#I like to be precise on my timing when I first uploaded and the first time I did I was supposed to be asleep

[lonelysucker7]

Happy birthday to the first chapter (11/18/2023)

It’s been a year wow ☺️

[cuntyji]

the first video nanami ever posted was filmed on a shaky phone propped up against a bag of flour.

he was making bread—simple, easy, the kind of thing he found comfort in after long days at work. his hands moved methodically, kneading the dough with a quiet precision, and though he spoke very little, the video was oddly calming.

he hadn't expected much from it. maybe a few views, maybe a couple of people who’d appreciate the lack of unnecessary chatter. but the comments were overwhelmingly positive, people asking about his technique, his recipe, his voice—deep, smooth, effortlessly steady. so he made another video. then another.

it was the late-night upload of him singing "baby one more time" by the marías that changed everything.

filmed on an old macbook with a grainy webcam, the lighting barely enough to make out his face, the video had been an impulse decision—one he almost deleted. it was just him, sitting on his couch, his voice low and hushed, the way he usually sang to lull yuuji to sleep. but the internet clung to it like ivy, twisting and reaching until the video had over a million views by the end of the week.

"who is he." "why is this the most intimate thing i've ever heard in my life." "he looks exhausted and sounds like a dream, i'm in love."

he thought it would pass. but it didn't.

his subscribers doubled overnight. the demand for more was loud, insistent. nanami, being nanami, didn’t rush to meet it. instead, he structured it into his routine: one video a week, a mix of baking and singing—because baking was reliable, and singing had never been something he shared outside of yuuji’s bedtime.

his channel evolved. the baking videos became polished, edited with subtle precision. he switched to voiceovers, explaining each step in that same low, deliberate tone that made people feel like he was speaking just to them. and when he sang, it was always songs that carried a quiet sort of nostalgia.

"he only sings songs he sings to his kid to sleep i’m crying." "his lullabies are better than half the music industry." "i don’t know his name, his age, or his face properly, but i know his banana bread recipe by heart."

nanami never explicitly talked about being a single dad, but it was impossible to miss. yuuji’s voice sometimes made cameos in the background, muffled questions about homework, laughter when nanami burnt the edges of a cake. he didn’t hide it, didn’t play it up. it was just a part of his life, and his audience adored him for it.

his faq video—one of the few times he ever directly addressed personal questions—answered almost nothing.

"are you married?" "no." "how old are you?" "old enough." "what's your name?" "nanami."

the mystery only made people more obsessed.

"i know nothing about him but i’d die for him." "his hands. his voice. his existence." "the fact that he bakes and sings for his kid and still won’t tell us his age is crazy."

he now posted twice a week. one video was always baking, the other was whatever he wanted—sometimes music, sometimes a quiet q&a, sometimes just a video of him making tea while rain hit the windows.

people knew everything and nothing about him at the same time. they knew the exact ratio of brown sugar he preferred in cookies but not what city he lived in. they knew he tucked yuuji in every night with a song but had never seen his full face in a single frame. they knew the precise cadence of his voice when he said “and that’s how you make the perfect loaf” but had never heard him say “i love you”—and yet, somehow, they felt like they had.

the internet had fallen in love with him. and nanami, quietly, without even trying, had changed his life with nothing but flour-dusted hands and the sound of his own voice.

[robin-evry]

Hii idk if you could take req but can you please do Arlecchino or Acheron!yuu? Pick whatever you like to seperate or maybe write both of them.. But idk cuz it's my first time requesting this 💔🥀

If you don't want to do one of them, that's alright but I hope you have an amazing day and please take care of yourself!!

-❄ anon

Hello ❄️anon, so I'll be doing Acheron yuu on a separate one because another also requested, so I'll be doing arlechinno one first and then upload Acheron yuu later maybe tomorrow

𝐓𝐖𝐒𝐓 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐄𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐎 𝐘𝐔𝐔 🕷️❌

"The Knave," Fourth of the Fatui Harbingers. A poised, ruthless diplomat. To the children of the House of the Hearth, she is their feared yet dependable "Father."

art by stasyanart on twitter

A strict and disciplined student that many came to fear and respect, always efficient and poised to be around carrying an aura of power and discipline and whoever came across them would immediately act their best to try not to anger them.

Arlecchino!Yuu’s presence at Night Raven College shakes the school to its core. They are a cold, disciplined, and utterly unyielding force that commands respect through action, not words.

Unlike the other students, they do not waste time with games, social posturing, or vanity. Their focus is efficiency, control, and ensuring survival. Many find them terrifying, but no one can deny their competence and leadership.

Arlechinno!yuu is reserved, speaks with precision, and rarely wastes words. They don’t sugarcoat anything and expect others to handle criticism like adults. And if they cant handle the truth then they are immature

Whether it’s strategy, combat, or negotiation, Arlechinno Yuu is always ten steps ahead. Azul tries to outwit them? He fails. Leona challenges them? He has to actually put in effort.

Despite their strictness, they look out for those they deem worthy. They’d never say it outright, but Grim, Ace, Deuce, and others are under their watch.

Food, money, magic, effort—everything has value. NRC’s extravagant spending annoys them. They personally cook their own meals when they think the cafeteria food is too indulgent.

Will personally teach the first year's combat, to make sure they are able to protect themselves. Their training actually boosts the strength of them.

Many students would say to avoid staring straight into their eyes because you are gonna regret what your gonna see as if your staring back towards the abyss themselves.

Despite being cold and seemingly heartless, arlechinno!yuu cares and deeply hold closely towards who they see as family like grim.

Vil admirers arlechinno!yuu as well have you seen those shoes, vil sees him as an equal as them due to how both of them carry themselves but for arlechinno!yuu they don't look down at him but seeing his ambition towards beauty is simply wasteful why focus on looks when you could focus on efficiency.

Vil once tried to recruit arlechinno!yuu towards modeling but was rejected they said they hold no interest on being on stage they prefer being in the audience watching from afar.

Sees Riddle as too rigid and blindly obedient. Would have respected his intelligence if he weren’t so trapped by his own upbringing.

They detest liars and cowards like Crowley, who put themselves in a big position but in truth they are cowards always putting work on someone else rather than owning up towards his responsibilities.

During the opening ceremony they nearly killed Crowley, they woke up a burst out of the coffin with scythe in hand ready to decapitate him, and when riddle was interrupting them explaining how they disrupted the ceremony, arlechinno!yuu immediately look at him. The eye and he immediately shut up due to his guise having some similarities towards his mother.

During an over blot immediately cut down the monster in a single slash with ease as if it was nothing compared towards them.

Many students are curious about black markings on their arms but they usually told them it's better for them to not know how and where they got these markings.

They won't coddle grim or the first year but whoever tried to lay a hand on them would immediately regret their decision for laying hands on their family. Have a soft spot for ortho wondering why there's a child in nrc even tho it's for young adults.

Not to mention them being top students toppling over Azul and riddle in grades no matter how much they get arlechinno!yuu will always be ahead against them. Many faculty respect them as in professor trein who has been a long time meeting a student as strict as arlechinno!yuu.

They don't care for status or power they see other as equals like malleus only seeing him as a person not as a prince or a god. Both of them would discuss politics and professional matters. Lilia and arlechinno!yuu would have a little disagreement on how to raise a child tho. While Lilia took a laid back approach arlechinno!yuu take a strict approach, they see silver needing more discipline as well as sebek which lilia disagree saying he's perfect the way he is.

[kiryoutann]

An idea where Simon is a guy who posts tutorials on YouTube in his spare time outside of deployment. It was Johnny’s idea, originally—gossiping about how “th’ internet’s made increasing ‘money easy. All ya need is a wee bit of brains and a half-decent camera,” on a night when the team decided to hit the pub for a pint or two. The Scot continues, “Hell, ye dinnae even need a brain, people just shake their asses on camera and call it a day.”

And at first, Simon wasn’t interested. But somehow, he ended up posting his first tutorial video, uploaded with a half-assed, messy title. No one's going to watch it, anyway.

Until, his old laptop dinged with an email notification—someone had left a comment on his video, “Great video. Precise and thorough. Earned a sub.” Zero became one subscriber, then two, ten, until he had 98. It was a random channel, actually; it didn’t focus on one type of content. He posted whatever he wanted to post—and it ended up being something like fishing, survival tips, DIY engine modification or something like that. And sometimes even cooking.

Simon thought of making a video about disassembling and assembling different types of weapons, but ended up not doing so to avoid comments about the military. So, he uploaded that video of him cooking the easiest thing he could—English Breakfast. And you. You stumbled upon that video.

It’s funny, that this gruff-voiced, tattooed man who keeps his identity anonymous by staying behind the camera has his own way of cooking his sausages, paying attention to the details of his scrambled eggs and flipping his toast to the perfect crispness. He slips in a few tips, a few lame jokes that end up being funny because of the chuckle you hear in the video. You don’t usually leave comments or even like videos on YouTube, but—

“I never thought I’d crave a full English breakfast until now. Love the step-by-step instructions. And just wanted to say, the voice and the accent… *chef’s kiss*”

When you wrote that, you weren’t thinking anything. After all, you weren’t the only one saying that—the comment section was filled with compliments, and four of them also mentioned how his voice made them crave something and it’s not the food.

You weren’t expecting anything until a ding caught your attention from your laptop the next morning. A new email – from Youtube. A reply from Reaper777. Who's that? Oh, oh.

“Glad you liked the video. Maybe I’ll make more videos just for you then.”

… Reaper777, are you flirting? The corners of your lips tug as your smile spreads; your fingers fly to your phone screen and you quickly type a response.

“Can I make some special requests then?” and send. Then, another ding.

Reaper777: Let’s hear it.

And that was the beginning of a long thread of comments under a Youtube video on how to make a full English breakfast.

[author note: i need to get this off my system!! | CALL OF DUTY MASTERLIST. WRITING COMMISSION. CHECK OUT MY ONGOING SIMON FIC!]

[holokitti]

escape room - lee haechan

‧˚⭒ pairing: ghost!haechan x afab!reader. mdni! adults only. ‧˚⭒ genre: thriller!au, strangers to lovers, soulmate!yandereau! angst, smut! ‧˚⭒ word count: 6.1k (sorry it’s long!) ‧˚⭒ warnings: voyeurism hc, fingering, oral(f receiving), dirty talk, slight nipple play, choking, multiple orgasms, swearing, obsessive hyuck, mentions of death, dom hc x sub reader. ‧˚⭒ starring: haechan, johnny, ten, mark, jaehyun reader. ‧˚⭒ summary: when you and your friends sign up for an extreme escape room, you expect clever puzzles and a few jump scares– not real danger. as you navigate eerie traps, the game takes a turn, and suddenly you find yourself separated from the group, alone. at least that’s what you thought, unaware of the familiar shadow lurking besides you.

a/n: hiii everyone, i hope those who read enjoy! this is my first story in years so i’m sorry if it’s not as detailed as could be but hopefully i improve the more i continue to upload. as said before this story is for adults only if i find any minors on my account i will block you. i’m open to feedback or any ideas for future stories. enjoy!

The eerie notes from the piano grow louder, filling the cramped room with an unsettling melody. From the corner, an old record player spins on its own, crackling as it fills the air with static. The noise gradually morphs into a faint whisper, words barely audible over the static.

"Time has just begun."

A chill creeps up your spine. You glance at the others, who stand on edge, their eyes darting around the room as the unsettling atmosphere takes hold. You’d exited the car only minutes earlier, arriving at what was supposed to be an ordinary escape room. As you step toward the entrance, the air thickens with uncomfortable tension, the dim light only emphasizing the building's eerie charm. The old structure seems to exist outside of time, its walls drenched in shadow, barely touched by the weak glow of the single streetlight overhead.

"So this is it? It looks... ancient. You sure you got the address right?" Johnny asks, his voice laced with doubt as he studies the rundown building in front of him.

"Address checks out," Ten replies, glancing down at the map on his phone, then back up at the dark, decrepit building. "This is it, apparently."

Mark shivers, his hands stuffed deep in his pockets. "Can we just go inside? My fingers are freezing off," he mutters, eyeing the doorway.

"Mark's right," Johnny chimes in, rubbing his hands together. "Let's just make sure it's still open."

Without further discussion, you all follow Johnny into the building. Inside, a dim, red-hued glow bathes the narrow hallway, where an old wine-colored carpet leads to a black wooden desk at the far end. A single lamp beside the desk casts long shadows against the walls, and the red, tilted lampshade gives the whole scene an otherworldly air.

Behind the desk stands a tall, gaunt man in a navy velvet suit, his frame sharp and dignified. His hair is slicked back with a single blonde strand hanging loose over his forehead. Black leather gloves cover his hands, and his eyes are blank and empty, as if devoid of emotion. He moves with precision, carefully placing a pen down on the desk before turning his attention to your group.

"May I help you?" he asks, his voice smooth, his smile revealing a dimple on his cheek as he flips open a worn booklet filled with room reservations.

Ten steps forward, excitement bright in his eyes. "What's the scariest room you've got here? Something not a lot of people have beaten."

The man's eyes glint with something that looks like amusement—or perhaps a warning. "Room 13," he replies. "It's... challenging. Few have managed to escape. Are you sure you want to proceed?"

You exchange glances with the others, an unspoken agreement passing between you all before Ten grins confidently and says, "Absolutely. We'll take the challenge."

The man inclines his head, pulling a large, iron key from a drawer. "As you wish," he murmurs, stepping from behind the desk. "Follow me."

He leads you down a narrow hallway lined with doors, each one different in design and shape, some small and round, others tall and rectangular. Your footsteps echo ominously as you walk, the creaks in the floor whispering warnings you can’t quite decipher. Finally, you reach the end of the hallway, where a massive, medieval-style door looms in front of you, its iron handle weathered and cold to the touch. The keyhole is unlike any you've ever seen.

The man unlocks the door with deliberate slowness, pausing to glance at each of you, his gaze assessing. "Are you certain you want to enter?" he asks, his voice almost mocking.

Ignoring his subtle warning, you nod along with the others, eager to continue.

Once inside, you find yourself in a dim, unsettling room. The walls are covered with crooked paintings, each one depicting strange, shadowy figures and bleak landscapes. A dusty piano sits in one corner, and a cracked baby doll lies slumped in an old rocking chair, one eye half-shut, its mouth slightly open as if caught mid-scream. The thick, worn red rug beneath your feet has frayed edges, adding to the room’s eerie atmosphere.

"This is beyond creepy," you mutter, glancing warily at Ten. "Your ideas are always a bit much, but this..."

"Before we begin," the man interrupts, capturing your attention, "there are rules to follow. You have ninety minutes to find your way out. Clues are hidden within the room, and they will lead you to your escape. Today's story follows a young man who lost his life in this room. If you free his spirit, he will grant you your escape."

He pauses, eyeing you all seriously. "If time runs out... well, then you've lost."

Ten scoffs, brushing it off. "So, we either win or lose. No big deal, we got this."

The man nods slowly, though you catch a small, knowing smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "One more thing: you get three hints, should you require assistance. If an emergency arises, call my name... Jaehyun."

Your eyes linger on him one last time. "Well, thank you for the rundown, Jaehyun," you say, forcing a smile, your arms crossing as Jaehyun steps back toward the door, the iron key in his hand.

Without another word, Jaehyun closes the door, and a distinct click echoes through the room as the lock engages.

“Wait… did he just lock us in?” Mark asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Relax, it’s just part of the setup,” Johnny replies, his voice casual. “It’ll unlock when we finish.”

Ten, brimming with excitement, claps his hands. “Alright, time’s ticking, guys. Let’s get to it!”

You exchange uncertain glances with the others but eventually begin searching the room, inspecting every corner and crevice. Dust settles on your clothes as you rifle through old books on the shelf, examine each creepy painting, and prod at the cracked doll.

After a few minutes, Johnny spots a series of letters framed on the wall, positioned slightly out of order. Squinting, he reads the faded words aloud:

"Entry 204, I found this nearby a sacred tree. A doll was looking out to the lake, the same lake she was last seen. Her body is gone, but her spirit will find its way back to me. —H.C"

A heavy silence settles over the group.

“Creepy,” Mark mutters, his voice uneasy. “But it’s gotta mean something, right?”

Ten nods, his eyes darting around the room. “Let’s check the doll. There might be a clue with it.”

You and the others gather around the broken doll, studying it closely. Just as you reach out to inspect it, the lights flicker, and the piano plays a single, haunting note, echoing through the room.

Your breaths hitch, unease creeping in as you realize this game might be far darker than any of you had anticipated.

Your breath caught as the note hung in the air, vibrating with a resonance that made the hair on your arms stand up. You exchanged a tense glance with the others, noting the flickers of doubt and unease on their faces.

"Did… did the piano just play on its own?" Mark asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Johnny forced a laugh, though it sounded unsteady. "Probably just part of the scare tactics. They’re really going all out with the haunted vibe here."

You couldn’t shake the creeping dread seeping into your mind, and from the looks on their faces, your friends felt it too. What was supposed to be an ordinary escape room was starting to feel… wrong.

“Let’s just keep going,” Ten said, his voice more subdued now, as if he, too, was shaken. “We’re wasting time, and we’ve only got ninety minutes.”

Your attention returned to the cracked baby doll in the rocking chair, its glassy eyes staring blankly at nothing. Slowly, you leaned in closer, examining its face. One eye was half-open, almost lazily, while the other was wide and unblinking, giving it a disturbingly lifelike appearance. Gently, you lifted the doll, feeling something hard poke through a tear in its fabric.

“There’s something inside,” you murmured, glancing up at the others.

“What is it?” Mark asked, peering over your shoulder.

With a bit of effort, you pried open the small tear, pulling out a tiny brass key, its surface worn but unmistakably real. You held it up to show the group, the key catching a faint glint of the dim light.

“What’s this supposed to open?” Ten wondered, taking the key from your hand to inspect it.

“Maybe it’s for one of the drawers or the bookshelf?” Johnny suggested, already moving toward the old dresser across the room.

As the group tried the key on various locks, a low rumble echoed from somewhere behind the walls, making you shiver. The air felt colder, and the room seemed darker, as if the shadows themselves had thickened, pressing in around you.

After a few tense moments, Johnny tried the key on a drawer in the dresser, and it clicked open. Inside, he found a folded piece of paper, yellowed with age. Carefully, he unfolded it, squinting at the faded text before reading aloud:

"Look beneath the seat where nightmares rest, Where shadows linger and spirits test. The way is hidden, only for those, Who dare to face what fear bestows."

"Under the seat... where nightmares rest?" Ten repeated, glancing around the room. "What does that mean?"

"Maybe the rocking chair?" you suggested, nodding toward the doll’s seat. "It’s creepy enough to count as a ‘nightmare.’"

Mark crouched down beside the chair, reaching underneath it. His fingers brushed something solid—a loose panel. Slowly, he pried it open, revealing a hidden compartment. Inside was another key, this one larger and more worn, and a small, rolled-up map.

Johnny unrolled the map, and everyone crowded around, their faces growing tense as they took in the strange, labyrinthine layout sketched across the parchment. The map didn’t resemble anything you’d seen in the room so far. Instead, it showed a twisting series of rooms, corridors, and strange symbols that were foreign to all of you.

"Is this… part of the room?" Mark asked, glancing around, trying to align what you were seeing on the map with the space around you.

"There’s no way this room has more than one door," Ten said, frowning.

“Maybe there’s a hidden passage,” you suggested, though dread was gnawing at you. The idea of a secret path that led to who-knew-where made your skin crawl.

Ten, still undeterred, nodded. “Yeah, let’s look around. There might be more to this place than we thought.”

You and your friends spread out, examining every corner of the room, pushing against walls, lifting furniture, and inspecting every nook and cranny. Just as you ran your hands along the bookshelf, you felt a slight give beneath your fingers. You pressed harder, and with a slow, creaking sound, the entire bookshelf shifted, sliding aside to reveal a narrow, dark hallway beyond.

Everyone stared, a mixture of intrigue and unease settling over them.

“Okay,” Johnny breathed out, “this is beyond next-level escape room stuff.”

Mark hesitated, casting a wary look down the hallway. “Are we sure this is still part of the game?”

Ten, undeterred, gave him a reassuring pat on the back. “We’ve come this far. Let’s see where it leads.”

The group stepped into the passage, the narrow hallway closing in around you as the shadows seemed to deepen. The air was thick, almost stale, and the walls felt damp, as if they hadn’t been touched in years. Your footsteps echoed through the silence, each one seeming to amplify the tension thrumming beneath your skin.

After a few minutes, you stopped, shining your flashlight down an unexpected fork in the path. “Which way?”

Before anyone could answer, a loud slam echoed behind you, making everyone jump. Spinning around, you saw that the passage behind had closed, sealing you in.

"No way," Mark whispered, running back to the door and pressing against it. But it didn’t budge.

“It’s probably just part of the game,” Ten said, though even he sounded uncertain.

“Left or right?” Johnny asked, glancing down each path. “Standing here isn’t going to help us.”

Without much choice, you picked the left path, leading the group deeper into the twisting hallways. But as you turned a corner, something unexpected happened—a force tugged you sharply by the arm, pulling you off balance. Before you could react, you found yourself separated from the others, pulled down a narrow side passage that seemed to appear out of nowhere.

“Guys!” you called out, panic rising in your voice.

You heard the faint sound of your friends calling back, their voices echoing, but they grew distant, fainter, until they vanished entirely. You were alone.

Your heart pounded as you steadied yourself, gripping your flashlight tightly. You took a deep breath, trying to calm down. The narrow corridor was cloaked in shadow, and you slowly raised your flashlight, scanning the dark space ahead. That’s when you saw him—a young man, standing just a few steps away, watching you with an intense gaze that sent a shiver down your spine.

He was tall, with dark, messy hair and sharp, striking features. His clothes were worn, his eyes shadowed and tired. Beyond the exhaustion, there was something else in his gaze—a quiet desperation, as though he’d been waiting for someone to find him.

"Are you… lost too?" you asked cautiously, not daring to step closer.

The man’s lips lifted in a small, weary smile. “You could say that. I’ve been here… longer than I can remember. It’s been a few days, give or take. I didn’t think I’d ever see another person again.”

Your pulse quickened. “Days? You’ve been trapped in here that long?”

He nodded, shadows dancing in his eyes. “One minute, I was here with some friends. The next, they were gone. Just like that.”

You swallowed, fear twisting in your gut. “My friends and I… we thought this was just an escape room, but nothing about this place feels right.”

He took a slow step closer, his gaze softening. “Maybe we should stick together. I’d hate for you to end up alone like me.”

You nodded slowly, relief flooding through you. “I’m Y/N.”

“Haechan,” he replied, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “Let’s find your friends and get out of here.”

