#finally a proper tag for my taglist

[i-messed-up-big-time]

Lonely Birthday - Caleb

Caleb x Non Mc/Reader

divider creds: @/cafekitsune

a/n: ok this is my longest fic yet (can you tell he's my fav), chat i think i cooked with this one. this will be the last part in my lonely birthday series, i really hope you guys enjoyed it!!

Tags: angst, happy ending, female pronouns, reader is not MC, female pronouns, cursing, reader is childhood friends w/ caleb and MC, MC is a bit of a spoiled brat here (pls dkm), this is set in a timeline where there are no evols and caleb does not die in an explosion, this one acc has a backstory in comparison to the other parts I wrote, just cause jumping right into it with caleb just didnt feel right without a proper backstory, use of pet names (sadly he's not calling you pip-squeak in this one but he does call you baby), mentions of self harm (nothing happens its just a thought that passes), lmk if i missed smth

word count: 5.3k

masterlist

Xavier Rafayel Zayne Sylus

taglist: @rcvcgers

You were always overshadowed by her, from childhood to adulthood.

To make matters worse, your birthdays were only a couple of days apart, yours coming before hers, because they were so close together your birthdays were always celebrated with her on her birthday.

It was like killing two birds with one stone. Every time you complained about wanting to celebrate your birthday on your actual date you were told it would be unfair for MC.

Your own family favoured her more than you, sometimes you wondered whether they even considered you their daughter at all.

But then there was Caleb. Him and MC were inseparable when you first met her, always there whenever you two hung out. Eventually, you got close to him as well and began to hang outside of your meet ups with MC.

He always made you feel like you were your own person, not a shadow of someone else.

Maybe that's why you fell for him.

Over the course of your childhood leading into your teenage years you were head over heels for him. Anyone could see it was obvious, and to certain people it bothered them, and you never noticed it until it was too late.

●・○・●・○・●・

Despite being the same age as MC, there was one thing you had that she didn't. You were far smarter than those your age, that gave you the ability to skip ahead a couple of grades so that you were at a level that was more to your capabilities.

But your brain could only get you so far in certain circumstances.

You were in the same class as Caleb, so naturally you ended up being closer to him than you were before. It also made admiring him much more easier.

But nothing was ever easy for you. All throughout your school years MC would always barge in on your study time with Caleb, always needing help with her assignments.

Normally, it wouldn't be a problem if it was a one off thing, but anytime you were over at their place to study with Caleb, it became a tutoring session for MC. It was even more annoying when she would constantly brush off your help, only wanting Caleb to help her.

"I don't understand it when you explain it. You're always using difficult words."

MC whined whenever you would offer to help, and each time Caleb would laugh and ruffle her hair.

"It's okay pip-squeak, I'll explain it in simpler terms."

Whenever he would say that, you could feel a pang in your chest.

It was during that time you and MC started to drift apart. You never really understood until that day.

●・○・●・○・●・

The day before graduation you finally chalked up the courage to confess to Caleb, and to your surprise he had accepted.

You had anticipated a rejection, knowing that he was busy with prepping to go to Skyhaven to attend the DAA, and unfortunately a lot of his free time was spent with MC.

He had always been protective of her, he also extended that to you as well. Although the way he treated you was different than the way he treated her.

The fleeting glances, the lingering touches, the nights he would spend with you when things were bad. How could you not fall for a man who cared for you like that.

You thought it was just your delusions that there was something between the two of you, but him accepting your confession made those delusions become reality.

●・○・●・○・●・

Everyone found you guys to be an unexpected couple, they always expected Caleb to be with MC with how good their chemistry was, but he viewed her simply as his little sister. One that he was a little too protective of but you never found that to be a sense of insecurity.

Or so you thought.

You and Caleb had been dating for almost 4 years now. It was a bit rough with both of you pursuing your academics and not having much time to spend together, but you guys always made it work.

Sometimes Caleb would bail on your dates because something came up with his studies, and you believed him. Who knew it was because someone felt a little jealous of you guys spending time together.

You had never realized that the dates Caleb bailed were because someone back in Linkon wanted attention, and who better to ask than Caleb!

You and MC and drifted apart, and after your graduation you barely ever saw her unless you were home for the holidays with Caleb. You chose to be the bigger person whenever she tried to monopolize Caleb's time, knowing he saw you more often than her, you let it slide.

Although, deep down it bothered you that she would always try to be the sole focus of his attention or when you guys went out on a date she just so happened to be there too, turning it into a group hangout where you felt like the third wheel.

Crazy right? Being a third wheel in your own relationship, guess you could cross that off on your bingo card.

It was your birthday tomorrow, you and Caleb had planned a nice day in with him cooking your favourites and then baking a cake together. Both of your schedules had finally managed to align and you guys had a week off, so you planned on crashing at his place for some much needed quality time.

With it being your final year, you guys were buried in back to back assignments and exams, the stress was high. Having the week off let you guys finally have a moment to breathe.

You packed your bags for the week before making your way over to Caleb's place, it wasn't too far of a drive. You made a quick stop at the grocery store, grabbing your favourite snacks and some groceries so you can make him some food while you're at his place.

By the time you got to Caleb's place the sun was just starting to set. You walked into his place, unlocking it with the spare keys he gave you.

It was quiet in his home.

"Hmm seems like Caleb isn't back from his classes yet."

You thought out loud. Putting away your stuff in his room you made your way to the kitchen, wanting to cook Caleb some dinner.

Like magic, as soon as you were done adding the finishing touches to dinner, Caleb walked in.

"Hi baby, it smells good in here."

Caleb greeted you, coming closer to place a kiss on your lips.

You quickly sent him away to go wash up while you set the table. Dinner was nice and peaceful, it was moments like these that made you feel happy. No distractions, just you and Caleb.

You guys spent most of dinner just catching up about all the stuff that happened while you guys were apart. Caleb insisted on cleaning up since you had cooked dinner, so you were sitting on the counter next to the sink as he washed the dishes.

You chatted away mindlessly, he listened with a smile on his face, throwing in a response here and there.

Once he was done, you were about to jump off the counter when Caleb slotted himself between your legs, hands coming to rest on your hips.

You immediately went quiet, the mood shifting to something more intimate. He leaned forward and pressed his forehead against yours, nuzzling your nose with his.

You guys stayed in that position for a little bit, enjoying the moment. The rest of the evening was spent with you guys just lounging around and catching up.

As you were getting ready for bed you could feel your stomach drop with anxiety for no reason, you brushed it off as just your nerves about sharing the same bed with Caleb after a while.

You shouldn't have brushed it off.

You got changed into one of his t-shirts and got into bed, Caleb slid in not too long after, wrapping his arms around your waist to pull you in closer to his chest.

“Goodnight.”

He said as he placed a kiss on the top of your head.

“Goodnight.”

You replied back, snuggling closer into his chest.

●・○・●・○・●・

It was around 4 am when you woke up to feeling an empty bed next to you.

It’s still warm, Caleb must have just gotten up.

You got out of bed to go look for him. The moment you stepped out the your room you spotted him in the living room dressed to go outside.

The alarm bells in your head were going off.

“Hey, where are you going this late at night?”

It was just a simple question, one that didn’t warrant the reaction you were about to receive.

“Out.”

Caleb replied in an oddly cold tone.

What’s with that tone?

“Okay, but that’s not what I asked. Where are you going?”

You asked again, something in your gut was telling you that you were not going to like the answer.

Caleb sighed out in frustration before replying.

“MC called and needed me, so I’m going to Linkon right now. You know how she gets.”

Normally you wouldn’t say anything, but this was supposed to be your time with Caleb, no distractions.

“Why do you always go at the drop of a hat whenever she calls? You’re supposed to be spending time with me, not running to her whenever something doesn’t go her way.”

Years of frustration were finally bubbling to the surface, you didn’t want it to come out but you had to set your boundaries.

“It’s not fair to me as your girlfriend if you keep putting her above me.”

Your voiced raised a bit as you spoke, you didn’t mean for it to but having to constantly deal with MC barging in on your time with Caleb, whether she knew he was with you or not, was beyond irritating.

“I’m not putting her above you, she just requires a bit more care and attention than you do.”

That did it, if you weren’t mad before you definitely were now.

“Excuse me? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It’s exactly as I said it. MC always feels insecure, even more so when you skipped grades and left her alone. I can’t just ignore her when she calls me asking for help.”

Every explanation that came out of his mouth had you seeing red, you weren’t gonna back down either.

“Don’t you dare try to pin this on me? Just because we were friends didn’t mean that I had to be stuck to her hip 24/7. I skipped those grades cause it benefited me for my future, and if she really was my friend she would’ve been happy for me instead of sulking around like a child.”

That lit a fuse in Caleb, if there was one thing he didn’t tolerate it was anyone saying something about MC, even if it was you.

“You better watch what you say, I won’t tolerate it even it it’s you.”

His tone had you taking a step back, it was a whole different level of cold. You should’ve taken that as your sign to back off and come back to this when you guys were less heated, but who were you if not stubborn.

“Omg how could I ever insult your precious MC. You need to let go of that overprotectiveness you have when it comes to her, it puts me in a tough spot when you go running to her like a dog when its owner calls.”

You probably took it too far with that but you were past the point of no return.

“You’re so infuriating! What do you not understand that MC needs me right now, every moment I spend here on this useless conversation is more time she’s alone.”

He spat back.

I’m infuriating?

That hit a nerve, but you couldn’t let him see that, not until you got all your feelings out.

“I’m infuriating?! What about MC? Every time we get some time together she always fucking ruins it! Can’t I just have all of your attention and time without her trying to barge in? It’s like she’s trying to make it so we don’t spend any time together!”

“God you’re so fucking clingy! I knew I should have listened to MC when she warned me not to date you!”

He yelled that at you, and for the first time since the conversation started you were speechless.

“What?”

Your voice was low and filled with hurt. You couldn’t believe your ears that he would say something like that.

“You heard me. I should have never dated you. I ignored MC when she warned me, I gave you the benefit of the doubt but I should’ve fucking known. MC would have been a better girlfriend than you.”

You could hear your heart breaking, you don’t know if you’d ever recover from this.

Caleb took your silence as an opportunity to walk around you to the door, slamming it behind him.

You felt your knees give out, the tears were streaming down your face in silent pain. You didn’t know he thought of you that way, you didn’t want to think that way but a part of you felt like MC was talking bad about you behind your back. It makes no sense he would say all of that on his own.

Will I always be in her shadow? Is that all I’m worth?

You thought to yourself.

●・○・●・○・●・

God knows how long you were in that position for, no sign of Caleb coming back or any calls or texts. You picked yourself up off the floor and gathered all your things, you’d be damned if you spent another minute in this house where you clearly had no worth.

Throwing on a pair of sweatpants, you made sure to clear everything you had at Caleb’s place, not leaving a single thing behind.

You put everything in your car and drove yourself home. It was 6 in the morning so the roads were starting to get busy but it was quiet enough for you to be lost in thought, a dangerous action while driving. You were so lost in thought you didn’t notice that you were approaching a red light until it was too late.

A car had crashed into your drivers side, and everything went black.

●・○・●・○・●・

*In Linkon*

Caleb had made it outside of MC’s dorm, the argument he had with you weighing heavy on his mind but his first priority was MC.

Who knew that argument would cost him everything.

It didn’t take long before MC threw open the door and jumped into his arms. He returned the hug by patting her on the head before heading inside.

“What happened? Why did you call?”

He asked, although his mind wasn’t entirely present in the moment, it kept drifting back to you.

“Oh no reason, I was just thinking about you and decided to call you. You know it’s my birthday in a couple of days so I wanted you to spend some time with me this weekend.”

For the first time ever, Caleb felt a spark of annoyance at MC’s reasoning. She had called him earlier in tears and said he needed to come quick, he even fought with you before coming here.

Pushing that feeling aside he simply smiled.

“You know I can’t do that pip squeak, I already promised Y/N I would spend my week off with her. We had a bit of an argument before I came here, so I have to go back in a bit to make sure she’s fine.”

He said.

She’ll probably be calmed down by the time I come back.

He thought to himself, boy was he wrong.

MC pouted, not liking how things weren’t playing in her favour, but she planned on trying to come up with another excuse later to get him to stay longer.

●・○・●・○・●・

A couple of hours had passed when he got that heart stopping call.

“Hello is this Caleb Xia? This is Skyhaven Hospital calling about Miss Y/N.”

The nurse spoke in a hurried tone, tt was like someone had knocked the wind out of him.

“Speaking, what happened.”

His anxiety went through the roof, what happened after he left? Did you hurt yourself? But he never say any signs of depression, was he actually putting MC above you so much that he was ignoring your feelings?

His mind was running a mil a minute with each thought progressively getting worse, the guilt from what he said to you when you guys fought was finally kicking in.

“She was involved in a car accident and needs surgery, we require a signature from her guardian to proceed. Are you able to come in right now? It’s urgent.”

“Can I give you my consent over the phone? I’m currently in Linkon and it would take me some time to get back, I don’t want to delay the procedure.”

Although Caleb sounded composed, on the inside he was breaking.

“The surgeon said that should be fine, please do make sure to be here as soon as possible as you need to fill out some forms. We’ll get started on the surgery. Thank you.”

The nurse promptly hung up, leaving Caleb to his thoughts.

Without wasting a moment he got up and made his way to the door. MC had been trying to listen to what was being said on the phone, unable to decipher what was happening based on Caleb’s words alone. Seeing Caleb getting ready to leave she jumped up, trying to stop him.

“Where are you going? You can’t just leave, you basically just got here!”

She grabbed ahold of his arm, trying to physically stop him but it was of no use, he pulled his arm out of her grasp and tried to leave again before she spoke up.

“What excuse did she come up with this time? She does this all the time whenever you and I spend time together.”

Something in him had just snapped, it was like a fog had been lifted. Never in his life did he think he would be here getting upset at MC, but life has a funny way of proving you wrong.

“What are you even talking about, when has she ever done that?”

MC was taken aback, Caleb never questioned her whenever she said anything like this before, he would just spend some time comforting her.

“I don’t have time for this, I’m leaving. I’ll talk to you about this later.”

He said in a curt tone, leaving no room for discussion.

●・○・●・○・●・

Caleb had booked it to Skyhaven, not wanting to waste a single moment.

By the time he made it, the surgery was still ongoing. Grabbing the nearest nurse he asked for an update, unfortunately they didn’t have much of an update to give him aside from the fact that your condition was really bad when you were brought in. You had ran a red light and were hit on the drivers side by oncoming traffic, the other driver made it out with minor injuries and a concussion.

Unfortunately, you weren’t so lucky. You had been brought in with internal bleeding, a broken arm and head trauma. Your recovery period was going to be lengthy, which in turn would also hinder your ability to graduate this year like you had planned, but that was a problem for next time.

Caleb slumped onto on the chairs outside the OR, the time passed by excruciatingly slow.

●・○・●・○・●・

A couple of hours later the operation was finally completed.

Seeing you in that condition physically hurt him, his chest feeling constricted.

“We were able to stop the bleeding but she’s still unconscious, because the head trauma was severe it’ll take some time before she will wake up.”

Caleb nodded, listening to the doctor’s words intently. He followed the nurses to the room where you were going to be recovering, taking a seat next to the bed he held your hand in his.

“I’m sorry, please. Please just wake up soon.”

Sadly you wouldn’t wake up for another two months.

Everyday Caleb would come to take care of you, making sure to change the flowers before they began to wilt, taking responsibility to wash you and take care of your hair, hell he would even do your skincare at night so you’d wake up in perfect condition.

Although he knew deep down inside that nothing he could do could ever make up for the things he said and how he made you feel. Caleb and MC had also grown apart during this time, constantly wishing that he had never went to see her that night, if he didn’t then maybe you’d be awake and smiling next to him instead of lying still on that bed in this lifeless hospital room.

Caleb came in with a fresh bouquet of your favourite flowers, silently he replaced the old ones, making sure to get some fresh water before putting in the new bouquet. Once that was done he made his way to his usual spot, right next to your bed.

Earlier the doctor said you were recovering well, although it would take some time and rehab for you to use your arm again. You’d also be weak from the extended period of time that was spent in bed, but Caleb was nothing if not determined to make sure he was there for you every step of the way.

“Hey baby, it’s me Caleb. You’re probably tired of hearing my voice everyday huh? The doctor says you’re recovering well, you’ll just need some rehab to help you get back into the groove of things when you wake up.”

Caleb kept getting choked up the more he spoke, he just wanted you to wake up, even if you don’t want him anymore, he’d be fine with that.

“I miss you, your voice, your sweet smile, everything. If I could trade spots with you I would. So please, please just wake up. I’m sorry for everything, I’m such a shitty boyfriend aren’t I? I can’t believe I said all of that, on your birthday no less.”

At this point the tears he tried so hard to hold back started streaming down his face. It was hard to keep up that strong front, but he tried because he felt that he didn’t deserve to be sad, not when he’s to blame for you being in this state.

He grabbed a hold of your hand, bringing it to his face hoping to feel something. Anything.

He nuzzled his face in to your hand as he silently cried. It wasn’t long before he was passed out in that chair, still holding your hand to his face.

He felt it in the middle of the night, always the light sleeper he was awake at the slightest of movements. He knew he wasn’t mistaken, he felt your hand twitch for this first time in two months.

He was now wide awake and sitting upright in his seat, watching you closely. That’s when he say it, your hand twitched in his hold, a slight groan escaping your lips, but your eyes had still yet to open.

Caleb had already pressed the call button, the nurses and doctor filling the room in a matter of minutes, that’s when you had finally opened your eyes.

●・○・●・○・●・

A series of tests had been conducted and the doctor had caught you up to speed with everything before you were left alone with Caleb. You avoided looking at him the entire time, it stung, but he couldn’t complain.

You cleared your throat uncomfortably, the dryness getting to you, but before you could even get the water, Caleb had already poured a glass and was holding it out to you.

You silently took it from him and drank it slowly, not wanting to shock your system. It was a struggle, your grip on the glass was weak. It almost slipped out of your hands if not for Caleb holding the bottom of the cup.

Once you were done, Caleb put the glass on the side, reaching out to grab your hands. You pulled them back before he could touch you.

“Why are you here Caleb? Doesn’t MC need you?”

Were you being petty? Yes, the fight that you guys had may have been two months ago for him, but for you it was like it was yesterday. The wounds from his words were still fresh.

You missed the look of hurt that flashed across his face, but it disappeared as quickly as it came.

"You don't get to come in here and think that everything will be fine. I just wanted one week with you, no distractions. All I got in return? You leaving me alone on the morning of my birthday after telling me you should've listened to MC when she told you not to date me?!"

You had tears in your eyes, but you refused to let them escape. You didn't want to let him see just how broken you were about this.

Caleb had nothing to say, how could he? He was the one who put you in this position, he's the reason you ended up in the hospital.

"Please just leave."

Your voice sounded so broken, all he could do was listen to your request even though every cell in his being told him to stay by your side. He chose to just wait outside your room, not wanting to be too far away from you but still wanting to respect your request.

As soon as soon Caleb left the room you let the tears you were holding back fall, your body shook with sobs as everything came crashing down on you.

Even with the morphine you could feel the lingering bits of pain all throughout your body.

You eventually ended up crying yourself to sleep. The silence had Caleb worried, so he had decided to check in on you, seeing that you were asleep he was able to calm himself down a little.

But the sight of your tear stricken face had him clutching his chest in pain, all he wanted to do was take away your pain.

For now, he was just going to try his best to be by your side, no matter how much you pushed him away. He was determined to make things right.

●・○・●・○・●・

A couple of weeks had passed before you were finally released from the hospital.

During that time Caleb was as stubborn as ever, never leaving your side unless it was for classes, he spent the nights next to your bed, watching over you. He was always one step ahead, if you were thinking about food or water, the next second he would have it in front of you.

You didn't want to admit it, you enjoyed having him wait on you hand and foot. But you still weren't ready to forgive him, not yet. You still needed to talk to him about what happened before you could decide where this relationship was headed.

You wanted to give him another chance, seeing how tirelessly he's been taking care of you these past few weeks. You could only assume he was doing the same those two months where you were unconscious.

In the meantime, you decided his punishment would be your silence, not speaking to him unless it was absolutely necessary. Even then you only spoke a few words.

Caleb was currently in class, it was a Friday so that meant he'd home earlier than the other days.

You didn't have much of a choice as to where you'd be staying, Caleb wanted to make sure you were taking all your medication as well as doing the exercises you were assigned for your rehab, he knew how forgetful you could be, and you were in no condition to be staying on your own. So his solution was to have you stay at his place.

Being there brought back bad memories, but you had made up your mind to talk to him about it. If you were going to be staying here you needed to know where you guys stood in each others lives.

You were currently in his room, wanting to take a nap but your mind was too active for you to relax.

It wasn't long before Caleb came home, not seeing you in the living room he immediately made his way towards his room.

The moment he walked in he relaxed, seeing that you were alright. You saw him and thought,

It's now or never.

"We need to talk."

Caleb's heart dropped, his mind went crazy thinking you were about to break up with him. Although he couldn't blame you for wanting to, but he refused to let you go, you were the only good thing he had in his life, he couldn't afford to lose you. Not before he had a chance to make things right.

"Okay."

He said as calmly as possible, not wanting to give away the immense anxiety he was feeling from this situation.

He walked towards you, kneeling on the ground next to you.

"I'm giving you one chance to explain yourself for that night."

That was all he needed to go on tangent about that night, from the call from MC where she was crying to going to her house and finding out she had been lying to him to get him to spend more time with her instead of you to him and MC having a falling out because of the things she said about you.

He laid it all out, he wasn't proud of the fact that he was so easily fooled by her. He had known her far longer than he had known you, and thought she would never lie to him, boy was he wrong.

"I admit that I have absolutely no excuse for letting myself believe her words. I can't forgive myself for the things I said that night and how I just left you there. It was all my fault."

He took your hands in his, you would've pulled them out of his reach but this time you let him hold them. You could see in his actions and in his eyes how much he regretted that night and how he had been trying everyday to make things right.

"I blame myself for your accident, if I had just stayed with you, if i had never said those words you wouldn't have ended up in this condition."

You had never really seen Caleb cry, so seeing him now in tears as his brain recounted the feeling of seeing you on that hospital bed, had your mind coming to a conclusion.

You were going to give him another chance, his one and only chance. If anything like that happens again you won't stick around, you had enough self respect to not tolerate that.

You removed yours hands from his, Caleb had a look of hurt when you did that, but it didn't last long before you cupped his face, wiping away his tears.

"You get one chance only. Mess up and you'll never see or hear from me again, got it?"

He nodded his head like a child before pulling you to the floor and onto his lap.

He hid his face in the crook of your neck as silent sobs raked his body. You ran a soothing hand through his hair to help him calm down.

It hurt to see him like this, but he also deserved it. Even if it was a fraction of the pain you went through.

"I promise I'll make it up to you. Anything you want, I'll do it."

His voice came out muffled, but you could feel the sincerity in it.

"I'll hold you to that."

[kwanisms]

KINKTOBER 2024

» svt menu | skz menu | atz menu | txt menu | the rose menu | soloist menu «

➮ monster!idol (svt, atz, skz, txt, woosung, + dpr ian) × fem!Reader wc: — (TBD) summary: a collection of timestamps for the spookiest month of the year genres/themes/au: angst, fluff, smut; supernatural, horror, thriller; non idol au, monster idol au warnings: adult dialogue, female reader, mentions of: food/alcohol consumption, supernatural & horror themes; sexual content (18+ mdni), see each part for further warnings. ⚠️  taglist will be in the reblogs join my taglists: main | special kinktober taglist closed! Strikethrough means I cannot tag you.  MINORS WILL BE BLACKLISTED & BLOCKED. AGELESS BLOGS WILL ALSO BE BLOCKED.

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❑ 「10:03」 WRONG TURN ➮ bunyip!Chris × fem!Reader × bunyip!Chris kinks: threesome + pool/water sex prompt: ❛❛ Make Me. ❜❜ + ❛❛ God, you’re so beautiful when you’re fucked out under me/us/him. ❜❜ summary: Y/N is convinced her map is wrong when she finds herself utterly lost on what was supposed to be a short hike from her camp. When she comes upon a small river and stops to fill her canteen, she finds more than water waiting for her. wc: 6.6k READ NOW!

❑ 「10:04」 SPEED DATING AN ONI FOR DUMMIES ➮ oni!Jeonghan × fem!Reader kinks: bulge kink + deepthroating prompt: ❛❛ I haven’t even touched you yet and you’re already wet. ❜❜ summary: Speed dating never was Y/N’s thing but lucky for her, she just so happened to meet someone worthwhile. He asked her on a proper date & has been a perfect gentleman throughout the night. Even if he is an oni. wc: — READ NOW!

