you were 13, before your grandmother passed away. When it was clear you had attained some cooking knowledge , your mother had made you in charge of cooking all the meals at home. Even when you went home for the holidays, it was you doing the cooking, never the other way.

You suppose you could eat just this once , if not for you at least for him. You could always expel it later. 

You didn’t have to wait for later. One bite in and you were spitting it out.

Wonwoo watches with the cutest face you have ever seen on a grown man, unknown pout on his lips and furrowed eyebrows at your blatant disrespect spit out what he had lovingly taken time to make.

“Wonwoo-ssi” . “Did you umm- did you eat this’ “No, I wanted you to have the first bite.” Of course he did.

You were not going to hurt his feelings like that. You were not that cruel despite what the tabloid told. But you could make him taste and see what he’s done.

“Can you take one bite” you insist, pushing the sandwich closer to his mouth.

In a way to see what the hullabaloo was all about , he takes a tentative bite of the sandwich and you watch as his face morphs from doubt to disgust. His pout intensifies.

“ I thought I did good.”

“What did you even put in here”,  your amusement never failing to make an appearance. “All the fancy stuff Gyu uses.”, he answers, shoulders tilted up with certain pride.

“Like what?” you were curious.

“This is my first time cooking ever.” He admits ashamedly and you are no longer surprised. That explains the undecipherable saltiness to this sandwich. 

“So I decided to be a little fancy and reached into Mingyu’s seasoning cupboard. There’s every kind of powder including the pink season. I added that to give some color and make the sandwich pretty to look at. “ He finishes triumphantly with an innocent grin.

You are touched . Truly. But-

“Pink stuff?” “Wonwoo-ssi just how much of the pink stuff did you put there?”

“A lot’ he was staring at you with a cocked brow , offended you would question his cooking skills like this. 

“Wonwoo-ssi-’

“Please, just call me Wonwoo”

“Alright Wonwoo, that pink stuff- you air quote is actually salt. Himalayan salt.”

You wait for one beat. Two beats.

“Ohhhh— “ he draws out at the realization of a look of mortification coming at him.

His eyes scrunched up cutely, you catch his adorable cheeks bunch up and you want to comfort him like you would baby Chuul when she was this upset. Except he was no baby.

So you resort to laughing. 

You are in awe of this man who you try so hard not to like is slowly working his way up to being a friend. A good friend even.

After a good five minutes of shared laughter that trickles to small squeaks , a small air of awkwardness hung in the air.

But this time he is prepared to counter that.

“Can I ask you about what went down the other day?”

“When?”

“I have seen the tabloids Y/N. What went wrong with your choreographer?”

Oh. You did figure he would eventually ask, you didn’t expect it this suddenly though.

“Do you want my version or the truth?”

‘But isn’t your version the truth?” You freeze, your eyes misting up immediately.

Seeing your face he tentatively reaches out, and  seeing no resistance from your side, rests a palm on your knee. Your knee was beginning to heat up.

“ I- I did nothing wrong you know?” “Trust me Y/N I know that.”

You are touched at a strangers' choice to believe you over your own mother. 

As a child you were the quiet one while your brother relentlessly bullied you. Of course your mother sided with him. This is the first time someone wants to listen to your side of the argument.

 Before you ask him to explain , he beats you to it, “I know you hate dance challenges, your body language screamed as much but you did that to give your bandmate my autograph didn’t you? S-sorin right? Your eyes widened. “Oh my you know her name? She is going to be so ecstatic about this I have to tell her right now.”

“See? Even now you are thinking of ways to make someone else happy. So tell me what really went down?” You recount the whole situation to him, opting to leave out Chuul’s name and her dancing being the whole reason, you don’t have to give up her identity like that. 

“And I know that’s what bring the fans but - I-” “You know if you are uncomfortable about something, you have the right to state your reasons not to do it. “ He states gently," The company cannot just force you .”

You snort out a laugh . Oh this fool. If only it were that simple

You say no more opting to end this conversation there. No need to get things all mushy now.

Not wanting to delve more into the awkward air, Wonwoo cleared his voice and you knew he was going to bring up another topic

He talks about his upcoming tour and you listen in awe as he describes their travel around the world.

One perk you had hoped to get as an idol was to do world tours, in hopes of traveling around and seeing new places. 

Unfortunately, Blush Girls was too nugu to make it past the small company curse. Delaware was also very low on funds, often shamelessly resorting to request you to get your way through some potential investors. You were numb at this point,a bin used by men, to get bills thrown at your face only to be dipped away by Delaware as part of the compromise you’d made with them. 

‘So, what does flying feel like?”

‘Well I can’t help you there, I don’t have wings Y/N.” he chuckles softly.

“No, I was walking about an aircraft, how does it feel to fly in the clouds?”

You see the small look of shock before he instantly wipes it away “Yo-you’ve never been on a plane before?” 

You shrug dismissively. There were small concerts and festivals in Japan you could have gone to. Establishing yourself in the Japanese market would have given you a leg up for sure to come out of nugudom. You worked overtime to provide the funds for Delaware, you were sure of that, your body and throat ached to fill the void. But greed triumphs over integrity you suppose. You could only watch in sadness as men dipped into the hard work you invested in and left you even more void, shallow soul and mind.

Sorin watched from the window as her celebrity crush, the man that filled her childhood bedrooms, sat there on the park bench with the dopiest grin she’s ever seen staring at her unnie.

 It’s not fair. You didn’t even know him like she did. She was the one who gushed to you about how much she was sure she was going to marry Jeon Wonwoo one day. And now there sat the man of her dreams, a palm pressed against his cheek, staring at you. 

You who had lied and said there was ‘absolutely nothing’ happening between the both of you. Of course you’d get the man too. Just like everything in Sorin’s life she wished to have.

After a night of easy conversation and shared laughs, you sneak back into your dorm , waving goodbye to the boy slowly worming himself into your heart. 

You hoped everyone was asleep, rehearsals started early tomorrow and Ampers had quite the mood these days. You didn’t want to poke the bear with overtired girls at the dance practices.

But you were wrong.

The door is forcefully opened by a livid Sorin who scornfully looks at you as you do your walk of shame back to your bed.

‘Slut” you overhear her mumbling. Your heart sank. Who taught this child that word?

Ever since she was denied the Music Bank position her behavior had spiraled, and you understood teenage angst but when met with open disdain, you hoped for a chance at grace. 

Nothing much changes after that. Wonwoo and you exchange texts on your phone although you space out your replies from a day to a week. 

You cannot lead him on but the temptation of texting him is so strong that you cannot ignore it either. 

The hate online from netizens die down a little bit. Soon you are no longer the poster child for bullying owing to the actual controversy of plagiarism from “Chorstify’. Good days were coming.

 Or so you thought.

The Mama Awards rolled out , and for the first time in two years since debut, Blush Girls had received an invitation. First time for a Delaware Labels group, and no thanks to the immense publicity this year has bestowed upon you. 

Wonwoo texts you a ‘see you there’ even before the announcement and you are even more confused. How did he know?  Was he perhaps involved in Blush Girls getting an invitation to an award show destined to be swept off by big labels?

You sigh. For an ‘acquaintance’ he sure did a lot more than you would have expected someone to. You should pay him back, you think. No one does favors for free. But how do you pay a rich million dollar earning idol? And how do you pay at all when the company refused to pay your group, heaping a bigger trainee debt? You only know one way of payback that you had learned from your mother- giving up your body. 

“Men only want one thing” your mother had warned you. 

Hair and makeup went quickly for you giving you more time to loiter around and hopefully catch a glance of ‘Big Cobra’, your childhood celebrity crush. The only dream artist you actually hoped to collaborate with. When Delaware did accept you,you had hoped you’d be given a rapper position but one look at your visuals and your soft voice, they had laughed at your request, calling you unfit for such a position. 

You had been eavesdropping your manager’s conversation with your idol, giddy with the prospect of him dancing to one of your earlier songs. What an honor! Except- 

 “Who’s Yoonha?” Cobra ssi bellows out through the other door. Yoonha also had big admiration for him. You wouldn’t actually mind if she was the one who got to do this dance challenge with him. 

There’s a slight crumpling of papers rustling and you can only imagine Yoonha’s face card being shown to Cobra. What follows next, changes the trajectory of your vision for the idol of your dreams.

“Nope, she’s too ugly.”

“But she is such a huge fan of yours, this would lift her spirits.” Your manager protested on her behalf.

“Everyone is a huge fan of me Dongyun-ssi . Give me a pretty woman. Don’t you have a Y/N in your group? Give me someone that looks beautiful. Or get me a younger one. I need to establish myself in today’s generation before they forget me.”

You feel no elation at hearing your name spoken in such praise. Only pure disgust.

“How about Sorin? Here, this is her ”

“No she’s too ugly too. I want the pretty one. She looks youthful enough. What is her name?” 

She’s Y/N but she has been punished by the agency for her recent remarks, she is not allowed to film challenges till one month is up.” “Fine, I’ll do it with the other two chicks here but remember, you owe me a big one. I happen to gain nothing from this since I cannot dance with the visual.”

Over your dead body. No way were you going to allow a grown man who’d openly demanded for a child 20 years his junior , to collaborate with the other members he had insulted. No way in hell. 

So you resort to snitching on him and telling Yoonha and Sorin to avoid the dance challenge.

To your utter amazement, Yoonha and Sorin defied your orders to not dance with Big Cobra ,instead calling you out on jealousy. What jealousy? If only they understood.

As Seventeen takes the stage, your mind struggles to focus. Whatever happened a few moments prior backstage has soured your mood. You knew you’d get in trouble with your company later for all the bad reactions you were showcasing to several cameras but you didn’t fucking care. The disgust you feel was too intense to mask.

A hand crept up into your peripheral vision and you catch a glimpse of Eunsae watching you with concern etched on her face.

“You know unnie, I know you are the leader and it's part of  your role to take care of us. But sometimes, I wish you’d tell us too. I am not a child anymore. I know everyone around us are monsters. I just don't get why you have to bear this all alone. Something happened backstage and that’s clearly made you upset. Please tell me what happened. I thought you were happy BigCobra ssi would agree to do a dance challenge with us. Your face shows otherwise  ”

Sometimes you don’t understand why you kept a lot of things from your members. At least the older ones. You had lived your entire life being an adult in the situation and wanting to shelter your members from all of it, but these ladies were all growing up. They were not children anymore. At least not Eunsae.

So you spill. 

By the time you are done recounting the story to Eunsae, you see her face has darkened, disgust apparent in her face too. 

“He did what now?” she interjected.

You say nothing, your silence speaking far more, conforming your thoughts.

Eunsae had biblical anger displayed on her face. Her jaw clenched tight with anger, her fists tightly holding on your wrist. You felt the same way.

“And you still let them go ahead  unnie?” she pressed.

“I mean they didn’t really give me an option . Yoonha was convinced I was jealous of forbidding her.” 

Eunsa rolled her eyes at that.

“Typical Yoonha” she muttered.

The next day Twitter went viral with a picture of Eunsae’s rolled eyes and you whispering in her ear amidst Seventeen’s special stage

Typical media and fan behavior, making noise out of nothing.

But this time the hate wasn’t just directed at you, your bandmate was included. Very quickly a warning was issued by your company threatening strong actions against malicious rumors against your labelmate and you. The last scandal you want to be involved with is fighting a large fandom of a popular boy group.

Only if Eunsae knew you had to sacrifice a part of you to get that post up and running up on the world wide web.

Chuseok holidays rolled out and while everyone went home, you found yourself alone. Your mother had claimed she was taking your father to a hospital, there is no way she can house you. 

“Your meal plans cost extra," she said, chucking you as just another burden.

With the girls gone, Victor was in charge of keeping you company and you wanted no opportunity to share the same air as him.

Maybe you could surprise your mother, perhaps with a surprise meal you'd cook. She wouldn’t turn her own daughter away would she?

You wished you hadn’t taken your own advice because on opening the room to your childhood home, you are greeted by the sight that will forever be imprinted in your memories.

Your mother wrapped around Hyangyuck, your PD. While your sick father was in the other room, blissfully unaware.

“Y/N wait- it’s not like that.” your mother’s face paled as she stammered out an apology.