With Haechan by your side, you ventured further into the maze of hallways, each step taking you deeper into the unknown. But as you walked, you couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that clung to you, a feeling that Haechan’s eyes held secrets he wasn’t willing to reveal.

All you can do is hope and pray you see your friends again.

The dim hallway stretches on in front of you, shadows clinging to the walls and making it difficult to see more than a few steps ahead. Every footstep feels heavy, the silence around you broken only by the occasional creak or groan from the aged structure. Haechan walks beside you, his presence oddly comforting amidst the overwhelming gloom, though something about him remains unsettling.

After a few minutes, you can’t help but ask, “So… how exactly did you get stuck here?”

Haechan lets out a small sigh, glancing over at you with a shadowed expression. “It’s a long story,” he replies. His voice is calm, almost too calm, and a shiver prickles at the back of your neck.

“We’ve got time,” you say softly, clutching your flashlight a little tighter. “If we’re going to find my friends and make it out, I should know what we’re dealing with and who I’m talking to.”

Haechan considers your words for a moment before nodding. “Alright. I was here with a group of friends, not unlike yours. We thought this was just an escape room—a haunted one, sure, but nothing dangerous. But once we entered, everything felt… wrong. Just like you’re probably feeling now.”

You nod, feeling a chill run down your spine. The thought that others had gone through the same confusion and fear unsettles you even more. “So what happened?”

He lets out a soft sigh, his voice dropping to a whisper. “At first, we tried to solve the puzzles, thinking it was all part of the game. But every clue we found led us deeper and deeper, to darker places that didn’t feel like they should exist. Eventually, we started getting separated. One by one, my friends disappeared… and I haven’t seen them since.”

His words hit you hard, your heart twisting with fear and sympathy. You imagine your own friends, separated from each other, wandering alone in these eerie, twisting hallways.

“Do you think… do you think your friends are okay?” you ask hesitantly, afraid of the answer.

Haechan is silent for a moment, and when he finally speaks, his tone is dark. “I don’t know, but this place… it’s haunted. It’s not a normal escape room. It’s something much worse.”

His words linger in the air, and a tight knot of fear forms in your chest. “Haunted? What do you mean?”

He glances at you, his eyes gleaming strangely in the dim light. “I’ve seen things here. Shadows that move on their own, voices that whisper in empty rooms… This isn’t a game. This place was created by people who wanted to watch others suffer, who find entertainment in fear and despair.”

A shiver runs through you as his words sink in. “So, they’re just… watching us? For their own sick entertainment?”

He nods, his gaze never leaving yours. “Exactly. They trap people here, turning their fear into a spectacle for whoever is watching. Once you’re here, it’s nearly impossible to leave, never able to see your loved ones ever again.”

You bite your lip, glancing around the dark hallway as anxiety gnaws at you. Your hands are shaking as you clasp them together, murmuring a silent prayer for your friends. The weight of your worry presses down on you, and you can feel tears prickling at the corners of your eyes as the hopelessness begins to creep in.

“Don’t worry too much, sweetheart,” Haechan says, his voice soft and soothing. “I’m here with you. I’ll help you find your friends.”

You nod, giving him a small, shaky smile. His calm presence does ease some of your fear, though a part of you wonders how he can be so composed. But as you focus on his steady gaze, something flickers in his eyes, something you can’t quite place—a look of satisfaction, as though he’s pleased by your fear. For a moment, the corners of his mouth lift into a small, almost imperceptible smirk.

But when you blink, the expression is gone, replaced with a look of earnest concern.

You brush off the uneasy feeling, telling yourself it’s just the atmosphere of the place playing tricks on you. “So, you’ve really been here… for days?”

He nods, keeping his gaze trained on you. “More or less. Time feels different here. You start to lose track of it after a while. Some days, it feels like hours are slipping by in minutes, and other days, it feels like I’ve been wandering for centuries.”

You can’t help but feel a pang of sympathy. “That must be terrible. Being alone for so long… I can’t imagine how you must feel.”

His eyes soften, and he looks at you with a gentle intensity that sends warmth spreading through you. “It was… until now.”

You feel your cheeks heat up under his gaze, his words lingering in your mind. There’s something both comforting and unsettling about him, a duality that leaves you unsure of how to feel. He’s kind, attentive, a stranger nonetheless, but there’s a unusual shadow in his eyes, an intensity that you can’t quite shake.

As you walk further down the corridor, a sudden chill sweeps through the air, making you shiver. Haechan notices and steps closer to you, his hand brushing against yours. “You’re safe with me,” he murmurs, his voice low and reassuring. “I promise.”

But despite his comforting words, something about the way he says it feels… off. The reassurance feels too practiced, like he’s said it a thousand times before, knowing exactly how it would affect you. You glance at him, meeting his gaze, and you swear you catch another glint of amusement, almost like he’s enjoying your unease.

Shaking off the thought, you try to refocus on finding your friends. “Do you think… they’re okay? My friends, I mean.”

Haechan pauses, as if considering his answer. “Maybe. If they’re smart, they’ll find a way to keep moving, just like we are.” He gives you a comforting smile, but that flicker of darkness in his gaze hasn’t fully disappeared.

You murmur another silent prayer, hoping your friends are safe, wherever they are.

As you continue through the twisted corridors, a realization starts to dawn on you—something about Haechan’s demeanor doesn’t quite add up. The calmness, the knowing glances… It’s as though he’s hiding something, and each time you catch a glimpse of his eyes, it’s as if he’s letting a bit of the mask slip, showing you a side of him he’s trying to keep hidden.

Finally, unable to shake the uneasy feeling, you glance at him and ask, “You said you’ve been here for a long time… How have you managed to survive all this time? Isn’t there any way out?”

Haechan smiles, a strange, almost secretive smile that sends a new chill down your spine. “Oh, I’ve managed,” he replies vaguely. “I’ve learned a lot about this place. Enough to know that it’s better not to trust anyone. Not even me.”

You freeze, your heart racing as his words sink in. “What… what do you mean?”

He gives you a long, intense look, his expression unreadable. “I mean, you don’t know who or what you’re dealing with here. That’s part of what makes it so interesting, don’t you think?”

The realization hits you like a cold wave– you aren’t sure if Haechan is telling the truth, or if he’s been playing with you all along. But the look in his eyes, that glint of amusement and satisfaction as he watches your fear grow, leaves you with a terrifying suspicion.

This man, this stranger you’ve been trusting, isn’t lost like you are. He isn’t just another victim of this twisted game. He’s something else entirely, something far more dangerous– he's apart of the game.

As he steps closer, that smirk creeping onto his face once more, you realize that he doesn’t want to help you escape.

“What are you–” you begin, but Haechan shushes you, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. He leans in, his presence overwhelming as you find your back against the wall, and arms pressed above your head.

His smirk widens as he leans close, his voice soft but chilling. “This is your first challenge, sweetheart. Try to escape me.”

Your heart races, and without a second thought, you shove him off and sprint down the dark hallway, feeling his gaze burning into your back. At this point, you can’t focus on directions or clues; all you want is to find your friends and get back to safety.

From behind, his mocking voice echoes through the hallway, closer than you expected. “It’s too late, sweetheart. Your friends won’t be looking for you any time soon. You’re stuck with me, after years of being apart.”

Before you know it, his hand wraps around your wrist, pulling you through a hidden door concealed by shadows. You stumble inside, disoriented by the sudden brightness. Unlike every room you’ve seen so far, this one is consumed by light, making you squint as your eyes adjust, your back resting on the padded floor.

Haechan’s smirk hasn’t faded. In the brightness, you take in his features more clearly—his sharp jawline, the glint in his dark eyes, the smirk playing at his lips. You hate to admit it, but his presence is overwhelming in an unsettling yet strangely magnetic way.

He hovers over you, his gaze locked onto you, his eyes roaming as though he’s savoring your unease. He leans in, brushing his lips close to your ear. “Don’t fight it,” he whispers. “This is where the real game begins.”

Before you know it, his lips are against yours, and you find yourself kissing him back. It feels insane, but something about him draws you in, almost as if you're under a spell, a force you can't resist.

He pulls away, his chest heaving, his eyes darker now, pupils wide with desire. "The moment I saw you, I knew," he murmurs, his voice thick with desperation as he cups your face in his hands. "I knew you were the one to set me free. I've been waiting lifetimes for you."

A shiver runs through you as his words sink in. Your brows knit together. "Who... who are you?" The question slips out more like a plea than anything else.

His lips curl into a smirk, his voice dropping to a soft murmur. "Everything you've been waiting for. There's a reason we're drawn to each other." He tuts softly, eyes gleaming.

"Who do you think led your spirit here?"

Your gaze flickers around the room, realizing he's still hovering over you, his body pressing you into the ground. When your eyes lock again, you feel it—a pulse of craving, dark and intense, matching the hunger in his gaze

Suddenly, nothing matters anymore. All that exists is the heat between you, the electric pull that holds you both in place, and the thrill of his body pressed so close to yours.

Your lips crash against his, this time initiated by you. He's momentarily stunned, taking a second to adjust, but before you can even let out a whine, he matches your movements.

His hands find their way to your waist– his thumb rubbing circles against your skin. “Is this what you want? To remind you of my touch?” His knee placing pressure against your core.

A faint moan escapes your lips, you know this was so wrong, but feels so right. Your hips buckling– trying to match his rhythm as you attempt to ride his knee. “Hae..chan….”

His name slipping through your thoughts causes his eyes to darken. He lifts your hips up, your leggings quickly being tugged off your skin.

It didn’t take him long enough to get you wet. His mouth practically drooling while admiring your core.

His face inching closer to you, very rapidly feeling his breath against your heat causing you to slightly lift your hips. “No teasing… please,” you whimper, unable to wait any longer for him.

Haechan lets out a slight laugh, sounding cynical. “I’m sorry baby, I just like to admire what’s mine.”

Before you can respond his fingers found their way to your clit, rubbing small slow circles over your underwear. His eyes nearly burning into your soul, the way he watches every single one of your reactions, feeding off of them.

Before you could plea for more, Haechan pulls your undergarment to aside, working his mouth against your core. His tongue lapping against your swollen clit, leading all the way down to where you were nearly dripping for him. He saw this as an opportunity to get rid of the last piece of clothing concealing your lower half, gripping your thighs, and yanking you closer to his mouth.

“Tastes so fucking good,” he moans against you, the vibrations of his voice to your body sending you in chills.

You had so many questions to ask him. You wanted to know who he really is, what he is really is. Yet, here you are having a stranger eat you out. What bothers you more is the immediate attraction and pull you feel toward him. You’ve had your fair share of one-night stands and exes, but none of them have ever affected you the way Haechan does.

The feeling was all too much for your body to handle, your eyes practically glued to the ceiling– seeing stars.

Haechan notices this, his mouth releasing from sucking at your clit. He slaps the side of your ass, causing you to jolt looking down to his eyes.

“Focus baby, I want you to watch how I fuck your pretty pussy– I mean look at this,” he slams two fingers into you, the sharp breath you intake being the only thing keeping you on alert.

He growls at the feeling of your insides squeezing desperately against his fingers, but before he gets ahead of himself he takes them out slowly. With his other hand, he grabs your face, looking directly into each other’s heavy eyes– he brings his fingers to his mouth, licking and sucking the mess you left on them.

A moan escapes your lips, “I need more…please…”

“What more do you need, princess? Is this not enough for you?” His fingers find their way back inside of you, thrusting hard but slow, his thumb matching the same rhythm on your clit.

“Are my fingers not enough for you? Are you worried your friends might find you like this?” Suddenly the door slams wide open as if it were by a gust of wind, assuming it was Haechan’s work.

By reflexes you attempt to shut your legs together, squirming beneath him. You know your friends are probably on the other side of the building right now looking for you– but the thought of them finding you being fucked by this ‘entity’ triggers a rush of excitement through your body.

He holds your legs apart with his free arm. Between Haechan’s teases, the pace against your core, and the pressure of his thumb– you were more than ready for your release.

“F-Fuck… I’m going to–”

“Do it, baby. Cum all over my fingers. Show the world how desperate you are to get your pussy fingered by me,” his pace fastens, his face desperate to watch you collapse on him.

“Haechan!” You scream his name as loud as possible, his fingers continuing to ride out your orgasm. It felt as if a life time of pleasure within the time of him slowing down his pace, to you finally catching your breath back as he slides right out of you.

The emptiness from inside you causes you to frown. You didn’t notice till this moment, Haechan had taken off his clothing while you were recovering, finally getting rid of the rest of yours.

“You did so good for me, princess,” his lips trailing from the side of your face to your neck, eventually to your breasts.

You take a deep breath, still not fully recovered from your previous high. “I’m still sensitive,” you murmur to him as his tongue flicks over your nipple, his spit already coating them.

He pushes himself off of you, repositioning you both so that this time, you’re on top of him. Your eyes face the still–open door ahead of you, while he faces the wall behind you. You look down as you two align yourselves together, practically teasing each other.

You couldn’t help but stare at his cock, cursing yourself as you didn’t notice how thick and big he is.

The thought of him being inside you sends a shiver down your spine and your lip quivering. “You’re so big... I need to feel you, I want to feel you inside of me please. No more games,” your face grows hot after realizing how pathetic you sound, but this only sends Haechan to laugh in response.

“You want it so bad? Well if that’s what you want–” before he finishes his sentence he grabs you by the waist slamming you down into him. “Then that’s what you fucking get,” he groans into your ear.

A few curses and moans left your lips as you watch his cock disappear into your insides. The sound of your wetness against his skin filling not only the room but echoing in the hallway as well. His thumb pressing over the indentation of his cock against your skin, whimpers escaping him due to the sight. This was everything and more than what he had been waiting for.

Your hands find their way to his dark hair, grabbing a good amount as you fuck yourself on him, grinding down to his own rhythm. His hands find their way to your throat, squeezing the right amount to have your eyes rolling back.

“That’s right baby, put on a show for everyone to see. Let’s show everyone how good I fuck you– how needy you get, begging to be filled up. I hope your pathetic friends walk by any second to watch as my cock fills you up… but I bet you would like that huh? Look at you, trying to escape my cock knowing how much you fucking want it,” He grunts, his hips lifting as he starts fucking himself deeper into you.

“Answer me when I speak to you,” he slaps your ass again, the stinging sensation bringing you back to the moment.

“Yes!” You scream.

“Yes what?”

“Yes! I want everyone to see how good you fuck me! I want them to see you fill me up!”

That famously known smirk appearing on his face for a last time before he flips you over on your back again, lifting one of your legs over his shoulder to bury himself deeper into you.

“I want you to say my name when you cum, baby. You think you’re capable of that, hm?” His pace fastens on you.

You body starting to shake from the pleasure as he starts hitting your sweet spot, his thrusts causing an additional burst of pleasure against your clit.

“Haechan! Haec..” you scream his name as if it were the only word you ever knew. Your insides throbbing tightly against him, he curses under his breath twitching inside you as you bring him to his release, letting his seed drip down your thigh.

You groan at the feeling of him leaving you, already missing the warmth he brought. The both of you finding yourselves back to reality and that’s when it all started hitting.

You just had sex with some sort of supernatural entity.

And you liked it.

You feel Haechan’s warm breath against your ear as his voice drops to a low whisper. “Your friends… they’re free to go. As for you, sweetheart…” His eyes lock with yours, and this time, they’re filled with something deeper, darker—a fierce longing mixed with possessiveness, a completion he’s longed for.

He brushes his thumb over your cheek, his touch surprisingly gentle. “You don’t remember me,” he murmurs, his gaze never leaving yours, “but we’ve been together before… lifetimes ago. We were meant to be, you and I.” He traces his thumb along your jaw, a soft smile pulling at his lips. “When you lost your life back then, I followed soon after. I’ve been stuck here ever since, a place where lost souls are tied to, searching. I’ve been waiting for your spirit to return back to me.”

A chill runs through you, your heart racing as his words sink in. Your mind scrambles to process what he’s saying, but you can’t deny the strange pull, the connection that seems to tether you to him. It feels… ancient, familiar in a way you can’t explain.

He leans in closer, his forehead pressing gently against yours. “You may not remember, but I know you feel it too. You’ve always been mine.”

His words send a shiver down your spine, both thrilling and unsettling, and for a moment, you feel yourself drawn into his world, his promise of an eternal bond. His arms wrap around you, pulling you closer, his touch possessive yet filled with an almost aching tenderness. “Now that you’re here,” he whispers, “we can finally be together. Forever.”

Your stomach twists as his words linger in your mind. Slowly, the reality sets in—while your friends will walk free, you’re bound to stay. His smile is soft as he strokes your hair, but there’s something haunting in his eyes, something that makes it clear this is not a choice. He’s waited lifetimes for you, and he won’t let you go.

A chill of fear creeps in, breaking through the warmth of his embrace. You glance toward the exit, the realization hitting hard: you’re not meant to leave. You’re bound to this place, your spirit destined to remain here… forever with Haechan.

As he pulls you closer, his words echo in your mind, a promise and a sentence intertwined. And though his gaze is filled with love, a deep-rooted fear takes hold. You know that this, now, is your eternity—your soul forever tethered to his, within these walls.

[honeydippedfiction]

Daddy's Bodyguard

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Synopsis: Sometimes there comes a time when a baby can hold the whole world in her chubby hands, other times? She's ready to fight anyone who gets close to her father.

Warnings: Zariyah is a mini menace

WC: 3.3k

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• you DO NOT have my permission to copy my work, upload as your own, translate, or repost on any other website •

Tuesday Morning – Cincinnati Bengals Training Facility

Joe adjusted the strap on the diaper bag over his shoulder as he bounced Zariyah gently on his hip. She had a pastel Bengals onesie on—complete with little tiger paw booties—and a pink satin bow headband that Angel had tied with surgical precision before heading to the ESPN office.

“Okay, baby girl. Ready to show these grown men who’s boss?” he murmured as he walked into the facility.

Zariyah babbled in response, her tone fierce and deliberate. One of her hands clutched a stuffed football rattle, the other gripping Joe’s chain like she owned it.

As soon as the door opened and the sound of cleats and sneakers echoed around them, she went on high alert. Wide eyes. Head turning. And then—

The Glare™.

It was sudden, sharp, and devastatingly effective. Zariyah’s tiny brows furrowed as she zeroed in on the first assistant coach who approached too quickly.

Joe grinned. “Yeah. She does that now. She’s, uh…a little territorial.”

“She gets that from her mom,” Ja’Marr said, strolling in from the weight room with a bottle of Gatorade. “Hey, munchkin! Come to your favorite uncle—”

Before he could even finish the sentence, Zariyah’s head whipped toward him and she let out a loud, opinionated babble, complete with flailing arms and a dramatic scowl.

“She’s mad ‘cause you said you were her favorite,” Tee called from behind, already walking over with his arms out. “Z-Baby, don’t listen to Ja’Marr. You know it’s me, right?”

Joe couldn’t stop laughing. “Y’all are ridiculous.”

Zariyah turned toward Tee, still glaring, but then let out a very suspicious-sounding “Da-da,” as if confirming that her loyalty wasn’t up for debate. She snuggled closer to Joe’s chest and gave both uncles the side-eye.

“She really glared at me?” Tee asked, feigning hurt.

“Gave me the death stare too,” Ja’Marr added, hands on his hips. “That’s fine. Whatever. I’ll win her over. Wait till she sees the little Bengals tracksuit I got her. Custom embroidery and everything.”

Joe adjusted Zariyah on his hip and looked down at her. “You threatening your uncles now, Z? Just protecting me like a little linebacker?”

Zariyah blinked up at him, then reached for his face with both hands and said, clear as day: “Da-da.”

The locker room melted.

“That’s it,” Tee said. “We lost. She’s a Daddy’s Girl for life.”

“She been a Daddy’s Girl,” Joe replied smugly, planting a kiss on her forehead. “She just letting y’all know the pecking order.”

Later, when Coach Taylor passed by and dared to pat Joe on the shoulder, Zariyah snapped her head around so fast it startled him. She let out a low grumble of disapproval.

“Oh my god,” Ja’Marr whispered. “She’s really guarding you.”

“She’s built like a mini bodyguard,” Tee added. “Little pitbull in a pink bow.”

Zariyah didn’t smile once the entire team meeting. She perched on Joe’s lap in the film room, eyes narrowed, watching every man who got near her dad like they might be plotting to replace him.

And by the time Angel FaceTimed them during lunch, Zariyah lit up only for her.

“Hi mama,” Joe said, turning the screen so Angel could see their daughter.

Zariyah’s eyes sparkled. “Muma!” she squealed. Then, like a tiny gremlin, she glanced at Tee trying to feed her mashed banana and let out a warning babble.

“She’s been cussing us out in baby language,” Tee said.

Angel just smiled knowingly. “Good girl. Keep your boys in line.”

Bengals Facility – Late Afternoon

Angel stepped through the doors in black biker shorts and an oversized LSU crewneck, laptop bag slung over her shoulder, sunglasses pushed up into her curls.

She barely made it three steps before Ja’Marr appeared like he’d been waiting all day for his moment.

“Ohhh, look who finally showed up,” he said, hands flailing dramatically. “Come collect your little security guard.”

Tee popped up behind him. “No, seriously, Angel. Your daughter has been terrorizing grown men.”

Angel raised an eyebrow, amused. “Terrorizing?”

“She growled at Coach Taylor,” Ja’Marr said, deadpan. “Growled.”

“She tried to smack my hand when I offered her fruit snacks,” Tee added.

Angel snorted. “That sounds like something you deserved.”

“She glared at the equipment guy just for handing Joe a water bottle,” Ja’Marr went on. “Like—how dare he hydrate her father.”

Angel laughed, finally making her way toward the lounge, where the lights were dim and a few players were lounging in compression gear. And there, in the far corner on the oversized couch, was Joe.

Reclined back. Hoodie pushed up to his elbows. Legs stretched out.

And sleeping on his chest like a pink-bowed angel was Zariyah—tiny fists curled against his shirt, cheeks flushed, pacifier in her mouth, her little tiger booties hanging halfway off her feet.

Angel slowed to a stop. Her chest tightened.

“Y’all talk all that shit, but she looks like peace right now,” she whispered, smiling.

“Yeah, now,” Tee whispered. “She ran a whole dictatorship all day and then passed out like a tyrant after battle.”

“She doesn’t like people touching Joe,” Ja’Marr said. “You gotta earn your way into the circle.”

“Apparently even I don’t have clearance,” Tee added.

Angel moved quietly toward the couch, careful not to wake her, then crouched and brushed a hand down Zariyah’s curls.

“Time to head home, mama,” she whispered.

Joe stirred, voice low and sleepy. “She knocked out like ten minutes ago.”