❑ 「10:05」 GUEST RELATIONS ➮ centaur!Mingyu × fem!Reader kinks: premature ejaculation + degradation prompt: ❛❛ Good boys get rewarded, so behave. ❜❜ summary: Y/N owns an inn in the countryside, left to her by her grandparents. She gets all sorts of visitors but her favorites are the unusual and monstrous ones. When a centaur named Mingyu arrives, she gives him the best horse-size room she has and goes above and beyond to make sure his stay is memorable and welcoming. wc: — READ NOW! — will be late

❑ 「10:06」 BAD DOG, GOOD BOY ➮ werewolf!Woosung × fem!Reader kinks: knotting + creampie prompt: ❛❛ Is that my shirt? ❜❜ summary: All you wanted was a quiet, relaxing night to yourself after a tough week at work. One night to relax and unwind. With your clothes in the wash, you decide to borrow one of your roommate’s shirts. Something he notices when you walk back into the living room while he’s taking a break from gaming. wc: — READ NOW! — will be late

❑ 「10:07」 ONLY MINE ➮ werefox!Hongjoong × fem!Reader kinks: possessive sex + marking prompt: ❛❛ I’m not jealous! It’s just… you’re mine. ❜❜ summary: Hongjoong is possessive by nature and when people get too close to his mate, he has to remind her who she actually belongs to. wc: — READ NOW! — will be late

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🅆🄴🄴🄺 2

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❑ 「10:08」 GAME OF RIDDLES ➮ kumiho!Beomgyu × fem!Reader (feat. Yeonjun & Soobin) kinks: dacryphilia + CNC prompt: ❛❛ I love it when you cry. ❜❜ + ❛❛ What do you mean you’ve never cum from sex? ❜❜ + ❛❛ Your panties are soaked already. ❜❜ summary: When Y/N’s best friends Yeonjun and Soobin dared her to explore an old mine shaft on the edge of town, she never expected to find anything but rock so when she stumbles across an extremely gorgeous man with bright orange glowing eyes, to say she was shocked was an understatement. wc: — READ NOW!

❑ 「10:09」 FALLEN ➮ fallen angel!Seungmin × fem!Reader kinks: impact play + begging prompt: ❛❛ Oh no. Not until you beg. ❜❜ summary: His fall from grace had been due to his hard headedness and Seungmin’s status as a fallen one never really crossed his mind. At least until he met Y/N. He’d been dejected and grown disillusioned with life but upon meeting her, he started to see some meaning to life again. To put it simply -- Y/N made him feel alive. wc: 4.5k READ NOW!

❑ 「10:10」 DON’T HOLD BACK ➮ wereleopard!Yunho × fem!Reader kinks: size kink + praise prompt: ❛❛ Try to stay quiet for me, kitten. Can you do that? ❜❜ summary: Yunho hadn’t been on a date in ages when he managed to land a date with his cute coworker, Y/N. Cue one awkward first date and a handful of other successful ones, Yunho feels like he’s starting to settle into his growing relationship. The only thing holding him back is that his girlfriend is so small and it drives him mad with the desire to pin her down and unleash his inner beast. He finally comes clean when Y/N asks him why they aren’t more intimate. wc: 3.3k READ NOW!

❑ 「10:11」 THE MONSTER UNDER YOUR BED ➮ bogeyman!Vernon × fem!Reader kinks: tentacles + virgin sex prompt: ❛❛ I’m waiting for your permission to let me have my way with you. ❜❜ summary: The monster under Y/N’s bed has been hearing her touch herself for the last few years & is starting to get jealous. Why does she touch herself when he’s right there? wc: 3.9k READ NOW!

❑ 「10:12」 BUMP IN THE NIGHT ➮ incubus!Jongho × fem!Reader kinks: somnophilia + mind break prompt: ❛❛ I’m going to have you screaming by the end of the night. ❜❜ summary: To pass his final incubus test, Jongho must visit the human world and seduce a sleeping person. wc: 2.5k READ NOW!

❑ 「10:13」 HEY, CHECK THIS OUT ➮ shapeshifter!Junhui × fem!Reader kinks: mutual masturbation + voyeurism prompt: ❛❛ Lay back and touch yourself, I’m going to watch. ❜❜ summary: Jun is a witch and has been practicing his shapeshifting. He’s excited to show Y/N his new trick which has an unintended reaction. wc: 3k READ NOW!

❑ 「10:14」 BLOODLUST ➮ vampire!Wonwoo × fem!Reader kinks: bloodplay + period sex prompt: ❛❛ Aw darling, I almost believe you. ❜❜ summary: Y/N has always avoided sex during her period in the past. Not because she found it gross but because her partners did. Wonwoo is different. Wonwoo loves it. Wonwoo also happens to be a vampire so he might be a bit biased. wc: 3.8k READ NOW!

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🅆🄴🄴🄺 3

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❑ 「10:15」 A QUIET MORNING ➮ kitsune!Jeongin × fem kumiho!Reader kinks: dry humping + morning sex prompt: ❛❛ Do you really think you’re in a position to give orders? ❜❜ summary: A year after setting off to find his mother, Jeongin returned to Y/N, finding she had given birth to his daughter. Time skip to another two years later and Jeongin often wakes up to his three year old daughter and one year old son jumping on the bed, shaking him and Y/N awake. It’s not often he gets to spend the morning with his wife so when Clover offers to watch the kits so Jeongin and Y/N can have a weekend away, he jumps at the chance. wc: 2.9k READ NOW!

❑ 「10:16」 BEWARE OF BEARS ➮ werebear!Changbin × fem!Reader kinks: outdoor sex + strength kink prompt: ❛❛ I cannot possibly focus with your damn hand in my- ❜❜ summary: Changbin just wanted to have a nice camping trip with his girlfriend but she has other ideas. wc: 4.1k READ NOW!

❑ 「10:17」 THE RITUAL ➮ demon!Chan × fem witch!Reader kinks: lingerie + facefucking prompt: ❛❛ You look so good on your knees. ❜❜ summary: Y/N has been practicing her summoning, hoping to finally summon a demon. Imagine her surprise when she not only succeeds in summoning a demon but he’s insanely gorgeous and wants to make a deal. wc: — READ NOW!

❑ 「10:18」 GOD OF DEATH ➮ shinigami!Hyunjin × fem!Reader kinks: rope play + dubcon prompt: ❛❛ I promise I’ll be gentle. ❜❜ summary: As a god of death, Hyunjin spent most of his days in the underworld but after deciding to visit the human world, he finds himself drawn to a particular human and even conspires to drop his very own death note, hoping for her to pick it up. wc: — READ NOW!

❑ 「10:19」 SEASIDE RETREAT ➮ merman!Seungcheol × fem!Reader kinks: daddy kink + choking prompt: ❛❛ Baby, I asked you a question, so if you know what’s good for you, you’d better answer me.❜❜ summary: It’s been a few weeks since Y/N last came to the small seaside town where her boyfriend resides and suffice it to say, he’s missed her greatly. wc: — READ NOW!

❑ 「10:20」 THE SIREN’S SONG ➮ siren!Wooyoung × fem!Reader kinks: thigh fucking + brat-taming prompt: ❛❛ Yell at me again and I’ll give you a reason to scream. ❜❜ summary: Y/N’s been having a rough season. The fish have almost all but disappeared and each catch is smaller and smaller. While doing some overnight fishing, she’s woken from her slumber by a beautiful singing and finds that the one doing the singing is even more beautiful. wc: — READ NOW!

❑ 「10:21」 MADE OF STONE ➮ gargoyle!Seokmin × fem!Reader kinks: thigh riding + orgasm control prompt: ❛❛ Come here. I’ll show you how to make yourself feel good. ❜❜ summary: Nights are the only time Seokmin can truly live as he spends his days frozen in the glow of the sun. Night was also the time when his human girlfriend would come to pay him a visit. wc: — READ NOW!

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🅆🄴🄴🄺 4

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❑ 「10:22」 BOREDOM ➮ naga!Seonghwa × fem!Reader kinks: table/counter sex + double penetration prompt: ❛❛ I’m bored. Let’s fuck. ❜❜ summary: Y/N’s naga roommate is still trying to get used to the hustle and bustle of life in the city. He finds it difficult to go out and socialize as monsters aren’t socially accepted yet. So he tends to go a little stir crazy and get bored often. Lunchtime is no different when he suggests they do something fun. wc: — READ NOW!

❑ 「10:23」 CHEATING DEATH ➮ reaper!Yeosang × fem!Reader kinks: corruption kink + cock worship prompt: ❛❛ Have you never been touched like this before? ❜❜ summary: When an aneurysm in her brain ruptures, killing Y/N, she is faced with a reaper who has come to collect her soul but she might have just discovered a way to cheat death. wc: — READ NOW!

❑ 「10:24」 CAN'T TAKE THE HEAT ➮ yuki-otoko!Jihoon × fem!Reader kinks: temperature play + spitting prompt: ❛❛ What? Does that feel good? ❜❜ summary: As a snow demon, Jihoon can’t stand the heat and takes to staying in his apartment he shares with his roommate, Y/N. When the AC breaks down, Jihoon asks Y/N for help in keeping him cool. wc: — READ NOW!

❑ 「10:25」 APHRODISIA ➮ alien!Minho × fem!Reader kinks: sex pollen + breeding prompt: ❛❛ Baby… you need me that badly? ❜❜ summary: After Minho’s return to Earth, Y/N has spent the last year traveling the galaxy with her alien boyfriend. While exploring a tropical moon orbiting a massive planet in a binary star system, Y/N accidentally disturbs a cluster of bulbous purple luminescent flowers that release a glowing purple dust that sticks to her clothes and skin. She returns to Minho’s ship hoping that the dust isn’t toxic and will wash off but as she soon finds out, the dust is a very sparkly and potent aphrodisiac and it has a profound effect on not only her, but on Minho as well. wc: — READ NOW!

❑ 「10:26」 ROCK THE BOAT ➮ samebito!Jisung × fem!Reader kinks: body worship + dirty talk prompt: ❛❛ Tell me you love me. ❜❜ summary: Y/N’s work has been taking her away from the ocean and keeping her in the office, making her samebito boyfriend, Jisung, very lonely and putting a wedge between them. One night after Y/N doesn’t show up to his underwater cave, Jisung makes a simple little wish that he could go on shore for once to go see her instead of waiting for her to come to him. wc: — READ NOW!

❑ 「10:27」 GO INSANE ➮ werepanther!Christian × fem!Reader kinks: public sex + cockwarming prompt: ❛❛ We can’t do this here! What if someone sees? ❜❜ summary: a nice visit to the Japanese countryside was in store for Y/N and her fiancé. What she hadn’t planned on was how insatiable the werepanther was and his animalistic urge to be inside her while she sits on his lap on a crowded bus. wc: — READ NOW!

❑ 「10:28」 HEAT CYCLES ➮ weretiger!Soonyoung × fem!Reader kinks: heat cycles + rough sex prompt: ❛❛ You heard me. Take. It. Off. Now. ❜❜ summary: Normally during his heat, Soonyoung stays as far away from his girlfriend as he can for fear of scaring her away but he can’t help himself when she comes by to drop some soup off seeing as he told her he’s sick. wc: — READ NOW!

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🅆🄴🄴🄺 5

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❑ 「10:29」 THRILL OF THE CHASE ➮ werecoyote!San × fem chipmunk hybrid!Reader kinks: predator/prey + hybrids prompt: ❛❛ Why are you shaking? You’re not scared of me are you? ❜❜ summary: San’s favorite thing about his roommate is that as a hybrid, she triggers his prey drive which makes him want to chase her around their apartment, and even if it’s not her favorite thing ever, she doesn’t mind indulging him. It usually ends with her pinned on the couch or wall before San will playfully nip at her and let her go but this time, it ends with her pinned against his bed, triggering more than just his predator drive. wc: — READ NOW!

❑ 「10:30」 ALMOST HUMAN ➮ gorgon!Seungkwan × fem!Reader kinks: shower sex + drunk sex prompt: ❛❛ We’re not just friends and you fucking know it. ❜❜ summary: Seungkwan is the youngest of three siblings and the only male gorgon in his family. Probably due to his half-human heritage on his father’s side. He’s lucky that his appearance is much more human than his sisters’. Although he looks mostly normal there are still some things that aren’t quite… human. His inhuman strength and other snake-like features set him apart from the rest, so why his best friend and roommate likes him so much, he doesn’t know why. All he knows is that he’s madly in love with Y/N. wc: — READ NOW!

❑ 「10:31」 MIDDAY HIKE ➮ näcken!Joshua × fem!Reader kinks: overstimulation + sensory deprivation prompt: ❛❛ Don’t act so innocent. I heard you. ❜❜ summary: Trekking through the forest has brought Y/N nothing but joy but now she’s hearing a mysterious violin playing in the distance and follows the sound to find the source. wc: — READ NOW!

©️ kwanisms 2024 | all works on this blog are protected under copyright. Do not repost, continue, or translate my works. All graphics made by me.

[bella-feed]

I'm back home, love

pairing: idol! military-bf!jeonghan x f!military-gf reader

warning(s): the reader and jeonghan both cry, mentions of hugs and kisses, food, and mentions of seungcheol and dino. reader is elder than dino and hence he refers to her as 'noona'

genre: fluff. pure fluff (its sad in the start tho ☹️)

wc:

author: i miss jeonghan. ik he aint my bias, but my feed is litreally filled w edits of him. and since @sanaxo-o is a military gf, thought I'd surprise her w this. im litreally writing this after banging my head to history :(( [HISTORY SUCKSSSSSSS]

bella's masterlist || taglist

tagging :: @mooniewrld , @syluslittlecrows , @joepomonerof , @potayaa

You sat on the dining table, near the kitchen, with a dim overhead light, eating store bought ramen, again. You missed him, ofcourse you did, he was your boyfriend.

Jeonghan being gone to military should be normal, since you both knew he would have to go. But his enlistment was on the same day as your birthday! Its been two years since he has been enlisted and he would still refuse to tell you when he'd comeback.

Those two years felt like 20 centuries. You and Jeonghan had been dating for 7 years without it being noticed by the media. His enlistment affected the "most" to his fans, or as they thought so, but only you knew how you held yourself together for those two years.

For the last three days, Jeonghan was out of your reach. You couldn't contact him, nor did you know any proper method of contacting your love. Worry ate you up, and once again the sleepless nights begun— same as the former onces, just when he was enlisted.

The door bell rang, flinching you out of your thoughts. You set down the spoon, which was in your hand and got up with a sigh.

You walked towards the main door and switched on the lights of the living room, on your way. A small gasp let out of your mouth seeing Seungcheol and Dino on the other side of the door.

You made way for them to enter your apartment. "Seungcheol, Dino what are you guys doing here?" A small hint of surprise was evident in your voice, as they made themselves at home.

"We just stopped by, Noona. Do you have something to eat, I'm starving." He replied, already walking towards the kitchen cabinet to find something for him to eat.

"There might be some snacks." You muttered, sitting down next to Seungcheol. Your ramen long forgotten on the dinning table, itself.

"There is a surprise for you." Seungcheol announced, on the arrival of Dino with a bag of chips in his hands. "A surprise! For me?" Surprise clearly evident in your voice now.

"Yea. Also, Happy Birthday, Y/n." He said leaning for in for a hug. You thanked him, not before Dino engulfing you in a hug too. You were pretty close with Jeonghan's members, so physical contact was normal in your friendship.

"What surprise?" You reminded Seungcheol. He smiled at you and patted your head, making his way towards the main door. While walking he shoved his phone in his pocket, ignoring your confused look at his action.

He opened the door and, "I'm back home, love." A sweet voice made its way to your ears.

Tears sprung in your eyes as you couldn't believe who was in front of you. Jeonghan ran towards you, throwing his military bag on the ground. Seungcheol and Dino, with a smile on their faces saw the scene unfold before thier eyes.

Jeonghan picked you up from your couch and held you tight by your waist. You head buried in his shoulder and your feet tangled near his waist.

He took in your smell and let out a sigh of relief when he finally held you. He set you down on your feet and slowly wiped away the tear which raced below your cheeks. "Hannie." You said softly, hugging him again.

He rested his chin on your shoulder, closing his eyes, ran his hand through your silky hair. "I am back. Forever." He smiled.

Detaching from the hug, he placed a kiss on your lips, cheeks, eyes, everywhere.

"This is your surprise, Y/n." Seungcheol smiled, still standing near the door. You smiled back at him, obviously loving his "surprise".

"Happy Birthday, love." Jeonghan said before crashing his lips to yours, again. Seungcheol and Dino left your apartment, letting you both to be. And, obviously Dino took your chips' packet with him.

credits: @adornedwithlight (dividers)

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

The Keys Of Heaven [Chapter 8: And The Life Of The World To Come] [Series Finale]

Series summary: Three years ago, Father Aemond Targaryen performed a miracle. Now he is a cardinal, a media sensation, and a frontrunner to be elected pope. You are a nun who has been brought to Vatican City to assist with the papal conclave. But when your paths cross by happenstance, you must both reckon with your decision to join the Catholic Church…and what you want from the future.

Series warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), references to abuse and violence, volcanoes, bodily injury, death, peril, scheming, pining, some drugs/alcohol/smoking, Catholic trivia you never asked to learn, kangaroos!

Word count: 5.7k

🦘 A very special thanks to my Aussie slang consultant @bearwithegg and also her mum (any mistakes are mine) 🦘

💜 All my writing can be found HERE! 💜

Tagging: @mrs-starkgaryen @chattylurker @lauraneedstochill @ecstaticactus @neithriddle, more in comments! 🥰

🗝️ Let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist 🗝️

Like all things here, it is a ritual. When a cardinal receives the two-thirds majority of votes required to win the papacy, amidst the applause of his peers, he is asked by the dean in Latin: Do you accept your canonical election as Supreme Pontiff? And he agrees and answers: Accepto. No one ever says Non accepto. No one ever refuses the waiting adoration of over one billion souls.

Next the dean asks what papal name he wishes to be known by—Quo nomine vis vocari?—and the pope-elect gives it, Thomas I, Nicholas VI, Innocent XIV, you get the idea. Then the stove is lit and the ballots burned, along with a mixture of potassium chlorate, lactose, and pine rosin that will ensure the smoke billows from the chimney white and jubilant. The cardinals file out of the Sistine Chapel, the bells of Saint Peter’s Basilica ring, and the crowds filling the square outside cheer; and the new Holy Father dons his white cassock and zucchetto and steps out onto the balcony to introduce himself to the flocks of the faithful, to the world, to the pages of history.

Some popes were prominent voices in the Church long before entering the conclave, like the erudite Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger of Germany who became Pope Benedict XVI in 2005. Others were relatively unknown, like Cardinal Karol Wojtyla of Poland who became Pope John Paul II in 1978, elected as a consensus candidate when neither of the favorites—the conservative Giuseppe Siri and the liberal Giovanni Benelli, both of Italy—could amass a supermajority of votes. In the old days, some won the office through bribery and threats, shades of fraud that reveal a myriad of deadly sins: exorbitant pride, glittering greed, envy for acclaim they have not earned.

And yet no matter how it happens, once a man is a pope he never stops being one. Even if he resigns, even when he dies, the Church will never allow a Holy Father to be torn down or forgotten or disgraced, even if he deserves to be; and when the time comes he is entombed in Saint Peter’s Basilica or the Vatican Grottoes beneath it to become a relic like all the others, aged brittle yellowed bones of popes and nobles and royals and saints.

~~~~~~~~~~

“So you were the one killing them all along,” Rhaena says as you stand together by the koi pond. She grins at you, crooked and mischievous. She keeps flapping her arms around; she knows she doesn’t have much longer to enjoy her white wool habit and is making the most of it.

“Yeah,” you admit with a sigh. “I was.”

“You’re lucky Sister Augustina already carked it. Otherwise she would have terrorized you, she’d have been mad as a cut snake.”

“Righto.”

“We’ll need to read up on proper care for koi fish before we get our own. We can’t have you going all Ivan Milat on them, can we now?”

You look out into the horizon, trees and hedges and fountains that have turned to greyscale ghosts, the vast shadow of the wall that surrounds Vatican City. It’s been raining off and on, and the mist hangs low and heavy, opaque like the future. You can just barely hear that the crowds are singing in Saint Peter’s Square, reverberations too soft and distorted for you to decipher the song. Without realizing you’re doing it, you clasp your medallion of Saint Agatha, cold plain iron that turns warm in your hands. “Rhaena, I have to tell you something.”

“Okay,” she says, and then immediately bursts into tears.

“No, no, don’t cry, mate!” you plead, reaching out to touch her shoulder.

“I know you want to leave,” Rhaena sniffles, not angry or betrayed but only wounded, deeply and defenselessly. “I know you weren’t just saying those things because you got a concussion. I just don’t understand why. You were always so genuine and so happy. I’ve met sisters that do seem kind of miserable, but you weren’t like them!”

“My calling to be a nun was genuine,” you assure her gently. “And so is my conviction to leave now. I’ve felt it for a while. That’s why Mother Maureen sent us here, to either renew my devotion to my vows or help me hear that the Lord is leading me elsewhere.”

Rhaena paws a travel-sized package of Kleenex tissues from a pocket of her habit and noisily blows her nose, sniffles some more, peers miserably down into the dark water sparkling with flashes of scales, red and black and white and gold.

“Rhaena,” you say, and she reluctantly looks at you, her eyes swimming with tears. From her throat hangs a medallion depicting Saint Jerome, the patron saint of orphans. “I’m leaving the convent, but I’m not leaving Sydney. And I’m not leaving you either.”

“You’ll forget about me.”

“No, I won’t. I’ll get a flat in the city somewhere, but I’ll visit you and Mother Maureen all the time. I’ll still volunteer at the shelter and go to Mass every Sunday. I’ll still help you build the koi pond.”

“Really?” Rhaena whimpers, wanting very badly to believe you.

“Defo. I love you, mate. You’re my family. I don’t want to be anywhere else.” But if Aemond ever flew to visit Athens, I’d go with him, you think, a thought that seems to come from nowhere. To find his son that he’s never met. To find his grandchildren.

Rhaena dabs at her eyes with a fresh Kleenex, the tears slowing. “But I’m still so confused…I mean, renouncing your vows, that’s heaps drastic! Why do you have to go right now? What do you think you need that you can’t get as a nun?”

“Well…” You smirk, and when she realizes what you mean you both laugh.

“Seriously?” Rhaena asks.

“Yeah. I thought I was alright without it, but turns out I’m not.”

“You want a husband?”

You nod, smiling a little to yourself. “I can’t stop envisioning myself with a partner. Maybe kids too, I’m not sure. That part is still fuzzy.”

Rhaena sighs. “I can’t relate, but I guess that gives it some context.” Then a disturbing notion strikes her. “You and Cardinal Targaryen, you’re not…you’re not, like, interested in him or anything, right?”

“Oh no, of course not,” you lie very convincingly.

“Good, because I know you two get along and all but he’s deadset not available. And you can’t do anything to hurt his reputation once he’s the pope.”

“No wukkas.” You stare into the thick grey mist, breathe in the cool December air that tastes like metal. Soon you’ll be in Sydney, Australia, where the sand is golden and the air hot and dry and buzzing with the hymns of cicadas, and Aemond will still be here: moving into the Apostolic Palace, greeting multitudes of the exuberant faithful, holding audiences with world leaders. “He’s very committed to the role.”

“He’s going to do amazing things,” Rhaena says softly, dreamily.

“Too right,” you murmur in reply, faint like an echo ricocheting back through decades.

“Should we go help with brekkie so Sister Penny doesn’t have an aneurysm?”

“Yeah, we probably should.”

But you walk slowly, not wanting to see Aemond, not believing that you’ll be able to keep your eyes from drifting to him and getting ensnared there like the iron combs in Saint Blaise’s flesh, stained with crimson blood and torn ropes of muscle. But Aemond is not in the dining hall. Nobody else seems especially alarmed by this; they assume he is praying—or, if they are a cynic like Auclair, at least pretending to—in these final moments before he is given one of the greatest responsibilities in human history, something no good man would ever crave.

As you bring fette biscottate, coffee, and hot chocolate to Aemond’s usual table, Lucky decides to go check on him. He waves goodbye to his friends and gives you a deep nod before he leaves the dining hall, like he’s acknowledging a sacrifice you’ve made. You blink at Lucky, startled despite the fact that you shouldn’t be by now.

Is this really happening? Is this really over?

Cam, cleaning his round eyeglasses with a microfiber cloth, is asking Kazi: “When are you coming to visit me again?”

“Never, if you’re going to make me sleep in a yurt.”

Cam laughs. “They’re called gers. And the ger is a beloved and ancient fixture of Mongolian culture!”

“If I wanted no hot water or television, I could have stayed in the Eastern Bloc.”

“Gers are older than the Catholic Church.”

“So are caves, and I don’t want to sleep in one of those either.”

“We had fun in the ger last time.”

“You made me play Parcheesi until 4 a.m.”

“Yeah, like I said. We had fun.”

Kazi rolls his eyes and then turns to Lando, puffing on his vape. The vapor is sweet and fruity, maybe strawberry. “You must be very excited to get back to your orphans.”

“You would think so,” Lando replies. “But I woke up this morning and, much to my own surprise, found myself a little sad to be leaving. There is so much history here, and so many new people to meet always coming and going. It’s all very inspiring, you know? I’d like to return someday. Perhaps I could find a way to make myself useful.”

Kazi shrugs. “Well, there are orphans everywhere, I suppose.”

Now the dean Cardinal Seaborn is rushing over, his grey hair ruffled, his red zucchetto slightly askew. “Cardinal Nowak, I beg you, please stop smoking inside,” he says.

Kazi grins as he slides his white-and-red vape into a pocket of his scarlet cassock, thirty-three buttons fastened from his throat to his ankles. “I hope you are enjoying yourself, Brother. It is your last chance to scold me.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Lucky finds him outside in the mist, leaning against the sand-colored concrete exterior of the Domus Sanctae Marthae and smoking a Karelia cigarette. From Saint Peter’s Square, he can hear the crowds singing The First Noel.

“Pre-wedding jitters?” Lucky jokes, then he turns serious when he sees Aemond’s face, the unscarred right half shellshocked and full of dread. “Aemo, what’s wrong?”

“I just, um…” Aemond takes a drag and exhales smoke while he searches for the words. His bandaged hand is shaking, Lucky notices. This shocks him; he has never seen Aemond rattled before, not when he visited sites of earthquakes and landslides and wildfires, not when he blessed people who had been pulled from the rubble, maimed like he was on Nea Kameni. “I guess I’m feeling a little…conflicted.”

Lucky tries to soothe him. “It’s an immense responsibility. It would give anyone pause.”

Aemond flicks ashes off the end of his cigarette, avoiding Lucky’s eyes, large and dark and sympathetic and wanting so sincerely to help.

“This isn’t about the nun, is it?”

“No,” Aemond says. Then he winces and confesses. “Yeah, it is.”

Lucky is exasperated. “You’ve wanted to be the pope for as long as I’ve known you, even longer than that, I’m sure, and I’ve always felt that there was no better candidate. Now suddenly you see her again after all these years and you become a different person? If you believe God is telling you to leave the Church and be with her, you can share that with me. You can unburden yourself, and we can discuss it. I cannot argue with God. If He has called you away—”

“God doesn’t speak to me,” Aemond says. “He never has.”

Lucky’s brow furrows. Never? he must be thinking. That can’t be right. Never?! “What is it that led you to the Church?”

Aemond admits in a whisper: “Pride.”

“But…you do have some faith, don’t you…?”

Aemond doesn’t reply; he just stares back at him miserably, his cigarette smoldering between his fingers.

“Aemo,” Lucky says slowly, trying to stay calm. “You are my brother. And you are my friend, and I love you, always, unconditionally. But I don’t know how to help you right now. I don’t know what you’re asking for.”

“I don’t know either.”

Lucky points at the building. “Those men in there are going to elect you in half an hour. It’s happening.”

“Right,” Aemond says, like he can’t quite comprehend it.

“I don’t think I could stop it even if I wanted to. People think you are a saint, Aemo. They think you’ve been chosen by God. I think you’ve been chosen by Him.”

Aemond nods and stares into the mist, silent, forlorn, his cassock a long gash of red like an open wound, like a stigmata.

“Who else?” Lucky asks softly. “Who else could we trust to lead the Church in the right direction? Who else could get enough votes to win? Give me a name and I will see what can be done. I’ll do it for you, even if I believe you are a miracle worker and a gift to this world. But I can’t think of anybody else. Can you?”

“No,” Aemond says.

The cardinals begin leaving the Domus Sanctae Marthae, pouring out into one of the narrow streets that wind through Vatican City like veins, and Lucky swiftly conjures a broad, blithe smile and greets them, then leads the procession towards the Sistine Chapel. It is the last time they will be ceremonially locked inside to vote, a symbolic holdover from the days when cardinals were not permitted to leave the chapel at all until a new pope was chosen, not even if it took weeks. After all, the word ‘conclave’ comes from Latin: cum clave, meaning ‘with a key.’

As the ballots are tallied, Aemond hears Cardinal Jahoda’s name called twice, Lando’s called a handful of times, and his own name called again and again and again. He gazes at the vast sky blue fresco painted on the altar wall of the Sistine Chapel, Michelangelo’s The Last Judgment, illustrating the Second Coming of Christ and the resurrection of the dead. He sees Saint Lawrence with the gridiron he was roasted alive on, and is reminded that Lawrence—the patron saint of cooks and comedians—is Kazi’s favorite, just as Lucky wears a medallion etched with the likeness of Saint Valentine and Cam has a ring depicting Saint Catherine of the breaking wheel. Aemond sees Saint Bartholomew clutching his own flayed skin, Saint Sebastian riddled with arrows, Saint Peter holding the Keys of Heaven. And Aemond does not believe in any of this, and he never has, not even in moments of weakness, not even as a metaphor; but she does, and he can’t stop thinking about her.

I left her once, and it was hell for both of us. How can I do it again?

Aemond glances over at Lando, who sits beside him, and sees that he is making absentminded sketches in red ink as he waits for the last of the ballots to be counted. Lando has drawn a menagerie of tiny animals: a gecko, a manatee, a stork, a shaggy-haired yak...and a kangaroo, bounding across the white paper. Aemond closes his eye and sees them again: hopping on the beach in the early morning hours, grazing on tufts of grass that grow out of the sand dunes, nibbling on tangles of seaweed that wash up onto the shore, leaving pawprints that he and a nine-year-old girl kneel down to trace reverently with their small fragile fingertips.

Through the veil—time and space woven together until they become impossible to separate—Aemond realizes that the cardinals are clapping and gathering around him. Kazi and Cam are competing to see who can cheer louder. Auclair is scowling at them as he performatively pats his palms together, not making a sound. Lucky is smiling, but he is watching Aemond with trepidation, perhaps even with fear.

“Aemo, are you alright?” Lando whispers with concern.

Cardinal Seaborn is asking: “Acceptasne electionem de te canonice factam in Summum Pontificem?”

When Aemond doesn’t instantly accept, panic crosses the dean’s face.

Seaborn says again, more urgently: “Acceptasne electionem de te canonice factam in Summum Pontificem?!”