You were done. Honestly this explains why you got selected despite your lack of talents anyway. Your mother had probably gotten her way around Hyangyuck with her connections to secure your spot. The realization burned.

You didn’t know who your own married mother was..

Not knowing what to do , where to go, you stand at the crossroads .  The dorm was empty, Victor was insufferable, and home—home was a twisted illusion. A sudden beep pulled you from your thoughts. A text from Wonwoo. It was the sixth message he’d sent in a week. Peering down at the screen, you read his invitation: “Want to go hang out? If you’re in the mood.”

You scoffed, not in the mood for anything. But the thought of spending time at his apartment—away from this mess—was tempting.

Lucky for you, Wonwoo was accepting of that too.

You had been looking for a chance to repay him back for all his kindness anyway

Wonwoo’s apartment was just as you’d imagined it. Cute and demure. Very minimalistic with the  exception of the kitchen- stacked with all the fancy kitchen equipment you could ever dream of. ‘Mingyu’s sanctuary’ he’d called it.  You chuckled to yourself, remembering Wonwoo’s disastrous sandwich-making fiasco. He was definitely not the chef in this partnership.

Wonwoo offers you some clothes-  probably an ex’s. A shorter someone because they fall ankle length. Wonwoo takes a good look at you and pursues his lips.

“Stop laughing!” you called out, feigning annoyance.

“I didn’t laugh,” he protested, though the twinkle in his eyes betrayed him.

“Your face says otherwise!”

As if that grants him the excuse, peals of laughter ring out , his palms doing nothing to stifle the obvious joy in his voice.

After the laughter drowns out you take a good look at him. Wonwoo is sitting by the fireplace, palm pressed to his cheek, elbow resting on the arm rest, softly glancing at you in a look of pure adoration. A look you can’t decipher . You couldn’t help but wonder why someone would look at you that way. 

A confident strut to your otherwise beating heart you walk over to where he sat. Leaning down to meet his gaze, you turned on the sultry charm you didn’t know you possessed, and his uncertainty morphs into something akin to eagerness. Although you have never given him the inkling that you do like him, he was sure he did. Anyone with eyes could see that. But this forward action from your side for once? Very welcome in his sight. 

Leaning closer to him, a hairbreadth away, you press your lips against his.

For one second nothing happens and you tense. But Wonwoo bridges the gap before you back away, an arm around your waist pulling you impossibly closer to him, cradling your waist. Instinctively, you jerk again, tickled at the sensation. But he’s quicker, placing the other arm around your left hip, now in a lock against your hip , drawing you closer and onto his lap. You don’t fight it, immediately settling onto his knees and gliding over to his thighs, brought forward by Wonwoo’ quick hands. Hands that had moved to your ear, his finger fondling with the star earring dangling from your right ear. Your hands seemed to have a mind of their own too, hands edging dangerously close to his chest. A beat later you place it against him, reveling in the hitch in his voice, fueled to take it further and pressing even harder against him.

Wonwoo shyly asks for entrance and you grant it to him. A dangerous thing to do because the next second you are at his mercy. He dominates the kiss and you have to ground yourself against his shirt, tugging on it impossibly hard. Any whimper you have is swallowed by Wonwoo’s strong tongue game.

A kiss he very much enjoys till his lost thoughts come back to him a minute or two later, and realization dawns.

He pulls back first leaving you suspended in a swirl of emotions—sadness mixed with a tinge of regret. His eyes searched yours, studying your expression for any sign of interest, but he found only confusion.

“I am sorry-”

“Why did you kiss me, Y/N?” His voice was quiet, almost vulnerable.

“ I wanted to pay you back?” your voice ringing on hollowness.

 He tips his head. 

“Pay me back? How? Why” His brow furrowed in confusion.

The silence stretched, wrapping around you both like an uncomfortable shroud. You felt the weight of your own words, the lingering truth of how you’d tried to manipulate the kindness he had shown you.

“So that kiss-”

“Look, it’s late in the evening Y/N, you were already upset when you came in and It’s my fault I shouldn't’” “No it’s not yours it’s mine” “Why don’ we sleep on it, hmm? Maybe after a good nights rest we can talk it out. How about that?” There is a small smile on his face but you’re not blind, it’s forced.

He leads you to his bedroom and ushers you around it.

“If you need anything, I’ll be in the next room.”

“Where are you going?”

“”I’ll be right next door Y/n. In Mingyu’s room. He’s not home anyway.”

 “I am sorry I took advantage of your kindness. I know you don’t like me like that and I-”

“Wait, do you think I don’t like you?” he asked, a hint of desperation creeping into his tone. “Y/n, I like you. Too much. But I’m scared you don’t.”

The admission hung in the air, thick with unspoken feelings. The silence turned awkward, and he finally backed away, breaking the spell. “I’ll take Mingyu’s room. You can have my room.”

And he leaves you, with an empty heart. Truly the daughter of your mother as much you both would like to deny it. Whoring yourself out for a place to spend the night, seeking validation in the most twisted ways. You spend the whole night tossing and turning, your brain won’t shut up, your mind is not at ease. 

You didn’t sleep a wink last night, fabric bunched up under your uncouth sleeping habits. Alert at the sounds of pots and pans clucking you spring up and make it to the kitchen, where you get to behold Wonwoo in all his morning glory, bleached hair sticking up in every odd direction, face marred with several lines creased by the pillows. 

"Good Morning” he calls out cheerfully, and you jump a little, you didn't think he was a morning person to be honest. 

You call back and exchange pleasantries, still over the edge of what happened last night. 

“Coffee?” 

You shake your head. He shrugs and follows you to the breakfast table.

“I ordered some breakf-”

“Oh, I am not hungry .”

He looks a little annoyed, like he wants to say something but he thinks the best of it and for that you are grateful.

You watch again, as he eats his pancake, a part of your stomach grumbling at you for denying it food. Meanwhile you sip mindlessly on the coffee, disgusted at its bitterness. After breakfast, a blanket of thorn air shrouds around you both and you sit basking in it, watching Wonwoo clear the table, noiselessly wiping down the countertop.

He watches you fiddle with your thumbs and sighs, coming closer to stand next to you.

You can’t keep quiet any longer. You jump right onto it. “Did I do something wrong? Did you not want it? Oh no, you didn’t want it, did you? I just—you had that look and I—”

“Y/N, stop.” Wonwoo clicked his palm against yours, his grip firm but gentle, preventing you from delving further into panic. “You are spiraling .”

“I did like it, alright? Too much. But this isn’t how I wanted it to happen. We should both feel it.”

“Oh, that’s alright. You can take as much as you want from me. What I say doesn’t matter at all.” you softly speak out. 

The shock on his face revealed the depth of your words. His eyes look around your face, waiting for a punked moment. Nothing comes out except your earnesty.

“Okay, we need to talk.”

Still not letting go of your wrist, he carefully led you through his apartment, eventually guiding you onto his bed.

“Sit.” His command was gentle yet firm, and you plopped down on the edge of the bed. 

He sat across from you, eyes intense, leveling you with a look that felt like it could pierce through your defenses.

“What you just did—you can’t just do that, Y/N. That’s not how this works. I want you, and I know you know that. But this—it can’t happen unless you feel it too.”

You remained mute, lost in a sea of conflicting emotions.

“When we like someone, it’s a two way street. Unless both parties enjoy it, you shouldn’t do it. Every time I see you, my heart races- he reaches out, placing your palm against his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath your fingers. “I get butterflies. You make me want to work hard to earn your love. You’re smart, kind, and beautiful. Sure, you can be a little aloof, but I find that really cute about you. I can’t do anything with you unless you feel it too. It should never be about me alone. You matter too, Y/N.”

He insists, earnest eyes boring into yours, to drive the point inside.

Words you had never heard before, words that felt foreign. When did you ever matter? Who had you ever mattered to?

You were suddenly transported back to that sunny day when your brother left. All four feet of you clinging to his leg, pleading for him not to go. At fifteen, you had endured enough emotional abuse from your mother, desperate for him to take you along.

Kicking his foot ,he had sent you tumbling to the ground, and you watched him walk away, backpack slung over his shoulder, leaving you alone. That was never the action of someone who did something to someone who ‘mattered’. 

“Which is why I want to ask, Y/N—do you feel anything for me at all?”

He inched closer, his gaze locked onto yours, a mix of urgency and vulnerability shimmering in his dark eyes. “I need to know,” he whispered. “Because every time I’m around you, it’s like I can’t breathe, and I don’t want to ignore what this could be. It’s eating me alive.”

His hands fidgeted nervously, and he ran a hand through his hair, trying to regain some composure. “I don’t want to pressure you, but... if you feel even a fraction of what I do, please just say something. It’s been driving me crazy, and I just can’t hold it in anymore.”

The weight of his words hung in the air, and he leaned in slightly, searching your eyes for any hint of an answer. “Just be honest with me. Please.”

You-

Your instincts screamed to run away. This level of vulnerability was foreign to you. But your heart demanded you stay.

“When you’re near me, my heart—” you softly whisper, like the words feel foreign to you, staring into his dark, shiny orbs. “It races too. I feel something. I can’t explain it, but there’s something.”

Initially, you had dismissed it as mere attraction. But the more you saw him, the more you realized you felt it? You felt this pull, a gentle tug in your heart that he was here. That he genuinely liked you for you, and that was honestly so confusing. Why would he ever? But also, you liked it. You liked being seen for who you really were, flaws and all, without the masks you usually wore. It was a strange comfort, this connection you were building.

“Please be patient with me. I know I want it, but I don’t exactly know what I want. I had nobody to look up to and learn what love feels like.”

“Honestly, Y/N, if it’s with you, I can always wait, baby. You are worth the wait.”

You froze.

“Oh no, did I say something triggering? I am sorr—”

“What did you just call me?” Your voice quivered, the weight of his words hitting you hard.

“Baby?”

One tear fell, then another, until a torrent of tears cascaded down your cheeks.

“Eomma please, just one hug. All my friends have mom's who hug them. Why can’t you hug me atleast once?” Your eight year old self had come out of the quiz as the only one who had all the answers and had received three gold stars. Holding all three gold stars in huge triumph you held out your report card in hopes that she would put it up near the refrigerator and give you a hug, that being your only demand.Except your mother had thrown the kitchen towel angrily across the table, slammed  a fist on the table and-

“Not now Y/N, I don’t have time for your kiddy games.”

“Earth to Y/N.”

“No one’s ever called me that before.” you finally state. 

“What? Baby?” he recounts.

Yes.

“That’s impossible. What about your parent”- you shook your head fiercely causing him to change his tactics.

“Was that why you were crying love?”

You shakily nod. Is this what catharsis felt like? Crying but empowering?

“Aww love” he cooed. “No one has to endure that alone you know.”

“How about we have some breakfast and then we cuddle and sleep? Your eyes tell you haven’t slept a wink last night”

“I’m not hungry.”

“All right then. I have a plan.

“ I am listening.”

“Let’s cuddle.”

“What is that supposed to do?”

“It is stress relieving. Trust me on this.”

“Are you a cuddler Wonu?”

He looked a bit embarrassed to admit but the answer was there in his actions- crossed out arms and pinkening cheeks. He takes a defensive stance in his next words, A cocky eyebrow perked up. “Maybe? Mingyu gives the best hugs”. He looks off in the distance as he says it, like reminiscing a past memory. 

Lazy grin in, you expect him to unfold. After a squirming session of three seconds total, he comes clean. “Well yesterday I was a little upset and Mingyu was there. And he- well- you know how he is. He gives the best hugs alright! Don’t judge me. If you had to be smothered in his arms you’d know how safe it is! All I am saying is, we could do the same thing. You’ll get to enjoy what a real cuddle session looks like ” 

Never would you have imagined a tall, big man absolutely folding himself at the prospect of recounting a great cuddle session with his ‘homie’. Can’t say you are not enamored though. 

You watch fondly as he fixes the pillows and settles down.

“Come here, he croons out, arm extended and invitingly calling you over. You crawl over the sheets, ready to settle down and hug him, like you’d hug Chuul when she came to your bed at night after a nightmare or when the homesickness hits too hard. 

“What are you doing?”

“Uuhh hugging you?” Were you doing that wrong too? 

“No I don’t mean you hug me , I want to be the big spoon.” 

“What’s a  spoon got to do with hugs?”