Angel leaned in and kissed his cheek. “You look knocked out too.”

He hummed. “She wore me out more than practice did.”

Angel slipped one hand beneath Zariyah’s back and started to lift her gently.

That was her first mistake.

Zariyah’s eyes snapped open—wide and unblinking.

The glare hit immediately.

Brows furrowed. Bottom lip jutted. Tiny little snort of warning.

Angel blinked. “Excuse me?”

Ja’Marr lost it from the other side of the room. “SHE’S GIVING YOU THE GLARE NOW?”

“Yo!” Tee shouted, practically doubled over. “She mad at you now?!”

Joe just groaned into a smile, eyes still half-closed. “Told you. She’s protecting her man.”

Angel looked down at her daughter—still glowering, now fully awake—and tried not to laugh.

“You glaring at me?” she asked, incredulous.

Zariyah sucked harder on her pacifier and narrowed her eyes like she didn’t trust Angel at all.

“You really think I’m a threat?”

Joe’s voice was thick with amusement. “She watched you take me away one too many times, babe. She knows what’s up.”

Angel shook her head, speechless. “I carried you for nine months, fed you from my body, and this is the thanks I get?”

Zariyah offered a dismissive babble.

Ja’Marr, from the corner: “She said what she said.”

“Honestly,” Tee added, “I’ve never respected anyone more.”

Angel sighed dramatically, scooping her daughter up anyway while Zariyah grumbled in her arms like she was planning a mutiny.

Joe finally sat up, rubbing his eyes. “She’ll forgive you in like five minutes. But she’s keeping score.”

“Just like her mama,” Ja’Marr mumbled.

Angel shot him a look. “Careful. You’re next on the glare list.”

And sure enough, Zariyah looked over her shoulder and gave one last stern side-eye to the entire facility as Angel carried her out—like she’d be back. And next time? Y’all better act right.

Later That Evening – Burrow House, Cincinnati

The drive home had been…tense.

Zariyah sat in her car seat with the air of a wronged woman—arms crossed over her little chest, cheeks puffed out, pacifier dramatically hanging from her lips like she was barely tolerating the betrayal. She refused to babble. Refused to giggle at the stuffed lion Angel dangled at red lights. Even when Angel sang her favorite lullaby, Zariyah just stared out the window like she had paperwork to file and enemies to blacklist.

Angel glanced in the rearview mirror and sighed. “You really mad I took you away from Daddy, huh?”

Zariyah didn’t answer. Just gave a single, slow blink.

Angel shook her head with a quiet laugh. “Unbelievable.”

By the time they made it into the house, Angel had managed to wrestle her laptop bag inside, kick off her slides, and balance her attitude-riddled child on one hip. She dropped her keys in the bowl by the door and exhaled like she was clocking out of a shift.

“Okay, ma’am,” she muttered to Zariyah, “you’ve been holding this grudge for like—three hours now. That’s gotta be a record.”

Zariyah didn’t blink. Didn’t smile. Just nestled deeper into her mama’s hip with a sigh as if to say, I’m tired, but I’m still upset.

Angel carried her into the living room, already switching gears. “Let’s put on some Miss Rachel or ‘Bluey,’ okay? Chill out before bedtime.”

She bent down, gently setting Zariyah on her soft pink play mat with all the toys—rattles, plushies, and a musical mirror that lit up. Then she turned toward the TV to queue up the cartoon.

That was mistake number two.

The second Zariyah’s butt hit the mat, she yelled. A high-pitched, indignant screech that echoed through the whole house. And then—

SLAP.

Right hand came down like a gavel.

SLAP SLAP.

She smacked the play mat with both hands like she was laying down the law, eyebrows drawn tight, face twisted in a fury of betrayal and inconvenience.

Angel whipped around. “Girl!”

Zariyah glared at her mother with her bottom lip poked out, then threw one of her plush toys dramatically to the side.

Angel stared. “You know what? You got one more time to act like you pay rent in here.”

Zariyah yelled again. Slapped the mat again. Didn’t break eye contact.

Angel crossed her arms. “Oh, so we’re throwing hands now? Over Bluey?”

Zariyah babbled back like yes, ma’am, I have several complaints.

Angel pressed her fingers to her temples. “Lord, please give me patience before I set this baby outside like a porch package.”

She plopped onto the couch and grabbed the remote, turning on Bluey anyway.

“I’m not arguing with someone who can’t even wipe her own ass,” she muttered.

Zariyah quieted for a beat, still frowning—but the second the intro song started, her tiny head whipped toward the screen. The glare faded slightly. Her little fist relaxed.

Angel watched her carefully. “Uh huh. Thought so.”

She leaned back with a sigh, finally taking her first real breath of the day.

And just when she thought the tantrum was over—Zariyah reached out, grabbed the blanket from the couch… and pulled it over herself like a diva.

Angel blinked. “I cannot with you today.”

A pause.

Then a quiet laugh slipped out of her, despite herself. “Just like your damn daddy.”

Burrow Living Room – 6:48 P.M.

Angel propped her phone against a nearby sippy cup, flipped it to record, and pressed play.

“Go ‘head then. Tell the people how mad you are.”

The video started with Zariyah dead center on her play mat, cheeks flushed, curls slightly frizzy from the car seat, bow now crooked from the drama she had personally curated.

She stared into the camera like she was about to air the entire household’s business.

Then—

SLAP.

Her tiny palm landed hard against the plush mat.

SLAP SLAP.

She glared past the phone at her mother like she wanted to speak to management.

“You done?” Angel asked from behind the camera.

Zariyah said nothing. Just stared. Breathing heavy. Still fuming.

Another slap.

Then, just before the video ended—

“AAAAHHH!” Zariyah screeched, voice high and defiant like she was rallying a protest.

Angel stopped the recording. Deadpan. “Bet.”

She clicked send and dropped it in the Burrow Family group chat:

🎥 Zariyah’s attitude era has arrived. Come collect y’all’s grandchild/niece. I’m done.

Within thirty seconds:

Robin (Joe’s mom):

LMAOOO. Not her smacking the mat like she paid for it 😭 She is 1000% your child.

Jimmy (Joe’s dad):

You sure she didn’t get that from your side of the family? 👀

Tee:

OH MY GODDDDDDDD 💀💀💀 She still mad about earlier?!?! This baby holds grudges.

Ja’Marr:

She hit that mat like it said something about her mama 😭 I’m scared. And I’m not even there.

Jess (Sam’s wife):

She’s so cute even when she’s evil 🥹🖤

Sam Hubbard:

Can’t believe I got glared at by someone under 2 feet tall today

Finally, a reply popped in from Joe, who was still at the facility, feet up in the QB room:

Joe:

She inherited your mean mug and my dramatics. We’re doomed.

Angel:

No. I’m doomed. Y’all just visit the chaos. I live with it.

Then a little heart reacted to Joe’s message—Zariyah’s photo as the sender.

Angel blinked. Then cackled. “I know damn well my baby didn’t just react to that like she understood the assignment.”

She looked over.

Zariyah was sitting upright now, hand still hovering threateningly over the mat like she wasn’t finished.

The bow had officially slid down over one eye.

Burrow Living Room – 7:22 P.M.

The door creaked open.

Joe stepped in, duffel bag slung over one shoulder, hair still slightly damp from a post-practice shower. He toed off his sneakers and glanced around the quiet foyer before hearing it—

The babble-yelling.

It came in waves from the living room, high-pitched and unrelenting, layered with the sharp thuds of palms slapping plush.

SLAP.

“BabababababA!!”

SLAP. SLAP.

“GAHH—da—MAHH!”

Joe blinked. Stepped into the living room.

And there she was.

Zariyah.

Facing away from him. Still in her play clothes from earlier, bow barely hanging on, cheeks flushed and fiery as she lectured her mother in full toddler rage. She was seated on her mat like it had personally offended her, babbling at full volume while alternating between smacks and dramatic scoots.

Angel sat cross-legged on the couch, completely unfazed, phone already in hand. She clocked Joe’s entrance with a look that said don’t say a damn word, just watch.

Zariyah flailed her arms again, yelling louder.

Joe smiled. His heart swelled.

She was still mad.

Quietly, he set down his bag, folded his arms, and leaned against the doorway—watching this tiny little tornado let her mama have it.

SLAP. SLAP.

“GAAHH—buh—da-da—NO.”

Angel snorted softly. Whispered to her phone camera, “Day two of being terrorized by my own child. Exhibit C.”

And then—

Joe cleared his throat. Soft, calm, just enough to be heard:

“Hey, baby girl.”

Zariyah froze.

Her entire body stiffened like a cartoon villain getting caught mid-monologue.

Slowly—so slowly—she turned.

The second she laid eyes on him?

All that rage disappeared.

Her whole face lit up like Christmas.

“DA-DA!” she squealed.

And then? She launched into motion—hands smacking against the mat in a mad dash crawl, grinning wide, arms stretched as she hauled ass across the floor toward Joe like she hadn’t spent the last forty-five minutes slapping furniture and yelling at her mom.

Angel gaped, phone still recording. “OH. MY. GOD.”

Joe knelt down, scooping her up just as she reached him. “Hey, princess,” he cooed, nuzzling her cheek. “You giving your mama a hard time?”

Zariyah squealed again, kicking her legs, smile all gummy and triumphant as she nuzzled into his neck like the sweetest baby in the world.

Angel was still filming. “You see this, right? She switched up the moment you walked in.”

Joe glanced over her head, smirking. “Nah, she’s been perfect all day. Haven’t you, Z?”

Zariyah gave a tiny proud babble and tucked her face into his hoodie.

Angel stopped the recording with a dry laugh. “Y’all are so full of shit.”

She attached the video to the group chat:

🎥: “Not her pretending she hasn’t been cussing me out in Baby for an hour. Wait for the switch-up.”

Tee:

NAHHHHHHH 💀💀💀 the turn and run??? I’m done

Ja’Marr:

Zariyah is a master manipulator and she is SEVEN MONTHS OLD 😭

Robin:

Her commitment to the bit is inspiring

Joe:

What can I say? My girl’s loyal

Angel:

She loyal to you and ready to fight me. She’s seven months deep into her villain origin story

Later That Night – Zariyah’s Bathroom

Steam curled up from the warm bathwater as Angel knelt beside the tub, rolling up the sleeves of her LSU crewneck while Joe perched on the toilet lid, towel draped over his shoulder, watching with a soft smile.

Zariyah sat in the water, surrounded by floating ducks, a squeaky starfish, and her favorite pink stacking cups. Her curls were damp and wild, cheeks dewy from the heat, hands busy splashing and rearranging her bath toys like a tiny CEO managing bath time inventory.

She still wasn’t talking to Angel. Not really.

She wasn’t glaring anymore, sure—but every time Angel reached in to rinse her shoulder or scoop water onto her back, Zariyah would go very still. Not slapping. Not smiling.

Just… quiet judgment.

“You really gonna ice me out the whole bath?” Angel asked, raising an eyebrow.

Joe snorted behind her. “Babe, she’s making you work for it.”

Zariyah picked up the duck. Glared at it. Then flung it at the side of the tub like it owed her money.

“See?” Angel muttered. “Baby Mafia boss.”

Then, just as she reached for the washcloth—Zariyah suddenly turned. Reached out. And grabbed Angel’s thumb with her chubby little hand.

Angel blinked. “What’s this?”

Zariyah blinked back. Then gently patted her mom’s wrist with the other hand.

Angel softened instantly. “Oh. We’re friends again?”

Zariyah made a high-pitched little mmm! sound and gave her the tiniest hint of a smile before dunking her cup back underwater like nothing had happened.

Joe grinned. “You got forgiven. Congratulations.”

“I’d like to thank the Academy,” Angel deadpanned, wiping Zariyah’s arm. “And Johnson’s lavender body wash.”

Thirty Minutes Later – Master Bedroom

Joe stepped out of the walk-in closet shirtless, gray sweatpants riding low on his hips, towel slung around his neck. His curls were still damp, and his eyes were already drooping a little.

Angel lay curled up under the duvet, watching the baby monitor like it was a high-stakes movie.

Zariyah was finally down. Dressed in a zip-up footie onesie covered in tiny moons and stars, pacifier in her mouth, arms sprawled dramatically above her head like she’d just fought her last war of the day.

“Can’t believe she played me all day,” Angel murmured. “Sided with you, treated me like an intruder, then forgave me like she was the one wronged.”

Joe climbed into bed beside her, tugging her into his chest. “She gets that from you.”

“Lies,” Angel yawned, but she curled into him anyway. “She gets your dramatic ass and my ability to hold a grudge. That’s a deadly combo.”

Joe chuckled, kissing the top of her head. “She’s lucky she’s cute.”

“She’s lucky she looks like you,” Angel muttered. “Or I might’ve left her at the facility.”

Joe laughed louder at that, the sound low and warm in his chest. “You ever think about how we really made her? Like… she’s ours. Our exact chaos and DNA combined.”

“Mmhmm.” Angel trailed her fingers along his ribs. “And you still wanna try for another someday?”

Joe paused.

“Be honest,” she added with a sly smile. “That little tantrum shook you a little, huh?”

He groaned. “A little?! She slapped the play mat like she was ready to unionize.”

Angel laughed so hard she buried her face in his chest.

“I mean… I still want more,” Joe said after a beat, softer this time. “But if the next one comes out with her attitude? We’re cooked.”

“Facts,” Angel whispered. “We’ll just pack our things and hand the house over to them.”

Joe exhaled a tired chuckle, kissed her again, and reached for the monitor one more time.

Zariyah stirred.

Both of them froze.

She smacked her lips around the pacifier, sighed, rolled over, and went still again.

Angel: “She heard us talking.”

Joe: “She’s always listening.”

They stayed quiet another second… then slowly relaxed.

And from the monitor, their seven-month-old daughter snored gently—tiny dictator finally off-duty.

[leewritesstuff]

First Encounter | Changbin x F!Reader

Summary: It's your first time in Korea and you decided to try a cafe when someone bumped into you and knocked over your drink.

Pairs: Changbin x Reader

Type: Fluff/Romance

AN: I have alot of these in my drafts and I decided to upload Changbin's own because I've notice so far I didn't post anything for him!

It was your first time in Korea, and the excitement buzzed in the air as you waited in line at a trendy little café, the kind that made your latte sound like an art form. The smell of freshly ground coffee beans and the warm, inviting atmosphere made you feel like you were stepping into a whole new world. The café was packed with people chatting softly in Korean, the sound of their conversations weaving together in a comforting rhythm, like the heartbeat of the city. You tried to catch snippets of the language, but everything around you felt like a blur. The barista behind the counter moved fluidly, creating art on the surface of each drink, his hands skilled and precise. The hum of the espresso machine added to the energy in the air, and for a moment, you felt like you were part of something bigger, something alive.

Your turn finally came, and you stepped forward to collect your iced latte, the cold glass slick with condensation. The creamy foam on top looked like a little cloud, and you couldn’t wait to sit by the window and sip it slowly, watching the city pass by. You imagined the coolness of the drink refreshing you as you took in the sights and sounds of the street outside. A perfect first morning in Korea, you thought.

But then, just as you were about to turn away, someone bumped into you. The collision was sudden, almost like it happened in slow motion—your latte tipped over, and in a fraction of a second, the cold coffee splashed across your shirt, the frothy foam spraying across your lap. You froze, blinking in surprise. The shock of the incident settled in, and you looked down at the mess, a mixture of embarrassment and confusion settling over you. Your shirt was now soaked in iced coffee, and your legs had a sticky layer of foam on them.

Before you could fully process what had happened, the man who had bumped into you turned around. His expression was one of genuine concern, and he immediately took a step forward. “Ah! Mianhae!” he said, his voice full of apology. His Korean was rapid, and his eyes were wide with worry.

You blinked, still in a daze. You were about to open your mouth, ready to speak, but before you could, he rushed over, waving his hands frantically. "Sorry, sorry!" he said again, his words spilling out in a rush as he desperately tried to fix the situation. His deep voice carried a sense of urgency, but it was soothing in its own way.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice sincere but thick with worry. You looked up at him, slightly overwhelmed. His face was familiar, but your mind couldn’t quite place it.

“I… um…” you trailed off, realizing that you didn’t speak much Korean, and the language barrier was suddenly much more apparent than you had anticipated. He frowned slightly, his brows furrowing as he noticed the confusion in your eyes.

"I… not speak Korean well," you said, your hands lifting slightly in an apologetic gesture, trying to make your limited understanding clear.

He paused for a moment, taking in your words. Then, with a look of sudden realization, his face softened. "Ah! I… pay... for... your... drink. Please, I pay," he said, switching to broken English, his words tumbling out in a clumsy, almost awkward rhythm. He gestured toward the counter, where the barista was preparing a new drink for you.

You blinked, processing the offer, but your instinct was to politely decline. “No, it’s alright,” you said, trying to brush off the situation. But something in his eyes—the genuine sincerity and concern—made you hesitate.

"No, no!" he said, his voice insistent but kind. "I make mess. I… help. I pay." His English was far from perfect, and it was clear he was trying his best, but his intentions were unmistakable. The warmth in his tone was disarming, and you found yourself pausing, caught off guard by how earnest he seemed.

“No, really,” you said again, though this time you weren’t quite as sure. He smiled sheepishly, a little unsure, his shoulders lifting in an apologetic shrug. “I… not want you mad at me.” His eyes were wide, and the embarrassment in his expression made it hard to refuse.

After a few more rounds of him apologizing, pleading in his broken English, you finally relented with a small smile. “Okay… thank you,” you said softly, your resistance weakening under the pressure of his kindness.

“Okay, okay!” he exclaimed, his face lighting up with relief. He quickly stepped forward to hand the cashier the money for your new drink, his movements almost childlike in their eagerness. He was so earnest about the whole situation that it was hard not to feel a little embarrassed for him.

Once the transaction was completed, he stepped back, offering you a small, almost shy smile. “Okay, I go now,” he said in broken English, nodding as if to reassure himself. With a small bow, he turned to leave, his broad shoulders and well-built physique impossible to miss as he made his way out of the café. You couldn’t help but notice how strong he looked—like he spent time at the gym.

As he walked away, you stood there for a moment, still processing the whole exchange. The mess, the apology, the genuine kindness—none of it was how you expected your first accidental coffee spill in Korea to go. You glanced down at your stained clothes, feeling a slight embarrassment of your own, but then something else hit you. This man, who had bumped into you and spilled your drink, had gone out of his way to make sure you were okay—and not only that, but he insisted on paying for your replacement drink, all while doing his best to communicate in a language that wasn’t his own. He was polite, considerate, and, well, kind of cute.

“Wow,” you muttered under your breath, still trying to wrap your head around the whole situation. A buff man, super polite, and kind—definitely not how you imagined your first accidental coffee spill in Korea would go. As he disappeared out the door, you found yourself smiling to yourself, feeling oddly touched by his persistence. Maybe Korea wasn’t such a bad place after all.

A few days later, you found yourself in the same café again, the memory of the accidental latte spill still fresh in your mind. The café had quickly become your go-to spot���its cozy, welcoming vibe, the quiet hum of conversations, and the lattes that tasted like a piece of heaven. Every time you stepped inside, you felt at home, the warm lighting and the soft clink of coffee cups grounding you in the moment. It was the kind of place where you could lose track of time, sipping your drink while people-watching or reading a book.

This time, you were determined to be extra cautious. After the spill incident, you’d been extra aware of the space around you. You stayed on alert, making sure there was enough distance between you and anyone else who might accidentally knock into you again. You even found yourself gravitating toward a corner table, away from the flow of traffic, hoping it would be the safest place. You didn’t want to risk another spill, and you certainly didn’t want another awkward encounter.

As you waited in line, your eyes darted around the room, scanning the familiar faces and the soothing ambiance of the café. Despite your precautions, you couldn’t shake the lingering feeling of embarrassment from last time. Maybe you had imagined it all—the kind, buff man offering to pay for your drink—but no. You hadn’t. It had really happened. That moment of unexpected kindness, his broken English, and his genuine concern for you... it was real, and you could still recall it as if it had just happened. You couldn’t stop wondering about him, about what he was like, and whether you’d ever see him again.

You stepped up to the counter, and the barista, who had become accustomed to your order, started preparing your usual iced latte. The soft sound of milk frothing and the gentle hum of the espresso machine filled the space around you. Your thoughts drifted for a moment, and just as the barista finished adding the final touches to your drink, you heard a familiar voice behind you.

“Ah, you again,” the voice said, a bit hesitant, but with a touch of warmth that immediately made your heart flutter.

You turned, surprised to hear English, and there he was. The man from the other day. He was standing a few feet away, looking at you with a shy smile, a little sheepish, but his eyes still sincere. The instant recognition hit you, and you couldn’t help the slight flutter in your chest.

“Oh,” you said, slightly startled but also relieved to see a familiar face. "Hey, it’s you."

He gave a small bow, and you couldn’t help but smile at the politeness of the gesture. It was cute, in a way, and the softness of it made your heart warm. “I… I sorry again for last time,” he said, his English a little broken, but still clear enough for you to understand. “I… not mean to make trouble.”

You chuckled softly, the awkwardness of that first encounter now replaced with something warmer. “No, it’s fine. Really, you didn’t have to pay for my drink.”

His smile grew wider, showing a bit of relief, like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. “But I want to. You… very kind when I… bump you. I not forget,” he said, his voice carrying a sincerity that almost made you blush.

You blinked at his words, realizing he’d remembered you just as clearly as you remembered him. “I see,” you said, smiling back at him. “Well, thank you. I didn’t expect to see you here again.”

He laughed, a low, soft sound that felt like it belonged in the cozy atmosphere of the café. “I come here often. I… work near. And you?”

“Yeah, me too. It’s my favorite place now,” you replied, feeling the conversation flow easier than you expected. Something about his presence was putting you at ease. Maybe it was the fact that he didn’t seem like a stranger anymore—just someone who had shared a random but memorable moment with you.

“I like this place, too,” he said, taking a step closer, a hint of shyness still lingering. “Maybe... we  drink together one day?” He spoke more carefully now, his words measured, as though he was making sure he said them right. His eyes were watching you intently, as if gauging your reaction.

Your heart skipped, but you didn’t want to jump to conclusions. You smiled and nodded, trying to keep the conversation light and casual. "Maybe. Who knows, right?"

He smiled back, and there was a glimmer of hope in his eyes, but also a quiet uncertainty. As the barista finished your latte and handed it to you, he gestured toward the door. “I go now. But maybe meet again, huh?”

You nodded, feeling a little more confident this time. “Yeah, maybe we will.”