~~~~~~~~~~

You hear applause coming from inside the Sistine Chapel, and you stare at the tall wooden doors, locked and flanked by two Swiss Guardsmen wielding their halberds.

“I reckon we should go tell Sister Penny, Sister Nuru, and Sister Helvi that it’s almost time to hear his first homily,” Rhaena says excitedly.

“Sure thing,” you reply. But then you sprint for the doors.

“What are you doing?!” Rhaena yelps as she follows you.

You rip through the Guardsmen when they try to block your path, drop to your knees on the grey marble steps, press yourself against the wood so you can hear what’s happening inside.

A Swiss Guardsman snaps: “Sister, no one is permitted near the doors.”

“Quiet.

“Sister—”

“Be quiet or I will pray for God to do horrible things to you!” you say, and the man appears shaken. The Guardsmen blink at each other, uncertain of how to proceed. After some hesitation, Rhaena apologizes meekly to them and then perches on the top with you.

“What’s going on?” she murmurs. And you listen, through the rush of blood in your arteries, through the pounding rhythm of your heart, until you hear his voice.

“Non accepto!” you shout from where you kneel just outside the Sistine Chapel. “He said non accepto!”

Rhaena gasps. “What?! Why?!”

“I don’t know!”

One of the Guardsmen seizes your arm and tries to drag you away. You don’t flinch at all, and you don’t move either. “Sister, forgive me, but you must not—”

“Shh!” you hiss fiercely at him, and he recoils, and again you lay your palms and ear flat against the door.

~~~~~~~~~~

The cardinals have erupted into chaos. People are yelling, protesting, interrogating, surely they could not have heard him correctly. Jahoda, Auclair, and Ferrari have huddled together and are chattering eagerly. Lucky is rubbing his forehead and staring vacantly at the floor. “What the fuck?” Kazi mutters to Cam, who shakes his head; he doesn’t understand either.

Aemond stands and walks down into the aisle, then addresses his audience. “Thank you, Brothers, for your great faith in me. But I believe I am being called to a different sort of life. And I…” He touches the gleaming gold cross that hangs from his neck, then takes it off and sets it on a table that’s been brought in for the conclave. There are sharp, scandalized intakes of breath. “I must confess that I am in love with a woman and I intend to live with her as a layperson, and therefore I am not fit for this office, nor even to cast a vote for the next man to hold it. So I’ll be leaving now.”

There are more outbursts of shock and despair; some men are weeping. Cardinal Seaborn collapses limply into a chair and clutches his chest.

“In my last act as a member of this conclave, and as a cardinal,” Aemond says. “I implore you to turn to someone who best embodies the qualities of Christ: humility, compassion, charity, faithfulness, forgiveness.” Then he looks at Lando, a long meaningful stare, until the other men start to notice. Lando gazes back at Aemond, speechless. What, me? the expression on his face reads.

Aemond bows his head, a hushed farewell, and strides towards the locked doors. In seconds, Lucky has grasped his plan and surged to the center of the roiling crowd, his voice booming, his gestures dramatic and rousing.

“Brothers, I invite anyone who has a single criticism against Cardinal Almazan to speak now! Who here can give voice to even one instance of pride, or wrath, or envy? No, we are all well-acquainted with his character...”

When he reaches the tall wooden doors of the Sistine Chapel, Aemond thumps his fist against them. “Unlock the doors!” he commands, and then when the Swiss Guardsmen outside are reluctant, Cardinal Seaborn joins him.

“Open up!” Seaborn orders. “This is the dean! We have one cardinal leaving. Do this quickly, so the conclave can resume!”

There is the metal scraping of a key in a lock, and then cool December daylight streams in through the space that appears like the vastness of the ocean. The nuns that had been kneeling on the marble step skitter out of the way, but Aemond only sees one of them. She staggers backwards and gapes at him, waiting for him to speak. After a moment, he does.

“What you said about us leaving together…is that still something you’re open to?”

She nods, thunderstruck but beginning to smile. “Yeah, defo.”

“Do you think we could get a driver to take us to the airport?”

“If you’re the one who asks, sure.”

And he offers her his bandaged palm, and she takes it, and he pulls her in like he did in the golden candlelit glow of the Clementine Chapel in the Vatican Grottoes and kisses her, not for the last time but for one of the very first, his hands now perfectly clean.

~~~~~~~~~~

They have placed a Christmas tree in Saint Peter’s Square, towering and covered with ornaments and lights, right in the center beside the ancient Egyptian obelisk that has stood there since the 1500s. Today, tourists who have flown in from all over the world take selfies in front of it, and when the holidays have passed the tree will not be simply discarded but repurposed into toys for children in need, and so it will be passed on and on and on again, like a cherished heirloom, like the Keys of Heaven.

As the Fiat Panda skirts around the piazza, you look out through the tinted window into the crowds, carrying their homemade signs and waving their miniature flags and waiting for white smoke to billow from the Sistine Chapel. There are reporters interviewing attendees in front of video cameras labelled CNN, BBC, ABC, the Hellenic Broadcasting Corporation, Mega TV. There has been an altar of sorts assembled at the spot where Aemond freed you from the burning car, a display of white candles and red poinsettias; and there are statues and banners of Saint Agatha too. Someone must have told the press that she is your favorite saint, perhaps Mother Maureen when they called the convent.

Beside you in the back seat, Aemond wears something inconspicuous so he won’t get mobbed at the airport, black trackies and a white crewneck. He has also procured a pair of black sunnies from the driver. You are dressed in Levi’s and a red turtleneck sweater with reindeer on it. Back in the Domus Sanctae Marthae, you and Rhaena folded up your habits and stowed them away in your luggage; but your rosary is still in the pocket of your jeans, white pearls, a silver chain. As you gaze out into the crowds, you clasp the small iron medallion you’ll wear for the rest of your life, Saint Agatha and the torture that broke her body but left her soul unscarred.

“Dear God, you’re both famous,” Rhaena says from the passenger’s seat as she scrolls through her phone, social media posts and news articles and YouTube videos that have circulated prolifically while the conclave was trapped in seclusion. “People are calling the two of you their Roman Empire. They say they ship it. And you’re a meme, look!”

She shows you and Aemond a viral photo of him cradling you in one of the fountains of Saint Peter’s Square, the white Fiat engulfed in flames and screaming pedestrians in the background, both of you drenched with water, your eyes closed and his blood cascading down your face as he smooths back your hair, like you’re being baptized with it. The text box superimposed over your body reads: Me contemplating driving off a bridge during my morning commute. And then in the box on top of Aemond: A $9 iced coffee.

“Hm,” Aemond says, tapping his chin in that way that he does when he’s thinking. “So I guess we’re not going to be able to disappear into anonymity quite so easily.”

“Yeah nah, not a chance.” Rhaena beams at him. She keeps accidentally calling him Cardinal Targaryen, but that’s not his name anymore. “I think you’ll be inspiring people for a long, long time.”

Aemond smiles and drapes his arm across the back of your seat. There is no medallion around his neck, no rosary in his pockets, and there won’t be until he truly believes, and perhaps he never will. You’ll love him even if he doesn’t. Aemond tells the driver to turn on the car radio, and then makes him change the station until he finds Christmas music: O Come, All Ye Faithful.

At the airport, the customer service agents are remarkable unhelpful—swamped with holiday traffic and wearing jingling felt reindeer antlers or oversized Santa hats—until Aemond takes off his sunnies and they recognize him, their mouths falling open, their eyes filling up their faces.

“Father, aren’t you supposed to be getting elected pope right now?” one of them asks in a thick Italian accent.

But Aemond just shakes his head and flashes a grin. “God has other plans for me.”

Almost immediately, the agents find three seats for you on an outbound flight to Sydney, ten thousand miles southeast, eight hours ahead of the time zone here in Rome, twenty-nine years in the past. You sprint through the airport to find the gate—yanking Rhaena along when she tries to stop at Starbucks for a cuppa—and arrive just minutes before boarding begins. You take this opportunity to call Mother Maureen while Rhaena races back to the Starbucks, promising she’ll be quick. You have thousands of texts and DMs to reply to from your time in seclusion. At least you’ll have something to keep you occupied on the twenty-two hour journey, including a layover in Dubai.

The phone rings only once; she must have been waiting for you. “Hello?”

“Hi, Mum.”

“Hi, darling!” Mother Maureen cries, and you can feel the warmth of the hug she’ll give you when you land, and you can see the crinkles at the corners of her eyes and the long silver braid down her back. “How’s it going, love? You’re done there, yeah? We saw the white smoke. We’re all gathered around the telly waiting to see who walks out onto that balcony.”

They voted again already? “Yeah, I’m on my way home. And Rhaena too, of course.”

And then there is a pause, like the lull between the tolls of a bell. “Are you coming to visit, or to stay?”

You look to Aemond, who is wearing his black sunnies again and trying very hard not to be noticed, clasping your left hand, skating his thumbprint over the bumps of your knuckles; now he is allowed to touch you, and he never wants to stop. “Just for a visit.”

Mother Maureen can hear the smile in your voice. “Rather chuffed with yourself, aren’t you?” she teases. “I’m happy because you’re happy.”

“And I’m bringing someone with me.”

Now you’ve surprised her. “Really? Who?”

“A friend from a long time ago.”

Mother Maureen is confounded. “What?”

“I’ll explain when I get there.”

“Oh, they’re about to announce the next pope!” she says, and you can hear the other sisters in the background, indistinct ambient squeals of excitement. “It has to be that Targaryen bloke, right?”

You glance over at Aemond again. “I doubt it, Mum.”

“Oh, it’s...it’s...” Mother Maureen gasps. A chorus of bewildered turmoil fills the lounge room at the convent. “It’s some Filipino man that no one has ever heard of!”

Lando?! “Okay, I have to go, Mum! We’re about to board.”

“Text me your flight number so I can track you!”

“Sure thing. Cheers.”

You hang up, and before you can say anything, you hear a crescendo of a roar, like a concert stadium, like ancient Romans filling up the Colosseum to watch Christian martyrs get fed to lions. You and Aemond twist around in your chairs to see that passengers are turning up the volume on a flatscreen television mounted on the wall, CNN, urgent red graphics, breaking news. Rhaena returns with three gingerbread chai lattes and gawks at the television.

There on the screen, Lando steps out onto the balcony of Saint Peter’s Basilica. And applauding all around him are the cardinals of the conclave, and the loudest among them are his friends, their faces beaming and their cheers triumphant, and perhaps even more than that, proud: Lucky, Kazi, Cam. Jahoda and his supporters are clapping politely; this is a compromise they can live with. The dean Cardinal Seaborn looks like he could cry with relief.

Lando, now Pope Nicholas VI and dressed in white, speaks into the microphone with a dazed, shy smile: “Brothers and Sisters, I did not expect to be here, and you surely did not expect to see me either.”

The crowds in Saint Peter’s Square laugh, so deafeningly you can hear them through the television. You catch glimpses of tourists waving miniature flags of the Philippines. The Holy Father pauses to collect his thoughts before he continues. Here in the Leonardo da Vinci International Airport, more and more travelers are stopping to watch the small soft-spoken man on the luminous screen, their suitcases rolling to a halt, their expressions curious and then hopeful.

“In recent events, God has shown us the power of His miracles to heal, and to comfort, and to bring people together, and to revive faith that has been lost to us,” the new pope says. “It is my most sincere wish to define my pontificate with these same attributes. And it would not be right to address you here today without thanking one of my dearest friends, Cardinal Aemond Targaryen of Greece, for everything he has done for the Church and for the world. You will not see him here today. He has been called to a different vocation, just as noble, just as important, and I’m sure he will speak to you directly to share more about that when the time is right.”

A middle-aged man standing behind you whispers to his wife: “I knew he had something going on with that nun.”

“Would you save me from a burning car, babe?” the wife asks playfully.

“Oh yeah, totally,” the husband says, but he doesn’t sound entirely convinced.

The Holy Father continues: “Today, Brothers and Sisters, I ask for your patience and your prayers. To be entrusted with the Keys of Heaven is a sobering honor, and I am still at this moment very much in awe of their weight.” The people in Saint Peter’s Square cheer for him again: Bless you, Father! We love you, Father! “I am reminded of the Lord’s teachings that we are all God’s children, the beneficiaries of His boundless peace and mercy, the recipients of His promise of everlasting life, and as children we can never expect ourselves to be faultless, but rather to respond to inevitable missteps with compassion for both others and ourselves...”

But now your flight has begun boarding, and a life on the other side of the planet awaits you, something new but something old too, something mortal and yet divine, something resurrected.

Upon examination of the tickets, Aemond and Rhaena’s seats are together, while you are across the aisle. You tell Rhaena that you will switch with Aemond to sit with her, but she shakes her head. “No, you two should sit together,” she objects, and then when you try to decline, she insists. “I have to get used to giving you some space, don’t I?” she says, smiling warmly even if her eyes are still a bit sad. She is wearing a green velvet dress freckled with silver Christmas trees, and she looks so young. Was I really her age when I took my vows? I didn’t know anything yet. “It’s not like I’m going to move in when you get married. So go on, enjoy your flight. I have a lot of YouTube videos to catch up on anyway. We can meet up by the bathroom to have a yarn every hour or two. I’ll fetch you. Don’t think I’ll forget. Don’t get too distracted by your snogging or whatever.”

You chuckle and embrace her, only for a moment but very tightly. “I love you, mate.”

“I love you, sinner.”

And you both burst out laughing, and then you part ways, Rhaena to one row as you and Aemond take your seats in another.

The plane barrels down the runway, becomes weightless somehow and lifts into the sky, pitches and shudders until it is high above Rome and ascending rapidly, soft white clouds and an endless blue horizon. You gaze through the oval of clear glass, cold beneath your palm and fingerprints, thinking of froth on the ocean and the crumbling slopes of sand dunes. Beside you, Aemond types and retypes the same message over and over again in his Notes app, trying to figure out what to say to the son he’s never met. Then he opens Spotify and puts his AirPods in your ears, and his bandaged right hand lingers afterwards, cradling the curve of your jaw and stroking your cheek, threading his fingers through your unbound hair. And then he plays you a song. It’s Atlantic City, and it’s about the mafia, and escape, and love, and things that have died coming back to have a second chance at life.

You see yourself there again, a pizza place on the boardwalk when Sydney is hot and radiant with summer, and Aemond is not a twelve-year-old boy but a man, and instead of vanishing through the doorway into a labyrinth of night and stars and streetlights he is walking in to join you at the table, and he is smiling. Then Aemond’s son is there too, and his daughter-in-law and his grandchildren, and Sister Rhaena and Mother Maureen; and after twenty-nine years everything is right again, and everyone is home.

[written-in-flowers]

The Places Between Us: The Devoted Lover: (OT8 X Fem!Reader)

Pairing: Kim Hongjong x Fem!Reader | Sidepairings: Ateez x Fem!Reader

Genre: Smut, angst, fluff | AU: Fantasy!au

Word Count: 9k

Summary: After a week of waiting, Hongjoong finally makes his appearance in Breakbone Pass. Finally in each other's arms, YN and Hongjoong can take on the entire world together.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

Overall tags: dub-con, mind control, enslavement, kidnapping, forced breeding, monster fucking, sex work, mentions/implications of abuse, mentions/implications of SA, stockholm syndrome, public sex, exhibitionism, humiliation, degradation, breeding kink, bigdick!Seonghwa, bigdick!Yunho, DoubleDick!Yunh, monster fucking, face fucking, throat fucking, undead sex, sex w/ undead, belly bulge, anal sex, anal fingering, vaginal sex, multiple positions, multiple orgasms, squirting/vaginal ejaculation, slight size kink (height wise), overstimulation, facials, cum swallowing, choking, dom!ateez, sub!reader, tit fucking, sex toys, bondage, multiple partners, threesome (m/m/f), orc!jongho, naga!seonghwa, demon!hongjoong, dragon!yunho, undead!mingi, goblin!yeosang, lycan!san, lycan!wooyoung.

Taglist: @binniesbabe @stay-tiny-things @oiminho @babymbbatinygirl @sopematesxx @pirana10 @juicyjaxxy @corgilover20 @kinkymaminicole @londonbridges10 @readerofallthingss @dvbkie099 @cpg2020 @raralxyne

Part 6: The Orc Warchief < |

****

Breakfast consisted of a warm bowl of rabbit stew. You sat in Talia’s cabin, scarfing down the proper meal with a hunk of bread and milk, as Willow and Sunghoon played nearby. You have been staying with the Orcs for a week now, and your curse has not progressed at all. Talia explained your moonstone necklace, embedded with magic now, was warding off its worst effects. The only times it burned now were when Jongho snuck into your cabin late at night. 

“My brother is quite fond of you,” Talia said beside you, eating her own stew over a bed of steaming rice. “I have never seen him take to someone so easily.”

“It’s not me he’s fond of,” you sneered, spooning stew and rice into your mouth. 

The both of you laughed, and she nudged you gently. “I meant it in a platonic way,” she elaborated. “Jongho never takes to outsiders without them having to prove themselves somehow. Him and Kim are only friends because Kim defeated him in a sparring match; that had been after Kim went into a spider’s nest and defeated the broodmother, bringing my brother its legs as proof.”

You shuddered thinking about that. “Like I said, I think I proved myself to your brother in other ways.” Hongjoong came to mind again, and the burning question came out. “I don’t know why he didn’t tell me who he really was. You’d think being a big bad war hero demon person might be something to impress a girl with.”

“Kim isn’t the boasting type,” she replied. “Personally, I think he doesn’t like being praised as a war hero.”

“Why not?”

“Unlike most of our kind, Kim did not defeat the old king for glory or power. He did it out of love for his people. He did it to protect them. When he saw that Argos became possessed by a power hungry warlock, he realized he was the only one who could defeat him. None of us were there, but the stories have been passed down through generations. My uncle, father and grandfather all told my brother and I about Kim’s infamous battle. My grandfather liked to be mystical and say ‘fire and ice met on the battlefield, and ice won’.”

The image of Hongjoong, muddy and dirty in battle armor, facing off against another king came to mind. He’d told you stories of his other adventures. Most of them involved him fighting some monstrous creature or outwitting his enemies, but nothing like this. He never even mentioned a war. 

“I always thought he was a regular guy,” you shrugged, pushing a carrot around in the bowl. “He knew a lot about magic, but I thought he was just interested in the subject. I didn’t know he was magicfolk.”

“Demons can disguise themselves as normal humans,” Talia told you, washing her food down with fresh milk. “My uncle saw his demon form once, and he said it would make the strongest of Orcs run in terror.” She then said, “Perhaps he kept this from you to protect you. All these years later, Kim has made lots of enemies. They might be inclined to attack you if they knew you meant something to him. Considering the war is brewing, those enemies might decide to hit him in his softest spot.” 

Your heart warmed at being considered Hongjoong’s ‘soft spot’. 

“But, now that this is out in the open, he may decide now is the time for honesty,” she said. “His last letter mentioned he was half a day’s ride from here. He’s on Aerion, so he will be here even sooner.” 

Hongjoong’s latest letter was lying on your table back in your cabin. 

‘Dearest love, 

Fate has been a bitch to us, but now I think it’s starting to ease up. I left Tin City after freezing that goblin’s crops, and am on my way to you. I promise to explain everything when I see you. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen, love. I only wanted to keep you safe. You are the only good, pure thing in my life, and I wanted to keep it that way. But, I suppose the cat would make it out of the bag eventually. I’ll see you soon. 

Love forever, 

HJ.’ 

You read his letter so many times you memorized it. Even if Jongho worked you into full exhaustion, you still couldn’t sleep without reading it once. He was coming back to you. The days of suffering will finally be over and you’d have him back in your arms. 

Then you’d get the answers to your questions. 

“Auntie YN, come watch me train! I’ve gotten way better since last time!”