His mouth opens wide as he stares at you in shock. Seriously, what is happening?

Wonwoo manhandles you to mold you into the position he wants you to be in, on your side while he engulfs you from the back. The heat radiation at his proximity from your back and the warmth omitting from your heart was cocooning you from both sides.

Wonwoo’s body is solid and comforting, the best combination right now. You softly breath in his familiar scent, the musk of a strong cologne. 

“Is this okay?” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah,” you replied, a smile creeping onto your face. “It feels nice.”

He chuckled softly, and the sound reverberated through you. His fingers found their way to your waist, gently tracing circles on your skin. The simple gesture sent shivers down your spine, and you leaned back into him, craving more of that warmth.

“See? This isn’t so bad,” he teased, his breath tickling your ear.

“No, it’s really nice,” you admitted, your cheeks flushing slightly.

You both fell into a comfortable silence, the weight of the day melting away as you enjoyed the intimacy of the moment. Wonwoo’s arms felt like a protective cocoon around you, and you found yourself relaxing more with every passing second.

“Just so you know,” he said softly, his voice laced with sincerity, “I’d do anything to keep you close like this. Just come to me , when you have bad days like this . I want to be the one who gets to hear your complaints and worries. I want to be your rock. I want to start loving you , and to show you what love feels like. It’s not the worst feeling in the world, to be vulnerable.”

His words sent your heart racing, and you turned slightly to catch his gaze. The look in his eyes was a mixture of warmth and determination, and you felt your heart swell. In that moment, everything else faded away—your worries, your past—and all that mattered was the warmth of his embrace and the connection building between you.

“Thank you for everything Wonwoo,” you whispered, feeling grateful and vulnerable all at once.

“Always,” he replied, tightening his hold around you, making you feel cherished and safe in his arms.

You both wake up around midday. Wonwoo pecks your nose and leaves to fend off to do some errands leaving you back on the bed, lethargic at the lack of food catching up to you. 

( TW: Eating Disorder mentioned, unhealthy diet habits mentioned . Reader has an EXTREMELY fucked up mindset against food. Be warned)

He comes back carrying take out in his hand. Great, in your haste you had forgotten to ask him if he had eaten at all. How pretty selfish of you. ‘Typical Y/N’ your mom’s snarky voice entered your head. ‘Always thinking about no one else but herself’.

You watch him unpack the food, setting aside a grand feast of chunky beef ghalbi, a crimson shade of kimchi and white rice sprinkled with furikake. The smell of succulent meat permeates the air and a deep part of you craves for it. It’s been over a year since you last allowed your body to have the luxury to indulge in expensive meat. You watch as he neatly arranges the containers and draws out two plates from the kitchen, along with two wine glasses.  You hope to God he doesn’t ask you to eat with him, you have no active lies to cook up, it’s clear he’s caught onto the pattern. He pops open the wine bottle, fizzing out the soda and you watch as he carefully pours two glasses of wine onto the awaiting cups. 

He beckons you over to the table as he slowly lowers himself , expectantly awaiting your arrival any minute. Not wanting to disrupt his anticipation, you saunter over to him. Maybe you could drink a glass of wine with him and call it a day.

You should know by now Wonwoo was always a step ahead. He pulls out a chair for you , tilting his head expecting your rear to make yourself comfortable and dive into the feast ahead. 

“I already a-” "Sit down, Y/N." His voice is assertive — a rare tone coming from someone as soft-spoken as Wonwoo.

You gulp a bit hoping to save some time and he knocks against your knee pit effectively sending you toppling backwards and into his strong arms. They wind around you and he places a small nip on the lobe of your right ear, nuzzling his nose on your chin.

You watch as his right hand takes out a pair of chopsticks dipping into a plump slice of beef, immersing it in a thick paste of soy red sauce and bringing the meat closer to your mouth. That was held shut. 

 Tight.

You shake your head avoiding the tantalizing piece of meat set in front of you to tempt you into succumbing and eating something.

“Y/N please eat” You shake your head again. You can’t. Why doesn’t he understand?

“I am not hungry” “I call bullshit love, you haven’t eaten anything and your gurgling stomach is testimony to that, no- c-covering it won’t hide those noises , love.”  He teeters between a dominant tone and fits of chuckles at your hurried attempts to muffle the mighty roars your stomach makes at the sight of your favorite food.

“Remember you are nothing more than your face, you are just a caricature of a persona I drew up for you, without this body to assist , you are worthless. So avoid eating at all costs. Your body pays for all the bills here so work hard to remain thin. You got me pig?”When assigning different roles, you were the only one who was given a visual role, the company calling everyone else ugly just because they had failed their weekly check ups. 

During trainee days you were all subjected to the most humiliating ways to check weights . At the end of each week, the CEO would arrive with his side goons for weekly reviews and gift the winner with the lowest weight. In a  truly fucked up mindset, all of you competed for that gift. It was only after your closest friend Julie was taken out of the program by her mother who scorned the system, you realized how young teenagers were suffering from unhealthy eating habits. At the price of your body, you were able to find a leeway in the contract putting a stop to these weight surveys on kids. They still had strict diets but their weight was not monitored as strictly like you had feared. You watched with glee as baby Chuul and Sorin start gaining some color in their cheeks .

The price to pay was Yoonha abhorring you when the roles were given out and she was considered over the weight limit to for the standard rate for a visual (still underweight on a doctor’s scales). That was the day her hate for you grew, she believed you played this to take this opportunity from her. If only she knew the sacrifice you made for her to live out what you wanted to. 

There’s a voice in your head repeatedly warning you to not fall for your cravings and a voice outside it beseeching you to just eat it. 

“Y/N just open your mouth okay? I will feed you, come on now just say ahh. “ You shake your head violently, trying to trickle down from his strong grip. He’s taking none of your nonsense tonight.

“It’s just one bite love. One bite. That’s all. If you don’t like it you don’t have to eat and I won’t force you. “ Yeah it’s just one bite.

Except-

“One bite is all it takes for you to lose the image the group is built on”

The voices in your head were winning this round . 

“Y/N “ He worriedly calls out.

“I can’t. They said I can’t” You finally state.

“Who said you can’t eat baby?”

You melt at the nickname and he smirks against your shoulder.

“Baby, listen to me“ You turn around to look at his eyes, rounded and worry etched at the edges of his soft glance.

“Why can’t you eat baby?” You continue to stare back at him.

‘Are you allergic to meat?” You shake your head.

“Do you not like this?” You shake again. You can’t lie about that.

“When was the last time you ate and be honest with me please”.He implores softly. You can’t help but shed a tear at his soft heartedness. All this harsh exterior but you have yet to meet another man who’s shown this much affection to you.

You refuse to give an answer. It’s probably for the best you think.

Sighing at your silence he shifts you to be a little more comfortable.

“Listen to me. This body you have, all it asks is for a little respect. Just do the bare minimum: feed it something to keep you nourished and moving forward. How are you supposed to make progress if all you do is starve? One bite never harmed anyone, but going several lacks will definitely take a toll.”

You see no lie in his statement despite the several voices of protests in your head.

It’s been four days since you had eaten a bite after the cake you ate last for Mishal’s birthday live. You had offered to throw it out before the staff did, except you and Mishal snuck into a bathroom stall and scarfed the whole thing down, greedily feasting on red velvet gooey deliciousness. 

‘Here just look at the food. Don’t you want to smell it?”

Your eyes watered again at the senses flooding your mouth and eyes, there was an aroma wafting in the air, the glisten of the red beef against the twilight hue percolating through his high rise widows. Placed before you, the dish glistens with saucy goodness, white sesame seeds scattered artfully across the surface, while green scallions are peppered around the edges. You can’t help but yearn for it, your hunger intensifying with every glance. Ignoring the blaring alarms wailing in your head, you finally dive forward and take a nibble of the beef.

Succulent meat falls right off the bone and gets swallowed by your mouth wholly, the caramelized glaze dribbling down your chin.  Wonwoo delicately wipes it away and you moan involuntarily as the taste hits the roof of your mouth.

Wonwoo lets out a throaty chuckle, opting to peck your cheek when a warm blush overtakes your face . You hadn’t meant to do that. 

“That good eh?”

You simply nod, opening your mouth like a baby bird for one more bite pouting at him when he takes too long in your opinion.

‘Coming pretty baby” 

With his tender loving care the hunger in your stomach slowly ebbs away but streams of tears flow down heartily.

 No one has ever fed you as far as you can remember. Your bitchy mother certainly didn’t. Your father was prevented from it. You had always craved an affection so fickle as being fed that when the first person to feed you was a boy who you had sworn to close your heart to, you couldn't help the small cracks that formed. 

Your bites had turned into full on gobbles , hunger overtaking your senses . Seemingly , Wonwoo didn’t seem to mind continuing to feed you despite multiple attempts of objection from your end.

“I am eating too pretty girl , don’t mind me feeding you. Look at your round cheeks filled with food , I can’t help but admire your -“

Ignoring the temptation he comes forward and places a long smooch on your cheek drawing out the long ‘mwah ‘ sound , hoping that with this you can understand just how much he’s in love with you and cares for you .

Your eyes close at the tender gesture, the tears still ebbing. You cannot be bothered to care and wipe them away , the catharsis of just letting go and enjoying something you had denied for so long brings euphoria into your life .

Maybe if you analysed it,  anyone could guess that a part of you was regressing at the affection of being fed by someone else , your mouth still conditioned to opening up every time he brought a bite close to you ,despite the knowledge that you are way over your limits 

When all is said and done , he slouches on the chair taking you with him , causing you to slump on him like a dead weight . You try to take this opportunity to save yourself and heave out the food before the effects of your gluttony shows on your face but he’s quicker than you , bringing his legs around yours, wrapping them around your shin and preventing any methods of escape you had in mind to empty the content of food. 

“Just stay here for a little while more love “

You don’t argue this time after debating with the voices. . It’s the least you could do for your precious body - to feed and nourish overworked organs . The only fodder they had these days was the stress you caused.

You stick around for a little more time in Wonwoo’s apartment, still not having left the secluded space of his arms. Nobody could ever prepare you for how much of a yapper Wonwoo really was. There you sat, on his lap, filled to the brim with food you loved, watching endearingly as the man you were slowly and quickly catching feelings for, filled every second with his deep rumbly voice talking about his childhood. “And we took Bohyuck to the hospital and that's when he knew shit was up. He confessed right before they injected him, serves him right for lying to us and making Eomma cry. I was worried too-”

Before he could continue with his brother's antics, the door opens and you see someone emerge from one of the rooms. Not really comfortable around others, much less a man such as thee Kim Mingyu, you jump up and quickly bow, your manners never forgotten. 

Wonwoo rushes to follow suit, standing up as Mingu rounds the corner of the countertop making his way to get a  glass of water. You are a little miffed. Mingyu has not acknowledged your presence in the slightest, choosing to ignore your bow or small ‘hi’.

Instead he takes one look at the night suit you were wearing, furthers his head to look at Wonwoo and ask, “Woozi really?” and turns around to leave pronto.

Wonwoo, as though sensing your uncomfort, rubs his chin on your head and tells you to ‘ignore him, he’s just cranky’. 

The dark feeling settles down in you, that you’ve done something wrong. You can’t place what exactly but if Wonwoo tells you to ignore it, what better to than just shrug it off and move forward?

The next week passes off as some of the best moments in your life. Wonwoo, you were beginning to realize was an absolute sweetheart of a person.

Maybe if you sat down for a single second and pondered, you’d reflect that you were moving too fast too quick, one minute you had started as fake dates, the next minute your heart knew no endless joy like the euphoric high you were riding now in the attention of a boy who has stolen every waking second of your thought.

Wonwoo pampered you like no other, in a way you didn’t think was possible for someone to take care of you. Diets be damned, rules be fucked, under the canopy of his house you both camped in a safe haven basking in each others presence. Night times were your favorite part of the day, you loved being spooned and coddled. Wonwoo, had big muscular hands that wrapped around you, always pulling you close to his chest, the best cacophony of sounds that could push you to blissful sleep .

If not for the demons that rang out in the sanctuary of your mind, riddling you unable to sleep, paralyzing your thoughts and stripping you off peace.