With that, he gave you another small bow, the kind that felt polite but also personal, before turning and walking toward the door. You couldn’t help but watch him as he left—his movements were fluid, his broad shoulders adding to the sense that he was more than just a passerby in your life. He wasn’t a fleeting moment; there was something about him that made you feel like your paths might cross again.

As he disappeared out the door, you stood there, feeling a mix of emotions—surprise, curiosity, and something else, something you couldn’t quite place yet. You stood there for a moment, once again caught off guard by the strange, yet oddly comforting, encounter.

Taking a deep breath, you finally allowed yourself a smile as you took a sip of your latte. The cold, sweet taste of the coffee was comforting, and for the first time since you’d arrived in Korea, you felt like you were finally starting to find your place in this bustling city. Maybe Korea wasn’t such a bad place after all—and maybe, just maybe, this was the start of something new.

A few weeks had passed since that fateful second meeting at the café. You and the man—whose name you still didn’t know—had started running into each other more frequently, always exchanging polite smiles, casual conversation, and the occasional offer to buy the other a drink. He had been consistent with his friendly, gentle manner, and you found yourself enjoying his company more than you expected. Over time, those brief, awkward exchanges had evolved into a comfortable rhythm. The shy glances were replaced with genuine conversation, and those occasional nods had transformed into real interactions.

Every time you saw him, there was this soft energy about him that made you feel at ease. Yet, despite the growing familiarity, there was one glaring thing that still nagged at you. You still didn’t know his name. He’d never volunteered it, and you never dared to ask. Perhaps he didn’t feel the need to, or maybe it was just a cultural thing. But that small gap in your connection felt like a secret between you, something that was becoming harder to ignore.

Today, as you stood in line again, you felt a sense of anticipation that hadn’t been there before. It wasn’t just because of the familiar face you were about to see—it was because, over the past few weeks, the dynamic between you had shifted. The casual nods had become real, honest conversations, and you’d even shared laughs. He’d invited you to sit with him a few times, and each encounter seemed to bring you a little closer. Still, the mystery of his name lingered, like an unfinished sentence, and it made you wonder what else he was keeping from you.

As you waited for your drink, you couldn’t help but think of how far you’d come since that first awkward spill. That man, standing in front of you, was now someone you genuinely looked forward to seeing. The café had transformed into your shared space, your own little corner of the world where the two of you existed in this odd, yet comforting, bubble. But you had to admit: the lingering question of his name was starting to bug you more than you cared to admit.

Suddenly, you felt a tap on your shoulder, and there he was again—looking just as put-together as always, wearing that signature relaxed smile of his that always made your heart skip a beat.

"Hey," he greeted, his voice warm as always. "How you?"

You grinned, happy to see him. "Hey! It’s going well. You?"

“Same. Busy, but good,” he replied, leaning casually against the counter next to you, his eyes still soft but now carrying a hint of something more, something you couldn’t quite place. "I… um, I think... maybe we talk... little? I ask... something."

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued by the shift in tone. "What’s up?"

He shifted, his usual easygoing nature faltering for a moment, and you noticed how his eyes flickered away briefly, like he was gathering the courage to ask something important. "I… I wanna ask... you... maybe... you want... go out... like date?" His words tumbled out awkwardly, like he was piecing them together in his head, but there was no mistaking the sincerity in his eyes.

Your breath hitched, and you blinked in surprise, caught off guard by the suddenness of it all. "Well, I don’t know your name," you said, trying to lighten the situation, your voice a little shaky but playful. "It’s hard to go on a date with someone when I don’t even know your name."

He froze, staring at you in wide-eyed realization, and you could see the moment it clicked in his head. His face flushed slightly, and he scratched the back of his head in embarrassment. "Ah... my name... is... Changbin," he said slowly, clearly trying to pronounce it as best as he could, but it still came out a little jumbled, adding to the charm of the moment.

You froze. Changbin? Your brain had to process for a second, and then it hit you—like a freight train. Changbin, as in the Changbin from Stray Kids? Your heart skipped a beat, and a wave of panic set in. This wasn’t just some random guy from the café; this was someone from an entirely different world, a world that was far removed from your own, a world you didn’t think you could handle. The realization hit you like a rush of cold water.

"Oh," you said, your voice trembling slightly as you tried to process everything. "Changbin… right." You couldn’t hide the shock in your voice, and everything around you suddenly felt too big, too fast for this small, cozy café.

He blinked, still not fully understanding the shift in energy, and smiled, thinking you were still okay with the offer. “You... wanna... go out?” His voice was uncertain, but his eyes were hopeful.

You swallowed hard, trying to maintain your composure. The weight of the situation felt overwhelming. You hadn’t expected this, not in the slightest, and it was all happening so fast. "I... I need to go," you said quickly, shaking your head. "Sorry... I not... I don’t think this is... good idea."

His face fell, the confusion written all over it. “But... why? You no like me?” His words were simple, but the sincerity in them made your heart ache.

"No, it’s not that," you said softly, your voice shaky now. "I just... I think I should go." You turned away, not wanting to stay any longer, and hurried out of the café, your heart racing with a mixture of confusion and unease. You couldn’t make sense of what had just happened, and it all felt like too much too soon.

Outside, the cool air hit your face, but it didn’t calm the storm inside. Changbin. The man you had been casually talking to for weeks was someone you couldn’t begin to understand, someone who lived a life so different from yours. You didn’t know if you could handle that kind of world.

You walked away quickly, your thoughts in a fog. You couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t the last time you’d see him—but part of you wasn’t sure you were ready for whatever came next. What did it mean, to date someone like him? Someone who had a life in the public eye, someone with a name you recognized? The idea felt so foreign, so out of your grasp.

It had been a few days since you’d seen Changbin. The memory of your hasty exit was still fresh in your mind, and you hadn’t expected to run into him again—certainly not so soon. Yet, as you stepped into the café that morning, you spotted him across the room. This time, he wasn’t alone. A man stood beside him, talking animatedly, his voice carrying over the low hum of conversation. You felt a familiar pang of nervousness, but you tried to shake it off. You were just here for your usual coffee. Nothing more. Just the same old routine.

But as you turned to grab your drink, you realized that Changbin was looking at you, his eyes lingering with a mix of curiosity and something else—something you couldn’t quite place. Before you could process it, you felt someone tap you on the shoulder.

You spun around, startled, and there he was—Changbin, standing in front of you. His usual easy smile was replaced with something a little more serious, though there was still warmth in his eyes. His friend was standing behind him, looking between the two of you with mild curiosity.

“Hey,” Changbin said, his English still rough but more confident this time. “Why... why you say no? I... I want to know.”

You blinked, taken aback by the question. “What do you mean?” you asked, confused by the sudden confrontation.

He looked at you with a frown, his words stumbling as he tried to get them out. “You... you say no to... me? Why? You no like me?”

You shook your head, trying to understand. “I... I don’t understand what you mean.”

Changbin’s frown deepened, and he looked back at his friend, clearly frustrated. He spoke quickly to him in Korean, and the friend raised an eyebrow, glancing at you and then back at Changbin. After a moment of silence, the friend gave a small nod, and Changbin turned back to you.

“I... I no speak good. My friend help,” he said, his voice apologetic yet still determined.

The friend stepped forward, offering a small smile. “Hi, I’m Chris. I’m a friend of his. Changbin here... he says he doesn’t understand why you rejected him.”

You bit your lip, unsure of how to explain. “Well, it’s not that I don’t like him,” you started, feeling a little uncomfortable under their gaze. “It’s just... he’s famous, and I... I don’t want to date someone like that because of all the attention and... backlash. You know? It’s a lot.”

Chris glanced at Changbin, then back at you. His expression softened, and he nodded, as if understanding. He turned to Changbin and spoke to him in Korean. Changbin’s face went still for a moment, and then he muttered something under his breath, clearly upset.

Chris turned back to you, translating with a serious expression. “He says... he doesn’t care about that. He... does not care about what others think. He just wants to be with you.”

Your heart raced as you processed the words. The sincerity in Changbin’s eyes was undeniable, but the weight of the situation still felt heavy. “I just... don’t know if I can handle it,” you said quietly. “I’m not sure about all the attention.”

Changbin let out a frustrated sigh and muttered something in Korean. “I don’t care... the stupid attention,” he said, his words clipped. “I just want... to go out with you.”

Chris smirked and looked at Changbin. “Dude, you really want her to say yes, huh?” he joked. “Maybe I need to go with you on the date, be your translator, and make sure you don’t screw up.”

Changbin’s eyes shot daggers at Chris, clearly embarrassed. He turned back to you, his face flushed with frustration. “Chris! You... why you embarrass me in front of her?”

Chris burst out laughing, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “I’m just trying to help, man! You’re so serious about this, I thought I’d throw in some humor.”

Changbin groaned and ran a hand through his hair, then turned back to you. His expression softened, and the earnestness returned. “I... I really like you. Please... go out with me.”

You paused for a moment, the weight of the situation still hanging heavily in the air. After what felt like an eternity, you finally sighed. “Okay,” you said quietly. “Okay, I’ll go out with you.”

Changbin’s face lit up, and he stepped forward, looking at Chris, who was now smirking. “See? I told you she’d say yes.”

Chris grinned and patted Changbin on the back. “Good luck, man,” he said before turning and walking away.

Changbin smiled at you, his eyes shining with excitement. “Thank you,” he said softly, almost too softly for anyone else to hear. “I promise... you won’t regret it.”

And just like that, everything shifted.

[chevyslate158]

Coriolanus Snow x FemReader: Halls Of Obsession 18+

A/n: Hey everyone! I hope you enjoy this dark and twisted story! 😈 Just a heads up, this is 18+ content, so please proceed with caution! ⚠️ I want to make it clear that I do not condone the relationships or behaviour depicted here. It's purely for fictional exploration especially seeing as Coriolanus Snow is typically a darker character. 🙅‍♀️💭

Also, if you're into more intense, mature themes, feel free to check out my other series, Pleasantries of 'Love' (Coriolanus Snow x Fem!Reader) 💖, with Chapter 1 just uploaded yesterday! ✨ And if you're into the Hunger Games AU, don’t miss Threads of Freedom (My OC Archer Brown x Fem! Reader, 15th Hunger Games AU) featuring a Billy the Kid (Tom Blyth) face claim!

Thanks for reading, and happy indulging in these darker stories! 💋 Word Count: 2.8K Warnings: Stalking, obsession, control, mental manipulation, emotional manipulation, gender dynamics, misogyny, unhealthy relationships, delusional Coriolanus, gaslighting, dark themes and power imbalance

Coriolanus leaned casually against the wall near the entrance of the university hall, his posture relaxed but his mind sharp, taking in every detail of the bustling crowd. Students hurried past him, eager to escape the confines of their lectures and dive into the freedom of the evening. Yet, amidst the sea of faces, his eyes sought only one. Her.

She emerged from the crowd like a ripple breaking the surface of still water, her presence commanding his undivided attention. The sunlight streaming through the tall windows caught the soft strands of her hair, turning them into a golden halo. She moved with an unassuming grace, her focus seemingly elsewhere, clutching a notebook to her chest as if it were a shield.

Coriolanus’s lips curled into a faint smirk as he watched her pause to greet a classmate, her laughter light but fleeting, like a secret carried away by the wind. His fingers flexed against the wall, the urge to step forward warring with his disciplined restraint. Patience, he reminded himself, savouring the game he had constructed in his mind. He would make his move when the moment was perfect when she least expected it. For now, he was content to remain a shadow, watching, waiting, and unravelling the threads of her world piece by piece.

The girl he had been quietly observing for months. No, not months almost a year. It had started innocently enough, or so he told himself. He had noticed her during the first week of classes, her presence standing out in a sea of anonymity. She had been sitting in the back of a lecture hall, scribbling furiously in her notebook while everyone else seemed content to zone out. There was something about her intensity, the way she seemed so absorbed in her own world, that drew his gaze again and again. By the end of that week, he knew her schedule by heart.

At first, Coriolanus had convinced himself it was nothing more than curiosity. The first time he noticed her was during a philosophy lecture. She had slipped into the room quietly, her posture rigid yet unassuming, as though she wished to blend into the background. But she couldn’t. Not to him. There was something magnetic about her serious, reserved, and entirely indifferent to the exhausting theatrics of campus life. While others vied for attention and alliances, she seemed untouchable, consumed by a world far removed from the trivialities of their peers.

That moment lingered in his mind far longer than it should have. He found himself searching for her in every lecture, catching glimpses of her bent over her notes, her pen moving with precision. There was a stark elegance in her solitude, a defiance in her silence. It was intoxicating.

Weeks turned into months, and that initial spark of intrigue began to fester. Curiosity became a fixation. He would loiter outside her lecture halls, under the guise of coincidence, timing his movements so that they would pass in the corridors or share fleeting moments in the library. He began to rearrange his schedule, reworking every detail of his routine to ensure their paths would cross—no matter how insignificant the interaction.

It became a ritual, one he both dreaded and relished. His heart would race at the mere sight of her, a mix of longing and frustration knotting in his chest. The more she remained oblivious to his growing obsession, the more insatiable it became. Coriolanus found himself consumed by the idea of her, his thoughts dominated by questions he couldn’t shake. Why didn’t she notice him? Why was she so immune to the charms and status that others bent over backward to acknowledge?

And as his fascination deepened, so too did his desire for control. She was no longer just a girl; she was a puzzle, a challenge, and in his mind, something meant to belong to him.

Coriolanus couldn’t stop himself. He memorised her patterns down to the second with an almost obsessive precision the way she tilted her head when lost in thought, the quiet hum she made under her breath when she believed no one was listening, the books she checked out from the library, and even the routes she took when walking home. Each detail was like a puzzle piece, slowly forming a picture that only he was privy to.

But it wasn’t enough. Observing her from afar no longer satisfied the gnawing need within him. He wanted more. Needed more. To know the thoughts that danced behind her quiet demeanour, to hear her voice directed at him not in passing politeness but in something personal, something real.

The rational part of him whispered that this fixation was dangerous, but he silenced it with ease. She had become his constant, his obsession. The world around him blurred when she was near, her presence sharpening every sense to an almost unbearable intensity.

It was no longer about curiosity or fascination. It was about possession. She didn’t know it yet, but she was his. She belonged to him in a way that no one else ever could. And soon, he would make her understand that too.

Today, as on every other day, she carried a precarious stack of books in her arms, her steps purposeful and unwavering. She exuded a quiet determination that fascinated him. Even from this distance, Coriolanus could anticipate her route to the library, as always.

His girl was so predictable, yet he found comfort in that. She was like clockwork, her movements steady and deliberate, her routines as unchanging as the sunrise. He couldn’t help but admire her devotion to her studies, and the way she treated her academic pursuits with the same reverence others reserved for religion. It wasn’t just intelligence it was passion, a drive that set her apart from everyone else.

Look at her, he thought, a faint smile curling his lips as he leaned casually against a column. My smart little girl, always so diligent, so focused. She doesn’t even realise how special she is, how different she is from the rest of them.

Her obliviousness to her own allure only made her more captivating. She didn’t try to draw attention to herself, yet she held it effortlessly. The way her brow furrowed in thought, the way she hugged those books as though they were her armour against the world it all made him want to pull her closer, to strip away her defences and show her that she didn’t need to carry everything on her own.

He pushed off the wall with an almost lazy grace, slipping seamlessly into the flow of students. To anyone watching, he would seem like just another young man heading toward his next task. But every step he took was deliberate, calculated. He kept a discreet distance, his sharp mind tracking her every movement without drawing attention to himself.

As she turned the corner, her destination clear, Coriolanus quickened his pace. The library loomed ahead, its heavy oak doors propped open for the last wave of students filtering in. He adjusted his stride, ensuring he reached the entrance just moments before her. The timing was everything, and he had perfected this act of apparent coincidence.

When he arrived at the library door, he paused, hand resting lightly on the wood, as though debating whether to enter. In truth, he was waiting. He could hear her measured footsteps drawing nearer, the faint shuffle of pages as she adjusted her books. A flicker of satisfaction crossed his face, a predatory smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

She doesn’t even know I’m here, he thought, the thrill of the moment making his pulse quicken. Just a little closer, my girl. So close now.

He could almost feel her presence before she emerged into view her scent, faint but distinct, the quiet hum of her energy that seemed to surround her like a shield. He waited, eyes fixed on the door, anticipating the exact second she would appear. When she finally rounded the corner, there was a brief moment where their gazes could have collided. But she didn’t look up.

She approached, her attention focused straight ahead, her gaze unwavering. Coriolanus moved, pulling the door open with a practised ease that felt almost natural. He stepped aside, his hand lingering on the door as he spoke, his voice smooth and refined.

“After you,” he said, a trace of a smile curling his lips.

Startled by the unexpected gesture, she glanced up, her expression softening into polite gratitude. “Thank you,” she murmured, her voice quiet yet melodic, like the soft trill of a bird at dawn. Her gaze lingered on him for only a moment fleeting, yet enough to send a rush of heat coursing through his veins. And then she was gone, slipping past him and disappearing into the tranquil, book-lined expanse of the library.

Coriolanus’s pulse quickened, though his face remained composed, the perfect mask of indifference. Inside, however, a storm brewed. Her voice echoed in his mind, the simple thank you reverberating with an intimacy that left him dizzy. He followed her inside, his fingers brushing the edge of the doorframe, savouring the faint warmth it seemed to hold from her touch as he let it swing shut behind him.

The library was hushed, serene a cathedral of knowledge but to Coriolanus, it became something else entirely: a sanctuary for his obsession. Every creak of the floorboards beneath his polished boots felt like a ripple in the stillness, his every step calculated as he trailed her. Not too close. Not yet. She moved with purpose, her figure weaving through the maze of shelves like a shadow, each movement deliberate yet effortlessly graceful.

When she finally settled at a table near the large bay window, he stopped in the shadows of a nearby aisle, his gaze sharpening as it latched onto her. She placed her books in a neat stack, the delicate arc of her wrist as she adjusted them nearly unbearable to watch. Her brow furrowed slightly as she began to read, her lips parting just enough to hint at the silent rhythm of her thoughts.

He swallowed hard, his mouth dry. There was something maddeningly intimate about seeing her like this unguarded, immersed, unaware of the effect she had on him. The light streaming through the window cast her in soft hues, making her appear almost ethereal, and Coriolanus’s mind began to wander.

What would it feel like to shatter her calm? To lean in close enough that she had no choice but to notice him, to look up at him with those wide, unsuspecting eyes? Would her voice tremble if he spoke her name, the way it trembled in his imagination when he was alone late at night? Would her lips part with that same subtle allure if he dared to touch her hand, her face, her—

He clenched his jaw, tearing himself from the spiral of forbidden thoughts with an exhale that barely masked his frustration. She was so close, and yet impossibly out of reach, a cruel tease to the hunger he hadn’t yet dared to confront. For now, he would remain in the background, watching, waiting, letting his desires simmer beneath the surface. But in the dark corners of his mind, a vow was forming: one day, she wouldn’t be able to ignore him. One day, she would be his.

He selected a table nearby close enough to observe, far enough to avoid suspicion. Sliding into the chair with careful precision, he arranged a few books in front of him, meaningless tomes chosen at random, mere props for his façade. The titles didn’t matter. What mattered was his vantage point. From here, he could watch her uninterrupted, unnoticed, and unchallenged.

The sunlight streaming through the window painted her in an ethereal glow, bathing her features in soft, golden light. It was as if the universe conspired to highlight her beauty solely for him. She reached up, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, her slender fingers moving with effortless grace. Her focus remained entirely on the book in front of her, her lips faintly parted in concentration.

Coriolanus’s gaze lingered, hungry yet controlled, devouring every detail of her quiet movements. The curve of her neck as she leaned forward, the delicate furrow of her brow it all felt impossibly intimate, as though she were sharing secrets with him alone.

In his mind, she wasn’t just a girl. She was the girl. Perfect. Untouchable. The embodiment of everything he yearned for but could not yet claim. She wasn’t just beautiful; she was an ideal, a symbol of something greater. When he allowed his imagination to wander something he often indulged in when it came to her he could see it all so clearly.

She would sit beside him one day, poised and dignified, her quiet grace commanding a room in ways no words ever could. She would be the First Lady of Panem, the perfect complement to his rule. Together, they would project an image of power and unity, a vision of perfection that the Capitol would idolise and the districts would fear. He allowed himself to dream of her walking at his side in the Capitol’s grand halls, her every movement an echo of his control. Our control, he corrected himself.

And when the time came, she would bear his children his heirs perfect extensions of their union. She would be a doting housewife, tending to their home, and raising their children with all the love and care he knew she had in her. In the public eye, she would be the epitome of grace and motherhood, always poised, always revered. Yet she would still remain vital, her presence indispensable as his First Lady, supporting him, shaping the image of Panem's future with every carefully crafted word and action.

Why would she need anything else? Coriolanus thought darkly, the edges of his mind sharpening as the fantasy took root. Why would she want a career, a life outside their shared vision, when her true purpose would lie at his side, nurturing their family and cementing their legacy? Her talents and her intellect could be better put to use in other, more appropriate ways. A career would only distract her from what truly mattered: him, their children, their future.

No, he would make sure she saw it that way. He would make her see it that way. After all, who else could offer her a life so perfectly tailored to her? She won’t need to dream of anything else, he mused with a quiet, satisfied smile. Her place is here, with me, where she belongs.

And yet, here she was, utterly oblivious to his existence. The thought stung, a sharp reminder of how far he still had to go. But it didn’t matter. She would notice him eventually. He would make sure of it.

She’s mine, he thought, his fingers curling around the spine of a book he had no intention of reading. She just doesn’t know it yet.

His fingers brushed the cover of the book in front of him, though he made no move to open it. His attention remained fixed, darting between her and the room around them assessing the space, the people, the exits. Each detail was catalogued each movement of the room mapped in his mind. Nothing was left to chance. This was no fleeting infatuation it was an obsession, controlled, deliberate, calculated.

He knew more about her than he should. Her favourite coffee order, the way she always sat in the quiet corners of campus, lost in her thoughts, with the world completely unaware of her presence. And there was the subtle, almost imperceptible habit she had twirling her pen between her fingers when her mind wandered, a small gesture that somehow made him feel as if she were revealing a part of herself to him. Even though she had never spoken more than a few words to him, these details felt like secrets, intimately shared, as if they were his own.

The minutes stretched into hours, the soft hum of the library wrapping them both in a cocoon of stillness. To her, it was an ordinary afternoon another in a long line of study sessions and quiet solitude. But to Coriolanus, it was an intricately choreographed performance. Each movement, each glance, each breath was a part of his game, a carefully measured step toward embedding himself into her world.