Sunghoon charged out of the cabin with his wooden sparring sword. You, Talia and Willow cleaned up the dishes, then went after him to the training yard. Led by an older Orc, the children listened intently to his instructions and demonstrations. As they began practicing on their own, you wondered where Hongjoong came from. He only said “the north” whenever you asked him. Were there other demons? If not, what happened to them? Did he have parents or was he an orphan like you? Why did he keep all these secrets from you? These questions burrowed themselves deep into your mind. You felt as if you didn't know him at all when you thought you did. You used to think you knew him more than anyone, but everyone you meet proved the opposite. Thinking about everything you heard about him, how could you be sure his name was Hongjoong? How could you be sure about anything?

Archery took your mind off things. Focusing on your target, you let loose arrow after arrow. You managed to hit inside the circles now, though not always. The motion and focus kept you from thinking about what else he hid. He said in his letter he didn't mean for this to happen. You vaguely recalled Seonghwa mentioning a gift before. What did that mean? Was Haeyoung meant to curse someone else, yet used it on you instead? If that was true, why did he let you stay with Seonghwa, whom he knew would take you again? You shot an arrow straight into the center of the target, thinking of the lies. 

“You're improving day by day,” Jongho patted your shoulder. “With a bit more practice, we might recruit you into the army.”

“With a lot of practice,” you said, starting to take the arrows from the target. “I don't think I’m army material.”

“I think you’ll end up surprising yourself.” 

“Trust me, it’ll definitely be a surprise if-”

Darkness cut off your words. The sun had been blotted out, and everything turned into night for the briefest moment. You looked up to see a wide, dark body gliding across the sky low to the village. It covered everything in total darkness. Attached to the underbelly were three small figures you couldn’t fully make out.

“Uncle Kim!” Sunghoon and Willow cheered.

“Hongjoong.”

A smile broke across your face, and happiness washed out the pain you’d been holding inside. Dropping the arrows, you ran out of the archery range with the two children behind you. The urge to be in the safety of his arms propelled you forward. Fate had kept you apart, and you’d make sure you came back together. You kept glancing up at the sky, trying to stay in Aerion’s shadow, as she flew to the mountains beyond. Several more Orc children cheered and rushed behind you, all pointing and jumping towards the wyvern. Your legs aching from sparring and your chest starting to burn from your panting, you still persisted. You and the children ran up a path leading up to a tall mountain peak. Even as the wind grew colder, you kept going. Hongjoong became your only goal. If you’d known about his true identity, you would not have kept running. You would have turned back. You would’ve stayed in place. You might not have a sword, but you would've fought tooth and nail to get back to him just like he’d done for you.

“Uncle Kim!”

“It’s Uncle Kim!”

“Aerion!”

“She has babies with her!”

The Orcs rushed ahead of you to the large beast settling in the clearing. Aerion was enormous, spanning several hundred feet with teeth as long as swords. Her dark blue scales reflected off the sun breaking through the grey skies, white spikes going from the top of her triangular head to her pointed tail. You froze in place, taking in the intimidating size of her from afar. Hongjoong managed to tame this creature? How? It was a story he never shared before.

Aerion lowered her head to the children, amber eyes blinking slowly when they approached. Clearly, she recognized them as children and not snacks. It was then you noticed the three figures from before clinging to her. Half-dragon, half-human, the Dragonite babies were as large as cats: one stood out in a shining silver, another a matte bronze and the last and smallest being a glittery emerald. They stayed close to Aerion’s body, snapping their jaws at those who tried getting close to them. From a leather saddle, someone climbed down to meet the crowd of small Orcs. 

“Hongjoong.”

You might be in a dream again. Right now, you’re sleeping in a cage where some overlord is waiting to take advantage of your curse. There is no way you’re standing on the same ground as Hongjoong. Your mind took in every feature of him before he could fade away from reality: messy black hair brushed back to his shoulders; the weariness in his eyes from travel being concealed with cheerfulness; the long black coat he wore over a black shirt and pants; the leather gloves he always took off right when before he touched you, wanting your skin on his at all times. He looked thinner than the last time you saw him. His upturned nose, his wide gummy smile, his pointed chin and jawline all came into view when he finally looked up. After days of mourning the loss of that face, you choked back a sob seeing it in the flesh.

“Is it really you?” The words came out in a small whisper, faint stinging coming to your nose.

“YN…”

His clear, high voice punctured your heart. Shaky legs took tentative steps towards him, the fear of him being an allusion keeping them behind. If you touched him, he’d break away with the wind. The closer you came to him, the easier the glaze in his eyes became. Lip trembling, you gripped the cuffs of your coat.

“Hongjoong…”

“YN…”

The both of you broke into a run. Your bodies collided, arms enveloping one another and he didn’t vanish. The crisp winter air clung to his skin, a slight frost on his coat, but he couldn’t have felt any warmer. He yanked off your hat to bury his face in your hair, and you heard him inhale the flowery oil Willow used to braid it.

“I’m so sorry,” he buried his head in your hair, arms tight around you. “I’m so sorry, love.”

‘Love’. Nobody called you that but him. To hear it from another man repulsed you, but not Hongjoong.

“Call me that again,” you breathed through your tears, chest tightening from the lump it created.

“Love,” he obliged, kissing your crown. He lifted your head, and you sobbed. It really was him. “My sweetest love,” he said, forehead pressing to yours, “My only love.”

“You’re here,” you wept, tears falling to your cold cheeks. “I thought I’d never see you again,” you touched his jawline, feeling up to his cheek to memorize his face. “I thought I’d be lost forever, and I’d lose every single memory of you that I have.”

“I wouldn’t let that happen,” he said, tears sticking to his lashes. “I wouldn’t have let that happen,” he shook his head, kissing your forehead and holding you there.

“I was so-”

“-I know. I know, love.”

The word ‘love’ broke you in two. You let out the first hard sob, you buried your face in his shoulder.

“It’s my fault,” he wept, stroking your hair. “I should have gone right to you. I shouldn’t have let you stay there. Seonghwa’s palace is one of the safest places for you to be. He might be a bit of a dick, but…It wasn’t supposed to happen this way. Not at all. Please, believe me.” He held you tightly, both of you shaking with tears. 

Your tight throat kept you from responding. Everything about him drowned it all out. You escaped deep into him as he held you.

“I’m never letting you out of my sight again,” he promised, gently pulling you from his shoulder to meet your eyes. “Not for a single second. Ever. It’s me and you forever. No matter where we go or what we do, it’s us. I swear, it’ll be us together.”

“I don’t want to be away from you ever again.”

“You won’t be.” Two thumbs wiping your tears, Hongjoong scanned over your face. “My love,” he said, voice cracking. “My YN…My beautiful YN…”

You stood there in his arms, not noticing the group of people coming up the path. Jongho and Talia had the good sense not to approach either of you, but instead started herding the children away from Aerion and her babies. Your fingers dug into his coat, balling up the fabric as you wept. Nce the worst of your tears passed, Hongjoong led you away from the point back down the mountain pass. 

“What took you so long?” you asked him, wiping your cold, wet cheeks. “I've been here a week already.”

“Byungho suggested that Aerion and I rest in the Choi camp for a while,” he sniffled, doing the same. “He is the healer there. I imagine you didn't meet him, but I wish you had. He would've protected you for me.”

“Protect me from Wooyoung?”

“And others who'd try hurting you. He may be old, but he's tougher than dragon skin,” he said.

“What did you do to him? Wooyoung, I mean.” 

The young beta wolf’s face floating to the front of your mind. Yes, you’d goaded him into throwing you out of the tent, but it’d been your idea to escape their camp. If you’d stayed put like the voice-Hongjoong’s voice-told you, he might have gotten to you sooner. 

“San handled him in their way. But, I might have frozen his arm,” he said.  “I had sent Garnet with a note to San, explaining who you were to me and that I’d forgive whatever he’d done to you, but when I saw…When that mongrel tossed you into the mud like trash, I wanted to flay him alive. I would have taken on that whole pack if they’d tried me. I thought of turning each and every one of them into living ice sculptures whenever I thought about it. Wooyoung is lucky that Byungho likes him so much, and that his brother is a forgiving person.”

“I bet he was embarrassed by that.”

“Very. The worst thing you can do to a lycan is make them look weak in front of their pack.”

“Like how stealing Dragonite babies is getting back at a Dragonite prince with a breeding kink?”

He laughed, a sound you melted at, “Yeah. Aerion hasn’t hatched her own in a long time, so I thought she’d like them.” 

“And you said you froze Yeosang’s crops?”

“His flower meadow, technically. He used them to line the whiskey barrels while they aged. Without a good crop, it’ll be hard to do and disrupt his whiskey profits.” 

“That would hurt, huh?”

“A lot. A hit to their banks is worse than a hit to their face.” His fingers tightened on your hip, “I don’t care that you were under my curse. They still….They still did that to you. Seonghwa was spared."

 "Why?"

"He was going to keep you on his island, as a guest," he added, "Until I had finished with my business around the north.”

"But then Yunho kidnapped me."

"But then Yunho kidnapped you," he nodded. He kissed your cheek and gave you another squeeze. "That's never happening again. I promise."

You pecked his lips, hugging him close to you as you headed down to the village. It wasn’t until you reached the bottom that you noticed the others. Orcs big and small put their right fist to their chest as Hongjoong passed, bowing their heads. Hongjoong only awkwardly nodded back, the ease from before turning stiff in their presence. 

“Why are they all doing that?” you asked him, noticing their solemn faces. 

“It's a respect thing.”

“Because you're a big badass demon guy?”

“Because I killed Argos.”

“Talia mentioned that to me,” you told him. “Why didn't you tell me about it? Why did you keep all this a secret? I thought you trusted me, Hongjoong.”

“I'll explain it later,” he said right as Jongho came around you both. 

“Kim,” he clasped hands with Hongjoong, “I'm glad to see you again, friend.”

“And you, Warchief.” Jongho smiled at the title, nodding. He stared around the camp, seeing the barricades at the entrances. “Already preparing?”

“You never know when your enemy is going to strike. One of our scouts saw an encampment of three-thousand men two days' ride from here. They can be on us any time.” 

Hongjoong’s face hardened, “The boy is bold, I'll give him that. Has Her Highness sent word?”

“Her last letter said she had just arrived at our outpost down the mountain,” he said. “I can show you-”

“-Brother,” Talia appeared at his side, “Let Kim rest and settle into his cabin first. He only just arrived.”

And had a lot of explaining to do. 

“We'll speak later,” Hongjoong assured him, patting his shoulder as he guided you away. 

Hongjoong seemed to already know where your cabin was in the camp. The moment you went through the door, you turned to him. He stood by the fireplace, pouring himself coffee from a kettle near the fire. You took him in once more and everything suddenly made sense. His unnatural beauty, his charm, his strength all made him stand out from ordinary men. Yet, you never considered him being anything other than human. 

“You're a demon.”

“I am,” he said, sipping the black, rich drink. 

“Why didn't you tell me?”

“I didn't want to tell you.”

“Why?”

“Because I didn't want you to be afraid of me,” he said. “I already stay in this human form to gain people's trust. I didn't want to reveal it to the most beautiful woman I'd ever met and have her run in terror. Demons don't have a good reputation, you know.”

“I wouldn't have been scared,” you assured him, playing with the stone around your neck. “If anything, I would have dug it.”

“My true form would have changed your mind. Trust me, the less you knew of me, the better it would have been for you.”

“Let me guess, your ‘enemies’?” 

“Yeah, them. Not everyone sees me as this big war hero,” he took another sip, letting it warm his insides. “There are lords and ladies I defeated who aren't the forgiving type. I worried they might find out about you and use you to hurt me. YN,” he put the drink down, “I wanted you as far away from all this as possible. You are the most important thing in my life and I didn't want anyone destroying it. But,” his eyes saddened, “It seems fate had other plans.”

“It didn't occur to you that maybe the true safest place is with you?”

“It crossed my mind, but every time it did, I'd remember every single person I lost and push it back down.” 

“Lost?”

“Friends, family, allies,” he replied. He hesitated for a moment, then said, “My parents died during a raid on our village by demon hunters. The local priest said we had set a famine on their crops, and the only way to replenish them was with our blood.” His face hardened, and he did not meet your eyes. “My mother went down first. She was an archer. I remember seeing her on top of a nearby roof, shooting them down with perfect accuracy before someone shot her first. I was ten. She was the first person I ever saw die. My father was killed in the middle of battle. He was fighting the commander of the group, who wielded a sword embedded with holy magic. It was a close fight, but the commander killed him. That was the second person I saw die. They would have killed me too if I hadn't gotten away. I…” he gripped the edge of the table, “I watched those monsters burn down my home and anybody who ever loved me. I’m the last of my kind, YN. I was a little kid out on his own, and it stayed that way for years. I didn’t tell anyone what I was for a long time because I was scared they’d kill me. Then, I learned how to disguise myself, practiced my magic, and promised myself I'd find the men who killed my parents.”

“Did you?”

“After a few years of searching,” he nodded. “The first two people I ever killed.”

“And you’ve killed since then?”

“More than I can count on my hands.”

“Were they innocent people?”

“Far from it, in my opinion, but we're all a villain in someone's story.” He went over to you, taking your hand to bring you closer.  “YN, you were the first person I met who didn't know who I was; you didn't see me and immediately got on your knees to thank me for saving you and your people. With you, I feel normal,” he put his arms around you, “I'm nobody special when I’m with you. I'm a guy who likes whiskey, gambling and having sex with the most gorgeous woman in the world.” You giggled as he kissed your lips. “When we met, you talked to me like any other patron in that place. I could be myself with you.”

“But you weren't….not completely.”

“I know,” he frowned, cupping your face, “But I promise that's going to change right now. I will answer any question you have-”

“-What did Seonghwa mean when he said I wasn't the gift he was expecting?”

Hongjoong paused, “Haeyoung…She wasn't supposed to use the curse I gave her on anyone else. She had strict orders to use it on Father Moon-”

“-Father Moon? Why?”

“He might paint himself as a holy man, but he was anything but that. He had been robbing his congregation blind with fake charities. He told parents his seed is considered a blessing, so they should let him fuck their kids for one. He hurt people. I planned on using the curse to show him what happens to people who abuse others.”

“Make him so horny he goes insane?”

“Yes. I planned on her putting it on him, capturing him, and then I'd give him to Seonghwa to keep as a pet. It was no different than what he would have done if he had the chance. However, Haeyoung betrayed me and used the magic on someone else. I don’t think she knew your connection to me, but that doesn’t matter anymore.” He wiped your tear stained cheeks, pecking your lips. “We’re together again, and that is what I care about.”

“That and this mark on my back,” you said. “It'll be just the best gift ever if you did something about it.”

“I will,” he then smirked, lightly kissing your lips, “But first…” He slipped his hands through your coat until it started sliding off your shoulders, “I want to give you my gift.”

Your hands stayed on his shoulders as he unbuttoned the first long layer. Like an orange, Hongjoong slowly shed each piece of clothing. Even when you became exposed to the chill, your cheeks still burned. His lips started on yours, slow and deep as he poured every ounce of himself into you. Your hand instinctively tugged at his hair, fingers sliding through the silky locks to scratch his scalp. A deep yearning for closeness brought his body right to yours. Every man before him might have started gently, trying to stir that mark branded on your back, but they did not have Hongjoong's touch. They did not elicit the same passion that he did. With him, you wanted nothing more than his hands on your body. Whether sexual or not, you needed him close to you. He then moved to your neck, laying down soft kisses and tender suckles. Each bit of pressure drew out a moan. He let out a soft groan when you began working on his clothes, expertly unbuttoning them as you went. You returned the neck kisses once his naked torso was exposed. The frost that melted from his hair dripped from the ends, and you licked up the trails that cascaded from his shoulders. 

The both of you now nude, he walked you backwards to the bed where you sat on the edge. The Hand kindled like coals on a fire, generating a comforting warmth all over your body. When you reached out for the semi-hardness in front of you, Hongjoong gently swatted your hand away. His eyes stared directly into yours as he cupped your chin. 

 "Lay back for me."

Once you did, Hongjoong put your feet apart so the rush of cold air brushed your hot center. His eyes turned dreamy and he sighed deeply when your thighs parted. He did not dive into you straight away. Hands caressing your legs, he pressed his lips to the inner side of your knee before making a trail downwards. Every kiss awakened that longing inside your chest. It sailed to where his mouth tenderly kissed, creating sparks to excite you. There was no rush to finish; no desperation for his cum or moans. You relaxed on the bed and enjoyed his hands and mouth. The anticipation throbbed in your clit, your walls clenching whenever he pecked close to your swelling lips. The moment he finally touched on the top of your mound, your hips began writhing on the bed. His lips made a line to the hood of your clit, which pulsed when he tenderly flicked over it. He continued licking the small area from top to bottom, always grazing lightly across the sensitive spot. You reached down to bring him closer, and he did not pull away. A wind of bliss came over you once his mouth latched to your cunt. Holding it in place, his tongue continued swirling it, which was only broken when he sucked up the excess juices leaking from you. He never increased the pace or deepened his tongue. He knew the constant lightness would drive you crazy, and it did. You kept grinding into the tongue that so effortlessly pleasured you, wanton moans sounding his name each time. 

By the time he slipped his tongue to your entrance, your muscles stiffened. The orgasm that escaped you left you seeing stars behind your eyes, restricting your chest and focusing on that exact point of contact. You could feel it radiating from there and spilling out into your lover's mouth. His delighted groans added another layer that caused you to grip the furs tightly. When it faded away, Hongjoong kissed up your body, a trail of stickiness being left behind. A small glean of your juices still remained on his chin when he reached you, and you easily licked it before bringing him in for a kiss. 

A slight yelp was muffled at the fingers replacing his tongue. Hongjoong rolled your clit between two fingers, the pair teasing your fluttering entrance every other stroke. The mark made you even more sensitive than usual, and you were soon moving to meet his hand. He didn't warn you of the slender digits slipping inside you, smirking at your arching back and closed eyes. Short pumps massaged the walls of your sex, a thumb focused on your clit in the meantime. His lips captured every moan in a kiss, your essence filling your own mouth. You held onto his shoulders, needing to hold a part of him as the desire burned. You whined once his fingers plunged deeper, curling upwards and wriggling to the spot he knew so well. 

 "Hongjoong…" you exhaled between kisses. 

"I've waited so long for this," he admitted, keeping the same gradual speed. "Having to watch you be used that way was torture to me. If you should have been submitting to anyone, it should be me."

 "Would you have put me in chains too?" You sneered, freely pushing into his hand. "Chained me to a post, naked and ready to be fucked by you whenever you wished?"

 "If that's what you would have wanted," he replied, returning your smirk. "I prefer leashes personally. It's much easier to move you around; gives you a bit more mobility," he suddenly started fingering you faster, and you wriggled underneath. The slick sounds of your wetness  brought you towards another orgasm. "They're a good way to keep you still when I use your pretty mouth."

"You and anyone else you would want."

He chuckled through gritted teeth, then changed the angle of his fingers. You finally went over the edge a second time, nails digging crescent shapes into his skin as it hit you. They dragged down his back in broken lines, your arms shaking from the strength before you finished. 

Hongjoong then pushed you further up the bed and lifted your ankles to his shoulders. His thick length spread across your slit easily, his precum mixing with the dripping juices as he did so. He did this a few times, tapping and rubbing you just to see you react to the slight tingle. 

"Joongie...please…" You whimpered, needing more of him. 

"Is my love getting impatient?"

"Yes," you quivered when he started tracing your sex with his tip. "I need you right now. I've been wanting this so badly. Please, give it to me."

"Hm, I  don't know. After you've been with the others, I don't think I measure up anymore."

"Oh shut up," you giggled, locking your legs to his sides and rolling him onto his back. Straddling him, you rocked your hips back and forth. "How could you even say that? After every night we spent in my bed?" You took hold of his erection, and pressed it to you. "Every night I spent back home wishing each client was you? I don't want any other man but you. I never have wanted someone as much as I want you. Now, " you sunk the first inch inside, earning a low groan from him, "Shut up and fuck me like it's our last night on earth."

 "As you wish."

It took a single thrust to bury him inside you. Another shot of desperation came over you and you couldn't stop yourself. Hongjoong pulled you down on top of him, hands roaming your body as he kept you close. You let yourself drown in everything about him. After days of being mistreated and abused, having the one person who made you feel safe was exhilarating. Neither of you could let go of one another. Your lips rarely left his as you bounced on his hips. When he sat up with you both still connected, you naturally wrapped yourself around him as you rocked into one another. You didn't crave his cum. You only craved his touch and closeness again. 

Dusk had begun to fall by the time you finished. Every orgasm he gave you surpassed anything another could have done. Laying limp beside him, body gleamed with sweat and lips swollen from kissing, you never felt more relaxed. The sweet afterglow of your love making felt too surreal. On his chest, you worried he might disappear. You pictured yourself waking up in a cage, naked and chained to the corner with someone standing over you, ready to devour you again. You then snuggled to his side, trying to erase the image from your mind. Everyone you’d met took advantage of your situation, and you had nobody to protect you from them. They all used you for one reason or another. You were their toy to play with and then discard. Hongjoong wouldn’t have done that. Never. 

 "Lay on your front for me,” he said after a while. “Let's get this taken care of, otherwise you won't sleep well."

 You lazily rolled onto your back, cuddling a soft pillow to cushion you. 

“Are you sure you want to get rid of it?” he asked, laying kisses on your shoulder. “I think it could be quite beneficial for both of us.”

“Yes,” you laughed, “It’s caused enough trouble. From what I’m hearing, we’re going to get into some more soon.”

“Very true.” He moved further down your spine, then said, “This is going to hurt, but you’ll feel loads better afterwards.” 

You braced yourself when he laid both his hands on the lower end of your back. He straddled your thighs, and took a deep breath. Then, you heard him speak the same low, rough language as Mingi. Your eyes squeezed tight, and you hissed when the first tingle came. Someone might have started tracing it with a block of ice. The heat coming off your mark joined in with the cold, creating a sharp burning that paralyzed you. A scream went past your clenched jaw, teeth grinding together to endure the pain. The muscles seized up, and you involuntarily kicked as another wave of pain came. You swore his hands sapped all the heat from your body again, and you shivered. Right when you thought the torture wouldn’t end, it stopped all together at once. Your skin cold to the touch, fingers nearly frozen and toes numbing, you shivered harshly. 

“No-Nobo-b-y sa-said…” you said through chattering teeth. 

“Don’t talk,” Hongjoong hushed, kissing your shoulder. 

He got off you and you immediately curled into a ball. Right away, Hongjoong grabbed more blankets from nearby. You stared off into the distance; the freezing cold filled your bones and constricted your muscles. All desire from before disappeared, and only the cold remained. The  mountain air from outside barely affected you due to the tundra forming within. You hardly noticed Hongjoong pulling furs and blankets over you before sliding into the bed. 

“Here,” he wrapped you in his arms, rubbing your back and arms. “Yeah, this happens afterwards. Arousal creates heat, so naturally my curse raises the body temperature. Once it’s lifted, all that heat it created goes away. It’s like being crazy horny and then taking a cold shower.”

“Some-som-something wa-warm?”

“Not yet,” he said, rubbing your back now. “If I give you anything hot now, you’ll go into shock from the hot liquid going into your freezing insides. Just try soaking up my warmth, love.” He pressed his lips to your forehead. “You’ll be okay soon.” 

Weariness of a whole new kind started consuming you. Not the kind you got from constant sex and orgasms. The type one felt after days of traveling, and going through various tests of your strength and endurance. When the cold started gradually subsiding, you snuggled into Hongjoong’s embrace. For the first time in a long time, you felt safe. Knowing he was watching over you, caring for you as you came down, made falling asleep much easier. Delicate fingers stroked your braids, twirling them around lazily and running between them to your scalp. The thought of waking up alone came back to you, and you buried yourself into his embrace. You’d die if you woke up to an empty bed, and this moment had been a dream. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” he promised you in a whisper. “Go to sleep. You’ll feel better when you wake up.” 

“Please, don’t…”

“I won’t,” he reassured you. 

Your eyes slowly started closing once the cold melted from your fingers and toes. Deep breaths led to his scent filling your lungs, causing you to grow still in his arms. You fell asleep faster than you ever intended to with him. 

****

The counter-curse made you cold as ice, and he knew plenty about that. Hongjoong kept the blankets tightly around you, cuddling you to his chest and carefully stroking you in places. He knew the skin-on-skin contact would warm you up at a reasonable pace, therefore neither shocking nor worsening the condition. As you laid in his arms, soundlessly sleeping at last, he recalled everything he told you. Revealing the more important parts alone lifted a significant weight off his shoulders. He had much more to tell you, though he’d keep it to himself for now. You had plenty going on without him pulling out more information. 

“I brought tea,” Jongho appeared through the door holding a kettle and a large mug. “It’ll warm her right away, and Talia is making soup for her to drink. She’ll need as much heat as she can get when she wakes up.”

“The tea will be good for her.”

He watched Jongho begin pouring water into the kettle, then set it over a grate in the hearth. “I came to tell you that Princess Ophelia has sent word to us just now,” he continued, rekindling the flames inside the fireplace. “She says she will be here tomorrow morning.”

“The same timeframe we have for Jeffery’s armies.”