A.N: my lap crashed y'all! but I wanted to post this fic as my birthday gift and i made it somehow wohoo.. ignore the typos lol, i'll come back and edit. i was racing against time.

if you like the fic please comment, reblog or send an ask! comment below to be added to the taglist

taglist- @skzbangchanniee @everythingboutkpop @fxckingshame @ariananotgrandeee @veryveryveryberry

[biceratops7]

I’m gonna SCREAM-

We’ve already established as a fandom that Metatron could teach a masterclass on gas lighting, but I wanna talk about how he specifically validates the things Aziraphale cares for while simultaneously devaluing them under the surface.

First off, this moment?

Tells us everything we need to know. It sets the scene for exactly the games Metatron is playing. He makes Muriel feel important while openly insulting them (flat out calling them stupid), aka seamlessly reinforcing the idea that they’re less than to both them and anyone else in the room. He knows he can get away with this easily, he knows that Muriel, lonely, overlooked little Muriel, will be completely distracted by the fact that someone so important is taking an interest in them.

This is already horribly clever, but then later on you realize it’s doing even MORE heavy lifting when he appoints Muriel to run the bookshop. “See? What’s important to you is what’s important to me! I’ve graciously taken the time to ensure your beloved shop is looked after by Muriel. You know, the dim one!” …let’s suffice it to say he’s ensnared too birds with one net for this one, and that a pattern is already starting to arise.

So when Metatron says Gabriel came to Aziraphale because he’s a “natural leader” and “doesn’t just tell people what they wanna hear”? Yah he’s full of shit. Aziraphale struggles with his sense of purpose when he doesn’t have someone or something guiding him, and for thousands of years he’s been terrified of sharing his true feelings and opinions to 90% of people he’s known. Completely just trying to butter him up. Wanna know the real reason Gabriel seeks asylum with Aziraphale?

Exactly this. Gabriel just says so point blank. It’s not because Aziraphale is this person for him, it’s because despite knowing nothing, he has this instinct that Aziraphale is the only one who can possibly understand why Gabriel did what he did. He is, I mean as far as we know, the only other angel who has fallen in love. (In general, let alone with a demon.)

But nope, can’t have that. We can throw the promise of restoring Crowley in the mix to sweeten the pot, but we can’t acknowledge why he’d want that so badly in the first place. So now it’s cause they work so well together. We can praise the angel for the fallen archangel Gabriel himself coming to him protection and guidance, give him a gold star. But we couldn’t DARE imply that it was by virtue of Aziraphale’s courage to choose earthly love over heavenly. How Gabriel didn’t need a leader, but a friend who’s truly known the joys of adoring that “particular person” and the pain of needing to hide it.

Cause then Aziraphale would start getting crazy ideas, like that his silly little human feelings have a great deal of worth. That they have the power to inspire, form cracks in the institution, fundamentally weaken what has controlled and harmed him. We wouldn’t want him to know the true value of the cards he holds when he has the ace in a match against you, now would we? After all…

Metatron uses this ingeniously sinister tactic of taking away Aziraphale’s choice while giving the illusion that he’s actually opening up doors. Notice how he tells Aziraphale he would have the authority to do something as extraordinary as turn a demon into an angel, yet he never once puts the much simpler alternative of just working with a demon on the table? The sleight of hand here is that he’s being offered the opportunity to freely be with Crowley… but he’s already freely with him as is, no bargain to be made. In fact he fought to be. Metatron disappears this accomplishment right before our eyes, while seamlessly maintaining the illusion to Aziraphale that he (Zira) is in control.

He sets Aziraphale up for failure by only providing the option he knows Crowley will not only decline but be deeply hurt by. It’s all so cleverly planned. Once this plays out exactly how he wants, he delivers the finishing blow by diminishing Crowley and his “damned fool questions”. Suddenly doing a complete 180 and emphasizing how foolish and troublesome he is. Metatron was offering Crowley by Aziraphale’s side as The Carrot. Now he’s telling Aziraphale it was stupid of him to want The Carrot, un-heavenly.

Aziraphale’s life, love, happiness, it’s all not only a massive inconvenience for Metatron but a liability. He has successfully taken a weapon from Aziraphale’s hands he didn’t even know he had. Metatron sees the writing on the wall, and he wants it contained.

[fawninthesnow]

𝐎𝐟 𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐝 & 𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝: PT 2, Scales & Weights

Lucius Verus x fem!

Summary: Former Gladiator, Emperor Lucius, takes his rightful property-- the wife of his conquered enemy.

Warnings/Contains: fem character, slow burn, f4m, smut, unprotected sex, spit as lube, cock warming, public hum!l!, h@nd jobs, no proofreading, etc

a/n: slowburn warning!

More on my Master list!

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“Well.”

“I hope I didn’t disturb your rest too harshly. We are only a few hours from the palace.” She hummed with acknowledgement, looking out at the fields of olive trees and barren grass. Animals crossed their path as did the occasional commoner, praising and thanking the emperor for bringing peace to the land.

“What will be my purpose?” The woman asked, a solemn expression in her eyes and a frown on her lips.

“I have yet to think it over.” She frowned and looked behind them at the tens of men on horseback. “They're happy, don't worry.”

“And how do you know that?”

“They are headed home, that is why.” There was a moment of silence between them. “You believe me to be a liar?”

“No, my Emperor. May gods rest his soul…but I was once a slave to the Emperor Geta.” He frowned, “…two years ago, I was brought to this city in chains. Nothing has changed.”

“This city is different, very different from when the twins ruled. Might I add, you are no longer in chains.”

“I don’t believe that to be true.” She said softly, watching children splash in the fountain at the city entrance. A young girl of a honey complexion splashed water towards the guards and emperor. For a short second, she paused, her fingertips dripped water onto the smooth, hot pavers. She stared curiously at the woman behind the emperor’s back.

As the campaign of men entered, crowds of hundreds and thousands surrounded the men, tossing petals, spices, dyes, food and even undergarments. The young woman concealed her face with a head wrap and bowed her head behind the emperor. Shouts and screams came from every direction. Music played loudly for all the city to hear; some people even danced about in circles. When they arrived at the city steps, the emperor stepped off his horse and helped the young woman and her child off. “Watch your step.” He said, walking ahead of her to greet the senate. He waved at the people, sending his blessing to them before marching into the palace.

Without a second passing, the man was greeted by his servants. He removed his armor and unsheathed his sword. “Take her to the bath in my quarters, then leave her there.” They took his clothes and guided him to the bath.

The young woman held onto her child as the servants guided her down a different hall. She admired the tall ceilings. The floors are adorned with intricate mosaics, depicting elaborate scenes of mythology, nature, or battles. Surrounding the atrium past the entrance, the walls are richly decorated with frescoes, showcasing vibrant colors and complex patterns. Scenes from daily life, gods and goddesses, as well as mythological tales. In every room, tall columns, made of marble stood strong, only making her feel smaller. When they entered the emperor’s quarters, she was led to an outside bath, it steamed and was full of soapy bubbles. Along the sides, bowls and bottles of soaps, oils and flower petals.

One of the servants offered their hands out to lay the child down. “No. Do you have a cradle? I want her beside me.”

“Yes, my lady.”

Although she soaked in the water, she watched her child in the large cradle, protected from bugs with netting. Time passed as she relaxed, her eyes fluttering closed.

The sun began to set over across the empire, a wine red and hazel orange. The emperor slowly walked over to the woman, stroking her fluffy hair that his fingers got tangled in. He smiled at the flowers in her curls. Each petal seemed to fall off its stem as his fingertips grazed them. She jumped awake, covering her bosom instinctively. “Calm down, calm down. You fell asleep.” He offered her a robe and turned around. She rose from the milky water and tied the robe around her. “The uhh, the palace children, they wanted to welcome you, but you were sleeping.” He gestured to the flowers in her hair.

“They are kind.” She looked around for her infant who was once in the cradle—

“She has been changed and fed…she is now asleep in your quarters. Yasmeen, she’s lovely when awake.” The panicked woman calmed her breathing, “Please get dressed.”

“Would you excuse me?”

“Of course.” Lucius left his quarters. She looked at the blue dress with gold ribbons to lap around her bosom and waist, as well as a thin, pale blue shawl for her head and shoulders. In a dish beside the clothes were gold jewels and hair accessories. She brought the shawl over to cover her eyes to conceal what bit of identity she had to hide and left the bedroom, her curly hair flowing beneath the cover. The emperor met her in the hallway, standing over her. “You look…healthy.”

The young woman dismissed his awkwardness and looked around in search for her daughter. “…Yasmeen.” She said softly as if calling her into her slim arms.

“Right, she’s right this way.”

In a room in the middle of the palace, children giggle, some sleep and other play. Women in white togas watched after the boys and girls. As the two entered, the women, as well as the olden children, bowed to the emperor. On the lap of a woman with braids down her sides, Yasmeen played with wooden beads. Upon seeing her mother, the girl reached out, nearly whining for her attention and embrace. She thanked the woman before taking the girl into her arms.

When the young woman turned around, the emperor was gone. “Emperor? My Lord?” The women in the room continued to watch after the children, speaking in their foreign tongue. Outside the door, she called out for him again. “Emperor?” After a moment of silence in the halls, she closed her lips.

Barefooted, and silent, the young woman explored the palace. Without knowing her, staff would bow, seeing her in the Emperor’s blue. She pushed open large doors that led to chambers, lounging spaces, and meeting rooms. She wondered her way downstairs and outside to a courtyard of flowers, greenery and sculptures of men and women in the nude. She would her way to the center of the south courtyard. There, a large, marble fountain cascading water from each tier pool.

“Stupid thing!” The voice of a boy spat loudly. The young woman turned, her eyebrows tilted downward her eyes. “Stop moving!” She curiously went around the maze of plants to the sound of his voice. “Oww!”

His back was to her as he crouched on the ground, his toga loose and filthy from its original warm orange and yellow. “What are you doing?” She asked.

“Ahh!” He jumped from her and hissed.

“My gods!” She stepped back from him. When he moved from the way, she noticed the two animals at his feet. A monkey and a hedgehog.

“Leave me alone!” He said without looking at her, plucking quails from his legs. She kneeled beside him and helped to take the quails out before wrapping his bleeding calve with her head scarf. “Who are you?”

“My name is [].”

“I’ve never seen you before.” The monkey jumped on his shoulder, eating nuts and seeds from his pocket.

“What are your intentions? Because it seems you are here to just hurt yourself.”

“No! I’m a scholar.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes! And I am experimenting.” She tilted her head. “A monkey-hedgehog? Tsk, isn’t it obvious? How come no one’s ever thought of that? It would be so cool! A monkey with spikes upon its back! Or even a soft hedgehog!” He looked around, “Where did the hedgehog beast go?! Small but fast! Perfect qualities!”

“Yes, you’re very smart but…I don’t think it’s even mating season.”

The boy gasped, “Youre right! Haha…when is mating season?”

The young woman shrugged, pretending not to know in order to protect the rest of the animals in the garden. “Is that your monkey?”

“Yes, yes, it is.”

“Does it have a name?”

“I call it stupid.”

She frowned, “That is not very nice. You should come up with a respectable name.”

“Nuen is his actual name.” The boy laughed at the woman. “Why are you holding a baby?”

“This is my child, Yasmeen.”

“But why are you holding her? There are people here that do that kinda stuff.” He playfully held his monkey as she did her daughter.

“Do women do not tend to their children here?”

“Huh? Tend? I dunno. I guess I have never seen a woman in Emperor’s blue carrying one of them.”

“What is emperor’s blue?”

The boy scrunched his face in confusion and disgust. “Obviously, it’s what you are wearing.”

“I know that. What does it mean?” He sighed loudly, his hand went to his hip, “You are mighty flamboyant…your attitude is one for the history books.”

“Haha! Every emperor’s color represents them. If you are given the color to wear, it means a lot! No one is allowed to make or buy it. It is given. Better?”

“Yes. What is your name?”

“Gallus! Lord Gallus!”

“Well, it was nice speaking with you, Lord Gallus…and Nuen.”

“Bye!” He waved as she made her way back inside the palace.

She lay across a loveseat, playing with Yasmeen’s hands. The girl babbled to herself, placing her hands on her mother’s face. “Are you trying to hide me? Is that right?” Yasmeen giggled and continued to play with her mother’s features. With her small fingers in her mother’s curls, the girl raised then dropped her hands.