He didn’t need to speak to her not yet. The thrill, the power, lay in the waiting, in the quiet observation, in learning everything there was to know before making his move. One day, she would look up and realise he had always been there, patiently building the foundation of something inevitable.

His lips twitched into a fleeting, almost imperceptible smile as he leaned back in his chair, his gaze never leaving her. This was just the beginning. Soon, the pieces would fall into place, and when the time came, she would have no choice but to fall in line. She was his. He had already decided. This was only the beginning.

[at0m-b0mb-baby]

The unspoken truth

viktor x mage!reader

| part of a series, angsty in this chapter but it will get better I promise

re-uploaded

part 2: DONEEE

2.5k words

The dim glow of Hextech light flickered in Viktor’s workshop, painting the room in a soft, golden hue. You leaned against a workbench piled with scattered blueprints and tools, your gaze fixed on Viktor as he moved through the space. His cane tapped against the floor in an uneven rhythm, the sound mingling with the faint hum of machinery.

It was always mesmerizing to watch him work. His hands were steady and precise, moving with an almost mechanical efficiency. But tonight, something was different.

He seemed distracted.

You noticed the way his fingers lingered too long on the edges of the device he was repairing. The subtle tension in his shoulders. The way his eyes flicked toward you every few minutes, only to dart back to his work when he caught you looking.

“Viktor?” you asked gently, breaking the silence.

He froze for a moment, his back to you. Then, he sighed and set the tool in his hand down with more care than usual. When he turned, his amber eyes met yours, and you could see the hesitation in them—a rare sight. Viktor was a man of conviction, always sure of his thoughts, his words, his actions. But now, he looked… uncertain.

“Miláček,” he said softly, his voice laced with his thick accent, though it lacked its usual confidence. “There is something I must tell you.”

The way he said it made your heart tighten. You straightened, a faint hum of wild magic stirring under your skin in response to the unease settling in your chest. “What is it?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He hesitated again, his fingers curling around the head of his cane for support. “It is… difficult to say,” he admitted, his brows furrowing deeply. “But I have waited long enough. I owe you the truth.”

Your stomach churned, but you nodded, urging him to continue.

He exhaled sharply, like a man prepared to be shot. “I am dying.”

The words hit you like a physical force, stealing the breath from your lungs. For a moment, you could only stare at him, waiting for some sign that he was joking, that this was some cruel misunderstanding. But Viktor didn’t look away. He held your gaze, his expression resigned and heavy with the weight of his admission.

“No…” you breathed, shaking your head. “No… you can’t you’re not-” She couldn’t even get her words out properly a stammering and stuttering mess.

“I am.” His voice was quiet, but firm. He reached out, his hand brushing against yours. “I have known for some time. My condition… It has progressed beyond what science can repair.”

Tears stung your eyes as his words sunk in. You grabbed his hand, gripping it like he’s going to fade away, as. “Viktor,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

His gaze softened, and for the first time, you saw something you almost never saw in him—fear. “Because I did not want to burden you,” he admitted. “You are… everything to me. The thought of leaving you-” He stopped himself, shaking his head. “I could not bear with it.”

“Well, too late for that!” you snapped, though your voice cracked with emotion. “Viktor, you’re the one who’s dying, and you were worried about me? And please… please don’t call yourself a burden, you are nothing of the sort!.”

He tilted his head slightly, his lips curling into a faint, bittersweet smile. “Yes,” he said simply.

The raw honesty of his answer left you momentarily speechless.

But then, something shifted inside youaa surge of determination that burned hot and wild, like the magic in your veins. You stood straighter, letting go of his hand to wipe at your tears. “No,” you said firmly. “This isn’t over. I won’t let you just-just give up!”

His brow furrowed. “This is not something you can fix, miláček.”

“Don’t underestimate me,” you shot back. “If science can’t save you, then I’ll find something that can. Magic. I have read about ancient mages that can heal sickness. If they can do it, I can learn.”

He shook his head, his expression pained. “You cannot fix everything with magic, my love.”

“Maybe not,” you admitted. “But I can still try even if it’s the death of me.”

The next day, you ventured onward. Your path was set, even as doubt gnawed at you. If there was even the faintest hope of saving Viktor, you had to try. The thought of him—his soft voice calling you sweet names, his careful hands brushing yours in quiet moments, his unyielding determination to improve the world gave you the strength to leave. But it didn’t silence the fear that churned in your chest.

The ship was weathered and cramped, its crew brusque and disinterested in your presence. They ushered you into a small cabin that smelled of salt and mildew, barely large enough to hold the narrow bed and a rickety table pushed against the wall. The grime-streaked window offered little light, and the faint creak of the ship settling in the water was the only sound.

You dropped your bag onto the bed, your shoulders heavy. Your eyes caught on a small vase atop the table, holding what might once have been a bouquet of flowers. Their petals hung lifeless, browned and curled, the stems brittle and drooping over the rim.

Something about their frailty twisted in your chest.

You reached out, brushing a withered petal with your fingertips. It crumbled under your touch, scattering into tiny flakes.

Without thinking, your magic stirred. Purple light glimmered faintly around your hand, the energy coiling through your fingers like smoke. It flowed into the flowers, weaving through the decay and coaxing it away.

In moments, the transformation was complete. The bouquet stood tall and vibrant once more, soft pink peonies blooming as if they had just been plucked from a garden. The sight was beautiful, almost painfully so.

For a brief moment, you smiled. But the smile faltered as reality crashed back over you.

Your hand hovered above the flowers, trembling. “I can heal this,” you murmured, your voice shaking. “I can heal flowers. I can mend scratches and cuts. I can close wounds.”

The words grew louder, tumbling from your lips faster than you could stop them.

“But I can’t fix him!”

The last word broke into a sob. You stumbled back, your knees hitting the edge of the bed as your breathing hitched. Tears blurred your vision as you pressed your hands to your face.

“Why? Why can’t I fix him?”

The question echoed in your mind, over and over, growing louder with each repetition. Your breaths came in sharp, shallow gasps, your chest heaving as the room seemed to tilt and blur around you.

Your magic flared uncontrollably, sparking from your fingers and racing through the air like wild lightning. The ship groaned beneath you, the wood trembling as though responding to your anguish. The table rattled, its legs scraping against the floor, and the window shattered outward with a deafening crash.

“Stop,” you whispered, clutching your head as the sound of your own voice became too much. “Stop. Stop. Stop!”

But it wouldn’t stop. The pressure in your chest built until it felt like you couldn’t breathe, the air clawing at your lungs but refusing to fill them. Your hands trembled violently, and your magic surged, making the room ripple with an unnatural hum.

“I can’t, I-….” you choked out, the words barely audible. “I can’t do this!”

Your breath came in short, desperate gasps, each one cutting through you like a knife. The pounding of your heartbeat filled your ears, drowning out the creaks and groans of the ship.

You curled into yourself, pulling your knees to your chest and pressing your forehead against them. “Please,” you whispered, though you weren’t sure who you were begging—yourself, the universe, or some unknown force that might be listening. “Please, just let me breathe.”

The ship rocked violently beneath you, the waves slamming against its hull as if matching the storm inside you.

And then, finally, it stopped.

Your magic fizzled out, the purple light dissipating into nothingness. The shaking ceased, leaving the room eerily still. Shards of glass glittered on the floor, reflecting the dim light from the broken window.

You forced yourself to breathe—slow, measured breaths that felt like they scraped against raw wounds. The air was too thick, too heavy, but you forced it into your lungs anyway.

Tears still streamed down your face as you stared at the shattered window, the bouquet of flowers untouched amidst the wreckage.

“What good is this magic?” you whispered hoarsely, your voice shaking. “What good is it if I can’t save him?”

The words echoed in the silence, their weight sinking into your chest.

You crawled into the bed, wrapping your arms around yourself into a fetal position as the exhaustion of the day finally caught up with you. The sound of the waves outside lulled you into an uneasy sleep, but even in your dreams, the pain of your helplessness lingered.

[jinnie-ret]

fallen angel

stray kids x ninth member!reader (platonic)

genre: hurt/comfort, some fluff at the end

content warnings: injury, hyunjin hiatus (but he still makes an appearance)

word count: 3k

If you enjoy feel free to send in requests as my asks are open! And let me know if you would like to join the taglist for when I upload more imagines :)

the stray kids members have two maknaes to comfort at the end of their 'I'll Be Your Man' cover. One upset because he thought he wasn't good enough, and the other an injured, fallen angel, left hurt because MNET hadn't done enough safety checks on their equipment.

pt 2

MAIN MASTERLIST

Practising the vocals for 'I'll Be Your Man' was difficult enough, trying to learn the choreography alongside it was hard too. But performing said choreography whilst being lifted in a harness too was even more difficult.

Y/N would be lying if she said she wasn't nervous. No, it wasn't to do with the heights, she could cope with that, but it was more the precision of her dance, and the fact that she would be hitting a high note in the air at the same time, having her own solo moment to shine. Maybe it would be different if they had multiple takes to make sure they got the right one. But with Kingdom, they didn't. She only had so many practices to ensure it looked perfect in front of her sunbaenims and friends. Yeosang and Wooyoung from ATEEZ had kept reminding her they were excited to see her performance. In the normal way, this would be encouraging, this time round, it only felt more daunting.

So when it came to the day of the performance, Y/N was unable to hide her nerves shining through.

"Y/Nnie, you good?" Han appeared in front of her, big brown eyes shining in concern as he watched the younger member zoned out in her own world.

"Huh? Oh yeah..." Y/N said dismissively, not really entirely sure how she felt right now, but her emotions showed more on the outside than on the inside right now.

"You've practiced this a billion times, you've got this," Han encouraged her, his hand resting on her shoulder whilst stylists were around the two making last minute adjustments to their outfits before they went on stage.

"Okay okay, I can do this," Y/N nodded, trying to hype herself up for the performance, breathing away her worries.

"Hannie! Y/Nnie!" Changbin loudly called them over to their group huddle where the rest of the members were gathered.

Y/N gave Han a thankful smile before they joined the others in the circle, Y/N slotting herself between Felix and Seungmin.

"Right, let's do our best, stay safe, and deliver what Stray Kids do best! Let's go! Hwaiting!" Chan led the small talk before they all cheered each other on and got into position on stage.

Y/N didn't have a part until the first group choreography part of the performance, where Han and Lee Know sang the chorus and led them through the gates. Felix, Han and Changbin then had their rap parts in a more hellish scene, where a dance break ensued, Y/N running off halfway through it like she was meant to, to get into position.

She was quickly harnessed by their supporting dancers and got ready for her solo part. As soon as she heard Lee Know sing out 'baby I just pray', she was slowly lifted into the air. Instrumental music played as she rose upward, stretching out her arms and legs and creating beautiful moments with them. And when her arms swooped across her long black hair, the other groups who were watching backstage were shocked to see it was a wig that was knocked off, revealing long white hair instead. As she rose higher, some large wings appeared on the screen behind her.

"Oh my god her hair!"

"Wow she's an angel!"

"That's my best friend! Let's go Y/Nnie!"

"So pretty..."

Now risen at the highest point in the air, Y/N began singing too, beautiful vocal runs flowing along with the violin in the background. Her moves ranged from static to more elegant moves too, and she feigned an expression as part of the performance like her soul had been taken away from her, sacrificed for the young boy to align with the storyline of the performance. She was then lowered as her movements became more frantic and dramatic, showing the desperate need to have saved a soul. At the same time, her wings dissolved behind her, the screen turning darker behind her.

"She's a fallen angel! Wow!"

"Oh wow..."

She continued to be lowered, and Y/N was beginning to feel a bit nervous now because she swore she heard a slight ripping sound from the cord she was attached to, yet she continued performing. It was until she was still 6ft in the air, that the cord actually did snap, and Y/N was forced to act quickly despite her shock to try and land. Despite the impact going straight through her left ankle, Y/N continued dancing until the camera panned away again, panting before realising she'd have to dance some more at the end of their performance too. She tried her best to keep her tears at bay, moving across the stage the best she could as she limped over to the rest of the boys. None of them noticed however, as they were in performance mode and hadn't seen her part of the stage from getting ready themselves for the next. And even the groups backstage had seemed to think the drop from the harness was planned, like it was part of her fallen angel character.

Her left foot was in agony, yet she kept going, her body twisting and turning whilst Han and Seungmin sung their hearts out, and Changbin rapped incredibly fast. She was relieved once it came to the end, and they were able to collapse to the ground, because ever since she fell that was all she wanted to do.

Once the lights came up, she cried out, hands over her face. It was then that she noticed she was finding it hard to breathe too, and she didn't know if it was another injury or if she was in so much pain from her ankle.

"Y/N what's happened?" Lee Know crouched down next to Y/N, thinking she was upset and tried to help her up but then she cried out in pain again.

"What's happened? Are you hurt?" Felix panicked, seeing the tears coming from the younger member.

Staff members from MNET rushed over, catching the attention of the other members.

"What's going on?" Changbin asked confused and worried.

A higher up crew member approached the group and began to explain what happened.

"There was a fault with the harness, the cord snapped as she was being lowered and so she suffered a slight fall. Good news is she landed it well so it still looked good on camera," they hurriedly tried to reassure the rest of the group, but their words did anything but that.

"She fell?!" Seungmin looked across at Y/N who was being comforted by a now angry looking Lee Know and a more worried Felix. Jeongin, who wasn't feeling too good about his own performance, looked worried for his fellow maknae.

"The harness broke?!? Why didn't you check it was safe?!" Chan exploded in anger at the MNET staff, because now one of his members was injured.

Whilst he continued to rant angrily at the staff, Han trying to calm him down, the rest of the boys gathered around Y/N.

"Ah it hurts," she cried through stuttered breaths, top half leant against Changbin as he had lifted her slightly into his arms. He rubbed soothing circles into her hands which gripped onto his so tightly.

"Where, Y/N? Can you tell us where it hurts, love?" Felix rushed out his words concerned for her, seeing the tears roll down her face.

"Landed on my ankle," Y/N whimpered, her breaths coming out short.

"Y/N you need to calm down, okay?" Seungmin patted her arm, thinking that she was working herself up even more, and not wanting her to feel even worse.

"Get a doctor here then!" Chan was heard shouting, which only made Y/N more upset.

"Hey, hey, hey, it's going to be okay, yeah?" Changbin reassured her gently, squeezing her hands tighter.

"W-what if I can't join the next performance?" Y/N shakily asked, eyes flitting back and forth between the boys who were her real comfort right now.

"We'll worry about that later. We're more concerned about you right now, Y/Nnie. Just breathe sweetheart, can you do that, hmm?" Lee Know spoke calmly, slowly taking off her shoe to reveal a swollen and bruised ankle.

"I'm trying to b-but it hurts to," Y/N says through stuttered breaths, tears still falling down her face.

"There's not a doctor here yet?" Jeongin questioned, wondering why someone on set hadn't arrived quicker.

"They should be coming over now," Chan informed them, before grabbing one of Y/N's hands, "we're going to get you some help, yeah? Just take some nice deep breaths, Y/Nnie."

Chan gave her the same advice as the others yet it wasn't working. Y/N knew it wasn't her panicking, but something worse.

"We keep trying to calm her down but she says it hurts when she breathes," Felix looks up Chan worriedly, and sees Han to the left of him with his clasped together nervously.

Some medical staff finally came over and lifted her onto a small bed to move her backstage and look at her properly. Y/N couldn't help but let out more whimpers of pain and the members tried to reassure her as they followed along.

"Only one person in here please," the standby doctor informed the boys, and that was when they decided Seungmin should go in with her. He was the most grounded at the moment, the other members either being too angry, worried or upset to remain calm like Y/N needed.

Seungmin gently held Y/N's hand as the doctors checked over her. With a slight press into her ribs, Y/N let out a loud yell of pain, Seungmin immediately whispering reassuring words to her and gently petting her hair.

"It's okay, it's okay, they're just making sure you're okay, Y/Nnie," he stumbled over his words, now wishing someone else was in his position instead because he feared he wasn't doing enough to comfort the younger girl and he hated seeing her like this.

"We fear you may have a bruised rib, Miss Y/N, you're going to have to seek medical help from a hospital," the doctor shook his head, regretfully informing them.

"No, no, I can't, what about the next performance, can't let the team down," Y/N cried, which was making her ribs hurt even more from the slight jolting of her body.

"Y/Nnie, it's okay, we'll figure out, but you need to calm down, jagi, because you'll hurt yourself more," Seungmin made sure she was looking at him as he said this, wiping her tears away with his thumbs, stroking her face gently.

"B-but-"

"Ssshh, please don't cry Y/Nnie, we'll get you to a hospital and then we worry about the future, okay, come on now, that's it, well done," Seungmin helped her to relax, an arm gently wrapped around her shoulders as he stroked her hair to calm her down.

Whilst Y/N's examination was happening, Chan had noticed Jeongin's upset.

"Hey Innie, it's okay, Y/N will be okay," he patted his younger member's back, thinking that's why he was crying to himself.

"It's not that, I mean, I'm worried about Y/N, but I messed up in the performance and then seeing her hurt too was just," Jeongin couldn't finish his words, crying into the shoulder of his leader.

"Ah, Innie, you did good, which part?" Chan patted his back gently.

"I just did a terrible job as a whole," Jeongin sniffled, his voice thick from trying to hold back his cries.

"Hey, it's okay man," Chan hugged him again.

Felix came and hugged Jeongin too.

"Ah what are we going to do with our maknaes?" Han sighed fondly, patting Jeongin on the head, and it was then they saw Y/N getting wheeled out of the medical room and heading down the corridor past their room.

"Hey, hey! What's going on?" Chan called after some staff of their own who were with Y/N.

"They're taking her to hospital, think she's got a bruised rib," the JYP staff shook their head angrily.

"A bruised rib?!" Changbin said with wide eyes, trying to peer round at Y/N who was sat up straight, trying to remain calm with Seungmin who was stood beside her, looking stressed himself.

"Lee Know and I will go with her, Seungmin, you go home with the others, yeah? We'll update you," Chan instructs everyone.

Seungmin nodded and was immediately embraced into a hug by Felix, feeling guilty for relaxing but he couldn't deal with seeing his member hurt.

And off they went. Changbin stayed behind with the 00 liners and Jeongin, making sure they weren't too shaken up by what happened. Chan and Lee Know stuck to Y/N like glue, one of them always holding her hand or stroking her hair, even when she had been given some drugs for the pain and was unconscious.

"I can't believe this happened..." Chan sighed, brushing back stray hairs from Y/N's face. They were sat beside her hospital bed.

"Typical MNET," Lee Know sighed angrily, looking at the boot now on Y/N's foot.

Y/N then started waking up.

"Hey, sweetheart, how you feeling?" Chan was quick to check in on her.

"Feel, funny," Y/N giggled trying to sit up but then wincing in pain.

"Oh gosh, she's gone loopy," Lee Know playfully sighed, but he couldn't hide his worry for her as he gently leaned her back.

"Wow I have such handsome members," Y/N suddenly said, the drugs she was given making her delirious and spouting whatever was on her mind.

"What? Y/N?" Chan laughed at the girl who staring at the two eldest members.

"Did so well today. Good performance. All 9 of us," Y/N carried on, seeming like she had forgotten about her injuries for now considering she thought all 9 of them was there, when really it was 8 because of the stupid hiatus Hyunjin had to be on.

"It was only 8 of us, Y/Nnie, remember?" Lee Know warily reminded her, and it was then she teared up.

"Call Hyunjin, I miss him. Want to talk to him," Y/N pouted sadly, and they couldn't deny their maknae.

"He might be busy though, Y/N," Chan said gently, calling his fellow member anyways.

Fortunately he answered.

"Hi Channie hyung!" Hyunjin said brightly upon seeing Chan's face, which soon changed to Y/N holding the phone closely to her face, making Hyunjin cackle.

"Woah, Y/N, all of a sudden?" he laughed over the phone.

"Hyunjin!" Y/N yelled into the phone, causing Chan and Lee Know to shush her due to being in a hospital.

"Y/Nnie!" Hyunjin joyfully said back.

"I miss you!" she said into the phone, holding the phone higher up where Hyunjin could see she was in a hospital gown and had an IV in.

"Miss you too- huh? Are you in hospital?" Hyunjin sounded very concerned, and Lee Know and Chan could hear it in his voice that he longed to be with them right now to comfort her and reassure himself.

"Yeah. Because MNET are all dickheads who can s-" Y/N spoke her mind, until Chan covered her mouth so she'd stop speaking and Lee Know took the phone.

"Hyung is Y/N okay?" Hyunjin frowned.

"We were filming and you know she had that harness part? MNET didn't do enough safety checks and so the cord snapped," Lee Know shook his head angrily

"What? That's ridiculous! How could they just let that happen?" Hyunjin rambled from the other side of the phone, but Y/N in her more delirious state thought he was talking about her.

"You angry at me Jinnie?" she asked sadly, bottom lip wobbling.

"No no no, not at you, jagi, at MNET, because they're all dickheads, remember?" Hyunjin quickly calmed Y/N, trying to make her laugh by using her words, and he was successful in doing so.

"Hyunjin!" Chan scolded, yet their was a smile as he spoke and Hyunjin could hear Lee Know's laughter in the background.

"Please update me if she's ok, yeah?" Hyunjin bit his lip worriedly, wishing he could be with his memners right now.

"Of course of course, that goes without question. Talk to you soon, yeah?" Chan promised Hyunjin.

"Bye hyungs! Bye Y/Nnie!" Hyunjin waved them goodbye as the phone hung up.

"Y/N you can't shout like that," Chan facepalms and laughs, scolding her for her shouting earlier on in the call.

"You sounded like a parrot," Lee Know said bluntly, causing Y/N to smirk.

"You sounded like a parrot."

"Y/N-"

"Y/N."

A sigh.

And another, Y/N copying Lee Know once again.

"Hyung make her stop," Lee Know whined, Y/N copying once again before he covered her mouth.

Chan managed to capture this on video and sent it to the groupchat to let them know how Y/N was doing.

Chan:

[vid. attachment]

Y/N is up and doing better

Han:

haha Lee Know hyung is annoyed

Chan:

well he did call her a parrot

Changbin:

ah Y/N is so clever like that haha

Seungmin:

she learnt it from me

Felix:

hahaha

what did the doctors say?

Lee Know:

she's got a bruised rib, broken ankle, don't know how we're going to let her down gently about if she can join the next performance or not

Jeongin:

I hope she can :(

Chan:

she spoke to Hyunjin and that made her feel better

Hyunjin:

what can I say? I'm a natural healer

Felix:

we miss you jinnie

Hyunjin:

I miss you guys too

but it's not long now, that makes me feel better

Y/N:

you know what is long?

Han:

which one of you let Y/N have her phone?