Hongjoong scowled whenever he remembered the snide, sneering pointed face of the boy king. A young man of only twenty-two, Prince Jeffery did not have the tact or sensibility of his predecessors. The Northern and Southern kingdoms always maintained a healthy, balanced relationship. It was very much a ‘don’t-mess-with-us-and-we-don’t-mess-with-you’ sort of alliance. Hongjoong and his council of lords had no reason to attack the south, and King Rupert had no reason to invade the north. When Rupert died, everyone assumed Ophelia, his eldest daughter, would be crowned Queen of the South. However, from what Hongjoong heard, with the help of his privy council, Jeffery usurped his sister. Ophelia told him that she’d been put under house arrest, and only narrowly escaped the gallows. 

She came to Hongjoong when she had nobody else. With only a few loyalists at her back, Ophelia could not engage in war on her own. Hongjoong planned to keep the north out of the family squabble. It was none of their concern what happened south of the border. However, when Jeffery’s men started raiding magicfolk villages near the border, declaring them in his name, Hongjoong had to do something. He had been on his way to start recruiting the rest of the Northern Council before this whole curse business happened. Now, he’d have to do it with you at his side, which he’d have no other way now. 

“My scouts have seen a squad of his bannermen coming in from the west,” Jongho told him, watching the flames. “We think they mean to go through the mountain pass to try setting up a lookout point over the village.”

“Stupid decision,” Hongjoong replied, hand idly playing with your hair. “The passages are too narrow, and they’d be fish in a barrel if they tried crossing through. Will you send men ahead of them?”

“Already have,” he said. “My brother is leading a team in their direction. Whatever information they plan to retrieve about us is going to die with them.” His eyes landed on you nestled under the covers, “She’s got talent, your girl.”

“Does she now?” Hongjoong asked with a smirk. “I’m well aware of her special talents.” 

“Not only that kind,” Jongho explained. “She isn’t great with a sword, but she’s gotten pretty good at archery. She’s been practicing while waiting for you.”

“A bow and arrow is better suited for her, I suppose.”

Hongjoong never pictured you with a weapon. This was mostly because he always imagined himself protecting you. He’ll admit it is a bit wrong of him to assume you couldn’t handle it on your own. Perhaps if he’d offered you proper training or taught you magic, you would’ve been able to protect yourself. With everything that is coming his way, it’d be good for you to know basic defensive skills. A bit of survival training would not hurt either, considering you’ll both be on the road for a while. He looked down to see you on his chest, and he imagined you in Jeffery’s clutches. He’d do far worse than what any of the others had done and laugh about it afterwards. He pictured your bloody, broken body swinging from the capital’s gates, and he held you a bit more tightly. 

“We’re going to need all hands for this,” Jongho told him, breaking him from the painful images. “Ophelia only has two or three lords on her side. She is going to need your help to convince the others to join in the fight.” 

“You’re joining.”

“Yes, because the omens favor war and an Orc never passes up a chance to seize glory,” he replied. “The other lords will not feel the same, particularly after the damage you dealt them. Stealing Yunho’s eggs, Kim? Are you insane?”

“He forced himself on my YN.”

“And freezing Yeosang’s crops? Embarrassing Wooyoung and San? Those are things that will be hard to forgive. Kim-”

“-They will forgive me once they see what we’re up against,” he assured him. “I’ve known all of them since they were infants in their mothers’ arms. Yunho may throw his tantrum, but once a wife gives him a new egg, he’ll forget about the pit eggs I took. Yeosang has multiple strings of profit coming in, so a halt in his whiskey productions won’t slow him down. The lycan pack might be a bit disgruntled after what I did to Wooyoung, but they cannot say it was undeserved.” 

“An insult is an insult.”

“I will not apologize for dealing justice,” he said firmly. “They all knew what was happening to her, and they took advantage of it. Do you defend them? I didn’t think Orcs approved of that kind of thing.”

“I speak as an advisor, not a defender,” he replied more firmly. “If it were my sister they shamed, I would have taken their heads and put them on stakes outside my gate.”

“I would have done the same if it weren’t for who they were.”

They all tried defending it by saying they didn’t know how important you were to him. Their excuses had fallen on deaf ears. Hongjoong already disapproved of their practice of taking slaves, but every protest went unheard. The northern kingdoms all have their own laws and traditions; Hongjoong had no place to change them. He wasn’t a king, and he didn’t wish to be one. Having people praise him wherever he went already bothered him. If he’d been crowned King of the North, it’d be worse. Yet, when he saw those monsters do those things to you, he considered turning the entire north into a big block of ice, with all of them frozen with it. 

“Still, war is coming, and insulting potential allies is not the way to win support,” Jongho’s voice broke into his thoughts. “My grandfather always said you could be impulsive."

"Where is he, anyways? I thought he would be where the action is."

"There's plenty of action in the Jade Valley nearby," he said, "But do not change the subject. Alliance agreements will be much harder this go around. You're going to need some muscle and better gifts to pacify them."

 "I'll cross that bridge when I get to it."

Only you mattered now. Looking back down at you on his chest, Hongjoong didn’t feel an ounce of regret. Your presence alone pushed away all the pain. Your smile became a light in his shadowy darkness. The ice in his soul melted whenever he saw you. That little brothel in the middle of nowhere became his refuge from the world he knew. A good pint of beer, music playing from the stage and you in his lap was better than any throne or castle. 

"She means the world to me, Jongho,” he said softly, admiring the shape of your nose before kissing it. “I travelled across the whole northern kingdom to have her back. I’m not losing her again.” 

A world without you isn't one he'd stay in. 

****

The touch of his hands on you coaxed you into reality. Your lips immediately found him in the haze of sleep, and you kissed them right away. Senses alone told you it was Hongjoong who laid beside you. His lips immediately opened for your tongue, which snaked through and over to swat his own. 

“Hello, sleepyhead,” he muttered in a kiss, rolling onto his side to cup your cheek, “Feel better, love?”

“Yes.”

Your body didn't yearn like it'd done the past week. It ached for him in a different way. The craving, akin to near starvation, took over every part of you. You didn't want to be anywhere else but in his arms. Even if it felt as if someone disassembled you and then put you back together the wrong way, you needed his comforting touch. Hongjoong said nothing as he brought your leg over his, bringing the two of you closer together. You then hissed from the light brush to your sex. 

“Shit,” you winced, a sharp pain stirring there right away. “It hurts.”

“Yeah, that’s going to be there for a while,” he nodded, guilt in his eyes. “I don’t think I need to tell you that it’s from all the fucking you’ve been doing. You’ve been asleep for a whole day, since your body needed recuperation. Mingi’s spell broke when I lifted the curse, so now…yeah…I think it’s best if we don’t touch this for a while. Any sort of stimulation will make it worse and you won’t heal as quickly.”

“You’re a demon,” you said, eyes tight as you kept your legs open to relieve the stinging. “Can’t you magic it away?”

“All I can do is soothe it with some creams,” he said, “And a pain reliever. It won’t take long. Maybe a day or two more.” He slid out of the bed, pulled on a pair of underwear and walked over to a bag in the corner. You guessed he made himself at home while you slept. “I’m so sorry about all this, love. It’s my fault you’re in all this pain right now.”

“No, it’s Haeyoung’s fault,” you pointed out, watching him gather bottles and jars from his bag to put on a table. “Then every guy I met after that.”

“I’m the person who taught her the curse.”

“And you had no idea what her real intentions with it were,” you added. “I’m alive. Isn’t that enough?”

“It’s more than anything I could ask for.” He began pouring various ingredients into a small bowl, occasionally stirring as he did so. “I kept picturing you completely taken over by The Hand. I started worrying more when I couldn’t get into your head. It meant I was losing you.” He stopped pouring a thin powder into the mixture, losing focus for a moment, “I don’t know what I’d do if I didn’t get to you in time. There’d be a point where you’d be beyond saving, and I’d lose you forever. I knew I’d die if that happened. I tried getting a hold of Sels in Tin City, but knowing Yeosang, he wouldn’t have listened to her anyways. I knew the only other people who’d treat you well were Jongho and Talia. They were my only hope of saving what was left of you.” 

Standing up, you ignored the radiating pain and walked over to him. The immediate chill made you shudder, so you grabbed a cloak hanging over the back of the chair. 

“Well, I’m okay now,” you told him, wrapping yourself in the fleece. “My head isn’t fuzzy anymore. I’m not insanely horny. I’m YN again.”

His lips curled into a grin, and he put the back of your hand to his lips. “Yeah, yeah you are.” Arms wrapping around your middle, Hongjoong pulled you in for a deep kiss. “Let me get this finished, then we can get it on you. You really should be resting, love.” 

“As long as you rest with me?”

“Of course.” He nodded over to a small food spread near the fireplace, “You go ahead and eat while I fix this up. You must be starving.”

“You have no idea.” 

You didn’t mind your manners as you started tearing at the cold chicken leg. The tender meat immediately filled that gaping hole in your stomach. You watched him begin creating a cream in the small bowl. He added water droplets to the grinded herbs and powders in the bowl, then slowly mixed them. After everything you went through, you thought you’d never see Hongjoong again. You couldn’t believe he was there, tending to you like he always did. As you bit down on a chicken wing, ripping the skin and meat from the bone, you kept your eyes on him. 

“Here,” he turned to you as he folded a thick white paste around, “Use this.”

You recognized it as the same salve Yunho and Seonghwa used on you. Hongjoong placed the bowl down beside you, and gave you a lopsided smile. You saw his cheeks tinge a soft pink. 

“Maybe you should apply it when you’re done eating,” he said, turning from you shyly. 

“Why won’t you put it on for me?” 

“If I do, I’m afraid your pain will only get worse,” he scratched the back of his head and started putting things back in his bag. “I have a hard time controlling myself around you, you know that.”

“One more time won’t kill anyone,” you smirked, only to then wince when a quick move agitated your center. 

“You’re in no condition to be having sex,” he left the bag on the table and came to your side, “Your body and mind need to recover.” He grinned, pecking your cheek and putting his hand on your thigh, “Otherwise, I’d be having my own dinner while you had yours.” 

The both of you laughed, and shared a kiss. The words might have stirred something in you another time, but now you ached too much for that. “We have all the time in the world,” you said, kissing him again, “Now that we’re together.” 

“Exactly,” he confirmed, biting into the other drumstick, “And I’m not letting you go again.”

“Even with everything that’s going to happen? You can keep it from me all you like. I know something big is coming,” you said when he looked away from you uncomfortably. “Jongho keeps talking about it. The other lords mentioned it in front of me. It sounds like we’re about to get some unwanted company.”

“A lot of unwanted company.”

“Who is it? Another king?”

“King Jeffery. He’s a vicious little bastard,” he said, swallowing his piece. “He thinks everything north and south belongs to him, just like his great-grandfather did. I hate to toot my own horn, but the kid should back down if he knows what’s good for him.”

“Go ahead and toot,” you insisted. “I’d be doing it too if I was flying around on a big scary wyvern dragon thing. Jeffery has no chance.”

You knew very little about the monarch who ruled your side of the land. It never mattered that much to you being a little brothel worker. Yet, men from the capital said he was a spoiled brat, prone to tantrums that often ended in violence.

“Trust me,” he said, “Men like Jeffery are too proud to admit defeat when they see it. His council are a bunch of cowardly lords looking for a bit more power, so they likely will push him to it more. They’ll ride out this war until one of us dies.”

“One of us?” you gulped more wine. 

“Me or Jeffery.”

“Why does it have to be you?”

“I’m the one most likely to put an end to him for good.”

“There’s a bunch of other people who can do it too, I’m sure. I mean, Seonghwa is seven feet tall and Yunho is half-dragon. You’re telling me this kid can defeat them so easily that it has to be you who fights him?”

Hongjoong didn’t miss the concern in your voice. “Jeffery will like gun for me anyway. He has it in his head that killing me will prove how worthy he is of being king of both the north and south. He says it’s to avenge his great-grandfather, but that’s bullshit. He just wants more to brag about.” He forked a piece of roasted potato and chewed it. “I told him to stand down before it was too late, but men like him don’t listen to reason. He thinks everything is his by right, and we’re thieves for keeping it from him.” 

You didn’t like the sound of this at all. You didn’t care how battle-hardened your lover might be; he’d be going into war and might not come back. 

“What will I do while you’re off fighting?” you asked him. 

“What do you want to do? I won’t force you to fight with me. You’re not nearly skilled enough for tha-”

“-I can get better,” you insisted. “Jongho says I’m getting pretty good with my bow, and my knife skills are okay.”

“Knife skills?”

“Talia said smaller weapons seem to do better for me than the big ones,” you said, “And I’ve shredded a dummy or two.”

“You don’t know anything about being in a battle.”

“So? You can teach me.” You put down a chicken thigh to hold his hand in yours. “Hongjoong, I can’t sit here while you’re off fighting and not knowing what’s happening to you. I don’t want to sit around waiting to hear that you died or got injured or something. You said we wouldn’t be apart from now on, and we won’t be, no matter where we end up.” 

“I couldn’t fight properly knowing you’re in danger-”

“-I’ll be in danger anywhere I go in this damn kingdom,” you cut him off. “I’d have my necklace, and if I train hard enough, I’ll be able to protect myself. Joongie, you can’t keep me in a bubble forever. I think what’s happened since my curse kind of proves that. Jongho said the gods put me on this path-”

“-He says things like that all the time. It’s an Orc thing, love. You’ll see it the longer we’re here.”

“He said the gods put me on this path for a reason. I went through all that bullshit for a reason, and I think it was to prepare me for this-”

“-Oh, YN! Come on now-”

“-I mean it. I would never have learned the things I did or gotten here on my own. I know you like being my knight in shining armor," you said when he let out a huff, “But you can’t be my savior every time.” 

“YN, this isn’t a game. It would be war. People will die. People will get hurt; you could get hurt. I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to you because of me.”

“And I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t try to help you. Do you really think I can’t do it?”

“I know you can. I am confident that you can, but this is serious.”

“And so am I. Let me join you out there, and I’ll prove it to you.”

He cupped your cheek, gazing over your face. You already saw the battle going on inside his head. He seemed to come to a conclusion while looking at you. 

“Well, if you have a Warchief giving you personal training lessons, you might be able to protect yourself. You might not even need me.”

“I’ll always need you,” you assured him, turning back to the feast in front of you, “And you’ll need me.”

“Always, love.”

The two of you shared another kiss before digging into your meals. With Hongjoong beside you, you felt you could take on the entire world. You didn’t know what lay ahead, and you wouldn’t say the worst was behind you just yet. But, whatever was coming would have to go through you and Hongjoong. 

Together. Like always.

****

A/N: Yaaay the happy ending!! I want to thank everyone for reading this chaotic tale of a girl getting put THROUGH IT haha I hope you guys enjoyed this ending <3 I really appreciate all the love you guys have been sending my way for this, thank you so much <3

[lovelyhan]

— caught in the middle ⟢

mingyu knows. he’s perfectly aware that his best friend’s girlfriend is the last person he should end up wanting. but who is he to refuse when wonwoo invites him to join something he never thought he could ever be part of?

★ FEATURING; wonwoo x reader x mingyu

★ WORD COUNT; 15.8k words

★ TAGS; established relationship, streamer au, one-sided pining (or is it!!!), fluff, mild angst, smut (MINORS DNI)

★ WARNINGS; mentions of twitter porn, sex tapes, mentions of infidelity (there's none of that here though), lots of guilt-ridden thoughts on gyu's end

★ NOTES; i'm literally several days late but happiest birthday to the man i enjoy writing for wayyyy too much, wonwoo <3 it's been four months since i last revisited the streamer series, and i'm glad to finally make good on that teaser i left in the second part :]

★ BEFORE YOU READ; i highly recommend reading the first two stories in the series first bc as much as i wanted to let readers consume this as a standalone, context is still really important for the story i want to tell!

this is part of the game over series!

★ SMUT TAGS; oral (m&f receiving), vaginal fingering, daddy kink, pet names (puppy for gyu), threesome, spitroasting, unprotected sex, creampie, cum eating, aftercare

★ PERMANENT TAGLIST; @cheolhub - @pretty-trustme - @just-here-to-read-01 - @ldkmelkro - @dejavernon - @venusrae - @jyiiscool - @jiniesclub - @junhui-recs - @bldelaine - @featmia - @fruitzcup - @hoeforhao - @candidupped - @billboard-singer - @caratochan - @novalpha - @dahliatopia - @0717luv - @shiveringgaze - @toruro - @mixling-blog - @minnie-mouser22 - @homerunhansol - @mirtaspace - @ti--red - @zzucculent - @woozarts - @rubyreduji - @mozellerra - @lllucere - @cheolzip - @jjjzzz - @lissiesykes - @jeonride - @meowmeowminnie - @colored-confetti - @partiallyinfluencial - @speaknowlwt

★ MINGYU & WONWOO TAGLIST; @yoonzinoooo - @emmmui - @swinterr - @wolfhardbby - @scandal-in-bohemia

★ FIC/SERIES TAGLIST; @ressonancee - @smooore - @wave2love - @jjongjjongiesworld - @mimi14berrybear - @hanniebanggi - @havetaeminforbreakfast - @slut4donghyuck - @delulu4-life - @aurumness - @mingyucookies - @noonareads - @hafuunkjw - @strxbrymilkkuu

part one - part two - part three - part four

This is, by far, the worst day of Mingyu’s life. 

Okay, maybe he’s exaggerating, but he likes to think that he’s a man of routine. If he doesn’t get to do his morning rituals right before his streams, it feels like the world has been tilted a few degrees off its proper axis. 

And that’s exactly what’s happening now, when Mingyu realizes that his favorite Twitter porn account is nowhere to be found. 

How the hell is he supposed to get his daily dose of relief now?

“Mingyu, you’re dragging your ass a lot today,” Seungcheol’s voice sounds pissed through his headphones and Mingyu can’t exactly fault him for it. Not when he ended up making their team lose their third Valorant match in a row. “The hell’s up with you? I thought you already practiced using Gekko with Vernon the other day.”

“We did and he was actually pretty good,” the younger man comments. “Dunno what suddenly got into him today though.”

“Cheol-hyung, you shouldn’t berate Mingyu when you royally sucked at using Neon during the time she was first released,” Wonwoo quips.

Seungcheol immediately makes a disgruntled noise at that. “I did not royally suck! She just doesn’t fit my playstyle. And I get that you guys are glued to the hip at this point, but you of all people should know when to call out your teammates especially if they’re being a bunch of noobs, Wonwoo.”

“Now, now, didn’t we already talk about this? No fighting when we’re only doing a bunch of scrimmages between friends.” 

A less abrasive voice flits into the call and Mingyu finds himself relaxing into his seat as he stares at the glowing red DEFEAT screen on his monitor. Ever since you and Wonwoo finally dropped the act of hating each other and started dating, you’ve constantly mediated any petty arguments that sparked within their group. Mingyu is all sorts of grateful, but also just a tad bit embarrassed whenever he’s part of the argument in question.

“Yeah, what she said,” Wonwoo agrees with a huff. 

“Whatever, man. Koyahngi has watered down your temper so much, it makes me look like the most easily tilted player on the team,” Seungcheol grumbles before adding, “Ugh. Couples.”

Vernon laughs softly. “Crazy how you’re the one who always insisted for Wonwoo-hyung to be kinder, but now that he is, you suddenly want him to go back to his trash-talking ways.”

“Now why’s everyone dogpiling me now!” the older man whines.

About half an hour and another lost match later, everyone decides to call it a day. Seungcheol and Vernon are going to hold a joint stream together and Mingyu needs to get ready for another modeling gig he managed to land a couple of days ago. He’s not sure what you and Wonwoo have in store for the day, but his best friend and roommate mentioned that you were going to drop by their apartment sometime today. 

But when Mingyu finally deigned to grab a towel and head to the bathroom, he instead makes a detour to the couch with a desolate sigh. He unlocks his phone and opens the Twitter app like it was second nature, tapping on the button that pulls up his most recent searches.  

goodcat_badcat

He absentmindedly types the username to an account that’s been his constant companion whenever he needed to let off some steam. Though he hasn’t checked her profile in a while, Mingyu was under the impression that goodcat_badcat would still be there to give him a hand especially when his schedule has been driving him insane these days. 

But when the app redirects him to the main profile, the same words that greeted him when he woke up with his painfully hard morning wood stare back at him. Something went wrong. Try again.

She deactivated. His favorite Twitter porn girl is fucking gone and now he’s got nothing but despair and the bluest balls in the entire city. 

“Hey.”

Mingyu jolts at the sound of Wonwoo’s voice, immediately locking his phone before tossing it on the other side of the couch as if it burned him. He’s quick to whirl around to greet him with a too-wide smile.

“Hyung, what’s up?” Mingyu asks, thanking the heavens that his voice didn’t crack.

His best friend looks at him weirdly. “Uh, do you have any plans today? We’re going out to go bowling today and she told me to ask if you wanted to come along.”

Bowling. Wonwoo sucks at bowling, but you managed to rope him into going with you anyways. 

“I’d love to, but I’ve got a shoot in…” Mingyu’s voice falters before reaching for the phone he just tossed away—heart dropping to his stomach when he looks at the time. “Shit. Forty minutes.”

He doesn’t wait for Wonwoo’s response before bounding towards the bathroom with a towel in hand.

The part-time model hasn’t gotten ready faster in his entire life. Though his manager told him that the brand he’s shooting for this time isn’t strict with time, Mingyu doesn’t want to make it a habit to show up late for his commitments. 

Streamers already have a bad enough image to those who aren’t part of the industry, and he wants to make it a point that not every single one of them is a slob who doesn’t shower and makes tardiness a way of life.

As he pulls on a snapback over his still-damp hair—opting to let the stylists on the set handle it for him instead—he faintly hears your voice outside of his bedroom door. 

“Aww, he isn’t coming?”

“Yeah. Let’s just invite him next time,” Wonwoo’s muffled response manages to reach his ears as well.

With one last glance in the mirror, Mingyu hoists his bag across his shoulder before opening the door to his room. He spots you seated on the armrest of their couch, kicking your legs somewhat adorably before you meet his gaze with surprise.

For someone who’s supposed to be bowling today, you don’t really look the part. Of course, your signature Koyahngi cat ear headband is sitting on top of your head, as in-theme as always. You also paired up your short, pleated skirt with lace-trimmed thigh highs, and chunky white boots. Not to mention the sheer, low cut top that gives him an ample view of your cleavage… 

“Gyu, do you have a photoshoot today or something?” Your question promptly snaps him out of his somewhat rude staring. “Here I thought we could team up and destroy Wonwoo together in the bowling alley.”

“As if I’d allow that,” his best friend scoffs. “Mingyu’s teaming up with me, princess. Then you’ll be crying like a loser while we get ourselves a victory treat from the snackbar.”

“We are not going to do that, and yeah, I have a photoshoot…that I’m already late for actually,” Mingyu replies with a bubble of laughter. “That’s okay. You and Wonwoo-hyung have fun. Pro-tip, he actually sucks at bowling, so you’ll score much better than he will.” 

You giggle before getting back on your feet, making your way over to Mingyu faster than he can prepare himself for. He hasn’t quite noticed it as vividly as he does now, but you’re so much smaller than him—even with the added inches of your boots. 

It doesn’t help that the way you’re cutely looking up at Mingyu with those pretty doe eyes as you examine his outfit is making sweat bead across his temples. Great.

“Doesn’t seem like you’re heading to a shoot though,” you laugh. “You’re going on a date, aren’t you? Who’s the lucky guy or gal? Why’d you dress up like Tadashi Hamada just to impress them?”

Wonwoo snorts. “You mean the guy who died in Big Hero 6?”

“Well, yeah, but he was also my childhood crush, so shut up, Wonwoo.”

Your childhood crush. Mingyu looks like your childhood crush. 

As Mingyu watches you bicker with his roommate—your boyfriend and his best friend—he realizes something that could change the trajectory of this friendship altogether.

He might have a crush on someone he isn’t supposed to want.

Like any other sane person out there, Mingyu does his best to brush it off.

It shouldn’t be a big deal. He’s been fleetingly attracted to people who are taken before and it wouldn’t last for more than a few days before he gets over it. 

Mingyu simply chalks this up to hormones. After all, it was one thing to see your promiscuous outfits on streams, but it’s another to constantly be around you in those…rather unique get-ups. As degenerate as it sounds, he is just a man. Though he definitely won’t make a move on his best friend’s girl just because you like to show up to their apartment in short skirts and tight crop tops, he can’t help the physical reaction your presence evokes from him.

Which is his exact dilemma right now.

“Nonu, you got a silencer on you?” you mutter with your feet propped up on the coffee table—eyes glued to your phone while the three of you played a new mobile-based battle royale game in the living room. “I found a shotgun. Can you drop it for—Fuck!”

Wonwoo hums beside you, glancing at your screen for only a moment before focusing on his own character. “What’s wrong?”

“Someone fucking killed me with a Type 25!” 

Your boyfriend simpers. “That’s what you get for talking to me and not focusing on the game, princess.”

“I just remembered how much I hate you.” 

With sulkiness in your strides, you get up from the couch before plopping yourself on the armrest of the lazyboy Mingyu’s currently occupying. He startles at your sudden switch in seats—eyes darting between you and his phone before he tells himself to focus or he’ll get wiped off the map in a blink of an eye too.

“Gyu, can you do me a favor and just let Wonwoo die if he needs help?” you coo, wrapping your arms around his bare bicep. “Teach the fucker the importance of teamwork?”