“My Lady? The emperor requests your presence at the Pantheon.” The woman stood. “We will escort you there by lectica.”

Pt 2: End <3

More on my Master list!

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[sai-int]

a little depressed right now. my coping mechanism is to make people cry through writing. enjoy a blurb about pieceofshit!simon x reader

cw: emotional abuse, manipulation, cheating, stream of consciousness blurb, angst (duh)

You remember his birthday like it was yesterday, even though it feels like a lifetime ago. The way he kissed her—warm and familiar, pressing into her like you never existed. You weren’t even a thought in his mind, just a shadow in the background of a scene you had no place in.

It was a second of nothingness for him, but for you, it felt like a year of every mistake you’d ever made. It wasn’t me, you tell yourself, over and over, but it feels like a lie you can’t escape. It wasn’t me. You want to scream it, to tear yourself apart for not being enough for him.

But he’s a winner, right? Simon’s always been a winner. It doesn’t matter what happens, what he does, or how far he goes—he’ll always be the one that gets his way, always the one who walks away unscathed. You wonder, How much more can I give before there’s nothing left to take? You wonder if he’ll notice when you’re wrung dry.

Sometimes, he cries about feeling empty, about needing more, but not from you. Not in the way you needed him. Why is everything about you, Simon? Why does it always have to come back to you?

Even when it’s just the two of you, the silence between you louder than anything he’s ever said, it’s always about him. His anger. His confusion. His need for control. His coldness. His distance. You think you can fix it, but you can’t. You can’t fix him. You can’t fix yourself.

You watch him walk too close to the road, just like you always have. He walks on the edge like he’s daring you to stop him, daring you to save him from an inevitable fate. But you never stop him. You wonder if he even wants to be saved. You wonder if he’s just waiting for you to give up, waiting for you to walk away so he can be the one who lets go first. And God, how much longer can you stand here, loving someone who doesn’t want know how to love you back?

You feel sick when he touches you now. His hands, once so soft, now feel like needles in your skin, pulling at your soul until it’s raw. But you crave it anyway. You crave it because it’s all you have left. You don’t even know if he’s angry with you, if he’s disappointed in you, if you’ve pushed him too far. What did I ever do to make him so fucking angry?

Where’s your heart at, Simon, you want to scream, When your hands are all over me? But you’re scared to ask. Scared to hear the answer. What if it’s true? That he never cared? That you were just something to pass the time, something to fill the silence?

You feel cold, so cold, like he’s already gone and you’re still here, stuck in this room, stuck in this memory, wondering where it all went wrong.

You can’t stop thinking about how he made you believe. He made you believe you were enough. He made you believe that maybe, just maybe, you could fix him. But he was lying. Lying about who he was, who he wanted, and what he needed. He lied to you until you were empty, and now you’re left with nothing but the hollow ache of everything you thought you had with him.

You still hear them in your mind—whispers of promises he made, of the things he swore he’d do, the love he said he’d give you. He claimed his palms would hold a feast, but when he opened them, they held mere crumbs. You licked them clean anyway because you couldn't bite the hand that fed.

The truth is so fucking cruel, isn’t it? Is it something I did? Did I ruin it? You’ve asked yourself that question a thousand times, and you’re no closer to an answer.

Maybe you did. Maybe you didn’t. But in the end, it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter because you’re here and he’s gone.

And you’re still lapping at the crumbs he left on his way out the door. Starving.

mlist

[sukunarii]

Pairing: Sukuna x Reader Warning: (Spoiler from chapter 216!)

Synopsis: (Name) was kidnapped by Yorozu

A/N: It's been a while oops, but I was suddenly inspired to write this fanfic after rereading all the Sukuna scenes. Everything that Sukuna has done lately in the manga and Shibuya in anime coming soon too, no words can express how happy I am 😍😍

“Oh dear, you’ve switched skins? Why don’t you change your face back?”

Sukuna was unamused and ignored her, “Yorozu, where is (Name)?”

“How cruel Sukuna, you’re finally reunited with your future wife after a thousand years and you’re asking about another girl?”, Yorozu taunts back but clearly bitter by the King of Curses’s reaction.

Sukuna was starting to grow impatient, he has no interest in Yorozu’s antics and without a warning, he attacks Yorozu. With his incredible speed, he appears right before her in a split second and lands a solid kick on her torso which sends her flying backwards but she manages to stay on her feet.

“What do you want, Yorozu”, he calls out to her.

Yorozu appears barely affected by the kick and sticks her tongue out, “Bleh, You know what I want. I want to be the one who kills you and I want you to be the one who kills me. This is true love. And if you’re alive after I win, you will let me be your wife.”

“Whatever you want,” Sukuna says, “If I lose that means I am dead and didn’t protect (Name). If that happens it doesn’t matter what you do with a corpse.”

“I heard you say it!” Yorozu’s lips twitches up in an evil smile, “I’ll be your true wife, you will marry me then I will dispose of that annoying girl, maybe cut her up bit by bit and make her unrecognizable later.”

“Later? Do you really think you’ll still be around?”, Sukuna says, rage clearly in his eyes. No one talks about his (Name) like this, especially not to his face. But the King of Curses keeps his composure and despite his anger, a smirk finds its way on his face. Sukuna bends down and makes the hand sign of a dog “Divine dog” he summons.

From the shadows, the shape of multiple dogs takes form and charges towards Yorozu. Yorozu dodges them and tries to counterattack Sukuna but her attack fails to reach him.

“What is this?” Yorozu shouts with anger, “This isn’t your cursed technique! You think you can beat me without Malevolent Shrine?”

“No I won’t use that. I won’t need it,” Sukuna replies.

Yorozu was pissed, “Fine. I will give you (Name).”

Yorozu effortlessly jumps up to the top of a light pole to distance herself from Sukuna. She pulls out a cube from her robe and makes the hand signs to unseal it. Suddenly the cube emits a shadow and (Name) appears. Yorozu holds (Name) by her neck, hanging her mid air and her feet frantically kicks trying to get herself free, “Still not going to use Shrine?”, Yorozu calls out to Sukuna while her grip on (Name)’s neck tightens.

In a quick motion, Sukuna lunges towards Yorozu and punches her but Yorozu jumps off from the light pole while hands still gripping (Name). However, she notices that Sukuna has already summoned Round Deer which is waiting to attack Yorozu from the ground. Swiftly she let’s go of (Name), and the girl screams as she falls. Yorozu sends a wave of attack, aiming it to where (Name) will land to ensure that the girl will be finished.

(Name) closes her eyes, readying herself for the fall but instead, she falls into a warm and familiar embrace.

“(Name), I’m sorry I was late,” Sukuna says.

(Name) opens her eyes to see that she is safe in Sukuna’s arms. However, it seems that the last attack Yorozu sent hit Sukuna as there’s a deep wound on his shoulder, he used himself to shield (Name). But Sukuna was not concerned by it at all.

“You have a cut on your beautiful face,” he says while looking at (Name) and he passes his hands over the cut and uses reverse curse technique to easily heal it up.

“Sukuna, I’m sorry I was careless,” (Name) starts.

“Shhh,” Sukuna shushes her, “Let’s go home.”

Behind them, Yorozu interrupts the couple, clearly jealous, “Where do you think you’re going Sukuna? This fight isn’t over yet. I am going to be your wife, I am going to be the one who will show you what love is. Who is she to you anyways?”

Sukuna doesn’t bother turning back to look at Yorozu. His eyes are fixed on (Name) in his arms, “She is my queen.”

“Haa?”, Yorozu calls out, pissed, “I’m gonna fucking kill her then kill you, I won't allow any mistresses in this marriage,” Yorozu shouts as she charges at them.

Sukuna doesn't seem to care. His attention is already removed from Yorozu. With (Name) still his arms, she is the only person in his world. He has no interest in giving any more of his time to Yorozu.

Sukuna, mumbles, “With this treasure, I summon…”

Mahoraga appears from the shadows and towers in front of Yorozu. "You're gonna use this to finish me off? How dare you Sukuna!" Yorozu shouts at him as she engages in battle with the Shikigami but she is no match for Mahoraga's powers. She screams and pleads while getting defeated by Mahoraga but it all fell to deaf ears.

(Name) still in Sukuna's arms, quietly says “You don't have to carry me Sukuna, I can still walk.”

“My queen should rest,” Sukuna replies and gives her a soft kiss on her forehead, “I’m never letting you go.”

Being the King of Curses, Sukuna has attracted a lot of admirers. But he was indifferent to all of them. The only person he cares about other than himself is (Name), his queen.

[certifiedlovergirlsstuff]

"Maybe someday I'll be that guy for you" this line just broke my heart. Why did he have to be so nice about it lol. Can you write a part 2 where he actually start noticing her like that? Like really starting to like her?

steve’s pov (might not be exactly what you asked for)

he still feels his heart lurch whenever he notices that dulled look hiding in your gaze. you try to hide it with a smile in his direction but it doesn’t properly meet your eyes. you don’t go out of your way to find his company you let him come to you, keeping a distance for either of you or just your heart.

it’s not like you’ve completely iced him out, but it’s different now. and steve really fucking hates that, but what’s he supposed to do? he didn’t want you to get your hopes up and so he told the truth, you deserve someone thousand times better than him. and that’s now caused your friendship to sail on rocky waters.

“stop staring at them, it’s creepy.” he startled slightly from the voice behind him, looking over his shoulder to see robin with her eyes stuck in a book at the small break table. he pretended to busy himself, “i wasn’t staring, just zoned out.”

robin hummed, “you seem to be doing that more then usual these days. got a specific thing on your mind? like, oh, i don’t know, breaking y/n’s heart.” she tried to sound nonchalant, but steve could hear the bitter rage spilling through her words.

he sighed as his chin dipped to his chest, “i-i didn’t mean, or try, to break their heart. i-i just wanted to be realistic with them, and also, you don’t think that hurt me to do? i never want to hurt them, it fucking sucked to see them curl away from me. i-i just want my friend back.” he whispered the last part to himself.

“steve,” robin called his named and he looked over his shoulder to see her book closed and tapping her palm on the table. he slowly pulled the second chair closer and rested his elbows on the table.

robin rubbed both palms over her freckled face, “okay, what i’m about to tell you is doctor patient confidentiality. i will give you the worst haircut if any of this information slips from your mouth, got it?” her blue eyes widen. steve just nodded along, planning to lock away all sharp objects.

“they have liked you since freshman year, so it’s been like four plus years of them just gazing at your passing figure in the hall to now working along side you. they were the first to mention to me how you’ve slowly changed in the last year and a half, from being king douchebag to ice cream sailor. they could not stop gushing about any little interaction the two of you had, dissecting the scene until there was nothing left to inspect. so they came up to me the day after the… incident, with tears welling and wetly laughing as they said, “i think i like him more than i expected. probably just felt my first experience of mild heartbreak.” and i’m pretty sure it was more than mild. so what i’m trying to get at is, they’ll need time to heal, and i’m not sure whatever is going on inside harrington land. but just make sure you properly evaluate and think through before taking any further steps.”

then robin had the gull to leave steve in the back room with his screaming mind and pounding heart, and if things couldn’t get worse, the saloon doors pushed in to show you entering with a bag from hot dog on a stick.

“oh… hey,” hesitant. he saw the way your conversed shoes shifted and bent, debating if you wanted to stay or make a run for it. steve made the decision for you and stood from his seat, “uh, i-i should probably-“

“no, no. stay, if-if you can. i got you some fries, figured you’d be a bit hungry before your actual lunch.” your fingers curled tight around the white paper bag, the crinkling sounding like lightning.

steve was sure he had a bit of a surprised expression on his face, “you-you didn’t have to do that.”

you took robin’s spot while shrugging your shoulders with a twisted smile, “we do it for each other all the time. just thought of you and figured you didn’t eat anything before coming into work.” sliding a cup of medium fries and even a small coke can.

a smile lifted the corners of steve’s lips, “robin’s right.” he noted the way your brows twitched at that, “you’re a saint from heaven meant to be the one good person on this shitty earth.”

“that’s must explain why i get hurt so much.”

steve squeezed his eyes shut, fuck.

[shimylli]

So after some time to think about it, I will share my own though on Solavellan ending in Dragon Age The Veilguard, so SPOILER ahead.