Y/N:

my d-dkfkfkfmfkfdkdkrkrkttt

Lee Know:

Chan did, but I've got it now. this one has gone crazy...

tagged: @oo-li

[chexxycheol]

Before || 13 Forget-Me-Nots

❀ Seventeen x Reader

title 13 Forget-Me-Nots or 13 Eternal Loves

synopsis You couldn't wait for your 20th birthday to finally reveal the one person you'd spend the rest of your life with. Well the 13 people you'd spend the rest of your life with. Or that story where reader has 13 soulmates, who happen to be idol group seventeen

genre Fluff, Angst, Romance

tags Soulmate!au, Idol! seventeen x Non-idol! reader, OT13 x Reader, Seventeen x Reader.

warnings Anxiety, Mature language, Inconsistent upload schedule, Reader is gender neutral but sometimes certain depictions lean feminine.

⚘ author first time writing here on tumblr, constructive criticism is welcomed and my asks are open for feedback! if this story gets enough interest I'll make a separate post for the taglist. updates will not be consistent or in a timely manner due to my busy work schedule.

this story is a work of fiction and not reality. thank you and enjoy!

—chery

wc 1k

masterlist || next chapter 》

2020

You’ve dreamed of this moment since your Mom told you her and your father's story of how they met, though you wished you didn’t have to wait till you were 20 years old to get your soul mark.

“ Have you gotten anything yet?” Felix's voice came through your computer speaker, he promised to Facetime you on the eve of your birthday so you both could catch up before your soul mark appeared.

You dressed up in a sweatshirt and sweatpants to cover up most of your skin, to stop yourself from constantly checking your body for the tattoo you hoped would appear.

“Do you think I'll get something easy to identify?” you asked with unease. “Do you think I’ll have-” you got cut off by Felix attempting to ease your worries “I’m sure you’ll be okay, squirt. Don’t stress too much, I hate not being able not to hug you when you get worked up like this” 

You glance over at the time on your desk and see it’s 11:58, almost time to see if you have a soulmate, whether they be platonic, romantic, or even both. Soulmates can be platonic or romantic, they each have their identifier, platonic soul marks are one-line tattoos, whereas romantic ones are easily identifiable due to their precision to detail and colors once you meet your soulmate.

“Happy birthday! Come on, let's see if you have anything!” Felix’s voice snapped you out of your daze, you moved your computer facing the mirror behind you and started to take off your jacket, rolling up your shirt sleeves to get a full view of your arms, scanning yourself in the mirror to see if anything appeared. Not even a platonic soul mark appeared which made you frown.

“Lix, I don’t even have a platonic one” you say out loud to him, slowly losing hope you start to pull up your pants legs to check your legs and feet. “Hold on let me check under my shirt” you announce before moving the camera away and start to pull off your shirt, leaving you in just a sports bra in front of your mirror.

All Felix hears is you letting out the biggest gasp before silence “Squirt? Is everything okay? Did you find your mark?” Felix questions worryingly, preparing himself for the worst. “I have a mark, it’s a bouquet of forget-me-nots!” you say with excitement before putting on a cardigan so you’re covered up but can still show Felix. You stare at it from the small mirror on your desk.

“See I told you! You had nothing to worry about” he pauses suddenly before speaking again “Did you say a bouquet of forget-me-nots?! Meaning more than one?!” his voice raising in disbelief. You come back into camera view moving your cardigan to show the left side of your chest with the bouquet of forget-me-nots.

You finally counted, 13 stems with a single forget-me-not on each of the stems.

“There’s 13 of them?! I have 13 soulmates?!” you’re just as speechless as Felix is, knowing his best friend has 13 soulmates, 13 romantic soulmates. Realization now settling in for you, or was it panic?

“I can handle one soulmate, but 13?!” The disbelief in your voice is evident, just as you're about to start rambling out of nerves another voice comes in on Felix’s side of the screen. “Hey Lix, oh hey Y/N!” you hear Chris’s accent come through the speakers yelling in the background, he continues “You get your soul mark? Felix told the rest of the kids and was probably more excited than you” Chris comes into camera view with a smile on his face, and you move your cardigan to show him the bouquet.

“They have 13 romantic soulmates?! That’s insane” Felix says incredulously, you could only sit there in disbelief as Chris congratulates you and wishes you the best of luck but informs Felix that the other members are waiting for him to go to dinner.

“Hey squirt, I'm sorry but I have to go. I don’t want to leave you alone to process this. You know you can text me anytime, love you!” you say your goodbyes before going to bed wondering what chaos is about to ensue in your future.

On the other side of the world in a HYBE practice room, all the members of Seventeen are in their worlds, some are stretching, talking to each other or staff, others on their phones, and the remaining are trying to catch a few extra minutes of sleep.

“Do you think we’ll meet our soulmate soon?” Seungcheol turns to Joshua airing out the question on all their minds, tracing his soulmate mark. Joshua gives a smile, understanding how all of them have been anticipating meeting the missing piece to their chaotic puzzle. “Have faith, Cheol. I’m sure they're out there panicking over the fact they have 13 soulmates” Joshua tries lightening the mood between them. 

“I’m sure they’ll love us all equally and fit in, the universe didn’t make them our soulmate for no reason” Joshua continues “We’ll protect, cherish, and love them just as much as they love us, don’t think too deeply about it” Seungkwan chimes in coming to his side.

“What if they want to remove their soul mark seeing they have 13 soulmates? I only worry about what’s going through their head, and I worry one day we'll all wake up and our marks are gone” Seungcheol begins to ramble all his grievances. 

“Choi Seungcheol, do not think like that if they didn’t want us the soul mark on all of us would’ve disappeared long ago” Seungkwan scolds, unaware today was your 20th birthday. “Let’s hope one day they hear our music and it draws them towards us”

Before anyone could continue to ease Seungcheol's worries, their choreographer began to pull their attention to start rehearsal, their upcoming comeback had been taking a toll on all the members and serving as a good distraction for all of them, to quiet the voice in their head about their shared soulmate. But Seungcheol couldn’t shake the little voice nagging at him, deepening his worries about their soulmate. He’s been putting on a strong front for the members, not wanting to worry them.

But it’s killing him to want that happiness he’s seen others have.

[kaoriartss-blog]

Starburst

Chapter 11: "Transformations"

Previous Chapter Masterlist Next Chapter

Pairing: Poly Skz OT8 x Reader idol

Genre: Romance, angst, female Oc

Warning: Use of Oc, romance, angst, swearing, Idol x Idol, 18+ progressive, use of swear words, use of translator.

Series: Starbursts

Summary: The story centers on Lia, a newly debuted solo idol struggling to find her place in the K-pop industry. Despite her talent, she feels like she's missing something, a special connection that helps her shine. The members of Stray Kids, who are at the height of their careers, are drawn to Lia's unique energy when she's invited to collaborate with them on a new album. As they work together, the connection between Lia and the boys intensifies. With pressure from the media and fan expectations, they must find a balance between their careers and personal lives.

Comment: First of all, I want to clarify that English is not my first language. I speak Spanish, but I didn't want to deprive you of this story. I'll be using a translator, so it's possible that some phrases might get lost or be incomprehensible. Second, I thank you in advance for taking the time to read. I'll also be uploading the chapters to Wattpad in Spanish and to Ao3 in English.

Updates on Wednesdays, Fridays, and Sundays. I also remind you that English is not my first language.

The sun was just beginning to filter through the windows of the house when Lia woke up with a tingling feeling of excitement and nerves. It was an important day. Today she would take another step in the project: the official preparation for the music video began, and with it, her image transformation.

After a quick shower and a light breakfast, she headed to the styling studio that the production team had temporarily set up in one of the practice rooms in the basement. As she entered, she was greeted with an enthusiastic exclamation.

“Our star is here!” shouted one of the stylists, Haneul, approaching with a smile and a folder full of visual references.

“Good morning, unnie,” Lia greeted, laughing as she sat in front of the large mirror surrounded by lights.

“Ready to go platinum blonde?” asked the colorist, lifting a strand of her black hair gently.

“More than ready. Let’s do this!” she replied, a mix of nerves and excitement in her voice.

Over the next few hours, the team worked on her hair with precision and patience. Between bleaching, treatments, laughter, and soft background music, the transformation began to take shape. Halfway through the session, one of the stylists showed her the moodboard with the planned outfits for the video.

“We want your look to reflect the concept of identity and evolution. So, we’ll try three styles: one with a metallic pleated skirt and white lace top, another more urban with beige cargo pants and a sheer crop top, and a final one with a short burgundy vinyl dress—very e-girl but elegant,” explained another stylist, Minji.

“Wow, they all sound amazing. The vinyl one gives me powerful vibes,” said Lia, making a mental note.

“And for makeup, we’re thinking something fresh and luminous for the emotional parts, and more dramatic with glitter on the eyes for the intense choreography,” added Haneul.

“Perfect. I trust you completely.”

Hours later, when her hair was finally dry and styled in soft waves, Lia looked at herself in the mirror. The platinum blonde gave her a completely new aura. More mature, bolder. She looked radiant. She could barely believe it herself.

“This is... wow!” she said, gently touching her golden strands.

“You’re a different person. Well, a more powerful version of yourself,” said Haneul, winking at her.

Just then, they heard footsteps approaching the studio. Han was the first to appear at the door, followed by Hyunjin and Chan.

“Can we look...?” Han asked, poking his head in.

“Come in,” Lia responded, turning in the chair.

The three of them fell silent for a few seconds, staring at her in surprise. Hyunjin was the first to speak:

“God... you look stunning.”

“I didn’t think you could be cooler, but you pulled it off,” said Han, dramatically exaggerating his tone.

Chan, more serious but with a genuine smile, nodded.

“It fits the concept perfectly. Really, you look amazing.”

“Thanks, guys,” Lia said, a bit flushed but happy.

After that little impromptu runway show, Chan gathered everyone in the main room, where the MV’s creative team was already set up with laptops, storyboards, and visual proposals.

“Now that we have a clear idea of the style, let’s go over the main shots,” Chan explained, pointing to a screen showing scene sketches.

The video would be divided into three main blocks: one in urban exteriors, where the group would dance in vibrant clothes amid neon lights and graffiti-covered streets; another more intimate one on a rooftop at sunset, symbolizing reflection and self-discovery; and a final scene where they all converge in a space filled with mirrors and lights, representing each person's connection with themselves and with one another.

“I want every scene with you to show evolution. We’ll start with more neutral expressions and build up to genuine smiles,” said Chan.

“And I want a close-up of you, Lia, right before the final chorus. As if you're whispering that key phrase to the audience,” added the director, pointing at his notes.

“The part that says, ‘I found me in the echoes of us’?” she asked.

“Exactly. That’s going to be the heart of the MV.”

Everyone nodded, the excitement growing. Lia felt this project was no longer just a collaboration—it was hers too. A story she was telling with them, from the inside.

When the meeting ended, everyone returned to their tasks. The boys would go scout locations, and Lia returned to the stylists to begin wardrobe fittings and do a quick on-camera makeup test.

Seeing herself on the monitor with the complete look—blonde hair, bright eyes, and a renewed energy—Lia smiled. Something inside her had shifted. And she was ready to show it to the world.

The morning passed quickly, and the house was buzzing again with movement: boxes of outfits going back and forth, laughter coming from the kitchen, and conversations blending with the constant sound of buzzing phones. Everyone was excited, working as a true team.

Everyone except Lia.

After the wardrobe and makeup test, she asked for a moment alone. She stepped out the back door into the garden, crossing the pool that shimmered under the afternoon sun, and sat on one of the lounge chairs, knees pulled to her chest. The soft wind moved her freshly dyed hair, and even though she had received compliments all day, a knot was beginning to form in her stomach.

What if she didn’t truly belong in this project?

What if her transformation was just an illusion, a façade without substance?

What if her presence distracted more than it contributed?

She didn’t hear the footsteps approaching until a calm voice sounded beside her.

“Can I sit with you?”

Lia looked up and found Seungmin, holding a drink in each hand. He offered her one and sat down beside her without waiting for an answer. He didn’t say anything at first—just took a sip from his bottle and looked out at the pool.

“I didn’t come to bother you, I just noticed you disappeared,” he added softly, with that serene tone so characteristic of him.

“I didn’t disappear,” Lia replied with a small smile, watching the water. “I just needed to breathe.”

Seungmin nodded.

“I get that. What’s wrong?”

Lia hesitated for a moment, but Seungmin’s silence wasn’t uncomfortable. It was the kind of silence that gives you permission to be honest.

“I think I’m scared. Everyone’s so confident, so talented, and I... I feel like I’m always a step behind. I changed my look, rehearsed more than I ever have, recorded my parts, and still I have this little voice telling me I’m not enough.”

Seungmin turned slightly toward her, observing her attentively.

“That little voice... is it yours? Or something someone else made you believe?”

The question caught her off guard. Lia looked at him, her eyes slightly shinier.

“I guess it’s a mix.”

He nodded again, thoughtful.

“I hear it too sometimes. That voice. Sometimes I feel like others shine brighter, like I’m not as expressive, like I don’t have as much energy on stage as the others. But I learned something important…”

Seungmin leaned a little closer.

“You don’t have to shine like them. You just have to shine like you.”

Lia looked down, biting her lip.

“And what if who I am isn’t enough?”

“You’re more than enough,” he said without hesitation, his voice soft but firm. “Look at everything you’ve done this month. You complete us. You make us laugh. You work hard. And when you sing... it doesn’t just sound good. It feels. And that’s more valuable than any technique.”

Lia didn’t say anything for a few seconds. Then, she let out a long sigh.

“Thank you, Seungmin. Sometimes I just... needed someone to remind me.”

“Anytime you need,” he replied with a small smile.

Their eyes met for a few seconds longer than usual. There was no urgency, no big declarations. Just a silent, real connection. Lia felt a gentle warmth in her cheeks, and Seungmin also looked away for a second, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly.

“By the way...” he said, trying to break the tension with a lighter tone, “your hair looks amazing. Not just saying that because everyone’s said it—but... I think I like it more than anyone else.”

Lia let out a soft laugh.

“Is that a competition now?”

“Of course. But only if I win.”

They stayed there a little longer, the wind playing with their hair, their shoulders almost touching. For a moment, everything felt in balance.

Until the patio door opened and Felix’s voice rang out:

“Lia, Seungmin! We need to film some shots for the teaser!”

Lia sighed, this time with more lightness.

“We should go,” she said, but before standing up, she looked at Seungmin with a more confident smile.

“Thank you for making me feel enough.”

He shrugged with a calm smile.

“You always have been.”

Hours later, the house was empty again—but for a good reason.

The team had moved to Seonyudo Park, a place full of contrasts between nature and urban structures, with tree-lined paths, metal frameworks, and a view of the Han River that looked like a painting. It was the perfect setting to film the first part of the teaser.

The cameras were already in position when the boys and Lia arrived in the van. The stylists were making the final adjustments: Lia wore a neutral-toned outfit— a beige skirt with tall boots and a light jacket with metallic details. The boys wore coordinated looks, all with a modern, street-style vibe that reflected their individual personalities while maintaining a cohesive image.

“This place is amazing!” Hyunjin said, spinning around as he looked up at the cloudy sky with an artistic expression. “I’m inspired. I can feel the concept’s emotion.”

“And you haven’t even had coffee yet,” Changbin joked, earning a round of laughter.

Lia, calmer after her earlier conversation with Seungmin, took in the surroundings with a smile. Everyone’s energy was contagious.

“Ready to shine?” Chan asked, approaching her with a warm smile.

“Always, leader-nim,” she replied, giving him a playful formal salute.

The first shot focused on the boys walking slowly along a metallic walkway, while Lia walked toward them from the opposite direction. When they crossed paths, they turned slightly to look at each other, symbolizing a first encounter—an unexpected connection.

Stray Kids wore modern streetwear, with leather jackets and graphic tees. Lia wore a chic outfit with a lace blouse and short skirt, accented with bold accessories and high-heeled over-the-knee boots.

“Action!” the director shouted.

The camera followed the movement with a lateral tracking shot, while the background instrumental music (still without vocals) set the rhythm. Expressions were key: intense gazes, subtle gestures. It all looked like something out of an indie film—youthful and dramatic at once.

When the take ended, Jeongin clapped.

“That felt like a K-drama scene! I need my own personal OST!”

“It was, but I deserve a close-up. Look at this face,” Lee Know said, pointing at himself dramatically.

“Hyung, please!” Felix laughed, patting him on the back.

Between jokes and retakes, they spent several hours in the park filming different shots: individual clips of the members with symbolic objects (a letter, a drawing, a camera), moments of them laughing together, and group shots of them walking or sitting on the grass, looking at the horizon.

By nightfall, the second location awaited: the rooftop of a building in downtown Seoul, with a panoramic view of city lights and neon signs.

The air was colder up there, so they were given coats while they waited their turn. The staff set up moving lights to simulate strobe effects, adding dynamism to the scene.

“It’s like being on a stage among the stars,” Lia murmured as she adjusted her invisible mic.

“Literally,” Han added. “We are Stray Kids, right?”

Everyone laughed.

They also filmed what would become the opening shot of the video—Lia standing by a window in the building, looking out at the city with an expression of longing.

The final teaser shots included a simple yet emotional choreography, with the members forming a circle that gradually opened to reveal Lia at the center, singing the main lines. Even though it was only a teaser, they gave it their all, as if they were already shooting the full MV.

The members laughed and encouraged each other, showing true camaraderie.

The camera captured them in slow motion as they spun and laughed, the wind playing with their hair, the lights reflecting in their eyes.

After the final take, when the director shouted, “Cut, we got it!” everyone burst into applause and cheers.

“That was magical!” Hyunjin exclaimed, raising his arms to the sky.

“I’m going to sleep happy tonight,” Seungmin said, visibly satisfied.

Chan approached the group, smiling proudly.

“Great work, guys. Lia, you were amazing.”

“Thank you,” she said, blushing a little. “It was thanks to all of you. You made me feel like a real part of this.”

Jeongin hugged her by the shoulders.

“Because you are, Liya. This project doesn’t feel like ‘Stray Kids with Lia’ anymore—it feels like something we’re doing together.”

The van was waiting to take them back, but no one wanted to leave just yet. They lingered on the rooftop for a few more minutes, enjoying the view and the silence filled with satisfaction.

Felix pulled out his phone and started recording without anyone noticing.

“Teaser filmed. Emotions ignited. Stories waiting to be told,” he whispered to the camera. “Connections... is already alive.”

[kunasthiast]

Goals

It all started with your interest and love for soccer. Didn't know you'll find somebody this interesting here, right?

a/n: this can be a stand-alone fic bUTTT actually this is in the same universe of – Looting and Broken Sinks – check out how Sukuna and reader first met hsdhah i've been so inspired with soccer bc of Blue Lock

hope you enjoy this one ;) i'm also so sorry for no uploads the past week, i've been so busy with university – will get back to regular uploads by next week!

Pairing: Sukuna x Reader (female) Genre: fluff, Boyfriend AU, Soccer Player AU, University AU Word Count: 1,628 All characters are of age. Suggestive.

You were the biggest fan of soccer. You knew everything about it – the legendary strikers, the egotist players, and the incredible goals. Yet, you never played it yourself.

It’s not because you’re not cut out for it. Or, not because your body can’t take it. Please, you’re athletic as fuck. It’s just that you preferred to enjoy this particular sport from a distance, analyzing each players’ skills, techniques, and plays.

So here you were, watching your university’s soccer team during their first match against a rival university. Are their rivals just too weak or something?

It was your first time attending one of their games, and you had high hopes. But, yes, this is boring you. They were not making plays that are interesting to watch at all!

“When will they make this game more watchable,” you complained as you leaned on the rail, your eyes scanning the field for anything remotely exciting.

The only one you can see is a white-haired guy who’s like an amazing midfielder, but what good are his plays if there’s no striker thats clearly cut out to make an out-of-this-world goal, right?

Just as you were about to give up hope, a commotion on the side of the field caught your attention. Your university’s team asked for a player trade from the bench. Alas, the crowd on that side erupted in cheers and gasps towards a tall, muscular player with pink hair and distinctive tattoos. #20 Ryomen.

“Who’s that?” You muttered to yourself as you squint your eyes towards #20.

“That’s Sukuna,” a voice beside you said. “He’s the star forward of the team – they call him the ‘King of the Penalty Area’ for a reason. He’s like a beast on the field, too.”

“Hmm, that’s kind of a cringey title to call himself,” you said as you continued watching the ruckus on the side of the field.

“Well, that’s what he was dubbed by most people here. I’m Nobara, do you go to this university, too?” An orange-haired pretty woman said as she extended her hand towards you for a shake.

You stared dumbfoundedly on her stretched out hand and confusingly tilted your head as you told her your name.

“Not a fan of handshakes?” Nobara snickered as she set her eyes back to the field.

“Yeah haha, just shocked you were actually watching a soccer game,” you said as your eyes went back to the field as the game started again. “Most women my age don’t really watch these sports, they love basketball more.”

“Oh, I’m not a soccer fan, alright? I just lost a bet and had to watch my friend play which I’m certain is not happening anytime soon now that Sukuna’s in this game,” she replied as she shook her head and folded her arms.

You chuckled, finding her candor refreshing. “Well, hopefully this Sukuna guy can liven things up a bit.”

The moment Sukuna stepped onto the field, the atmosphere changed. His presence was commanding, and it was clear he was no ordinary player.

Oh, this is getting exciting!

“Wow, he does have a certain… presence,” you admitting, watching Sukuna weaving through the opposing team with ease, his eyes focused and determined. “Maybe this game won’t be so boring after all.”

“Yeah, he’s something else. But, don’t tell him that, his ego will just go over the roof.”

The white-haired midfielder, #27 Gojo, passed the ball to Sukuna with perfect precision. Sukuna took it in stride, sprinting down the field with his incredible speed.

He left two defenders in the dust, aiming and fired a shot at the goal, the ball sailing past the goalkeeper and into the net with a satisfying thud.

GOAL 1-0

The crowd erupted in cheers, and you found yourself clapping along, genuinely impressed.

Is he a prodigy? You’ve never seen a forward make an aggressive goal like that!

Sukuna turned towards the stands, a smig grin on his face as he soaked in the applause from the crowd.

The game continued, and Sukuna’s performance only got better and better. He scored two more goals, each more impressive than the last one. How did he even manage to make a hattrick?

3-0

By the time final whistle blew, your university’s team had won decisively, thanks in large part to Sukuna’s incredible play. As the players left the field, you couldn’t help but feel a newfound sense of excitement.

Maybe watching this university’s soccer team wouldn’t feel so boring at all.