Wonwoo laughs crudely from his spot on the couch. “What happened to ‘no fighting during scrims between friends’ huh?”

“That rule doesn’t apply when I’m the one being antagonized.”

Mingyu is a little busy evading a sniper that’s trying to take him out, but he does hear Wonwoo mutter, fucking brat, under his breath. He doesn’t pay it any mind—quite used to this back-and-forth dynamic between the both of you, even before you made it official. 

The rest of the round goes on for another ten or-so minutes. As if the gods answered your call, Wonwoo gets done in by a grenade, leaving Mingyu the only surviving member of your three-man team. 

“Uhhh, sniper—two o’clock,” you point out, leaning closer to his screen all while pressing your tits against his arm. Mingyu lets himself think it’s not intentional. “That’s the asshole who killed me! You’ll avenge me, won’t you Gyugyu?”

God. He hasn’t even gotten used to you calling him Gyu and now you’ve suddenly got another adorable nickname up your sleeve? 

But back to the sniper. He’s a little too far away for Mingyu to make quick work of and the only weapons he’s got equipped are close range. From what he can see on the kill counter, only three players remain and Mingyu just has to pray that the sniper and whoever else is left aren’t teammates and—

The flash animation of a sniper rifle going off illuminates part of his screen. The kill counter ticks up to 48 out of 50 players dead. 

Mingyu doesn’t waste any more time.

You’re practically shouting into his ear as he rushes to ambush the sniper on the second floor, clutching his arm tightly as you dish out helpful words of advice. (There’s a bomb in that stairwell. Chase him on the other side!) 

The game ends in a sound victory for your team when Mingyu manages to kill off the sniper with close range combat. Despite the added flourish to your reigning rank and win rates, you still tease him about how he fumbled with his weapon stash during those last few seconds—bringing out a molotov instead of a pistol like he initially intended. The six foot gamer argues that it was just the nerves and the fact that you were pressing your perky breasts into the curve of his muscles, but you don’t really have to know that last bit.

Mingyu gets so into it that he fails to notice the way his best friend’s eyes linger on him and his girlfriend for a beat longer than usual, nor is he privy to the way Wonwoo’s lips twist into a sordid smirk.

After borrowing some of Wonwoo’s clothes, you end up staying over for dinner—even going out of your way to help Mingyu in the kitchen as he whips up some kimbap for everyone in the house. Wonwoo at least has the decency to set the table while you two are busy doing the brunt of the work in preparing food and once everything is in place, you and Mingyu share a quick high five. 

“We actually make a good team, huh?” you snicker.

Mingyu feels his neck prickle with heat. “Guess you can say that.”

Once your stomachs are full and the dishes are washed and put away, Wonwoo puts on a thriller on the TV. You’re still pouting because of his shitty behavior during the game, but you ultimately choose to snuggle up next to your boyfriend despite.

It’s in rare moments like this where Mingyu truly gets to observe you and Wonwoo past the dynamic you both like to parade around other people. Your fiery personalities have been tempered into something calmer. Something he’d dare to call safe. 

No snide comments, no senseless bickering—only tangled limbs under a weighted blanket, snuggling yourself deeper into your boyfriend’s chest, and looking up at him with sleepy but loving eyes. 

So here’s Mingyu’s predicament: you’re ridiculously attractive but also ridiculously in love with his best friend. 

“Mingyu.”

He blinks up in surprise when he notices Wonwoo standing in front of Mingyu’s lazyboy, carrying you in his arms as you doze softly into his chest. The sight makes his heart twist with a kind of fondness that he was never meant to feel for you.

“Hm?” Mingyu tries to sound as casual as he can manage—forcing his eyes on the TV and away from your vulnerable form. “Guess she’s sleeping over, huh?”

His best friend hums. “I was supposed to drive her home before meeting Soonyoung and the others to grab drinks. But she hates it when I wake her up after she falls asleep like this.���

Mingyu nods. “Okay.”

“And she also hates waking up in the middle of the night all alone,” Wonwoo adds. “Which is where you come in.”

There’s a long pause in their conversation that makes Mingyu hyper aware of the steady rise and fall of your chest as you sleep in Wonwoo’s arms. You really are out cold—too deep into slumber to have any awareness of what the two men are even discussing.

“What?” Mingyu whispers, unable to pay attention to the main character walking into her doom on the television screen. “What do you mean that’s where I come into the picture? Don’t tell me you’re still going out for drinks when your sulky girlfriend’s asleep in our house.”

“It’s only for an hour or two,” Wonwoo explains before padding over to Mingyu’s—yes, Mingyu’s bedroom—before gently laying you down on the bed and pulling his blanket across your dozing form. “We’re actually meeting with our manager so I can’t talk myself out of the schedule even if I really fucking want to.”

The disbelief is still evident on Mingyu’s face. “So you’re putting me in charge of babysitting her until you come back?”

“Don’t be so dramatic, Gyu. You’re just gonna sleep next to her, not clean up after her shit.”

Somehow, the fact that Wonwoo’s practically giving Mingyu permission to do that sounds more daunting than the latter. He’s much too busy gawking at the older man to give him a proper response right away.

Is this really the same guy who personally tells the perverts in your stream’s chat to fuck off when they’re being out of line? The guy who always has an arm wrapped possessively around your waist whenever you’re all out with your friends?

“Do I have a choice?” Mingyu sighs.

“If you want to deal with her all pissed off after waking up alone, then be my guest.”

“This wouldn’t be even an issue if you just did a rain check!” 

“You know I’d do anything to keep her happy if I could, right?”

The pleading tone of Wonwoo’s voice takes Mingyu aback for half a moment before he gets his bearings straight. It shouldn’t be a surprise to him, how your boyfriend treats you like a goddamn princess. No matter how much you rile each other up where everyone can see, at the end of the day, Wonwoo is still the type of lover who puts great value in the smallest things. 

The guy takes your fucking napping habits into consideration when making decisions between his personal life and his career. Even going out of his way to inconvenience his own best friend just so you wouldn’t wake up all alone. 

If that isn’t love, Mingyu doesn’t know what is.

“Fine,” Mingyu relents. “Just make sure you’ll be back in two hours or else I’ll call your manager and tell him the apartment caught fire.”

Wonwoo flicks him painfully on the forehead as he walks back to the living room, making Mingyu roll back onto the cushions with a groan. “Don’t crack jokes like that when my girlfriend’s over at our place.”

“Wow.” Mingyu scowls. “So it’s okay for the apartment to go up in flames if I’m alone?”

His best friend doesn’t even hesitate. “Pretty much, yeah.”

Thirty minutes later, Wonwoo has already left for his evening plans and Mingyu is left to clean the leftover snacks off the coffee table as the end credits roll on the TV. The door to his bedroom has been left ajar so he can at least keep an eye on you in his peripheral while he tidies up. 

He’s supposed to do a chill, late night stream, but seeing as his room has another occupant this evening, he might have to go on Twitter to let his subscribers know about the change in schedules. But that would leave Mingyu with nothing else to do aside from going to bed early. 

Meaning, he’d have to lie next to you. On his bed.

Mingyu immediately shoots the idea down, plopping himself back on the sofa all while trying not to glance in the general direction of his room.

This is fine. This is okay. There’s nothing remotely wrong about his best friend’s girlfriend sleeping on his bed even if Wonwoo could’ve just dumped you in his own room instead. He could just play a few games on his PS5 until you woke up on your own or until Wonwoo comes back from his night out. Whichever happens first.

So that’s exactly what Mingyu does. 

About an hour of playing through where he left off in his last Elden Ring save file, he’s so engrossed in the cutscene that he doesn’t notice you rising from the comfort of his bed—rubbing your eyes as you look around the room you’re in with mild confusion. 

Just when the next boss fight begins, Mingyu is promptly spooked when the cushions dip beneath the weight of another person, letting out an undignified yelp as his eyes dart to the unknown figure wrapping their arms around his bicep—

Then he realizes it’s you.

“Eepy…” you mumble, eyes still drooping as you nuzzle his arm.

Mingyu scowls for a moment. Did you just say eepy? 

Fuck, that’s so cute, he muses to himself before forcing his gaze back on the TV before Godrick the Grafted could cleave Mingyu’s character in half with a giant axe. 

The daunting in-game OST coupled with the jarring sound-effects of weapons clashing together probably isn’t the best thing to wake up to, but with how you quietly bury yourself in the warmth of his body, Mingyu figures that you probably don’t mind. 

He isn’t sure if you’ve decided to continue your nap or watch whatever he’s doing on the screen, given that he’s dedicated much of his attention span in trying not to get killed. But despite having been in the same position as other girls he’s dated before—them clinging to his arm as he plays through some gory open-world RPG—it’s the first time Mingyu has ever felt nervous. 

Maybe it’s because you’re a streamer yourself that he doesn’t have it in him to flex his superior gamer prowess like he usually does. But with that thought in mind, shouldn’t he be more inclined to show off? To brag about how he can dodge and parry the enemy’s coordinated attacks effortlessly when Wonwoo can’t even switch his healing items without fumbling with the controls? 

Then he remembers that tiny, minuscule crush he has. And the fact that the person he has that tiny, minuscule crush on is snuggling against him like a cat. 

Mingyu barely gets to the second phase of the boss fight without his head imploding from vertigo.

“That looks really…gross,” you murmur just when the next cutscene starts and Godrick the Grafted sticks his amputated arm into the corpse of a nearby dragon. So you are watching him play. “Is he trying to assimilate with it or something?” 

Mingyu offers up a soft hum. “He grafts his own body parts from other beings to get stronger, so…yeah.”

“Hm. So he’s using a dragon’s head to replace his missing arm?”

“You’re pretty clever for someone who just woke up.”

You huff. “For your information, I don’t just play cutesy games all the time. Who do you think finished Wonwoo’s save file for Dark Souls 3? 

Mingyu simpers as he jumps out of the way of Godrick’s flamethrower. “You? Playing Dark Souls, of all things? You don’t have to lie to impress me, you know.”

“Fuck you.”

Before he can let out a teasing laugh, you promptly yank the controller out of Mingyu’s hands—making your boyfriend’s best friend scowl as you take over the boss fight he can very much overcome on his own.

You don’t say a single word as you finish off what’s left of Godrick’s HP bar with more finesse than he’d expect for someone he thought only fucked around on Stardew Valley and Genshin Impact. Your eyes are completely glued on the TV, not even second-guessing the buttons you’re mashing. Mingyu can only watch in quiet awe when the boss belts out his death voicelines, fading into ashes as the ending cutscene comes to a close.

Then, you glance over at Mingyu with a smug look and if he thought he couldn’t be any more infatuated by you, he’s dead wrong.

“Maybe I should start playing games like this on my streams so people like you would start taking me seriously,” you flare before tossing the controller back onto his lap. “But then again I shouldn’t really give a shit about what others think about me.”

There’s a sharpness in your words that makes Mingyu think that it wasn’t just a baseless retort to his earlier jab. That makes him frown.

“What do you mean?” he wonders.

He half-expects you to trade that frown on your face with a sleazy grin in a gotcha moment he’s been unknowingly anticipating. That you’d wave away the seriousness of it all with your cheeky laughter before you’re back to watching him play again. 

But it doesn’t come.

You sink further into the couch with a sigh, crossing your arms together as you prop your legs on the coffee table. The fact that you’re wearing nothing but Wonwoo’s shirt makes Mingyu instinctively lead his eyes away from the way the hem rides up your thighs. 

“Nothing. Just go back to playing your stupid game.”

Unfortunately for you, Mingyu is having none of it. “Hey, I get that I said something that pissed you off and I’m sorry. But…do you want to talk about it?”

“Talk about what?” 

“Well…whatever’s bothering you.” 

You shake your head. “It’s nothing. I swear. I’m just feeling a little cranky.”

Oh. Right. Wonwoo mentioned how you hated waking up alone after naps. Well, technically, you weren’t alone. His bedroom door was still wide open when he started playing in the living room, but then again he doesn’t know you well enough to be able to tell what counts as waking up alone and what doesn’t.

“Should I call Wonwoo-hyung?” 

“And have him tease me to the ends of the earth when I’m already in a bad mood?” you scoff. “Pass.”

Mingyu considers his options for a moment. You’ve always been quite bubbly and energetic when you’re over at their apartment. This is probably the first time he’s seen you act so grumpy and it’s been a while since he’s dealt with moody girlfriends so he isn’t sure what to make of the situation. 

But then a lone thought wanders inside his head.

“Do you…want to go back to bed?”

He wonders if it’s a stupid question. You’re very much awake now that he accidentally tripped on the proverbial land mine that is your emotional disposition. Mingyu is already expecting you to decline, but the hard lines on your faces suddenly soften. 

Then, with a quiet and considerably less disgruntled voice:

“I’d like that. Yeah.”

Maybe he should’ve worded his offer better. 

By ‘go back to bed’, Mingyu actually meant that he’d help you into Wonwoo’s room—into Wonwoo’s bed—because one: he’s your boyfriend; and two: given that you’re both planning to go to sleep for real, you wouldn’t have to wake up alone anymore since Wonwoo would already be home before morning. 

So why the fuck is he staring at the wall right next to his bed with your arm draped around his body as you dozed off behind him? Never mind that you were spooning a six-foot man with considerable body mass. You’re Wonwoo’s girlfriend. You’re not supposed to be sleeping in the same bed as your boyfriend’s best friend.

But despite his warring thoughts, Mingyu doesn’t move an inch. He doesn’t take any action to convince you to just sleep in Wonwoo’s room instead because that’s what’s right and proper, all things considered.

No, he just lets your hands dip beneath his shirt in your slumber, tracing the lines of his toned stomach every now and again. Mingyu tells himself it must be a habit you picked up from all the times you’ve slept right next to Wonwoo and that your body is just seeking that same kind of comfort in his absence.

You don’t have to know about how he feels himself grow hard when your pert nipples brush against his back every time you shift behind him.

And you definitely don’t have to know that he eventually peeled himself away from your heated embrace to jack himself off in the bathroom before retiring to the couch for the rest of the night.

It’s a secret that he simply has to take to his grave.

“Mingoo-yah, you’re spacing out again.”

Mingyu only feels half as bad as he should be for not listening to Jeonghan when the older man was in the middle of telling him about a brand collaboration offer he’s contemplating on accepting. Being the only two out of their friend group of thirteen to actively take up modeling gigs on the side, he’s close enough with Jeonghan to know he isn’t the kind of person who easily takes offense in things like that.

But one thing Mingyu does know about Jeonghan is that the older’s intuition is much too sharp for anyone’s liking.

“You’ve been inviting me out a lot lately,” Jeonghan remarks as he points the mouth of his beer bottle at Mingyu. “Are you trying to avoid something back at home? Is Wonwoo being an asshole to you?”

The lilt in his words clues Mingyu in on the fact that Jeonghan knows damn well that’s far from the reason that he’s been out of the apartment more frequently these days. He wonders if there’s any use to lying to someone who can see through any sort of farce before letting out a withering sigh.

“Hyung,” he starts, taking a sip out of his own beer as he chooses his words carefully. “Have you…ever wanted something you can’t have?”

Jeonghan raises an eyebrow. “Kim Mingyu? Not getting something he wants? My, all those ambassador offers and that long line of men and women alike doing everything they can for a chance to even speak with you would beg to differ.”

Yeah, but those people aren’t my best friend’s girlfriend, Mingyu wants to say but doesn’t, for obvious reasons. 

“You’re avoiding the question,” he whines instead.

Jeonghan lets out a soft chuckle before popping one of the bar’s complimentary corn chips into his mouth. “Well, to simply answer that: no. I’ve never wanted anything I can’t have because I always get what I want. All I need is to set my mind on having it and I’ll figure out the rest along the way.” 

“But what if… What if I ended up hurting someone if I pursued it?” Mingyu asks, trying his best to make the topic as ambiguous as possible. “That’s the last thing I want to do so the only way I can really deal with it is to just stop wanting it, you know?”

For a moment, Jeonghan doesn’t respond—lazy eyes trained on the younger man as he assesses what he’s been told. His gaze makes Mingyu a little nervous. Has he already ratted himself out? Has Jeonghan already put the pieces together in his head?

“From the way you’re going about all this, getting over it seems like a far cry into the future. And I’m well aware that you’re not a patient man, Mingyu,” he chortles with a shake of his head. “You’re understanding—considerate, even. But if I know you as well as I think I do, then there’s only so much endurance you can exercise when it comes to something you want that badly.

“If you want my advice, then I’ll go ahead and tell you to just negotiate with the person you’re supposedly going to hurt when you finally go after whatever this thing of yours is. If he declines, then you can walk away knowing you tried. If he agrees on some sort of…compromise, then wouldn’t that make you less miserable?”

God. Fuck. Talking to Jeonghan about this was probably the worst decision he’s made in his life. Mingyu wonders if he’d still be saying the same things if he knew exactly what—more precisely, who—they were even talking about. 

You’re at their apartment right now, probably snuggled up on the couch again—watching movies while engaging your boyfriend in occasional banter like you usually do. It’s a routine that the two of you have lulled yourselves into ever since you started dating and Mingyu would be a fucking dick for wanting to ruin that all because he can’t deal with the fact that he’s helplessly attracted to you. 

He can’t even sleep in his own goddamn bed without his brain going back to the night you lied so peacefully right next to him. Whenever his thoughts start to swim into dangerous territory, Mingyu tries so hard to suppress them by just going to sleep—only to end up fucking his painfully hard cock into his fist before coming all over the sheets with the taste of your name still sizzling on his tongue.

Later that night, a woman in a pretty black dress goes up to him and Jeonghan with a flirtatious strut that Mingyu would’ve latched onto if he was the same man he was a few months prior. She offers to buy them a few cocktails as a treat before leading Mingyu to the dark hallway that led to the dingy bathrooms with an expectant look in her sharply winged eyes. 

It doesn’t really take much to get him hard—he’s just a man after all. So when the woman whose name he knows she told him but promptly forgot gets on her knees on the dirty tiled floor, Mingyu thinks it’s perfectly normal for him to let her take his heavy length down her throat for some much needed relief.

What’s not normal is the way he pictures you in her place instead. That it was you deepthroating him like you were born without a gag reflex. You choking so adorably around his length as tears start to make your makeup run in gray streaks across your cheeks. You swallowing every last drop he spills into your awaiting mouth as he catches his breath against the bathroom door.

The woman was probably expecting some reciprocation on Mingyu’s end and while he’s normally a gentleman about these kinds of things, he promptly zips himself back up before leaving her alone in that dirty bathroom without another word.

To his surprise, Jeonghan is still there at their table, tapping away on his phone with a look of mild interest lining his gaze. Mingyu asks him what’s up.

“Wonwoo’s celebrating his birthday this year with everyone,” he chimes. “You would know when Soonyoung’s blowing up gen chat, but you were kind of busy getting your dick wet.”

Now that genuinely takes him by surprise. 

While his best friend isn’t some brooding edgelord that thinks celebrating birthdays is overrated, Wonwoo has always preferred commemorating it in intimate spaces. He usually just orders some fancier take out than their usual Chinese fast food and Mingyu buys him a silly cat-themed cake for him to blow out the candles on. 

But as Mingyu brings himself up to speed about what went down in their server over the last thirty minutes, he can now confirm that Jeonghan wasn’t bluffing at all.

Wonwoo: Dinner at Jungsik Dang at 7 PM on the 17th. The actual thing starts at 8 but you assholes have a thing for being late all the time.

Soonyoung: nice. i’ll leave my house at 10 

Chan: Loser. I’ll leave at midnight

Seungkwan: Maybe you shouldn’t have announced the real time the program starts, hyung.

“You’ll be there, won’t you?”

Jeonghan’s question makes Mingyu look up from the Discord conversation on his phone and into the older man’s eyes. There’s a look he can quite pin down on his face and Mingyu isn’t quite sure what to make of it.

“Of course,” he says, throat tightening for reasons even he can’t name. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Mingyu doesn’t really count the time left before Wonwoo’s birthday—much too preoccupied with his own schedules to notice the days passing by. But as busy as he is, at least he doesn’t have to keep inviting Jeonghan out for an excuse to go outside the apartment whenever you’re paying a visit. 

If Wonwoo has noticed Mingyu’s evasive behavior, he never really shows it. The older man still greets Mingyu everyday with a curt nod, retreating to his own bedroom before doing his morning streams. Wonwoo seems none the wiser to his best friend’s predicament and Mingyu prefers it that way.

But while it’s much easier to avoid Wonwoo’s scrutiny, you’re an entirely different case.

Mingyu comes home late one evening after a niche fashion event that one of his contacts personally invited him to attend. He doesn’t really get why he even reached out to him, given the fact that Mingyu’s modeling scene is a far cry from whatever haute couture bullshit they’ve got going on there. 

The only reason he deigned to show up is because of the stories about the organizer’s after parties that his said contact mentioned in passing. Well, that and the invitation was extended to him on a night you were staying over at their place. 

Mingyu is more than a little drunk when he stumbles inside the apartment—kicking his boots off with a huff as his inebriated eyes parse through the dim lights. He sighs, an airy smile gracing his lips as he recalls this evening’s events. 

Sure, he enjoys those quiet drinking sessions he shared with Jeonghan just fine, but Mingyu isn’t past admitting that he misses partying like he did when he was still in college. In fact, he actually had the chance to go home with one of the pretty models that took the runway. 

She’d been making moony eyes at him all evening and Mingyu would’ve let her whisk him off to whatever five-star accommodation she’s staying in if only he hadn’t promised to guest on Soonyoung’s charity stream the next morning. 

So here he is, leaning against the kitchen counter as he drunkenly smiles at the last text his would-be conquest—her name’s Suji—sent five minutes ago. She told him to don’t forget to wash up before you sleep and have fun at your stream tomorrow <3

Suji is adorable. Fun to be with even if Mingyu only spent a total of two hours mingling with her in the high-end afterparty venue. Never did he imagine that a literal supermodel would even be remotely interested in what he does for a living, but the world is full of surprises like that.

In fact, it’s so full of surprises that Mingyu ends up dropping the glass of water in his hand when he sees you emerge from Wonwoo’s bedroom. 

“Jeez, Gyu,” you mumble as you stare at the mess he made—hundreds of shards glimmering against the wet floor. “I know you’re clumsy but you never really break things by accident.”

Mingyu swallows thickly, wanting to say that you were the one who surprised him out of nowhere, but his eyes completely zero in on the conspicuous bruises that litter your throat and collarbones like a disconnected necklace. 

All it takes is one brief glance at his best friend’s bedroom—to which you left the door completely open—for Mingyu to confirm the suspicions wriggling in the back of his head. 

Wonwoo is lying on his stomach, bare back sporting scratch marks that Mingyu has teased him about before while his lower half is completely hidden beneath your favorite weighted blanket. He’s completely still as he sleeps, chest rising and falling with steady breathing.

When Mingyu dares to look at you again, he suddenly forgets about what happened at the afterparty; about Suji and her thoughtful texts. 

Because how can he think of anything else when you’re right in front of him, freshly fucked by his best friend?

“What are you—?! Mingyu!” 

He doesn’t listen when you scold him for picking up the bigger glass shards off the floor with his bare hands. He needs to focus on everything but your pebbled nipples peeking through the fabric of Wonwoo’s shirt. The hem fluttering across your bare thighs. The way your face is still flushed with sleep and what Mingyu presumes is that post-orgasmic haze. 

Because if he doesn’t, he might just end up doing something he’ll regret for a lifetime and more.

But it’s just as you said earlier—Mingyu is clumsy; even more so when he’s had way too many Jägerbombs than his tolerance can actually handle. So he isn’t really surprised when one of the sharp edges splits the skin of his hand open, blood quickly seeping through the wound as he unceremoniously drops the shards he collected on the kitchen island with a hiss.

“You’re such a big idiot,” you groan before marching off to the bathroom.

When you come back with the first-aid kit that Mingyu himself had stocked when he and Wonwoo moved in, the first thing that comes to mind is how you’re pretty much a regular fixture in their home now. You know where the first-aid kit is. You know where Mingyu keeps the brooms and mops and dustpans. You know that he doesn’t like leaving messes in the house even if it’s a mess that Mingyu himself was responsible for making. 

You’ve inserted yourself seamlessly into his and Wonwoo’s daily lives and Mingyu isn’t certain how long he can keep pretending that isn’t the case. 

“Just leave the shards be,” you grumble before dragging him off to the sink. “Let’s clean it up after I clean you up.”

Mingyu remains silent as you apply ample pressure on the wound, listening to you mutter about how the bleeding has to stop first before it can be disinfected. He doesn’t really process much of what you have to say—too caught up in how his pulse roars in his ears from the way your fingers press firmly against his own. 

He’s vaguely aware of his phone buzzing every now and again where he left it on the counter, but Mingyu doesn’t even feel the least bit apologetic for leaving Suji hanging more than he already has. 

Right now, you’re the only one that matters.

“Alright, I think it clotted pretty nicely,” you observe with a small, relieved smile as you lift the piece of cotton you used to stem the bleeding. “Go wash your hands, big boy. Sit with me on the couch after so I can wrap a bandage around it.”

If he was even the slightest bit sober, Mingyu would’ve huffed and insisted that he can do that by himself. It’s not like he sliced off his entire arm like he did with Godrick the Grafted when you watched him play Elden Ring a few weeks back. 