ON ROOK AND SOLAS

First I would like to share a bit about them, because I really enjoyed their dynamics on the game.

« – Letting the veil collapse... – ... Is what you want. Making amend isn't about what you want. »

I wish so bad those words, and the whole cinematic would have been from my Inquisitor perspective. That she could be the one angry, and also saying the right word, she derseved it, after all this time.

But I am not angry at all, because like I said, I enjoy Rook and Solas relationship.

Solas treat Rook the way he would have never treated Lavellan. There is such a cruelty in trapping someone in an eternal and lonely prison, and Rook - specially if you play it as a supportive and forgiveful one - is one of the least to deserve it.

Rook see the manipulative, abusive and cruel side of the Trickser god. Solas never really let is guard down this time, He doesn't allow it considering how close he was to stop everything by the time of Inquisition.

Rook forgiving and believing in Solas, still, despite everything he has done to her, was also really impactful and satisfying. And for Solas, it was the first step through healing.

INQUISITOR INTERVENTION

As he still proceed on his plan, he hear the voice of the Inquisitor, and turn so fast.

It is so hearbeaking, and after all this time, he still calls her " Vhenan ".

And for her, he lets his guard down, again.

« – You think you've come too far to come back, but you're wrong. »

Lavellan plays a really mature and forgiving part, and I think it makes sense. In Inquisition, I played an angry Lavellan, the one who scream in elvish and then say " I would have had you trust me " while angrily entering his personal space. But it has been 10 years, and like us, she had time to think about it, to take distance and make peace about their relationship.

Solas is looking for every way to proove that he is undeserving of her forgiveness, give many excuses.

«– I forgive you ! »

I was so happy about the Voice Acting, when Lavellan assertively cut him and scream at him this sentence. She already failed 8 years ago to convince him to stay, and she will not let her second chance pass.

And then...

MYTHAL AND SOLAS

Ugh. Where to start.

I like what they did with Solas and Mythal relationship, seeing how abusive and manipulative Mythal was. In a way, it makes the time between Solas and Lavellan in Inquisition even softer, as she accepted him for the person he was and wanted to be. A person who gave advice and share his wisdom. An equal.

I also don't think that Mythal and Solas were romantically involved, and it would have been better to avoid the companions comment about it, making it moreconfusing. Actually, it would have been even better to not have the team reuniting to watch and comment the really personal memories of Solas like a TV Show.

Mythal is the third to offer forgiveness by sharing the weight of their mistakes, and even so I wish she would have been an optional intervention, I have to recognise that the scene is intense and painful - positevily - to watch.

This is the moment the Lost Elf theme start to play as the same time as the main DA TV theme with violin, they managed to make it even sader.

His body language. He is breaking, getting crushed by the weight from his pain. To see him, so vulnerable, so small, it was heartbreaking. And when Mythal release him, say the last word that finally free him, is like he can no longer stand, he fall crying.

Obviously, he was no longer bounded to Mythal since long, and every bad decision he took in the past were taken freely. Still, metaphorically, it was really symbolic. The guy has been suffering for thousand years.

SOLAS AND LAVELLAN

«– Banal Nadas Ar lath'ma Vhenan. »

And then Lavellan walks slowly towards him, and softly kneel to look him in the eyes. She is caring and supportive, and start saying reassuring words in elvhen. I feel like them speaking in elvhen makes so much sench, has it is kind of their tongue of truth and sincerity.

I love that Lavellan grew to be this person Solas could trust, and could be there for him, show compassion. She does not look submissive, but caring. She definitely is in control of the situation, and she chose to be here for him. Despite everything.

And again, the animation. The emotion in their looks. The tears in Solas' eyes.

The sadness of his gaze while he decide to take the hardest decision, and pay the consequences of his actions.

And while Rook and Morrigan look at him, proudly, there is this little frame.

Lavellan, smiling, lookind down. A bit of sadness in her eyes. I think it is the moment she realise that she have to take a decision. See him take his responsability, keeping him as dear memory, or leave everything to be by his side. And my head still remember what she said to him after the Well of Sorrow mission : " No matter what, you will be by my side. ".

I am not upsed by the ending. This is exactly what I had envision before the release of Veilguard.

Sure, Solas was the victime of Mythal abuse, but the pain and suffering he caused around him were all from decisions he took freely. He needed to make amend, and not a sacrificial reparation. The decision is even harder as it mirrors his fear that we know. Dying alone.

Every other ending is painful to watch when you remember that.

So for him to take his responsability, knowing that he would lead him to a life of solitude. Only, when he chose this path, with the end that awaits him, does it makes sens that the Inquisitor offer to follow him. The world is saved, she leave it in the good hands of people she trust, and she deserve to finally take a break.

And again, the game let you decide if you want to follow him, you can have a Lavellan who think that it was too much for her. But to me, it is the culminent point of their story taking a mythical level.

«– Ar ghilas vir banal. »

Solas speaking elvhen sounds so beautiful. Again, he rejects her, telling her that only terrible thing awaits her if she follow him. He wants to protect her, she doesn't have to face the same consequences as him, she has done nothing but trying to repare his mistakes. I think it shows that he still care, that he would not make her selfishly take the same burden as him.

I know, it is not a grand gesture, but the way he looks at her. I do believe she means everything to him.

And the kiss was so soft. I think us, solavellan fan are not use to it. And it bugged me also, as we had in the past more intimate scene. I think I would have prefere if he at least hugged her while kissing. Still, I think it goes well with the caring and softness of Lavellan, in this specific situation, who is in front of a bruised man.

I kind of count on the artist to make something more emotional.

So far, I enjoyed the ending, I just have a problem with the execution, and now that I am writting all of it, I realise that I even enjoyed the cinematic, I just think I was expecting more. A Trespasser level ending, that would feel more personal.

But I am also in peace with the ending, this is exactly what I wanted for them, and I am sure that they will make of this fade prison a special place for them to grow happy.

And again, thanks to the Solavellan fan to provide us with content that should be in the game. The way he looks at her :

I think this picture alone help me make peace with the end.

And I will just finish with my Lavellan and Rook smiling. I love them so much.

[storm-angel989]

Hello!! This is my first time requesting something so sorry if it doesn’t make sense.

Can you do Alastair having a child (about 4-5) that’s just like him, and the vee’s find out about her?

Hi friend,

First of all, I am so glad you sent me in a request! I love this idea, but think OTO Valentino’s daughter/wife. (I know they don’t have a kiddo yet in the story but I promise you they will). 

Enjoy!

<3 Mandy

The birthday party invitation came home in her backpack two weeks into preschool. 

Baby pink, pastel green forest scene and a light brown deer under the the announcement “Our Little Deer is turning FOUR!” with a date and two hour time block scrawled underneath in a neat cursive font. On the back was information to RSVP- a number to text yes or no, the requirement that a parent or guardian be present, and a request for the child's name. Pleased his daughter seemed to be making friends, Valentino thought nothing of it and handed it off to his assistant with instructions to RSVP yes and to choose a present age appropriate for a coming four year old girl. 

“Wrapped in pink and with a card,” he told his assistant firmly. “I want to make a good first impression.”

“First impressions for what?” Vox’s voice came from behind him. In one motion he snatched the invitation out of the assistant's hand and scanned it over. “The fuck is this?”

Valentino turned around and crossed his arms. “Our ninita got her first birthday invitation. She’s going.”

“Did you even look at the date?” Vox snapped as he handed the assistant back the card. “Who the fuck do you think is going to take her? It won’t be you, her mother or even Velvette for that matter. None of you will be here that weekend and I made plans for us already.”

Valentino rolled his eyes. “Squeeze this into your plans then. It’s important we make a good first impression, and I’m sure she’s excited to go.” 

Vox grunted and turned away, “fine. But only because she’s excited. I couldn’t give less of a fuck about any other kid in hell.” 

Valentino smirked, “I’m well aware V. Have fun.”

Vox rolled his eyes as he walked out the door. He could think of a thousand different things that would be more fun than being surrounded by screaming hell children- several of which he already had planned. But when the party was brought up at the dinner table and he saw just how excited his niece was, he relented. After all, she was the most important thing in his life. 

Saturday rolled around faster than anticipated, and all too soon Vox found himself tugging a bright pink princess dress over the top of his nieces head. 

“I’ve never been to a party before,” she told him excitedly as he lifted her up and carried her to the limo. 

“I know,” he replied as he set her down on her booster seat next to the oversized, glitter pink wrapped gift. With caution, so as to not ruffle the frills in her dress, he leaned over and belted her in. “Aunt Velvette read you the story about birthday parties last night, right?”

“Yeah! There’s going to be cake, and games and presents for the birthday girl!”

Vox let out a smile and kissed her on the top of her head before closing the door. Her enthusiasm for the event almost made what he was sure would be two hours of hell tolerable. 

Well, almost. 

“Don’t forget to bring in the present,” Vox told the limo driver as he pulled to a stop. Vox turned to open the door and paused. No. It couldn’t be. 

“This is the wrong address,” Vox said sharply.

 His niece scrambled to unbuckle herself and pressed her nose against the window. 

“No it isn’t! Look, there she is! She lives at the Hazbin Hotel, Uncle Vox!” 

Before Vox could move to stop her, she pressed open the door handle and took off towards the hotel. 

“Jesus fuck,” Vox snarled as he took off after her. “Reader, wait!” He took the steps two at a time, wrapped his arms around his niece and lifted her up, ignoring her protests. 

“Ah, welcome!” the familiar voice floated through the entryway. 

Shit. Vox looked up into Alastors eyes and gritted his teeth. Amusement danced across his smug face. Vox felt the electricity crackle and his niece yelped. Quickly, he set her down and watched her take off across the foyer. 

“Now now Vox, let the girls play nicely, hm? I’m sure we can do the same for a few hours,” Alastor said and he opened his arms. “I know when my daughter asked if your niece could come, I was hesitant, but it’s for the kids…right? War will resume promptly at four. Until then, come on in!” He turned and walked across the lobby.  

Vox gritted his teeth, but seeing no other choice, followed him inside. He looked around at the overtly decorated hotel lobby, the happy birthday banner followed by a plethora of pink and green balloons. If he didn’t know better, he would think it truly was a child’s birthday party. 

“Uncle Vox! Look! Party hats!” Reader yelled as she ran up to him. “Look, I got one for you!” 

“Oh, hey, great,” he said flatly as he took the hat from her hand. 

“Uncle Vox, you have to put it on your head. Everyone has one,” she told him, hands on her hips. 

Vox looked around. He recognized Charlie and Vaggie standing next to Angel Dust of all the fucking sinners, Husker behind what he assumed was a bar when it wasn’t being used as a snack station, and Alastor, blowing up balloons for a swarm of small childeren. All wearing party hats. 

“Fine,” he muttered as he snapped the elastic under his screen. “Go play, but stay where I can see you, got it?” 

“Okay Uncle Vox!” She said cheerfully. 

Vox crossed his arms and shifted his weight to the left as he surveyed the scene carefully. To their credit, no one approached him, save Charlie. Once. Several short answers later, she wandered back to the party. He watched protectively as they played games, opened presents, laughed and shouted. One cake lighting and round of happy birthday later, his niece was handed a small plastic goody bag and her hand was in his. 

“Com’ere,” Vox muttered to his niece as he lifted her up. “You have frosting on your face.”

“Uncle Vox,” she whined as he wiped at the smudge on her cheek. “I wanna play more!”

“No,” Vox said shortly as he carried her towards the door. “Party is over.”

“It seems our daughters don’t hold the same hatred we do,” Alastors voice came from behind. 

Vox paused and turned around, face to face with the demon he considered to be his archnemesis. “Your point being?”

“Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad if we let them play together another time!” Alastor said cheerfully. 

“Yeah!” Reader cheered. 

“You, hush,” he said to reader firmly. “Alastor, that isn’t up to me. Get a hold of her father, see what he says.” With that he continued to walk out the door. 

“Will do, old chum,” Alastor said from behind. “Will do.”

“Uncle Vox, why are you so mean to Mr. Alastor?” Reader asked as Vox buckled her back into her seat. 

Vox sighed and smoothed back her hair. “It’s a long story honey. Too long for right now. But hey, why don’t we go home, get you changed and we can go see Vark?”