As you scanned the crowd, searching for Sukuna among the sea of faces, you couldn’t shake the feeling of curiosity that gnawed at you. Amidst the jubilant celebrations and the chatter of the spectators, your eyes locked onto a figure making his way towards the exit.

There he was, Sukuna, weaving through the crowd with an effortless grace that mirrored his performance on the field.

His pink hair stood out among the sea of fans, and his confident stride exuded an aura of charisma that drew you in.

Without a second thought, you found yourself moving through the crowd, determined to catch up to him. You navigated through the throng of people, your heart racing with anticipation.

What would you say to him?

Finally, you reached his side, breathless from the exhilarating pursuit. Sukuna glanced in your direction, his gaze meeting yours with a mixture of surprise and intrigue. 

“Hey there,” you greeted him with a smile.

Sukuna returned your smile, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Well, well, what do we have here?" he replied, his voice smooth and captivating. "I don't believe we've had the pleasure of meeting before."

You chuckled, suddenly aware of how out of place you felt among the adoring fans. "No, we haven't," you admitted, feeling slightly tongue-tied in his presence. "I just wanted to say, you played an incredible game out there. Truly inspiring!”

Sukuna's smile widened, a playful glint in his eyes. "Why, thank you," he replied, inclining his head in acknowledgment. "But I must admit, I couldn't have done it without the support of fans like you."

You felt a rush of warmth at his words, and you couldn’t help but smile back at him. “Oh, I’m not a fan, just an admirer of the sport itself,” you said with a playful grin. “But, I'll be cheering you on from the sidelines at every game."

Sukuna's laughter filled the air. Why does his laugh even sound so good?

"I look forward to it," he said, his smile dazzling in the glow of the stadium lights. "Who knows? Maybe you'll inspire me to score even more goals next time.”

Just as you were about to respond, another player approached, his white hair stark against the evening sky and a pair of sunglasses (mind you, it’s night time) perched on his nose. He exuded a different kind of charisma – playful yet commanding.

"Sukuna making friends with fans again?" he teased, shooting a mischievous glance between you and Sukuna.

“Gojo Satoru," Sukuna introduced him with a playful smirk. ”Our team’s ace midfielder. Don’t mind him, he’s just as annoying as he looks.”

Gojo laughed, extending a hand towards you. "Nice to meet you. Don’t listen to Sukuna, I’m actually the charm of this team.”

You shook his hand, chuckling at his lighthearted banter. "Nice to meet you too, Gojo. It was fun watching you.”

Gojo grinned, throwing an arm around Sukuna’s shoulders. "Oh, you can count on it. With me around, the matches are never boring.”

You snorted, feeling a sense of camaraderie with the two players. “Yeah, I’ll see you around in the next games, too. I’ll get going now, bye!”

As you walked away, you couldn't shake the feeling of Sukuna's gaze lingering on you, a spark of intrigue glimmering in his eyes. And you weren’t wrong. He was still gazing at your figure as you left the field.

"Now, she's an interesting girl," Gojo remarked with a grin, nudging Sukuna playfully.

Sukuna shook his head, tearing his gaze away with a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Yeah, she is," he admitted, his thoughts lingering on the mysterious girl who had captivated his attention

Meanwhile, Gojo shrugged off the moment, his easygoing demeanor never faltering. "Anyway, why are you late?" he asked Sukuna, his tone teasing.

Sukuna chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. "Got a bit distracted by an online game. Just lost track of time," he confessed with a sheepish grin.

Gojo rolled his eyes but couldn't help but smirk at Sukuna’s antics. "You and your games," he muttered, shaking his head in amusement. "Come on, let's catch up with the others before they start thinking we've abandoned them."

With that, the two teammates made their way through the dispersing crowd, their laughter echoing in the evening air.

But even as they rejoined their team, Sukuna couldn't shake the memory of your encounter, a spark of curiosity igniting within him. 

Perhaps this was just the beginning of something unexpected and exciting. And, it is.

As the days turned into weeks, you found yourself drawn deeper into the world of soccer with Sukuna. Your bond with him growing stronger with each passing game. You watched from the bench, cheering him on and complimenting his plays after every match.

And eventually, you found yourself seated by the side of the field, watching the game unfold with bated breath as your favorite player took to the field.

Sukuna, your boyfriend, moved with grace and precision, his every move a testament to his skill and dedication.

And this time, the only times he’ll be late was because of his pre-game workout. With you.

You were no longer just a big fan of soccer; you were the biggest fan of Sukuna and his incredible goals.

[lyracarvahall]

HeartBeat Sync PART 1

Soulmates Explained

   In this world, there is a chance that you are destined to have a soulmate, or multiple soulmates in rare cases. These bonds are realized by tattoos unique to the bonded pair which in the light had a reflection like oil-slicked water. The tattoos were more of random symbols and patterns that were never duplicated. When the tattoos are first acquired, a sensation coincides with them. Common examples include a random taste or seeing a random flash of light. Some way the senses notify you that your lives are forever changed.

However, there are many who do not have soulmate bonds, or maybe they just simply do not find them. This was the case for Y/N. In her youth she had been so sure that her soulmates had to be out there. After years of hopeful dreams, however, doubt began to creep in. As she now entered her third decade of life, she knew she belonged to those who had to make the dream for themselves.

This is what had made her want to pursue music. It was her soul’s way of crying out what her words could not express. This is where our story begins….

Chapter One: Exposed

The beats thrummed through her headphones, having her subconsciously swaying to her created beats. Music had become her soulmate when life had failed to provide her one. At her age, Y/N just accepted that wasn’t in the cards. Romantic dreams of her youth had turned into angst-powered fuel for the songs she made. After recording a few of the songs and uploading them to the internet, she had drawn a relative amount of attention. Her music’s heavy beats and heartfelt lyrics mixed with obscure instrumentals were not to everyone’s taste however. She had developed a niche following including, unknown to her, a few from overseas.

Y/N chose to use an alias with her uploads as her family had told her many a time she was too old to pursue such things and that she should just settle down and start a family. Her passion for passion and for life showed in every creation and it was her one area of pride, even if very few knew about it. Those few who did included her friend Lexi, who’s feet currently rested on Y/N’s coffee table as she flipped through her social media feeds on her phone.

Y/N just smiled contentedly at her friend’s antics as she stepped up to her microphone and began to sing powerfully into it. Lyrics about longing strung over dance beats. Checking on Lexi again, she saw her friend’s phone camera aimed at her face.

“Lexi, cut the shit! You know I don’t like my sessions recorded.”

Lexi leaned forward and twirled her chocolate hair in one hand while balancing her phone in the other hand. “Well….then good thing this is a live stream instead then, hmm?”

“WHAT?!” Y/N immediately yanked the beanie off her head and threw it with laser precision, knocking the phone out of her best friend’s hand. Dashing over and narrowly beating Lexi to recover the phone, she hit the button to end the live stream.

“What the hell is wrong with you Lexi?! Literally ONE RULE! Keep me anonymous! How long were you recording? How many were watching? I need to brace for impact for the amount of damage you just caused!”

“I know I know! I’m sorry! I just think you need to get out there with your music. You are so talented and you deserve to be performing other places besides your home office, Y/N!”

“Thank you and I love you but I am still mad at you. How….many….Lexi?”

Lexi began to nervously twiddle her fingers together, looked up at Y/N through her eyelashes. “About 3,000?”

“Three thousand people?! Oh my god! It’s over! It’s all over….” Y/N sank to the floor dramatically, slowly sliding down the wall and placing her head in her hands. “What have you done?” Her voice sounded small and pitiful but she didn’t care. Her dreams were ruined. There was no way she continue now that they tied a face to her work. She was a 30 year old curvy girl who currently looked like a bum in sweatpants and a giant anime shirt.

Her family had always overlooked her and never taken her seriously. Her dream “wasn’t a real job” and “arts were a hobby and not a career”. Anytime she explained about it being her outlet and why she needed to release this emotion, they told her soulmates are obviously not meant for her and she needs to get over it. Her sister Riley had been particularly cruel “I mean obviously no one is destined for you. Look at you!” Over time she had gotten over her insecurities. Distance from her family had helped, but occasionally all those emotions came rushing back to her. This was one of those times.

Lexi noticed the panic in Y/N’s eyes and immediately crawled to her side. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I am so sorry. I mean maybe this isn’t a bad thing, you know?”

Y/N simply scoffed at that.

“Seriously, bestie, this could be a huge opportunity for you! I imagine agents will start messaging ASAP. THINK about it!” With almost comedic timing, Lexi’s phone vibrated from where it lay across the room. Once.

Twice.

Three times.

Lexi smirked and quickly ran to grab her phone. Upon looking at the screen, however, she nearly dropped it again due to the shock with what she was reading.

“Y/N…It is a message from Eden.”

“Am I supposed to know who that is?”

“Dum-dum ma-goo goo! Eden is the main producer for ATEEZ? Remember, those dudes you were drooling over their edits from Coachella?”

“Oh! Eden….Eden-ary production team! Shit shit….what did he say?”

“He invited you to ATEEZ’s next show. Says he has a proposition for you.”

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

I admit this is my first ATEEZ fanfiction and it is more a fun writing exercise than anything else. I hope you enjoy it so far despite that. Sorry this is so short so far! <3

Part 2 Here

[meimi-haneoka]

Cardcaptor Sakura Clear Card Special Chapter: Comments and Analysis

WELCOME BACK, CCS FAAAAAAAAAAAANSSS!!!!!

Oh my god 3 months went already by from that December 1st and chapter 80, didn't they?? Feels like yesterday 🙈But we're finally here, finally ready for the release of the definitive, last SPECIAL CHAPTER of Cardcaptor Sakura Clear Card!!!! After this, no more CCS for at least a while!!

Why do you see me so euphoric?? WELL, THERE IS MORE THAN ONE VERY GOOD REASON 😂 But let's not jump the gun and let's introduce this post properly: this time around, I won't be posting pictures to "illustrate" the analysis/commentary, because this special chapter was treated differently from the other ones. It didn't get, in fact, a free release on CLAMP's Youtube channel, in any language, and wasn't even uploaded for digital purchase on Comic Days like all the rest of the chapters. The only way to obtain it was via the April issue of Nakayoshi, either with the physical or digital version. Since it is clear to me their intention to keep this gem of a special chapter away from the internet jungle, and since lately I used only the screenshots from Youtube to illustrate my analysis, this time around I won't be posting anything (aside from the color page, which was released by the official account themselves).

AND! I won't be mixing analysis and summary, because I have already conveniently prepared some screenshots with a detailed summary of the chapter for the people who were curious to know, but didn't get to see the chapter yet or did see it but couldn't read Japanese. I have already posted these screenshots on my Twitter account, and I'll put them here too under the cut (please don't repost them around or in other social media), so you can immediately get a broad view on the content of the chapter (I don't have to point out translation mistakes, haha 😅), and then, afterwards, I'll write my commentary. And there is SO MUCH to say!!

But before starting, we can't break the tradition right at the LAST ROUND of our chapter commentaries, right?? So off we go, with the GIF OF THE MONTH!!

Yes, I think this is the GIF that can represent this chapter the most. 😂

The Color Page

This special chapter is composed of 33 pages, and of course I can't avoid starting my commentary precisely from the color page!!

I admit it, I hoped for a color spread with the four main characters of Clear Card (hence, including Kaito and Akiho too), but since the other two appeared with their own color page just in chapter 79, we'll gladly take this single color page with SyaoSaku too!! ❤️ The JP text reads "We've been together till now, and we will always be! Featuring a long-awaited special chapter!!" Syaosaku look absolutely adorable....and so, so happy!! Looking at us, from a wreath made of cherry blossoms, of course dressed in their image colors pink and green, in a "pair look"...I think their shiny smiles conquered the hearts of the entire fandom (saw many comments about it) and it is certainly a perfect introduction to a chapter that is, indeed, completely made of this happy, leisurely, warm atmosphere. I feel like it tastes even better, after all the anxiety they made us go through, right? I'm pretty sure that was CLAMP's goal all along, giving us this little reward after all the hard situations they've put their characters through. This color page looks like Sakura and Syaoran are saying "goodbye" to us, holding their hands in a lover's hold, but seeing them so cute and happy definitely soothes the sad feeling 🥲 Until we meet again...hopefully!

Letters From Around The World

But it's when the chapter starts that we get our first surprise: the time skip is of one entire year!!! We left our little heroes at the end of the first year of Tomoeda Middle school, ready to go in spring break and then start the second year...here, Sakura says she's in her spring break of the next year, ready to become a 9th grader!!! I almost couldn't believe they actually went that far, I knew from CLAMP's podcast that there was a timeskip, but I expected just some months! Although....I have to say the characters don't look that different, Mokona said she made them a tiny bit older and she kept true to that, because it's barely visible! 🤭 But if you compare them with how they looked at the middle of the story, of course the difference is visible.

I was so happy to see that the chapter started right away with a letter from Akiho: a letter or a videocall was definitely among the type of content I wanted to see in this chapter, because of course I still was quite preoccupied about the difficult journey Akiho and Kaito embarked on, so I wanted to see how they were faring. The amount of letters Sakura accumulated over the span of this year tells me that they moved around quite a lot, and she had always something to share with her "long-distance sister" 🤭 Kero praising Akiho's skills and even feeling some sort of "reverence" for her insane talent to find all the crazy and rare books was so funny and nice!! 😂Sakura is adorable, feeling all proud about the talent of her "sister" 🤭 Loved that they actually mentioned the place where Akiho and Kaito are currently at!! (cause they didn't reveal where they'd go first, in chapter 80, and I guess we'll never know). I appreciated SO SO much that they let us see that Akiho didn't drop, but actually continued to practice her sewing skills like she was doing before everything went down the drain with the Alice in Clockland play: moreover, finding out later that this skill is also helping her greatly with the true ambition of her life made me incredibly satisfied. How cute of her to send outfits for Kero and Suppy, even from far away??

I was quite surprised to find out that Akiho sends all the rare books to Eriol, and then laughed my as* off at Kero saying he's selling them off (the way Kero phrases it in JP makes it look a QUITE shady activity 😂). This shows there's a continued collaboration between the "group" in England and YunaAki, and it's very nice. They're not only "taking" support from Eriol, Akiho also does return the favor, providing Eriol with the books he needs.

And then....got really emotional to know that Kaito wrote a letter to Sakura, back when they left one year ago 🥲 I DID feel like some kind of acknowledgement or apology from Kaito to Sakura was missing from chapter 80 (but honestly, with everything they had to explain, where they could fit that?) and so this little mention completely fixed that sense of "he made a mess and barely managed to apologize to Akiho before leaving". Kaito isn't an ass*ole so of course he would've done something like that, and a letter seems perfect for an introvert boy of few words like him. I imagine the letter wasn't really long either. The little moon on the sealing wax...❤️The fact that Sakura is storing that single letter together with Akiho's letters in a specific box makes me almost cry. She cares for those two so, so much! 😭 Sakura wishes to receive more letters from Kaito and I really hope he will open up to her along the way, because he could benefit ENORMOUSLY from her advices and perspective! Also THANK YOU CLAMP for giving us a little "still" of those two next to eachother from the moment when they were leaving Tomoeda, with the suitcases and all 🥲that last faraway shot of all four of them together in chapter 80 was so great, but I wanted to see them like this too!

The SyaoSaku Date

Aaaaaand then we get to the long awaited, craved, coveted SYAOSAKU DATE!!! 🤣 I can't count how many people I've seen wishing for this....to be honest I was going to be ok with any kind of sweet moment between the two, but gotta admit that a carefree afternoon watching a stage play and then taking refreshment at a café gives this sense of normal, complete fun that was missing a bit for them. They are dressed in a very fancy way (loved that Sakura isn't wearing her usual long one-pieces but something different, with puff shorts! A sign of her growing up?) and even though they're not exactly wearing a "pair look" (too corny, maybe?), they are well matching eachother's outfits. And of course we find out that Tomoyo made Sakura's cute outfit and even the decorations on Syaoran's collar! The fact she was the one asking Syaoran to wear them at the date is kinda funny, like some sort of guidance into looking like a couple, thanks to the matching decorations! Tomoyo really takes care of everything....yes....everything. 🥲 The mention of Sakura's wedding dress of course made me go "OH MY GOD" and made me realize that if Tomoyo is already mentioning that.......we aren't *that* far away from that day (I always imagined SyaoSaku marrying early, since they're soulmates and got together so young!! 😆). Truly an emotional, sweet moment that was reinforced by Tomoyo's tender expression in the flashback. Her resolution to devote herself to learn to design even normal everyday outfits, or date outfits, everything that could accompany her dear Sakura everyday, reminded me that Tomoyo found her very own way to be with Sakura, and she's perfectly content with that. Tomoyo's happiness is seeing Sakura happy, and she will do anything to achieve that. ✨

Syaoran and Kaito's Friendship

And then my blushy blushy Sakura changes topic and suddenly throws me on the floor in a fit of laughter, because seeing Syaoran's confused look while he was trying to make sense of the pictures Kaito sent him on his phone WAS HONESTLY PRICELESS. 😆 My god, how long have I wished to see them like this? Moving their timid steps into a friendship (since their girlfriends are like sisters and Sakura literally saved Kaito's derriere), being their awkward dorky selves...they surprisingly get along so well and Syaoran doesn't seem to hold resentment towards him, which is GREAT for me!! He's learning from Sakura to just let go of hard feelings, when you've found out the person who acted in an oppositive way was just in a very desperate situation and had actually no ill intentions. And that makes me incredibly happy. Kaito needs all the support he can get, to make the right decisions in his life, and I can totally see him finding a particular connection with Syaoran, due to how they're both moon boys, who would give their life for the person they love. I think precisely for this, precisely because Syaoran can understand to a degree Kaito's situation and behavior, he wouldn't feel judged and would feel more free to establish a connection with him. I was k*lled with laughter and endearment when I saw that Syaoran felt confused, but still tried to understand Kaito's peculiar way of communicating with him 😂 And guess what? I think he doesn't realize it, but he's totally starting to get it! 😂The way our wolfie boy snaps that picture IMMEDIATELY as the cat passes by, and how he only framed the ear, really shows how in the end he's speaking "the same language" as Kaito 😂 Seeing Sakura so excitedly think to herself that the two became such good friends made me scream "SAME SAKURA-CHAN, SAME!!!" 😂 All in all, seeing these two having such a relaxed, comfortable date talking about their friends and stuff that happened lately made me completely feel that one year that elapsed, and now they act totally like a couple that's been dating for quite some time. 😊 Ooooh thank you sensei, really. Thank you so much for this scene. 🙏

The Moon Is Really Beautiful, Right?

BUT! The real reason why CLAMP will always have my heart and my gratitude is hidden in the next scene. 😂

Oh my god, the screams I've belted out when I saw them. And when I've read THAT. But let's go in order, let's go in order and not jump the gun! We're in Germany, Akiho and Kaito now seem to be living in an apartment in a nice building! They're still talking in keigo, and still calling eachother "Akiho-san" and "Kaito-san". 😊

Kaito SMILES genuinely at the picture Syaoran sent him!! And answers, to an observant Akiho, that he's having fun!! 😭HIM! The one who couldn't understand what was fun in interacting with others!!! He looks honestly so radiant and happy, a sign that his mental recovery is going strong. And that he's slowly expanding his "trusted people" network. 🥲🙏Also, he looks younger than ever!!! 😂

It made me INCREDIBLY HAPPY to see that Akiho didn't drop the "hobby" she had started in chapter 26 (ages ago!!), remember this scene?

I remember how much I loved to know she had started learning how to do this, because together with my friends, at the time, we all thought this could easily become her aspiration in life......and guess what?? CLAMP confirmed she wants to take on a job revolving around books and book repairing!! This is all canon!! T___T oh my happy tears.... There's a sense of pride in seeing that this journey for Akiho isn't only revolving around finding the cure for Kaito's shortened lifespan (which hurt his body terribly) and restarting his "stopped time", or finding Momo and the Alice in Clockland book, but she's also got the mental resolution to do something for herself, for what she wants to do in life, something that is completely disconnected from Kaito. Again, I cannot reiterate enough how this girl doesn't have an unhealthy codependent relationship with Kaito, and she's completely capable of thinking about her own future, aspirations and wishes. She wants him with her, and she could never live happily without him, but the love of her life isn't the only thing that exists for her. It is incredibly satisfying to see her working hard for her own future, where she'll be able to contribute (especially financially) to their livelihood. I can see Kaito helping her and assisting her with that. The other day I was dreaming away with my friends about Kaito and Akiho managing a "book cafè" together somewhere, how impossibly sweet that would be?

Seeing this volitive, ambitious, strong-willed Akiho once again filled my heart immensely. And I wasn't the only one, apparently.....

Oh god, you have no idea of the SHRIEKS I belted out when I saw Kaito saying "the moon is really beautiful, right?" in full daylight. Like. It is absolutely unmistakable at this point what kind of love he feels for her, and while I always knew, I'm sure the character took his own sweet time and personal introspection to reach that conclusion. If you remember, I've always said it and reiterated it at the end of chapter 80: Kaito won't understand things overnight, it will take a long time. And one year, at that age, is enough of a long time to come to terms with one's feelings and understanding what exactly they mean. They lived all that time together as two "equals", no more butler/boss bullsh*t, so they had even more opportunities to see eachother's true colors. And Kaito couldn't help but fall even more in love with Akiho, to the point that seeing her working so excitedly for her future made him gently overflow with that feeling....and said that sweet quote of Natsume Soseki that we all know, by now, what it means. I think the mere fact that what made his heart explode was seeing her so independent and strong, is a good sign that Kaito's love for her is the healthy and supportive kind, too. He doesn't love her and feels attracted to her soul because she's a weaker, younger, malleable being that he can dominate (as a toxic relationship would portray), but at the contrary, because she's free and strong and wonderful on her own. The more he sees her shining, the more that feeling grows. Throughout this scene, he looks at her and talks to her in such an intensely sweet way, you can totally see he's smitten with her.

The most popular reply to someone who confesses with "the moon is beautiful" is the equivalent of "I could die for you/I can die happy now", in Japanese. And Kaito had been unconsciously replying that way, with his actions, the whole damn time during the serialization of Clear Card. But since he took it way too literally, things were really heading to tragedy. Nobody wanted him to die for real, and yet, subconsciously, that was the only way he had found to give outlet to an enormous amount of feels that he couldn't express (because it wasn't appropriate, and nobody would ever love him, and he only caused her pain, and he had to let go of Akiho anyway at the end of it).