But Mingyu isn’t sober and all his stupid, drunk brain is telling him is to do as you say because he knows it’ll make you less worried. 

Your touch is weighted with tenderness as you patch up the gash on Mingyu’s finger. There are no sordid remarks about his carelessness to be said—only the implicit concern that permeates off your being and rings in his ears. But even if Mingyu’s head is still swimming with liquor, he’s empathic enough to be able to tell that him dropping a glass of water isn’t the only thing you’re upset about tonight.

“Gyu, did I do something wrong?” you murmur, smoothing your thumb across the bandage once it’s in place. “You’ve been avoiding us a lot lately.”

He finds your choice of words a little…interesting. 

Of course, Mingyu wouldn’t put it past you to notice that he’s been noticeably absent in the apartment these days. But for you to assume that it’s because of something you alone have done and not include Wonwoo in the narrative? You know him so well, it makes his chest burn with an emotion he can’t name.

Or maybe he’s just really fucking drunk.

“Why would I be avoiding you?” Mingyu chuckles, resting the back of his head against the cushions as he stares at the ceiling in a pathetic attempt at playing it cool. “I’ve just been a little busy is all. Don’t tell me Wonwoo-hyung misses me or something.”

“Maybe. But what if I miss you, too?”

The silence that follows is a little too loud in Mingyu’s ears.

You can’t do that. You can’t ask him questions that he doesn’t know the answer to.

Mingyu isn’t sure which robs him of coherent thought more: you in killer outfits and flawless makeup or you in one of Wonwoo’s old white shirts, barefaced and vulnerable as you scrutinize him with a pleading look in the middle of their living room.

He wishes he could just go back to the time when he just knew you as an up-there Twitch streamer that he suspected his best friend was fucking around with. Things were much simpler when Mingyu was merely a spectator in Wonwoo's complicated love life. But now, he’s slowly getting to know you past all the sexy cat girl cosplay and the fanservice. Past the back-and-forth banter with your boyfriend that Mingyu was once content with observing from the sidelines.

Did Wonwoo suffer through the same kind of epiphany before you started dating? It’s no secret that your boyfriend had a stick up his ass when it came to acknowledging how he felt about you, but Mingyu doesn’t fault him for it. He knows damn well that there’s just something about you that attracts people like magnets with polar ends.

People like Wonwoo and Mingyu who are helpless to your unknowing charm. 

But the difference between him and his best friend is that Mingyu has no right to feel the way he does. He’s lucky enough to get to see sides of you that you’d never show to your subscribers and he told himself that he’ll never pursue anything past that—no matter how badly he wants to.

Yet the fact remains that Mingyu is just a man too drunk to deal with all of this right now, and you’re playing your cards a little too well, whether you know it or not.

“You’re saying that you miss me when hyung is already giving you splendid company?” Mingyu laughs airily, letting his eyes flutter shut because if he holds your gaze any longer, he might just combust right there. “You wouldn’t be hanging out here so much if he wasn’t, right?”

You’re quiet for a moment, eyes boring into Mingyu as if you’re looking for something he’s desperately trying to hide. He loathes and loves how perceptive you are, but if he isn’t careful, he might end up jeopardizing your friendship for good.

Then quietly, you ask:

“Have you not considered that maybe I hang out here a lot because of you?”

Before the words can even settle inside his head, you flatten your palms against his thigh, leaning in so close, Mingyu is certain you hear the way his breath hitches. Your eyes crinkle in the dim lights as you offer up a smile with just a little more intent than he’d expect you to show.

When Mingyu’s gaze flickers to the collection of love bites you’ve amassed on your neck, his traitorous brain wonders how it would feel like to sink his teeth into your skin. To litter your throat with his marks, to have you writhing against his touch. 

“I could always just invite Wonwoo to my place, no?” you murmur, each word making the back of Mingyu’s neck prickle with heat. “But I insist on coming over here instead ‘cause I actually like hanging out with my boyfriend’s best friend.”

Then, as if his entire world was plunged into slow motion, you press your lips closer to Mingyu’s ear—one hand braced against his firm chest as he feels you grin against his lobe. 

“After all, we make such a good team. Right, Gyugyu?”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuckfuckfuckfuck—

“We do make a good team. See? You patched me all up!” Mingyu laughs heartily before begrudgingly peeling himself away from your touch. “I’m a little sleepy though. Do you want to help me clean up or not?”

He knows he’s overcompensating, but if he doesn’t get away from you now…

Mingyu doesn’t even want to know what he’ll do.

When he deigns to look at you again, the heated look in your eyes hasn’t dissipated. You even make a fucking show of swiping your tongue across your bottom lip, staring up at your boyfriend’s best friend like you want to just…eat him up. 

But that can’t be right. He’s seen how enamored you are with Wonwoo.

You couldn’t possibly be…

“I’m a little sleepy too,” you admit, stifling a yawn that’s obviously fake. “I think I’ve already helped you enough for tonight, big guy. You go clean up that little mess you made ‘cause I’m going back to bed.”

Back to Wonwoo’s side—Mingyu reminds himself firmly.

He doesn’t really have to be told twice, nodding in agreement as he shuffles over to the kitchen and grabs the cleaning paraphernalia you were kind enough to bring out earlier. The dull ache in Mingyu’s temples makes it easy for him to do everything in silence. But of course that’s the last thing you’ll willingly give to him.

“By the way,” you start, twisting your torso halfway around to face him. The action makes Wonwoo’s shirt ride even further up your thighs and Mingyu fears he’ll have to clean up another growing mess in his jeans if he wants to get some sleep tonight.

“Suji’s been texting you non-stop. It would be rude to just keep her hanging, no?”

Figurative alarm bells start going off inside his head as his mouth hangs loose. You flash him a grin that’s much too smug for him to miss, greeting him good night, Mingyu before shutting the door to Wonwoo’s room behind you.

When he’s just about done throwing the glass shards in the trash and mopping up the water he splashed all over the floor, he retreats into the comfort of his own bedroom. He doesn’t reply to any of Suji’s text messages even after he gets changed into more comfortable clothes. 

Not when he’s now fully aware that you know.

You know that he’s got the hots for you. You know that he’d drop any other semi-attractive person he’s using to distract himself the moment you throw him scraps of your attention. He feels like a helpless fucking puppy with how easy it is for you to unknowingly lead him by the nose.

Here we have another one of Mingyu’s many dilemmas in life. The object of his frustrated affections, the person he wants the most might just want him back. 

The issue? Her boyfriend—his best friend—has no fucking clue. 

Vernon isn’t someone that Mingyu frequently hangs out with. Out of all the three other GAM3 BO1s, the youngest is probably the one that he spends time with the least. But that doesn’t mean that Mingyu enjoys his company less than the company of his other friends. In hindsight, Vernon could easily be his favorite of the younger streamers in their entire friend group.

So when Vernon asks him for some tips on making his own gym routine, Mingyu sees no problem in showing up to give his friend some advice. 

Surprisingly enough, when Mingyu arrives in his and Wonwoo’s usual place, he spots Seungkwan in the waiting lounge with Vernon as well. 

“What came over you guys when you suddenly decided that you wanted to work out?” Mingyu laughs as he leads the odd pair to the locker rooms. “When we last asked about it on the server, most of you were being such prissy little shits about it.”

“Hey, we so work out!” Seungkwan complains with a huff. “We just don’t go to the gym. Get your facts straight, Kim Mingyu.”

As things are, Vernon wants to build his core strength while Seungkwan wants to focus on cardio. He tries his best to instruct them as effectively as he can all while getting his usual routine over with. Mingyu was supposed to try adding more weights to his deadlifts but with his attention divided between his two friends, he figures that he shouldn’t risk accidentally dropping a 150-kilograms’ worth of weights on his feet. 

They’re all absorbed in their own work for about thirty minutes until Seungkwan eventually hops off the treadmill and collapses dramatically on the matted floor.

“I need a water break,” he wheezes and Mingyu laughs as he offers him a bottle.

During their quick break, Vernon whips out his phone and puts on a Twitch stream for the three of them to watch. Curiously, Mingyu peers at the screen, only to feel his stomach plummet to the pit of his stomach when he realizes whose stream it is.

Seungkwan scoffs. “There he goes again, watching Koyahngi like a closeted fan.”

“Hey, she’s playing Xenoblade Chronicles 3 today and told me to watch ‘cause I’m like, the biggest Xenoblade junkie on the server,” Vernon explains coolly while wiping off the sweat on his face. 

Mingyu frowns. “Xenoblade? On a PC?”

“Yeah. She’s using an emulator.”

“That’s illegal, isn’t it? Won’t she get in trouble for live streaming it or something?”

“Oh, sweet summer child,” Seungkwan sighs as he splays his legs across the mat for a quick stretch. “You of all people should know that pretty girls like our dearest Koyahngi can get away with absolutely everything. It’s part of her charm!”

Vernon elbows Seungkwan in the stomach, to which the latter reacts with another dramatized gesture as if he’d been shot instead. Mingyu lets them banter between themselves for a few moments—choosing to focus on the stream instead.

You’re still in the middle of preparing the game you’re supposed to play on an illegal platform, dressed to the nines in full Mythra cosplay. Of course, a pair of cat ears that match the entire fit sits comfortably on your head—as is your signature look in all outfits. 

“Oh wait, is Vernon here?” you muse out loud as you squint at the chat. “If you guys watch his stuff, you’ll know how crazy he is about Xenoblade, so I invited him as a special guest! Say hi to everyone for me, yeah?”

Vernon is so quick to snatch his phone to type in hi o/~~ in the chat, it even startles Mingyu. 

“There he is!” You giggle. “We should collaborate on another game sometime, yeah? Sucks that Xenoblade doesn’t allow you to coop.”

Out loud, Vernon snorts. “Yeah, I won’t be doing that.”

“Why not?” Mingyu asks, genuinely curious. “She seems cool with it.”

“Are you crazy? Wonwoo-hyung will kill me,” he chuckles with a shake of his head. “I know I’m the one who introduced her to the friend group, but we all know how Wonwoo-hyung is with her. If she was my girlfriend, I’d gatekeep her from the rest of the world, too. Maybe.”

The words ring in Mingyu’s ears like a stern reminder he should’ve heeded a long time ago. 

It’s no secret that Wonwoo is a little…possessive over you. He might even be acting as your pseudo-mod right this second—watching the chat like a hawk before doing public lashings for any weirdos brave enough to send anything inappropriate. 

He wonders how Wonwoo would react if he knew about that chance encounter he shared with you a few nights prior…

“True,” Seungkwan agrees before rising back to his feet with a hop. “The only person he’ll probably be cool with handing Koyahngi over to is Mingyu-hyung.”

His friend says those words while he’s in the middle of taking a huge gulp of water. It nearly goes down his windpipe when he makes a surprised noise, but thankfully Mingyu manages to not sputter out his drink all over Vernon’s face.

“What?” he asks raspily when he collects himself. “Why me?”

“Uh, maybe because he’s alright with letting you touch and hug her anytime, but we get warning glares whenever we get close to her?” 

Warning what? He’s got to be lying. Wonwoo is crazy possessive, but he does not glare at his friends just because they’re being affectionate to you.

Right?

Begrudgingly, Vernon nods at his side. “Mhmm. I think it has something to do with you guys living together for years now. You’ve shared practically everything up to this point, right?”

Mingyu scowls at them both. “You’re not suggesting what I think you’re suggesting, right?”

“What are you—oh,” Seungkwan trails off with his face reddening upon realizing. “I didn’t mean he’d be down to share his girlfriend with you like that! But hey, if Wonwoo-hyung is into it, then you’re probably the only person he’ll consider accepting.”

“Agreed,” Vernon chimes. “Anyway, are we going back to work? I can watch her stream while I’m doing crunches just fine.” 

As the three of them disperse back to their own corners in the gym, Mingyu finds himself mulling over that earlier conversation with Vernon and Seungkwan. They’re both aware of Wonwoo’s territorial nature, but openly admitted that when it comes to Mingyu, things might be a little different. 

Which doesn’t help his case at all. Because how the fuck is he supposed to move past his feelings now? Not only did you implicitly reciprocate his interest the other night to some degree, but now he’s got his other friends unknowingly rooting for him too. 

Mingyu breathes in deeply as he tries lifting 75 kilogram weights on each side of the bar all while thinking back to Jeonghan’s advice to just negotiate.

Do his friends’ words have any truth to them? Will Wonwoo actually agree if…if—

“Fuck,” Mingyu grumbles when he feels the force of the barbell’s weight flaring up his arms and muscles. But at the same time he realizes that it’s impossible to ask Wonwoo about what he wants because…

He can’t just tell him, hey hyung, how would you feel if I fucked your girlfriend? Wonwoo would probably chase him out of the apartment with a knife if he did. Worse, he’d end more than fifteen years’ worth of friendship and Mingyu loses not only that hair-strand thin chance of getting with you but also his best friend. 

That’s not a risk he thinks he’s foolish enough to take. 

As some sort of punishment, Mingyu forces himself to bear the barbell’s weight for about ten seconds before letting it drop back to the floor—the fibers of his muscles screaming in agony with what he just put them through. 

He probably, definitely deserves more than that though. 

“Mingyu! You’re late!”

Soonyoung’s jarring voice is the first thing that greets Mingyu when he finally arrives at the restaurant. The tall man is immediately surrounded by his friends—getting roughhoused for being tardy on his best friend’s special day. He lets out an easygoing laugh to brush off their teasing, eyes observing the private room Wonwoo rented for the occasion. 

“What took you so long, man?!” Seokmin complains, throttling Mingyu by the lapels of his iron-pressed suit jacket. “You’re the one who always brings out the cake for Wonwoo, remember? Seungcheol-hyung nearly set the entire cake on fire earlier.”

“Fondant icing can’t catch fire, you ditz,” the eldest of their group scoffs. “Anyway, we might as well do the toast since Mingyu’s finally here.”

As his pack of rowdy friends ushers themselves back into their seats, Mingyu lets his gaze rove around again. On the end of the long, fancy dining table he spots the birthday boy waving over at him with a small smile. Right next to Wonwoo is, of course, you—flashing him a grin with those ruby red lips as your eyes crinkle with a smile that haunts him with his eyes closed.

If Mingyu came clean and said that you were the reason he almost didn’t show up to his own best friend’s birthday dinner, would everyone else in this room hate him for it?

Probably.

Once everyone is settled into their seats, Mingyu gets served a full-course meal by the waiters bussing around the private enclosure. Everyone else was already halfway through dessert and they’re now being poured generous amounts of whatever champagne Seungkwan boasted about buying for Wonwoo as a birthday present. 

“C’mon, birthday toast!” Seungkwan announces obnoxiously loud as he eggs everyone on to raise their glasses. “So who’s going to do the honors and kiss Wonwoo-hyung’s ass for tonight?”

“Shouldn’t the latecomer do the honors?” Minghao suggests with a sleazy look. “Besides, he’s Wonwoo-hyung’s best friend anyways.”

“Asshole,” Mingyu mutters under his breath before swallowing a mouthful of his food and grabbing his champagne glass. “Uh, there’s nothing much to say. Wonwoo-hyung already knows everything I want to tell him.”

“Boo!” Chan yells from the other end. “You’re so lame, hyung. How would you feel if your best friend used that as your birthday greeting, huh?”

Joshua makes a noise in agreement. “Mingyu-yah, I’m sure there’s at least some things you want to tell him, right?”

With all eyes on him now, Mingyu feels himself flush several shades red. Goddammit. 

He forcibly meets Wonwoo’s expectant stare from the other side of the table, appeased by the warm look in his best friend’s eyes. That’s right…

Asking Wonwoo if he can have just one chance with his girlfriend is ridiculous and impossible. But saying nice things about his best friend? That’s always been Mingyu’s forte. Even if Wonwoo threatens to break his PS5 every three business days whenever the younger man pisses him off on purpose.

“This hyung of mine has grown a lot over the last decade and more. Not that being introverted is a bad thing or anything, but it’s nice seeing him become more outgoing and interactive with people outside our circle,” Mingyu starts with a small yet genuine smile. “Our dream of playing games for a living is all too real now. But for Wonwoo-hyung, he’s a brilliant professional who’s going to be scouted on the Worlds team roster pretty soon, I’m sure.”

“Now you’re just lying to my face to gas me up,” Wonwoo chuckles. 

He gestures for him to quiet down. “Ah! You guys wanted me to talk so let me finish talking!”

“Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea,” Jihoon comments. “This guy says five hundred words per minute depending on how much alcohol he’s got in his system.”

“We’ll all end up going home super late at this rate,” Jun chuckles with a shake of his head.

Mingyu pouts for a moment but his friends eventually cut him some slack—keeping their teasing jabs to themselves first to let him finish his impromptu speech. 

“As I was saying,” the part time model huffs, “You’re an amazing player and an equally amazing friend. You always put up with everyone’s antics even if we all know you’d prefer peace and quiet. You’re the one who makes life just a little more bearable for me. And even if you don’t really show it much, we know how much you actually love each one of us. 

“So… Happy Birthday, Wonwoo-hyung. Please live happily and healthily for the next hundred years because I’m afraid that they’ll only release Dark Souls 4 by then.”

Once he’s concluded what he has to say, everyone at the table cheers—not for Wonwoo, but for how concise Mingyu’s birthday speech is. Those little shits. 

Either way, they all raise a toast for today’s celebrant—Soonyoung singing an off-key rendition of Happy Birthday on the top of his lungs as they all clinked champagne glasses together. Mingyu’s grinning from ear-to-ear as he watches his friends mess around with each other as per usual, thinking how he’ll never want any other constants in his life as long as they’re by his side.

But in the middle of all the commotion, his gaze tunnels into his best friend. 

Wonwoo is in the middle of talking to you with a loving smile on his lips. Mingyu is a little too far away to make sense of what you’re talking about, but you do lean closer to press a firm kiss on your boyfriend’s lips.

He can’t really name the emotion that prickles in his chest at the sight of it. The closest thing would probably be jealousy but it doesn’t sound quite fitting. Mingyu doesn’t really wish for his best friend to be out of the picture so he could be on the receiving end of your sweet kisses.

It’s more like…he just wants you to give some to him too.

But after weeks and weeks of fighting against his fatal attraction to you, he’s grown quite exhausted from all the senseless overthinking. Mingyu is now waving the white flag of surrender—ready to bury these feelings in the past where they belong. 

After all, he’d never trade all the years he’s spent with Wonwoo for a woman he’ll get over in no time. He’s better than that.

Until he’s not.

Mingyu doesn’t really know how it happened, when it started, and why he even let things get this far. 

Wonwoo was generous enough to book everyone their own rooms in the hotel just across the famous restaurant he decided to treat them in. It was mostly for Soonyoung because they all know how that man can hardly handle his liquor. But still, it’s nice to be spoiled by the most stoic out of their friend group every now and again.

Before retreating to his own room, Mingyu decided to catch some fresh air on the open balcony on the tenth floor. The breeze blew past his face nice and easy, making him feel more relaxed than he has in the last few months. 

But then you swooped down on him like an angel of death.

It’s been a while since he talked to you one-on-one like this. The last time was probably the night he split his hand open and you had to patch him up. 

Mingyu is apprehensive during the entire course of the conversation, which is weird because he’s always felt comfortable in your company. It’s his stupid fucking feelings making things weird for him. 

If only he could just wake up one day and things were back to the way they were.

He hoped it would just be one of those regular conversations where you’d eventually excuse yourself to look for Wonwoo. Mingyu can handle that. He can pretend to be fine in the face of others even if he’s rotting from the inside out because of how badly he wants to tear that lovely dress off of you. That’s something he’s always been good at.

However, when he’s in the middle of telling you a story about how Soonyoung betted a large amount of in-game Valorant currency on the possibility of you and Wonwoo dating back then, you bring a single finger to Mingyu’s lips.

“Aren’t you tired of this, Gyu?” you sigh, pouting at him so tantalizingly with your perfect red lips as you bring your hand down. 

His brows furrow together, not quite catching what you’re trying to say. “T-Tired of what?”

The corners of your mouth pull up into a pretty smile that’s wearing down his defenses faster than he’d like it to. “Of this game of push and pull, silly. I’ve been trying to get you to sleep with me for ages, but you’re such a good puppy, aren’t you? Never taking anything you want unless someone gives it to you.”

Mingyu can hardly believe his ears.

“You’ve been trying to…what?” His mouth drops into a disbelieving look. “I— You— You can’t be serious. What do you mean you want to sleep with me? You have a boyfriend.”

You make a sound of affirmation before leaning closer to him by the rails, tugging on the lapels of his jacket to pull him flush against you. Mingyu has to physically bite down a groan at the feel of your perky tits pushed into his chest. 

“I do, but that’s not important right now,” you giggle as you let your fingers trail up the curve of his neck. “Don’t you want to fuck me, Gyu? I see the way you look at me, you know. You have a bad case of wandering eye especially when I prance around your apartment wearing nothing but Wonwoo’s shirts. I didn’t expect you to hold out for this long honestly.”

The fact that you have a boyfriend isn’t important right now? And you’ve been deliberately seducing him all this goddamn time?

What the ever-loving fuck?

Mingyu still remembers how you looked into Wonwoo’s eyes earlier after the birthday toast. The love and adoration laced in your gaze…was that completely fake? Were you just using his best friend so you could get to him? 

That’s not right. He at least knows the abridged version of yours and Wonwoo’s love story. Despite how unpredictable you can be, Mingyu refuses to believe that you’ll willingly put yourself through all that if you didn’t love Wonwoo in the first place. If he’s the one you’ve wanted all along.

But the fight in him has been fading day by day. Mingyu thought he was closer to accepting the fact that he’ll never really have you the way he wants to. But in truth, he’s on the complete opposite side of the spectrum. 

It’s just the way things were before—Kim Mingyu will come running once you drop him scraps of your affection.

“Do you want to kiss me, Gyu?” you murmur, lips ghosting across his own. 

No. He wants to say no. He needs to say no.

“Yes,” Mingyu breathes instead, a thousand sparks igniting in his chest as he stares at the plump curve of your lips. “God, fuck yes.”

You make a show of dragging your bottom lip between your teeth, looking up at him with so much desire in your eyes, he nearly melts from the intensity of it. 

“Okay, big boy,” you giggle before taking his hand in a firm grip. “Not here though.”

The short trip back to your hotel room is swift. Mingyu doesn’t think about anything else but the feel of your soft skin cradling his large hand in yours. He doesn’t even wonder where the fuck Wonwoo is during this entire thing. All that matters is the fact that this is real and this is happening. 

If things go the way he assumes they will in his head, he’ll finally get to have you for himself.

That’s the exact thought that makes the blood in Mingyu’s veins come alive with heady arousal—tapping his feet on the carpeted floor of the hallway as you scan your keycard on the lock of your hotel room. You giggle at his impatience tugging him into the room by his necktie before the door clicks shut behind him.

Mingyu doesn’t waste any time. He quickly crowds you against the wall of the narrow hallway entrance, hands on your hips as he crushes his lips with yours like your kiss was air itself. You moan into his mouth before hooking your thigh around his hips to let him grind his hardening length against your middle. 

“You have no fucking idea how badly I want you,” he hisses between kisses, migrating to your neck to continue his onslaught against your skin. “Always walking around the house barely dressed. You were daring enough to rub the fact that Wonwoo-hyung just fucked you in my face last time too. Did you want me to fuck you the same way that night?”

“Mmm… Gyu,” you moan as he sucks on the skin just above the thrum of your pulse. “Y-Yeah… Wanted you to stuff me with your cock when Nonu’s cum was still dripping out of me. Does that make me a dirty girl?”

“It does, princess.”

Mingyu knows himself to be a person that’s easily spooked. It’s for that reason that Soonyoung likes popping out of nowhere just to do that. The reason Seungcheol likes intimidating him with a single look whenever Mingyu pushes his buttons. But it takes a lot to genuinely scare him. 

Hearing Wonwoo’s voice on the other side of this room, apparently, is enough to make the color drain from his entire face.

Wonwoo is seated on a reading chair propped by the windows with the curtains drawn, scrolling through his phone with a bored look like the sight of his girlfriend being pushed against a wall by his best friend is something that doesn’t faze him in the slightest. 

“H-Hyung,” Mingyu stutters, swallowing thickly. “This isn’t what it looks like.”

His roommate chuckles. “Mingyu, you just admitted out loud that you want to fuck my girlfriend. This is exactly what it looks like.”

“Mmm, big puppy’s being so silly,” you giggle as you inch your thighs apart, poking the tip of Mingyu’s nose with your finger. “He’s been fighting himself all this time and now when he can finally have me, he chickens out again. What do we do with him, daddy?”

…Daddy?

Wonwoo hums almost theatrically as he crosses his legs on the chair, smirking at the two of you like…like—

“Did you two plan this?” Mingyu asks incredulously, trying his best not to get distracted by your cleavage peeking from the low cut of your dress. “Hyung, why do you seem so…”

“Comfortable with the thought of you railing my girl well into the next day?” Wonwoo supplies and Mingyu winces at his crass wording. Well, he is right but— “Because I am, Mingyu. But since you’re a little slow on the uptake sometimes, she’ll spell it out for you in a way that leaves no room for misunderstandings.”