That seemed to cheer her up. As she opened her goody bag, Vox busied himself texting Valentino and Velvette. They needed a plan, and soon. Maybe a change of schools. But hell would freeze over before Vox allowed his niece anywhere near Alastor unsupervised.

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Can I have sweet, shy and virgin Ethan helping reader with a class she missed and seeing the porn on his laptop and then…you know

I'm screaming. I love writing sweet, shy Ethan. This sounds like the situation he would get himself in...if he wasn't gf. Also, did I write tons of scenes like this already? Yes. Will I do it again? Also, yes.

Warnings: smut, virgin!Ethan, oral (m receiving), p + v,

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

After your lunch, Ethan invited you over to copy his notes and explain everything they went over during the class you missed Tuesday morning. He didn’t have to do that, an email of his notes would have sufficed, but he insisted. He was such a sweetheart.

You sat in the living room of his and Chad’s dorm, textbooks and pens on the coffee table before you. Ethan had kept a fair distance between you, but you were still close enough to make him nervous. He opened his laptop to give you his notes, but a tab had been left open, the image of a couple having sex filling the screen along with loud moans coming from the speakers of the device.

He slammed the laptop shut in panic, his cheeks and ears turning scarlet. ‘’Fuck. Fuck.’’

You couldn’t help the small laugh that slipped, making Ethan more flustered. ‘’Don’t be embarrassed. Everyone watches porn.’’

Maybe, but Ethan was a very shy person. Even more when it came to anything related to sex. It was awkward to have his personal porn preference be exposed when the girl he really liked was right next to him. He also didn’t want you to know that nudity and sex scenes make him all red and squirmy.

He shook his head, choosing to ignore what just happened. He’ll never be able to look at you again. ‘’I have no idea what you're talking about…’’

Unfortunately for him, you didn’t play along, taking the lighthearted teasing route instead. ‘’Come on, don’t be shy. Nothing terrible happened. At least it wasn’t your dick that was on the screen.’’

That would have been a thousand times more embarrassing.

Ethan shifted in his seat. ‘’Can we stop talking about that? I’m just not comfortable.’’

You nodded in understanding, respecting his boundaries.

Ethan felt relieved, the conversation finally over. ‘’Let’s get back to the lesson—’’

‘’Do you…want to try it? What you saw on screen.’’ You reached for his hand and put it on your thigh. ‘’I see how you look at me, Ethan.’’ You dragged your fingers up his forearm and to his bicep, feeling the muscles hidden underneath his polo. ‘’Did you think I didn’t notice?’’

He looked down at his lap. ‘’I…’’

You brushed your finger along his jaw, making him hold his breath. The corner of your lips curled with mischief at his reaction, and you moved his hand higher on your thigh, just beneath the bottom of your skirt.

Ethan’s gaze followed his hand, having never touched a girl somewhere that wasn’t an arm or ankles during P.E. classes in high school. Your skin was warm and plush and so soft. A choked gasp got stuck in his throat when you opened your leg, flashing your underwear and guiding Ethan’s hand over it.

‘’Don’t be afraid. You can touch.’’

You smiled as he gently caressed over your panties, a shy self-satisfied smile forming on his when the thin fabric started to dampen. He was making you wet. Ethan would never recover from this.

While he was busy touching you, you migrated your hand over his jeans, right where you knew his limp cock was, and gently massaged it to wake it. ‘’You like that, my hand rubbing you?’’

He felt…big, for lack of a better word.

‘’Mmhm, yeah,’’ he murmured, his attention dropping to his own crotch.

Never in a million years Ethan thought this would happen. That the girl he had been crushing hard on since September would be in his dorm, touching him while he was touching her. He also didn’t think he would ever kiss you, but you cupped his jaw to pull him into a kiss, making another of his dreams come true.

It didn’t take long before Ethan felt fully hard under your light touch. Once he did, you retracted your hand and stood, breaking all contact.

‘’Where are you going?’’ he asked, worried you were going to leave.

You reached for the zipper of your skirt and let it fall to the ground in a puddle at your feet. ‘’Let me show you something else.’’ You followed suit with your shirt, pulling it over your head, then unfastened your bra. ‘’Or will you be afraid to touch me there too?’’

As expected, Ethan didn’t move. He stayed there, awestruck by the beautiful breasts that were right in front of him, peaked nipples and all. He had to hold back from sticking his tongue out and attaching his mouth to one.

You took his left hand and covered your right breast with it. ‘’Give me the other.’’ You held your hand and Ethan gave you his right one, doing the same thing. ‘’Is it better than the video?’’

He nodded, his bambi eyes fixated on your tits and his hands covering them.

A part of him wanted to take a picture to show Chad, knowing he’ll never believe what happened. But he didn’t. He just savored the moment.

‘’Definitely.’’ He traced his fingertips across your breasts, his strokes becoming more sure.

It was amusing to watch him discover your body with his eyes and hands. It was a change from getting your ass smacked while some frat boy fucked you from behind like a fucking dog, telling you how nice ‘those buns’ were.

‘’Y-you’re so beautiful,’’ Ethan stuttered, as his left hand skimmed down your stomach and stopped at the hem of your panties. He really wanted to kiss your skin, wanted to run his lips down the path his hands were making.

You giggled and thanked him. He was so sweet. ‘’Want me to take them off?’’

Ethan blushed a deeper shade of red and jerkily nodded his head.

‘’Holy fucking shit,’’ he cursed when everyhing was exposed to him, making his hard cock twitch in his jeans.

Tentatively, he stroked your mound, not exactly as perfect and smooth as in the videos he watched, but Ethan didn’t care. Those videos were not real. His fingers stroking along your outer thighs. A small grin pulled at the corner of his mouth as he felt you begin to tremble at his feather light touch.

‘’I-Is this ok?’’ Ethan asked as his fingers inched closer to your core.

You nodded, giving him your approval.

His fingers parted your slick folds and circled your clit, eliciting a soft sigh, your hips bucking against his hand.

‘’Stick your fingers in there.’’

‘’Uh?’’ Ethan lifted a quizzical eyebrow.

‘’Stick your fingers inside me,’’ you repeated, running a hand through his curly hair.

He nodded quickly, then pushed a finger between your folds, easily sliding in.

‘’Aah,’’ you moaned, clenching around his finger. ‘’You can go deeper. You’re not gonna hurt me.’’

Unsure, he asked, ‘’Yeah?’’

‘’Yeah.’’ You trailed down kisses on his jaw, humming in pleasure as he pushed his finger deeper. ‘’And you can add a second if you— aah,’’ you whimpered softly, feeling a second finger entering. You clenched around them. They felt so good inside you. Your hands found his neck, and you pulled him for a chaste kiss. ‘’You’re doing so good, Ethan,’’ you whispered against his lips. ‘’Making me so fucking wet.’’

‘’Am I?’’ he asked.

‘’Yeah, baby.’’

A smug grin spread on his still flushed face, but he turned to hide it.

You tipped his chin back toward you. ‘’Don’t be shy. It’s okay to be smug sometimes.’’ Ethan nodded and you eyed down at the big bulge poking the fabric of his jeans, then locked your stare with his. ‘’Wanna show me what’s under there?’’

‘’R-right there?’’ You hummed, pressing harder and making him pant with his mouth open for a couple seconds before uttering out a few words. ‘’Do I have to?’’ Ethan bit his lip, trying to find a way to explain himself without coming off as some cliché shy virgin. ‘’I just shy and…and don’t want to disappoint you.’’

You nodded in understanding and wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to your naked body. ‘’Well, don’t be shy. It’s me who’s naked. If anyone here should be shy, it’s me.’’

You purposely didn’t comment on the sweet little moan Ethan gave when you finally reached under his boxers, your skilled fingers pulling his dick out into the open. His shaft was long and thick,

‘’You’ve been hiding this from me all this time. You have such a pretty cock,’’ you replied, and you felt him twitch in your hand in response to your praise. ‘’Your dick is so nice, Ethan. Look.’’ You ran a finger through the wetness forming on his tip, and Ethan’s whole body jerked. ‘’You’re leaking already. I like it.’’ You rubbed your thumb back and forth over his slit, enjoying the noises Ethan couldn’t hold back.

‘’J-just for you.’’ 

''Well, let me do something just for you.''

You removed your hand and moved back on the couch a little, getting a better angle to lean down and take Ethan's cock in your mouth. He would have liked a warning, but the strangled cry that echoed through the living room when you took him had you mentally grinning with mischief. 

Your head bowed over him as you started sucking, eliciting more sounds of pleasure from Ethan. Getting his first blowjob was an emotional ride. You bobbed your head in practiced form while your hand jerked him at the base, then gave his tip a few kitten licks before taking him all in again.

Less than forty seconds later, Ethan's thighs were trembling and he was clenching the couch cushion, struggling to hold back. 

''If you don't stop, I'm gonna c-cum,'' he rushed out, trying to hold back.

Not wanting the fun to be over so soon, you withdrew away and wiped your mouth, a mix of spit, pre-cum and cherry lip gloss. Ethan wanted that exact image to stay engraved in his mind forever. 

''Do you have condoms?'' you asked, breaking him out of his stare.

The light in Ethan's eyes died. Fuck. He didn't have any. Given his luck with the ladies, he never saw a point of buying any. But it's always when you don't expect to need something that you end up needing it.

Luckily, his roommate had some.

''Do you mind if I do everything myself?''

Ethan shook his head, his eyes glued on your face as if he was under a spell.

You climbed over Ethan's lap after he slipped the condom on, hovering right above his hard cock. It was standing straight against his stomach, its tip weeping as it brushed the fabric of his henley shirt. Why was he still wearing that shirt?

You pulled it off him, discarding it behind you with the rest of his clothes.

Slowly, you sank down his cock, feeling it stretch your walls and relishing in the feeling and the look of pleasure plastered on Ethan's face. He looked so cute with his mouth open, breathy moans echoing around the living room. 

''Oh shit,'' he said as his head dropped back, feeling all of you around him, warm and tight. Ethan had dreamed about that very moment many times, but it was like nothing he has ever felt before.

''You're not going to cum, are you?''

Virgins usually don’t last long the first time.

Again, Ethan shook his head. ''No.''

Trusting him to keep his words, you started lifting yourself and sinking back down, eliciting a loud gasp from the sweet boy before you. You continued your movements, staying slow and steady to not overwhelm Ethan too quick. 

''You're filling me to good, Ethan,'' you praised, trying to shift his attention. ''I didn't know you had this in your pants...or those nice biceps,'' you said, running your hands over his defined muscles. 

''I go to the gym with my room— aah. My roommate,'' Ethan explained, keeping his hands at his sides and not really knowing what to do with them.

As if reading his thoughts, you guided his hands up your thighs and sides, then over your breasts — who were bouncing beautifully as you moved. ‘’Don’t be shy. You can touch me wherever you want.’’

Ethan nodded, beginning to pull and pinch at your left nipple, then doing the same to the other one, slowly getting more confident.

You connected your mouths again, moaning into his as you picked up the pace while reaching down to rub circled on your clit. In a few more movements of hips, you felt Ethan's hands crips right before he came into the condom, milking him as he did.

‘’Sorry. I couldn’t hold any longer,’’ he apologized, running his hands over his sweaty, embarrassed face. 

You blinked slowly at him. ‘’It’s alright.'' You hand a hand through his hair. ''If you want, there’ll be many more times like this.’’

—

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[rainroses45]

Family Fun!

description: sam decides to visit his sister and turns out he has a better time there then at his own home…well motel technically

a/n: inspired by girl interrupted and my own personal experiences with mental health (miss maam has been numb with medication for four years) y'all wanted angst and sad shit AND IM FEEDING MY BABIES WHAT THEY WANT

song inspo: your love is my drug and mice on venus

warning: cursing, mental health issues, John being an asshat, psych ward and TRAUMA

The buzz of the door echoed through the empty lobby.

Nobody knew he was here, not even his own brother knew. His father was practically out of the question when it came to informing him of his where abouts.

It was twisted. It was mental. It was painted white for funerals. The nurse excoriated him down the hallway towards the empty room. As the door opened chills ran down his spine, no one questioned him - no one even asked him for a name. They just knew, they knew.

“You can wait here while I get her,” she smiled at him, her eyes telling a different story than the one on her lips.