So considering all of THAT, this "I love you very much" he said now (he added とても, "very", like Akiho did ❤️) in this way, makes me think even more "yes, you finally understood what was the best way to convey it!" and therefore, it represents another character development for our moon boy. 🥲

There's debate over whether he had already understood what Akiho had meant, in chapter 48. I stand firmly by my convinction that, even if he was informed of the Japanese folklore tale around it, he quickly dismissed it as "no, she's meaning it literally for the moon", since he couldn't really believe that anyone would ever take interest in him, and was sure he would've always been alone. Otherwise, if he really understood and believed that Akiho was in love with him, I don't think he could've ever said that "I thought you didn't need me to be happy". It doesn't make sense. But everything that happened at the fake moon, and all her angry tears, and all her resolution to find a way to cure him, made him finally see that she really meant it in that way. ❤️So his own acceptance and introspection could finally start, and....it brought to this. ❤️ If you want to know more about the popular phrase "the moon is beautiful, right?", I invite you to check my first Clear Card Trivia post, focused on the literary and musical references portrayed throughout this story!

And LOL, I couldn't help but noticing several things in how this scene played out: first, he immediately "runs away" blabbering about the breakfast being ready, a very similar way to how he "ran away" in chapter 52 when Akiho could see right through him and was trying to express her support and feelings to him. This is definitely an indication (taking into consideration also how he acted when he was little) that the reason why Kaito walked away back then, slamming the door, had a sprinkle of embarrassment embedded in it, too. Yeah. I mean, look at the face he's making here, just before he notices, puzzled, that his hand is shaking:

He's smiling so tenderly, among the pain he's feeling because of his poor health. He even laughs! He's happy he heard that! But he just couldn't stay hearing any longer, back then. Now, in this scene of the special chapter, he literally throws "the bomb" and runs away without hearing her answer or reaction 😂😂😂this is definitely embarrassment, and I'd like to think there's even a hint of teasing streak that I've always seen between the lines in his personality. It came out particularly with Syaoran and Momo, but Akiho isn't excluded from this dynamic! 😂

And excuse me, but Akiho's reaction literally made me roll on the floor laughing!! 😂The poor girl is probably so used to live abroad, and Japanese folklore isn't probably coming up immediately in her mind anymore, despite it's a phrase SHE used HERSELF back then! 😂Or maybe it's because she didn't really expect it from him, and so she took a moment to connect the dots. Either way, it was extremely funny! And I can't absolutely avoid pointing out how our girl isn't blushing like mad anymore, but just slightly.... I mean. It must have been quite clear to her too, by now, that her feelings were in some kind "reciprocated", be it for what Sakura said back at the fake moon, his decision to go back to her, and his decision to reveal his true name, hence giving her his most vulnerable part of himself... This isn't a shock for her, and she probably waited patiently, patiently, for him to finally say something like this. So maybe, more than embarrassed, she's surprised that the day finally came! 🥲 Goodness. This really puts all my worries to rest, Akiho will truly be happy. And it makes total sense that CLAMP made him say this now, and not at the end of chapter 80. As I said, more time was needed. This entire scene leaves me with a sweet, soft, comfortable feeling, and it's totally how I've always imagined their relationship to be. Also....no more of that "he loves her as a daughter/sister" crap, not canon-wise at least. 😊

One last thing I have to point out about this scene, which curiously reconnects everything together, is that recently CLAMP have announced the themes to which their upcoming exhibition will revolve around: among them, there's LOVE (of course!), and among the decorations surrounding the featured character on the key visual (Sakura, for now, but there's at least another one coming!) there are a couple of birds too. Birds are, in this sense, a symbol of love in CLAMP's language. I couldn't really help but noticing all the birds flying outside the window next to Akiho, the moment Kaito says that "the moon is really beautiful, right?". Basically, CLAMP were trying to scream it all over the place, however they could. 😂

"Momo-san?!"

It was so nice to see Yukito and Kero-chan gossiping about Touya right in his face, with the complete intention to tease him 😂in that sense, Yukito really seems like a sweet and harmless character, but don't be fooled! His teasing power is over 9000!! 😂Touya's killing glare made me crack up! He's so done for, now that both Kero and Yukito can tease him in the open! 😂😂😂

But please, please, let me scream about MOMO!!! Oh my god I would've never accepted a special chapter that didn't feature her!! Aaaaahhh I'm so glad to see that she's fine 🥲 The conversation between her and Sakura made clear to me that she isn't that free to move how I imagined her to be. Certainly, she decides where to go and who the book stays with (and when to leave), but the impartiality imposed on her role doesn't allow her to act freely like she wants, unless she pays a price. And she decided to pay a price, not to see Akiho and Kaito, but to go and thank Sakura herself first. Because, as her "those kids" suggests, she of course still feels some kind of maternal instinct towards them, and as any mother would do, she wants to thank Sakura from the bottom of her heart for having helped and saved those two. Even her body language (the position of her hands) portrays that. And excuse me, but I A B S O L U T E L Y loved how CLAMP clarified once and for all, addressing directly the complaints of their own fandom, that Sakura wasn't forcingly dragged into a matter that wasn't related to her. Everything she did, she decided to do it because she felt it touched her personally. From the moment she became Akiho's friend and came to care for her, everything that happened and everything that she was involved with was related to her too. This wasn't "somebody else's business" anymore. Because Akiho is one of her most beloved friends, no matter how "fast" that happened. Some relationships bloom almost immediately, because the connection is just that strong. And so, this turned into just another expression of "your happiness is my happiness", with Sakura acting according to what her heart suggested. As Kaito is Akiho's most beloved person, Sakura couldn't help but care for him too, because doing so would've made her friend happy, in a wonderful "circulation of love".

Special mention for the scene with pregnant Lilie, oh my god I didn't really expect this either. How long ago I wrote that Tumblr post about cosmos flowers and the origin of Akiho's name? A couple of weeks ago? It's like CLAMP answered my curiosity, with this scene. I still keep my interpretation in my heart, but I also love the logic "it is a flower that keeps the same name in many countries". Of course. "Wherever you'll go, you'll always be your unique self". (And now I want to cry, mama's heart is so big😭) The way Lilie keeps her hands over her womb made me tear up. The ring isn't there anymore, a sign that she probably already gave it to Momo (understandably, since once Akiho would be born, she wouldn't really have much time left). The baby bump isn't that noticeable, probably because she's at the beginning of her pregnancy. Who knows if she kept seeing little Kaito while she was pregnant. 🥲Who knows if in the scene where she's telling him about how wonderful it is to have something you love, especially a person, she was already pregnant with Akiho. 🥲

Momo and Sakura's final words made me understand that Momo cannot go back to Akiho and Kaito till the circumstances and the moment is right. Whether it depends on Akiho's wish, or the right cosmic arrangement, it's surely not in the short term. Especially considering the limited scope of Momo's agency. It cannot come from Momo (unless she pays a huge price), it needs to come from them, strongly enough. I also want to think that, again as an acquired mother figure, Momo wants those two to find their own way, identity and figure out their relationship on their own, without her interference. I'm sure she's keeping an eye on them from faraway, though. 🥲Even though this still feels bittersweet because I wanted to see them reuniting in canon so badly, it gave me lots of hope for the future. Momo is just waiting for the right moment, and she'll be ready to embrace them when the time is right. Maybe, who knows, we'll see that reunion in another series or in a special publication in the future?

The End

And then....the final scene 🥲NOW it is finally clear what Ohkawa meant in that one Twitter Space, when she mentioned that there was a reason why they never featured Sakura's birthday!!! THEY NEEDED TO KEEP THE EXCLUSIVITY FOR THIS!! 😂 I'm so glad they did, really...it's so sweet to see her reaching 14 years old (the "standard age" of many shoujo heroines! 😂) and seeing Syaoran giving her a present, with that strikingly sweet smile full of love...but most importantly....the breathtaking final double spread 🥲🥲🥲🥲 The way she pulls his hand close to her chest, to her heart, while saying that Syaoran will be forever and ever her most important and special person.....really, this chapter is meant to k*ll us all with feels!🥲and I love how CLAMP keep finding ways to portray their physical displays of affection without resorting to the classic, most wanted (but also probably considered not appropriate yet) "kiss". The very final page is a direct parallel of a page from chapter one, where Sakura was going to school alone and looked back down the street to admire the cherry blossoms in full bloom.

Now, she's not alone anymore, but actually hugging the love of her life on her special day! Really, what a wonderful and fulfilling way to give the final touch to this amazing story! 🥲 Her very last line also contributed to this. Sakura leaves us again, 24 years after the first ending, with words of positivity for the future, and love for her important people. This wraps everything up nicely, but it still keeps things quite "open-ended", hopefully in the eventuality to return to this wonderful series in the future. Sakura is growing up, as CLAMP wished, and it might be possible to see her dealing with more "grown-up" situations, magic and non-magic wise. But one thing is for sure, her relationship with her loved ones will always take top priority. ❤️

Well well well, we came to the end of this looooooong commentary for this special chapter too. I can't help but thank once again all of you who followed my posts all these years, and commented with your POVs on the story.

As I've said multiple times, Cardcaptor Sakura gave me so much ever since I was a kid, and this sequel was no exception. This special chapter, in particular, overflowed with things I wanted to see, and I'm sure I'm not the only one thinking so. I once again want to congratulate CLAMP for wrapping everything up nicely, and thank them from the bottom of my heart for these almost 8 years of emotional journey. 🙏

See you around with my other tumblr posts, and let's look forward to the release of volume 16 on April 1st, and hopefully, news about the anime sequel of Clear Card!!

[myseriesthings]

Underneath.

A post season 2 episode 16 "Under The Radar" fix-it fic by @mel-mcz.

Season two's end left me fuming, so here's a fix-it fic with a bit of whump and hurt/comfort. Posting here first, but soon I'll upload it to Ao3 with the subsequent chapters following up from here, including Peter's side of the events and how he found Neal, and a lot of comfort as he recovers with the Burkes' help.

English is not even my second language, so forgive me for any mistakes, I did try to proofread it, but there's only so much I can do by myself.

Hope you enjoy this thing I wrote in a couple of hours!

After practically spitting at Peter's face to prove that he'd taken the treasure, Neal only had enough anger to fuel his energy reserves to get him around the next warehouse before he had nothing left.

His knees buckled and he collapsed to the ground. Chest heaving, lungs burning with the exertion, ribs aching with every breath that didn't seem to fill his lungs, Neal tried to calm himself.

With his eyes stinging, throat burning with ashes, nostrils filled with the smell of smoke, ears ringing from the deafening sound of the explosion, he curled on himself, bracing his chest to try to avoid the pain that seemed ready to burst through his heart.

It hurt. Everything hurt so much and yet the worst pain was in his mind, seared in his memory.

"You took it!"

Peter's accusation seemed like shards of glass piercing through his mind, slicing, scratching deeper, embedding itself in his brain forever.

Despair mixed with the sting of Peter's distrust and his mind was stuck in a loop of hurt and fear. Images kept jumping to the forefront of his mind's eye.

The barrell of a gun.

Flames and the heat of an explosion...

Peter's face, filled with so much rage.

He didn't- he couldn't make himself do anything. He felt trapped in his own mind.

The deafening sound of the explosion, the hot feeling of flames on his back, the sensation of the concrete underneath him as the shockwave knocked him down.

Adler's face when he told Neal was the closest thing to a son he ever had, moments before the gunshot rang through the place.

Peter's eyes... his eyes when he grabbed Neal and spat out that he was certain Neal had done it.

It hurt deeper than he thought anything ever would. Neal hadn't realised, or rather had chosen not to acknowledge, that Peter had begun to mean so much more to him than simply a friend. Ever since Kate's death, or even years before while he was still in prison, Peter was there for him, offering words of advice, of comfort, promises that were actually fulfilled... He was there when no one else was, filling that space in Neal's heart that once had been occupied by the man who was now a cooling corpse on the ground.

Neal didn't know what to think. Didn't know what to do. Now that everything he'd been working so hard to make, the trust he'd been trying to build between Peter and him, the new man, not con, that he'd been trying to create, had blown up into nothing.

As his mind spiraled into an ever growing abyss of despair, he felt himself disconnecting from reality. He stared at his shaking hands and in his mind he thought that those couldn't possibly be his, he was a con man, he was sly and precise with his every movement. This wasn't him.

The pain that seemed all encompassing before, was now dulled by something awfully cold. His breaths were ragged and his heart was still beating wildly, but, as he blinked and raised his eyes beyond the fixed stare on his hands, laying still over his lap, he imagined that maybe this was all a dream.

The numbness that was creeping over his limbs, spilling from the emptiness that hurt his chest, was beginning to terrify him. While he felt freezing up, tension wanting to make his muscles lock and his breaths speed up to match the adrenaline flood, instead he felt his body swaying. His legs had gone numb a long time ago, but he couldn't attempt to stand even if he wanted to. He was tilting backwards, ever so slowly, untill he reached a position where he couldn't sustain himself anymore and he ended up colliding with the hard ground with enough force to knock out all breath left in his lungs.

Neal laid there, feeling the numbness reaching every last limb of his body, covering him with a blanket of cold. He stared up at the dark sky, absently noticing that it was almost fully night.

Neal watched the dark and polluted sky of New York City and wondered if he closed his eyes, he'd disappear in the fog too, just like the stars...

Neal came to his senses feeling warmth all around his limbs. It was so strange to his foggy brain, that it took him a long moment to identify that he was laying in a bed.

Not his bed, though. The mattress underneath felt a bit too hard on his back and the sheets over him were scratchy and too light to be comfortable.

But he was warm again and it felt wonderful for a whole minute, untill his mind began to catch up with him and memory after memory began to invade the peaceful state of mind he had hid himself in.

The kidnapping, the drugs.

The U-boat. The dynamite.

The treasure.

The explosion.

Adler.

Peter.

Involuntarily, Neal sucked in a breath at the memory, and then harshly started coughing. His throat felt painfully dry but each cough made him spasm and brought a wave of pain to his chest. He curled up on the side that hurt less, holding his breath in an attempt to stop the pain, even when his lungs protested the lack of oxygen.

The shift in position didn't help with the pain, instead, it made everything that wasn't hurting yet begin to ache.

He couldn't hold his breath forever, so he gasped when he couldn't hold it any longer, and the searing pain it sent through his ribs made him bite down his lip hard to stop a whimper from escaping.

Neal thought this torture would never end, every breath hurt and every cough that escaped from his throat felt like a stabbing straight into his chest.

Then, just as he thought he might lose the will to keep his pain to himself and cry out for help, the sharp edge of it began to dull. The ache in his ribs started to lessen to a manageable level and the stabbing when he took in a breath nearly disappeared.

That's when he noticed that he wasn't alone, wherever he was.

Someone's hand was travelling up and down his spine, the touch light, mindful of where it was hurting more. They were speaking, talking to him, but the words weren't making sense in Neal's brain. Something touched the tip of his lips, pressuring slightly, encouraging him to open up, and Neal had enough mindfulness to seal them in a thin line.

He wasn't going to take anything from whoever that was!

Even though he knew it hurt, he turned his body so he was laying on his back again, successfully dislodging the hand on his back and the paper straw that was being pressed on his lips.

He had to get a grip on himself. 'Cowboy up' as Peter so often said to him, but it was just so hard. His whole body was hurting, he felt weak and disoriented and his head was spinning even though he had yet to open his eyes.

Neal knew it wasn't an option. Knew that it was wishful thinking, just like he knew it was back when he was sick as a child and wished for a father that was dead, but he wanted Peter. He wanted Peter to tell him it was going to be alright, that he was safe, that he would protect him like he did after Kate's plane exploded and Neal was in the hospital.

He wanted Peter, but Peter didn't want him anymore. Peter didn't trust him. Didn't believe him.

All this brought fresh tears to his eyes and he found he had no strength to fight them. His chest was already heaving, as panic clawed at him from the fear of having been taken by Adler's men, and then the first sob erupted from his throat, shaking his whole body.

Hands were touching him again, one caressing his hair and the other cupping his cheek. They were speaking again, voice soothing and gentle, asking him to calm down, to take a breath and hold it for a few seconds.

For a moment Neal thought the voice was Peter.

The touch on his head felt familiar and the hand gently wiping his tears was rough and gentle at the same time, the way he would recognise anywhere.

Without meaning to, Peter's name escaped his lips. He knew it was wishful thinking, but he'd live in the illusion for as long as it lasted.

But the voice answered to it with eagerness, praising him for something he wasn't aware he was doing and encouraging him to continue taking longer breaths.

Neal frowned, for the first time feeling like he was missing something. He did what the voice – Peter's voice? – was saying, calming down enough to not feel like he might lose himself in his mind again.

And then he opened his eyes.

Fluorescent lights assaulted his pupils and he closed his eyes tightly, controlling his breathing to lessen the headache pulsing behind his eyelids. He sensed the light of the room dimming and risked reopening them a slit. Everything seemed foggy in the near darkness so he blinked a few times to clean his sight.

Neal immediately noticed that he was in a hospital. Nowhere else was as barren, sterile and white as hospital rooms were.

The second thing he noticed was the hand still on his face, cradling him like he was the finest artifact ever found. Following the arm of the person to the chest and to their face, against his better judgement, Neal sucked in a sharp breath again.

"Peter!" he managed to say, before the words scratched his throat and he fell into another coughing fit.

This time when Peter pressed the straw to his lips he opened them without a second thought. He drank the cool water as if he hadn't had it in days, which maybe was exactly what had happened, only slowing down when Peter asked him to take it easy. Half the glass was gone by the time Peter pulled it away, promising more in just a minute.

"Hey." Peter's voice sounded hoarse so he cleared his throat before continuing "How are you feeling, bud?"

Neal found he couldn't do anything but stare. He was so certain that Peter would never be there for him again, so certain that whatever had made him accuse Neal of stealing the art had created a rift between them that would never be mended...

"Neal?" Peter called, a worried frown replacing the relief in his expression "Are you okay? Are you still in pain?"

Neal numbly shook his head, feeling at a loss of words. His answer, though, brought back the relief to Peter's face. His eyes softened and a small smile appeared on his lips.

"Good, that's good." he said, still staring at Neal like he was important "You've got me really scared for a moment. I thought you couldn't breathe."

Neal just blinked in response, feeling his drug-induced sluggish brain two steps behind the current conversation. He knew his lack of responsiveness was making Peter begin to worry again, but he just couldn't wrap his head around the fact that he was actually there, that he really cared. That he cared enough to stay with him.

Peter still cared.

The realisation hit Neal like a freight train and he felt his vision grow blurry with tears. He let them fall, not minding that Peter was seeing him crying (again).

The worried frown was back full force. Then Peter was saying something about calling the nurse back, beginning to move away and removing his hands, and Neal couldn't bear to be left at that moment, so he snatched his own hand up, faster than he registered it and thought he could move, and held Peter's hand, guiding it back to his cheek. The movement hurt his bandaged wrist, but everything still felt distant enough that he didn't care.

Peter had gone silent after his sudden action and focused on him, waiting for something to tell him what to do next. To help was Peter's most predominant trait, and Neal could say he had seized the opportunity to use it plenty of times before.

But never like this.

"You're here." was the only thing he said, voice scratchy and thin from disuse.

Neal opened a smile, letting his hand slide down to his bandaged chest, and feeling all leftover despair leaving him with every calming breath he took.

Peter still seemed worried, but was trying to hide it for Neal's sake, so he opened a smile that looked like a strange mix of amusement and sadness.

"Of course I am. I'm not leaving your side." he said, sounding so honest, face open in a manger that Neal had only witnessed whenever Peter looked at his wife and rarely saw directed towards himself.

"Thought you were mad at me." finding the proper words to string a coherent sentence was a task, and to speak was hard, but he'd push himself regardless, because he needed to know.

Neal felt his heart accelerating, despite the calming breaths he was still taking, because Pete's answer could shatter the moment or change their lives for good. His fate rested in Peter's hands and now more than ever Neal understood that it didn't mean only prison and freedom.

"I was." Peter fought to find the right words for a moment and Neal thought that he was done, that their partnership was over and their relationship would never be the same again "I was. I'm not anymore."

Neal sighed in relief, feeling a weight being lifted from his chest, making breathing a little easier despite his injuries. He opened a wider smile, not filtering the joy it brought him.

Peter stared at him for a long moment, smiling too, but his looked a bit sadder.

"I'm sorry for what I said." he started, becoming serious again "I should've believed in you. I was harsh and stupid and I am truly sorry. I hope you can forgive me."

Neal was frowning again. He wasn't expecting such a heartfelt apology for a discussion that, at least on Peter's side, wasn't so heartbreaking.

"I... Okay." Neal simply answered, too bewildered to say anything else.

Peter shook his head, not seeming to accept his words, but thankfully he didn't push.

"We'll talk about this again later." and his smile was back "How are you feeling? And don't even think about lying." he said, pointing a warning finger to him before Neal could open his mouth.

"Honestly? I feel like I've been hit by a truck." he said, laughing a bit at his joke but stopping short when it pulled at his ribs.

"Yeah, that's a fair equivalent to the pressure release of God knows how many TNTs exploding inside a submarine." he smiled, but his eyes were pained again "You could've died. You could've died so many times that day and still I-"

Peter cut himself with a deep breath, calming down for Neal's sake. He resumed scratching at the back of Neal's head with one hand, to have something concrete to focus on instead of what ifs. Elizabeth only knew how many nightmares he had woken up from, with the horrible images his mind had conjured when he-

"Hey, I'm okay now." Neal said, noticing the distress growing in Peter's eyes.

Peter chuckled, smiling at him "How come you're in the hospital bed and still you're the one comforting me?"

Neal matched Peter's smile with the brightest he could muster in his state.

"That's just how good I am." he said, knowing that Peter would scoff and remind him for the nth time who was wearing a tracking anklet.

But he didn't. Peter's smile disappeared and Neal saw pure honesty in his eyes as he stared at Neal's with unwavering intensity. Neal swallowed dry, suddenly very nervous with Peter's mood change.

"You are." Peter said, voice low and heavy with emotions he was trying hard to keep to himself.

To Neal's slightly confused face, he continued.

"You are a good man and I couldn't have asked for a better partner and friend than you."

For the second – or third? – time that day Neal felt his eyes watering. He didn't know how to answer to that declaration. He was sure that if he opened his mouth right then he'd embarrass himself by confessing a four letter word that started with an 'L' to Peter, so he shut his mouth and opened a smile, hoping, no, knowing that Peter would understand it.

Neal still didn't know what had happened to him after he marched away from Peter's accusation, he didn't know what had caused that in the first place, or what had made him change his mind, but he was grateful for the moment of peace they were sharing.

It would end, Neal knew. Eventually he'd have to face whatever had happened, but for now everything was just right.

As Peter's hand was still running through his hair, his eyes kind and soft, Neal let himself drift off. The safety Peter's presence brought him every time was enough to send him back to sleep without a worry in his mind.