Sam had snuck away from his brothers watch to visit his older sister. His father was off in another state killing some creature while counting the bottles of whiskey he could buy with a 50.

The sound of arguing over took his senses as he sat in the cold room. He watched from the tiny window two girls walking towards the door with a group of nurses.

“Im fucken sick Lily everybody knows that.” You smiled disgustingly at her. To in return she screamed out loud, “you’re just jealous- JEALOUS that i’m going to get out and you’ll be stuck here - alone and sick! Fucken sick!”

You just smiled as the door closed in her face, but not before blowing a kiss goodbye. “That is fucked up Lily, I love you for that.” The red headed girl to which he assumed was named Lily, gave his sister the bird before storming away from the door crying.

Sam stomach dropped as he watched this scene unfold in front of him. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. Maybe he should have forgotten about her, and all her memories, but he was her brother it was like a sirens call in a weird way. How could he abandon family when that’s all he has?

“Hello Sammy,” you pulled the plastic seat out. He noticed the bandages on your arms and the way your hair was thinning, but he still saw the sister he grew up with. The one with twin size braids and a gentle touch of nature. The one who fought against murders but became one herself.

“Hi.” He said awkwardly. His mind was running a thousand miles per hours, what was he supposed to say? How was he supposed to say? Why did he even come here?

“Is it the men behind me that are you making you feel uncomfortable dear,” you placed a hand on his leg, “gentlemen please leave the room I don’t need you causing anymore ruckus then you already do to me.” You ordered firmly.

“You know the rules-“ “Then chain me to the fucken wall or something I don’t need henchmen right now.” You stood up from the chair causing it to fall backwards. Sam flinched at the crashing of the seat but you seemed to overrule it as a ‘they problem’ rather than a ‘you problem’.

“Chop chop, I only got 28 minuets and 42- make that 41 seconds left.” You stuck your hands out in front of you. “Book me boys, but just not too rough I’m not really into BDSM unless you are then I’m fine with a little foreplay.” You grinned seductively as the two tall men dressed in all white groaned in annoyance.

The one to the right of you pulled out a pair of cuffs before pulling you to go get strapped down to the cement chair in the corner of the room. The other man pushed you into the chair holding you down as they cuffed your legs and hands together.

“I feel as snug as a bug in a rug, although a little butt cushion would be nice,” you shimmed in the cold seat, “I can feel my butt loosing its bounce.”

The men ignored your comments before turning over to your brother who now further away from you.

“Don’t listen to what she says, just don’t touch her or unlock her cuffs without us here.” One of them warned your brother to which he simply nodded at their instructions.

“Yes sir.” Sam said before dragging his seat a little closer to you. The men watched as this 14 year old boy sat on a plastic seat in a psych ward facility with his sister in chains - pathetically tragic.

Just before closing the door you could hear one of them whisper to the other, “such a good kid sucks that his sister is twisted.” You rolled your eyes, if only they knew the half of it.

“Welp Sammy boy now that thing one and thing two are gone, what brings you here?” You asked.

“I just wanted to visit you.” He softly responded, “I wanted to see how you were holding up.”

“Considering father dearest dropped me off at the looney bin 4 years ago and no one has visited me other than mom’s annoying ghost…I’m going to say I’m doing marvelous.” You smiled brightly with all your teeth visible for everyone to see. “How about you? Dad still be a fucking drunk?”

Sam laughed, for the first time in a long time he let out a laugh. It was contagious, it was innocent, it was fucking mental to the point you started laughing too.

You both spent a good five minutes laughing at nothing, only getting louder and louder after someone let out a piggy snort.

“That’s a dumb question, sir is practically close to liver failure.” Sam wiped the tears falling from his cheek after laughing so hard. “I mean the amount of times he searches the bottle for an extra drop is hilarious.”

“Oh that’s so pathetic I wish I could smash his brain to bits and pieces.” You let out a little chuckle. “Mom tried to defend his sorry ass but I always push away and threaten to escape and burn her bones.”

“Do you still see her?” Sam asked curiously but the nervousness inside him was threatening to spill out. “I mean if you’re okay with talking about it.”

“Yeah sure baby bro, I still see her selfish ass walking around the place haunting my very existence. She hates me but it’s a whole I get why situation.” You shrugged your shoulders, the harsh clank of the metal handcuffs against the seat echoed through the room. “Do you mind if I ask you a favor?” You asked.

Sam scared to use his voice only nodded back.

“Torch that bitches ashes again.” You whispered. “Make sure she doesn’t go back running to pop pop with words of rebellion I mean besides overdosing on happy pills she is always trying to get me to tickle with her pickle.”

“I’m going to be honest sis,” Sam scrunched up his face in confusion, “i don’t really know what you are talking about?”

“What can I say we all go mad in here,” you leaned back in the chair, allowing the cold material to cause goosebumps all over you.

“I wish I could bust you out of here but Dean and I can barely afford enough food for ourselves,” Sam looked down at his hands. Had his father decided on spending less on the bottle, maybe just maybe he would have a whole family again.

“It’s okay Sammy,” you smiled, “between you and me i’m ditching this shit show when you turn 18.”

Sam looked up surprised, “really?” He smiled. “You promise?!” You nodded in excitement. “I can finally be with you snoozebugs since dad won’t be in charge of us anymore.”

“This is great! I’ll tell Dean, we can come get you out and we can move away from here and-“ “Woah there baby bro, we can’t tell Dean yet.”

Sam stopped rambling and tilted his head in confusion, “what do you mean?”

“I mean Dean respects dad too much to not tattle on me.” You rolled your eyes, if you had been there you would have quickly unscrambled the assholes manipulative tacks on your younger brothers, but he clearly knew you would be a threat to his revenge mission and sent you away.

“Don’t worry Sam, I will come save you, I always do.”

And with that, the door roughly opened and Sam was being pulled away from you.

“You promise?!” He reached out for you, fighting against his older brother’s hold.

“I promise Sammy,” you nodded, “I love you.”

With the finale goodbye, Dean managed to pull his brother out of the room without any more struggle from him. Sam’s heart felt like it was beating a million miles per hour. He was going to be free. He was going to be loved. He was going to live.

He held on to that wish for years till his birthday finally came. He waited. And waited. And waited. But he never saw you again. It was a dream. A dream he soon realized where he had gone so mad he had conjured up a fake reality. You were dead. You had been dead. You were always dead.

[louroth]

IT IS UPDATE TIME! For those of you who missed the dirty draft in the discord, the original play link has now been updated with 35 thousand words and two chapters sizzling with exposition, and heated rivalry. I'm so excited!

Here's what's new:

Before we start, it took some honest critique for something to click for me, plot wise. I have been meandering with the plot, partly because I had no idea what I was even doing, and part because I really wanted to meander around in this new medium. But, the plot I have planned is very high octane and epic in scale so I don’t want to bore you to death before we get to the good stuff.

So, don’t hunt me for sport when I tell you that (for the time being) I have removed the entire section of RO 101’s. I was so stubborn with shoehorning them in for the better part of a year, leading to writer's block and utter despair since it just wouldn’t fit; it wasn’t how you were supposed to learn about the RO’s. I have put them aside for now and tweaked Lenas scene once more so that it flows better- I am hemming and hawing over Id’s 101 because that one actually makes sense to have there, plotwise. It might go back in where it was, but I am still thinking about it.

Ok, for real this time though:

The scenes where you scream and your RO busts down the door Kool-Aid man style are there now.

A meeting with Oma and a blast from your [origin] past!

A whole chapter of lies and deceit, but it could literally be anyone lying. Careful who to trust.

Is that… [REDACTED]?? Surely not.

Another chapter where you get to choose your weapons and the way the Surge manifests with your hunter.

On topic of the surge, the magic in Ouro, it is now a default for all players; you can choose from 4 different classes. The Battlefrenzied Zealot, The Beastmaster, The Etherweaver or The Vox Psion. I had a terrible time writing the codexes for these classes, so some are partial and others missing, but if you continue you will experience them in actual action-scenes instead, weaponized. Don't forget to save! For now, each class comes with its own weapon, but I will add more whenever extra time strikes, or when the draft is done.  I am going to remind you as I remind myself: This draft will get rougher around the edges, a little bit messy, as I am going to try to just draft the whole thing without even looking back. It will make my life so much easier when it comes to figuring out key scenes and motivations. While I wrote quite slowly as I treated OUROBOROS as a hobby, now I am working on it, which means skipping content I cannot think of on the spot just to keep the ball rolling. If you don't want to read the alpha draft, please wait with reading until the edited twine demo is out. Thank you!!

Now, ENJOY!

[elliespuns]

hello!! first of all, i don't intend to say this as a way to create a fuss or anything like that, i just see your blog as a space where we can debate a lot of tlou related topics and i want to know your opinion about it :-) anyways, while i did enjoy the hbo series, i also think it was very flawed in translating both joel and ellie's personalities - but i want to focus on joel's atm.

i don't think joel is "insensitive" on the game, but i do believe the fact that he tried so hard to hide his feelings and barely ever showed his soft side is a SUPER important characteristic of his.

i don't mind the way pedro played joel but at the same time i just cannot see both of them as the same man. and i don't talk only about the scenes where joel was visibly anxious or cried, but also the torture scene. i think it is one of the most iconic scenes on the game (also, I'm the one who asked you to take pics of it a couple weeks ago LOL) specially cause it shows us joel doesn't have to go out of his way to be a menace. the fact that pedro had to scream and etc to make them fear him bothers me sooo much.

i think pedro was more than capable to play a joel that is both too much of a father figure for his own good AND a tough son of a b*tch that can and will kill people with his bare hands to protect whatever is important to him.

from my point of view, crying during the "i saved her" scene is really out of character for game joel. when the guy just confesses he killed a bunch of people, "doomed" the whole world just to keep his little girl safe and then lied straight to her face, but his expression shows no hint of sadness whatsoever, that, for me, is the peak of his character.

"if somehow the lord gave me a second chance at that moment, i'd do it all over again". of course he's hurt that ellie doesn't trust him anymore, and of course he wasn't exactly happy to kill those fireflies, but he did what he thought was right and he'd rather have ellie hate him for another thousand years to come than know he just left such a sweet girl to die in the hands of a crumbling group, in the name of a cause he never really cared about. he knows his actions will have consequences but he doesn't cry cause he is willing to die for it (and he really did).

sorry for rambling but i really want to read other people's opinion about it!!

First of all, I love how perfectly you've just described game Joel. This is exactly how I feel about our man, and even if I tried, I could never put it into words like this. Hands down, bro, this is so well said.

Both Ellie and Joel were portrayed differently in the show (it's not the worst thing; I know that people who don't follow the game fell in love with these versions of them, and for them it's as magical as it was for us when playing), but I guess, for the game lovers, it's harder to see past this fact simply because getting to love a character and having to learn everything there is about them, growing up with them only to find out the creators (people who gave them this exceptional and amazing character) didn't care enough to stick to what they came up with is kind of a bummer. I mean, you can choose to ignore it on the screen, but yet it's something so 'palpable' you have to watch with a little *sigh* in your mind.

"It shows us joel doesn't have to go out of his way to be a menace. the fact that pedro had to scream and etc to make them fear him bothers me sooo much."

I agree. Game Joel has this death stare that makes people fear from miles away while show Joel doesn't. I think Pedro could pull it out without a blink of an eye—if only they'd given him this Joel to play.

People say that making show Joel more "sensitive" was to make him more realistic because in the game, the characters are portrayed as having to deal with the impossible (like killing 10 clickers and a bloater without any damage, etc.), while in the show, he's a real man, so real attributes and emotions are needed. I get that; that makes perfect sense. But I still also agree with folks who say that keeping Joel's "detached" and "thin-skinned" characteristics wouldn't hurt anyone because what's unrealistic about that?

Game Joel and show Joel are completely different characters in my head. I love them both. I can switch them in my head and tune into both Joels, but I still prefer the game when it comes to the story and the character Joel is.

It's funny because when I watch show Joel, I can't help but see a puppy version of game Joel, tbh. Pedro is literally able to play anything, so his version of "sensitive" Joel serves me just right when I tune into the show. But knowing Pedro would kill the "callous" and "unaffected" version of Joel, and it bugs me so much we'll never get to see it.

Btw, I'm working on your request, more photos of Joel torturing David's men are coming!