As if on cue, you give Mingyu’s necktie another firm tug, forcing the tall man to look at you with a bewildered look. You bat your lashes at him with a disarming smile before pulling him closer so that your faces are leveled.

“I told Wonwoo that I really want to know what it feels to have you inside me, Gyugyu,” you whisper. “If I mentioned any other guy, he probably would’ve killed them ‘cause he’s possessive like that. He’s only alright with it ‘cause it’s you.” 

“And she’s been seducing you for a while now. It really is a mystery how you managed to hold out that long when she had me wrapped around her finger in no time,” Wonwoo adds with a chuckle. “You’re better than me, it seems.”

Mingyu’s gaze keeps alternating between you and his best friend—unable to completely wrap his head around the idea that not only are you actually into him, but Wonwoo gave your sick fantasies his blessing beforehand. 

“You…” He breathes in deeply before turning to Wonwoo again. “You want me to fuck your girlfriend? On your birthday?”

The older man shrugs. “This could’ve happened much sooner if you weren’t so dense, Mingyu. But if that bothers you so much, then just think of it as another treat from me.”

“Gyu,” you whine, practically rubbing yourself against his thick thigh. “Stop thinking and just fuck me already, yeah? Doesn’t my big puppy want to feel me wrapped around his cock? I promise it’ll feel so much better than your hand.”

Oh. Oh. 

Mingyu isn’t sure what to focus on first—you calling him your big puppy or the fact that they know he’s been jacking off religiously to the thought of sinking his length into your wet heat. But it’s just as you said.

Mingyu should really just stop fucking thinking.

All the time he spends at the gym is put to good use when he effortlessly picks you up by your thighs and migrates to the mattress. You let out an adorable little squeal when he gently lays you on top of the sheets and Mingyu has to keep himself from moaning at the sight of you splayed out so prettily for him. 

“Are you just going to watch?” he asks Wonwoo without looking back at him, unable to tear his gaze away from you as you tug your dress down to reveal your tits. “I’d feel a little terrible if that’s the case.”

Wonwoo barks out a laugh. “Just a little?”

“Yeah,” Mingyu whispers before shrugging off his jacket and unbuttoning his dress shirt.

“Just a little.”

That’s how he ends up with his face buried between your soft thighs, tongue working on your glistening slit as your fingers tangle themselves in his mussed hair. The noises spilling senselessly from your lips are like music to his ears—egging him on to pick you apart with his tongue and fingers all while your boyfriend watches diligently from his seat. 

Eating pussy while Wonwoo acts as a willing audience is honestly the last thing on Mingyu’s lifetime bucket list, but he knows very well that life’s full of surprises. 

“Your tongue feels so good, puppy,” you whimper, thighs pressing against the sides of Mingyu’s head as he slurps at your dripping cunt. “More please. Gyu, I wanna come on your face so bad—oh!” 

He smirks against your sensitive flesh when you jolt at the sensation of him sliding his thick fingers inside your hole—two right away because you’re already so wet and ready for him.

“She can take three, Gyu,” he hears Wonwoo chime in from behind. “Four if you’re feeling a little generous.”

The idea of taking more of his digits seems to excite you more than Mingyu expected. He feels you tighten around the fingers already inside you and he groans before suckling on your clit with unparalleled fervor.

He does just as Wonwoo says—sliding in a third finger as he stretches your gummy walls open. You have all the time in the world and he isn’t in too much of a rush to make you take as many digits as he can give you. As things stand, you’re already on the verge of being fucked out of your mind from the way his mouth works on your needy pussy alone. 

“Mingyu!” you gasp when he crooks his fingers just so, making your back arch off the mattress so sexily, he has to resist the urge to rise and give you a long, sloppy kiss. “Fuck, fuck, right there! Feels so good, puppy. Give me more.”

He fucking loves it when you call him puppy and he doesn’t really know what that says about him. It’s not like Mingyu can bring himself to care though—not when you’re grinding your sopping cunt against his mouth like he’s your own personal toy. 

“Shit, princess. You’re not this demanding when I eat you out,” Wonwoo groans. 

“T-That’s cause—ahn, Mingyu…” A surge of pride momentarily fills his chest when he renders you unable to manage a coherent response. “You’re my daddy and he’s my puppy. I can boss my puppy around, right, Gyugyu?”

While Mingyu is just now getting to know what sort of dynamic you and Wonwoo have in the bedroom, he doesn’t really have any qualms about what you’ve decided on for him. He merely nods a bit too eagerly, unceasing on his onslaught of tongue and fingers. Your body is wracked with another full shiver when the ridge of his nose bumps against your clit, sparing him another beautiful moan that goes straight to his cock.

“‘m so close, puppy,” you cry out, riding his face as you squeeze your breasts in the hand not tangled in his hair. “Mouth’s so fucking good to me. Love how you eat me out s’much, Gyu.”

He doesn’t notice how he’s nearly rutting his hips into the bed in a desperate attempt at giving himself some much-needed friction. Your eyes flutter closed as your body stutters to a stop, shuddering as your orgasm finally washes over you. 

Mingyu growls as he slips his fingers out of your quivering hole, burying his tongue inside your cunt as you ride out your high. You buck your hips against his mouth and he’s much too eager to place his hands on your ass as you come back down to earth. 

To his surprise, you bounce back from that mind-shattering orgasm much quicker than he thought. Right when you stop trembling in his grasp, you’re quick to pull Mingyu up to have a taste of yourself on his lips—tongue swirling with his own as the tangy flavor spreads across the appendage. 

“Want your cock next, Gyu,” you breathe against his mouth, eyes hooded with desire. “You’ll give it to me, won’t you?” 

He’d be the biggest idiot in the world if he refused.

You quickly reposition yourself on the mattress, crawling towards the edge of the bed while glancing over at your boyfriend—still watching the show the both of you are putting up for him. Mingyu was so lost in the sensation of you grinding your pussy on his face, he nearly forgot Wonwoo was even in the room.

“Daddy, want yours too,” you whimper all while pushing your ass back for Mingyu’s enjoyment, the multitasker you are. “Can I suck you off?”

“Feeling greedy all of a sudden?” Wonwoo chuckles. “Do you really think you can take two cocks at the same time, princess? Are you that much of a cockhungry slut?” 

You nod, too high on arousal to give a shit. “Uh-huh.”

Fuck. Why was that so hot?

Despite how he initially reacted, Wonwoo gets up from his seat and pads over closer to you. Meanwhile, Mingyu takes his aching length out of his tight trousers—breathing a sigh in relief as he pumps his cock a few times. 

He feels like he should feel unnerved about taking his dick out in front of Wonwoo, but then again this isn’t something he hasn’t seen before. The college dorm bathrooms were an interesting place, but then again this is the first time he’s actually let his best friend get a look at his cock when it’s fully hard. 

The sound of him jerking himself makes you glance behind you and he swears hearts nearly dance in the pupils of your eyes when your gaze zeros in on his dick.

“You’re so fucking huge,” you groan as Mingyu rubs his length along your ass. “Daddy, you’ve got a best friend with such a pretty fucking cock and you didn’t even bother telling me? You’re mean…”

The laugh that rumbles in Wonwoo’s chest betrays the fact that he’s a little ticked off with what you just said. “Baby, I’m already doing a lot for you by letting Gyu fuck you open. Keep abusing your pretty privilege even more, and I’ll fuck your mouth until you can’t say ridiculous things.” 

Of course, Wonwoo’s threat garners the exact opposite of his intended reaction. Mingyu feels your slick gush out of your entrance at the prospect of being used by your boyfriend in such a demeaning way and he sighs with disbelief.

“Hyung,” he calls out as you work on Wonwoo’s belt and zipper. “Do I need to wear a condom or…?”

His best friend hums momentarily. “That’s up to her. What do you say, baby? Do you want to feel Mingyu’s monster cock raw or not?”

You pause from undoing Wonwoo’s pants to turn around once more, taking Mingyu’s heavy length in your hand as you practically salivate over it. Then, with careful movements, you guide his cockhead to your gaping entrance and Mingyu nearly comes right then and there.

“Wanna get pumped full of your cum, puppy,” you mewl. “Need your big cock to stretch me out so bad. You want that too, right?”

Of fucking course he wants it.

You let out a choked up noise when Mingyu eases himself inside you—trying his damn hardest to not just shove his entire length into you in one go. Wonwoo smirks at your reaction before taking out his own cock. 

Mingyu isn’t one to compare dicks with his friends, but he’s got to say that Wonwoo is definitely well-endowed. It’s no wonder that you were fucking around with him for as long as you were before finally dating the guy.

But Mingyu pushes all thoughts about that in the back of his mind, relishing in the feeling of your tight, warm cunt enveloping him in delicious heat. He groans when he manages to bury himself to the hilt—cock pulsating with each second that passes. 

“Take daddy’s cock down your throat while you let your cute little puppy fuck you stupid,” Wonwoo instructs as you open your mouth to do as you’re told. Then, when your boyfriend is sure you’ve adjusted well to Mingyu’s size, he meets his best friend’s gaze and gives him a minute nod. “Go ahead, Gyu.”

“Fuck my girlfriend just like you dreamed of doing.”

Never in Mingyu’s wildest dreams would he imagine getting to hear those words straight out of Wonwoo’s mouth, but he isn’t about to waste any more time processing the information. He simply pulls his hips back—letting you feel every inch of his engorged cock—before slamming back into you with enough force to drive Wonwoo’s dick further into your mouth.

Your moan is promptly silenced with your boyfriend’s length and Mingyu hisses as he palms at the swell of your ass. 

He’d hate to bust his load when it hasn’t even been five minutes since he’d slid himself inside you. But your pussy flutters around him so fucking good that he has to breathe in deeply to keep himself from coming too early.

“Gyu, look at me.” 

Mingyu’s momentarily puzzled by Wonwoo’s request, but he complies with a look of inquiry in his eyes. He then notices that his roommate is holding your hair up with one hand as you bob your head up and down and his phone in the other.

“We kind of have this…thing where we film ourselves during sex,” he explains. “Is it okay if I do that now? The footage will strictly stay between the three of us.”

Fuck. You film sex tapes with Wonwoo? Mingyu didn’t know it was even possible, but he just got harder inside you. 

“I-I don’t mind,” he manages to wrench out. “God, please airdrop it to me after, hyung.”

“You want a POV shot of her sucking you off, huh? Got it.” Wonwoo simpers as he unlocks his phone, tilting it high enough to get a good view of you with his cock in your mouth as Mingyu pounds you from behind. 

“What a pretty thing, getting fucked by two cocks at the same time,” he chuckles as he records the entire ordeal. “How can you ever go back to just having one, huh princess? You’re so insatiable after all.”

You’re unable to dish out a response of your own for obvious reasons, but as Wonwoo attempts to get you to deepthroat him, Mingyu presses a hand on the small of your back. Just a little so you wouldn’t lose your center of gravity, but it’s enough to make your spine arch into an angle that lets him hit it a tad bit deeper.

The reaction it incites from you is immediate and he can see Wonwoo’s smirk widen when you practically choke on his cock at the added sensation—tears gathering on your lash line because Mingyu just found your fucking g-spot. 

“Gyu’s cock is splitting you wider than you can handle, isn’t it?” your boyfriend taunts as he pushes you further against his navel. “You’ll let us finish inside you like the cumslut you are, won’t you? It’s the least you can do for tormenting Mingyu all this time.”

He says the words as if he didn’t have a hand in making Mingyu lose his mind for the better part of these last few months. But he can’t really pay much attention to his best friend’s hypocritical admissions. Not when your walls are clamping around his cock so tight, he can barely hold out even if he wanted to.

If anyone else is in his place, they wouldn’t stand a chance either. With the squelch of your cunt with each deep stroke of his cock ringing in his ears, Mingyu wants to burn it into his memory along with the sight of your cream gathering at the base of his cock every time he presses his hips flush against your ass. 

Not to mention the sight of you taking your boyfriend’s cock like a fucking champ. You haven’t once pulled away for a breather since Wonwoo slid himself inside the heat of your mouth and Mingyu can only wonder if his best friend would allow him to feel that next time.

If there’s even a next time.

“Pussy’s so fuckin’ greedy,” Mingyu groans through gritted teeth as he feels the release sizzling beneath his skin. “Can I come inside you? Let me stuff you full?” 

Still unable to verbalize your responses, you let out another muffled noise in agreement, tears and drool sliding sloppily down your face as Wonwoo chases after his own high. 

His best friend lets out another evil chuckle. “Take all of Gyu’s cum, princess. Can’t let a single drop go to waste now, can we?” 

That’s practically the last straw for Mingyu—hips stuttering to a halt as his white hot emission shoots into your swollen cunt. You moan around Wonwoo’s cock as your boyfriend batters your throat with the head of his cock, absolutely addicted to the feeling of Mingyu’s thick cock pulsing inside you as he dumps his load. 

Just when you thought he’d collapse onto the bed right away, though, Mingyu quickly scrambles onto his back—positioning himself underneath you as he hoists your hips to nestle against his face. Finally, you let Wonwoo’s dick slip out of your mouth with a surprised, “Puppy, what are you—”

The words quickly die on your tongue when you feel Mingyu slurping the mixed essence from your pussy, eating his own cum alongside yours as he lathers your quivering slit with the mess he’s made between your thighs. 

Wonwoo lets out an amused chuckle when you struggle to take him back into your mouth again, much too distracted by the overeager Mingyu cleaning you up in the most unorthodox way possible. 

“Pretty baby’s so fucking spoiled today,” he sighs, feeling his own orgasm just a few strokes away. “You’re close aren’t you? Go ahead, baby. Come on Gyu’s mouth again and I’ll give you my load as a little present.”

Mingyu groans against your sloppy cunt as he sucks on your clit, bringing you to that high he already coaxed out of you earlier. You’re full on crying now and Wonwoo’s got everything on film. 

He just knows this’ll be a night he’ll spend countless more nights jacking off to and he feels absolutely no shame admitting it to himself.

“Fuckin’ take it all, baby,” Wonwoo rasps as he finally comes—pouring his viscous cum down your throat all while your muscles spasm from Mingyu’s unrelenting ministrations. “That’s a good girl…”

He finds it a little endearing how you both came at the same time, but then again, Mingyu figures that if you’ve been having as much sex as he thinks you had with Wonwoo, equally timed orgasms are a regular thing.

When all’s said and done, Wonwoo takes it upon himself to properly clean you up in the bathroom. He tells Mingyu that he doesn’t have to come if he doesn’t want to, but the part time model still feels partly responsible for the devastated state they both left you in.

So there you are soaking in the bathtub that comes with the hotel room’s en-suite as your boyfriend and his best friend take turns in the shower.

“I can’t believe you two played me like that for so long,” Mingyu sulks, checking his reflection in the mirror as he towels his hair. “If you wanted to have a threeway, you could’ve told me without making me go through this entire moral dilemma of wanting to fuck my best friend’s girl.”

Wonwoo chuckles from inside the shower. “Now, where’s the fun in that, Gyu?”

“Mhmm.” You giggle as you scrub your sore legs with a sponge. “It was pretty amusing seeing you so torn up, puppy. But we’ve had our fun. I promise not to tease you too much next time.”

Silence falls between the three of you and nothing but the sound of water from the showerhead hitting the floor rings in Mingyu’s ears.

“There’s gonna be a next time?” he dares to ask before glancing worriedly over at Wonwoo.

His best friend emerges from the shower with steam billowing out of the door and into the vent. Wonwoo’s wearing a casual, laid-back look on his face like this isn’t news to him.

“Yeah, remember when you mentioned me being recruited on the Worlds roster?” Wonwoo asks and Mingyu nods hesitantly. “Yeah. I actually got an email offering me a spot as a T1 trainee.”

Mingyu’s jaw nearly drops to the floor. “You’re kidding. You’ll be on the same team as Faker?”

“Hey, I’m not sure yet ‘cause I have to go to this bootcamp thing and everything,” his best friend chuckles before padding over to where you’re still lounging comfortably in the tub. “But since bootcamps take months to finish, my princess over here might feel a little lonely without me.” 

You pout when Wonwoo plants a loving kiss on your nose. “I’ll die if I don’t get fucked stupid at least every three business days.”

“I know, baby. That’s why Mingyu over here is going to keep you company while I’m gone,” Wonwoo says out loud. “Right, Mingyu?”

With two pairs of eyes on him, the part time model gulps nervously. 

It’s one thing to join them in bed to fuck you at the same time. But for Wonwoo to willingly leave his girlfriend in Mingyu’s care while he’s away for pro gamer bootcamp? 

Part of him feels like he’s skipped several steps required to get to where he is now. That the offer is way too good to be true and that the universe will pull up with a fucking gotcha moment at him one day when he least expects it.

But Wonwoo seems so sure that he’ll accept and the look in your eyes glimmers with so much hope, Mingyu couldn’t bear to deny the implicit request even if he wants to.

So, with a deep, bated breath:

“Sure thing,” he says with a toothy smile. “What are friends for, right?”

part one - part two - part three - part four

⟢ end notes: hehe you made it to the end! thank god! this was meant to be concluded in part 3, but the plot line where mingyu finds out the identity of his favorite twitter porn girl is gonna take up tens of thousands of words again and i decided that it deserved its own chapter lol i still have much in store for this throuple so i do hope you tune into their sexcapades in the future <3 your reblogs and tags and other comments inspire me to write sooo much so it'll mean the world to me if you left your thoughts for me to read hehe~ p.s. i'll add links to the masterlist and other parts for easier access later bc tumblr is stupid when it comes to showing posts with links in the tags

this is part of the game over series!

[missnxthingg]

𝑳𝑶𝑽𝑬, 𝑭𝑹𝑶𝑴 𝑨𝑳𝑳 𝑭𝑶𝑼𝑹 𝑪𝑶𝑹𝑵𝑬𝑹𝑺 𝑶𝑭 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑾𝑶𝑹𝑳𝑫 . (𝑺𝑴𝑨𝑼 𝑽𝑬𝑹𝑺𝑰𝑶𝑵) - 𝐹𝐼𝑉𝐸 (𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝑜𝑛𝑒)

𝑨𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓'𝒔 𝑵𝒐𝒕𝒆 - We're close to an ending, I'm so sad 😭 Also, another big one, so don't forget to check part two and the original chapter!

original chapter | series masterlist | main masterlist | taglist | pt 2

yourusername

Zandvoort, Netherlands

yourusername Back to travelling the world! The stroopwafles were way too delicious 😋

username1 You're so effortlessly beautiful

username2 the comms queen is back! we missed you, y/n

landonorris save me a stroopwafel

↪yourusername you ate all that i had 🥺 ↪landonorris ooops sorry 🫣 ↪username3 he's so unhinged, i can't

f1gossip

f1gossip After spending summer break together, Lando Norris and Y/N L/N were seen very cosy in McLaren's garage in Zandvoort. Even though they've been best friends for years, they always prefered to not show any affection for each other during work to keep it professional. Do you guys think anything has changed?

username1 It's obvious that they've been together since Miami

↪username2 pretty rich of her to only get with him after he started winning ↪username3 A gold digger, that's for sure ↪username1 I didn't comment this for you weirdos to come and hate on Y/N. She's the sweetest and Lando really loves her.

username4 god, i hope they really are together 🥺 just look at lando's summer break pics, they absolutely love each other

↪username5 and let's pray that if they are together, that they will share it with us. so many love them together, but i think they'll keep it very private ↪username6 Lando always did that to keep Y/N and Ollie safe. He knows how things work when you're famous

username7 I'M SO READY FOR THIS

oscarpiastri added to their close friends' stories

Caption: I don't think that's very professional 👀

↪yourusername replied to your story: I'M GOING TO KILL YOU

↪oscapiastri: it's on close friends ↪yourusername: one small mistake and this would've been up the internet. as a friend AND pr, i would've murdered you ↪oscarpiastri: sorry, y/n

↪landonorris replied to your story: send it to me, mate

↪oscarpiastri: you had a better reaction them y/n ↪oscarpiastri: sending it

landonorris

landonorris Yup 🏆 More like it

tagged: yourusername

yourusename I love you, my race winner ❤ what a statement today!

↪landonorris I love you more

username1 THIS IS THE HARDEST LAUNCH OF ALL HARD LAUNCHES

username2 FUCKING FINALLY

username3 We lived to see Lando kissing Y/N right after winning with a 22 second gap in Max's home race 🥺

↪usename4 honestly, i don't think life can get any better than this

maxfewtrell Proper job this weekend brother. Put your shirt back on and stop being indecent with Y/N

↪maxfewtrell (I'm happy for you two, btw) ↪yourusername We love you, Maxie ❤ ↪landonorris Thanks, mate

username4 Gold digger 💀

↪username1 Stop it, we're not gonna let you ruin this for them ↪username2 you clearly don't know anything about them, so fuck off!

yourusername

yourusername Since he decided to give you hardest launch, here are some pics from the most amazing weekend of the year ❤ Proud of you, my love

tagged: landonorris

oscarpiastri Does this means that I can freely post pictures of you two on my stories?

↪yourusername NO ↪username1 YOU KNEW? ↪oscarpiastri Everybody and their mother knew

landonorris You make me the happiest ❤ I love you so much

↪yourusername I love you more ↪landonorris Impossible

username2 STOP THEY ARE SO CUTE

username3 mother, now feed us with all the unseen pics of you as a couple

↪yourusername Incoming...

username4 Don't you think that's a bit unprofessional? She's literally wearing a McLaren uniform

↪username5 They have always kept things professional while on the paddock, and clearly this doesn't affect his race results ↪username6 I know someone said it before, but we will not tolerate this type of comment about their relationship. Lando loves her and she loves him. Period.

username7 all of our dreams literally came true 🥺 i'm so happy

↪username8 us lando stans have never been so happy to see our boy happy

landofan

landofan Since they finally told everyone about their relationship, we rescued some pictures of Lando and Y/N (and Ollie) through the years. We're so happy to finally see them together ❤ We also want to take the opportunity to say that we fully support this relationship and that we'll not tolerate hate comments towards Y/N. It's clear that she makes Lando very happy and that this is very special to them.

tagged: landonorris, yourusername

username1 THEY HAVE ALWAYS BEEN THE CUTEST

username2 i swear they are going to have the prettiest family in the future

username3 I need a wedding and thousands of kids from them

yoursername Thank you so much for the message! It means a lot to me (and also, the cute baby Ollie pics, ty for bringing them back to me).

↪landofan OMG! tysm queen ❤ we love you together and we'll always have your back

⋘ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 // 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 ⋙

[starbluud]

— NOTHING BUT ARTERIES AND DIRT (YOUR FLOWERS STILL GROW IN MY VEINS)

masterlist.

PAIRING. prince!beomgyu x farmer!f!reader

TW. cursing. mentions of death/execution. blood and injury. slight violence. death threats. attempted forced marriage. hunting traps. hunting. mentions of animal death. mentions of parental death. alcohol usage. illness. incarceration. reader has a little brother named max. i’ll go in further detail with every chapter.

GENRE. fluff. angst. royalty!au. fantasy!au.

SUMMARY. choi beomgyu, the current prince and future king of blue hour grove, craves a change — something with substance. he yearns for something to break the monotony of his repetitive lifestyle, where he’s confined to the castle, preparing to rule for when his father steps down. all he’s ever known are books, proper etiquette, and unbearably dull balls and meetings. just a taste of something new — that’s all he asks.

so, when a chance finally arises to experience the bustling village beyond the tall white walls he’s grown to despise, he doesn’t hesitate to take it. now on the run and new to this unfamiliar world, a certain farmer piques his interest. as he breaks down this shield she has up, she begins to show him what it truly means to live. yet, with the royal family on the hunt for the missing heir, it’s only a matter of time before his dreams come crashing down.

MIXTAPE. soldier, poet, king, the oh hellos. welcome home, son, radical face. king and lionheart, of monsters and men. skinny love, bon iver. michigan, the milk carton kids. dear wormwood, the oh hellos. ghost towns, radical face. featherstone, the paper kites. wasteland, baby!, hoizer. the night we met, lord huron. white winter hymnal, fleet foxes.

NOTES. hello! here’s a little masterlist i made for this series. i guess it’s a series lol. anyway, everything is pretty much identical to each other chapter-wise, but i suck at making things aesthetic. sorry if it gets confusing. you can find all the chapters and such here. i might make a taglist as well in the future if you’d like. let me know what you think. <3

TABLE OF CONTENTS.

CHAPTER ONE. to be loved (what a sick feeling)

CHAPTER TWO. a healing touch (enough to kill me gently)

CHAPTER THREE. fragile mornings (shaped by your calloused hands)

CHAPTER FOUR. tba.

if your name’s in white, it won’t let me tag :((

taglist: @usuallyunlikelyfox @xylatox @the-car-in-ikily

[httpsserene]

let's go golfing — 𝐥𝐧. 𝟒 lando norris x fem!black!reader | carmen montero mundt. lily muni he. george russell. alex albon. smau. crack, humor & fluff. minor injury.

synopsis: maybe you shouldn’t be late to any event you go to, or bare minimum don’t make any bets you know you’re not going to win. having no hand-eye coordination is not great when you’re being forced to play golf

༊࿐ ⊹ ˚. i’d like to remind everyone that the people asked for this hellscape! i wish i could've included the full twitch quartet, but because of the photo limit on tumblr...charles did not make the final cut 😔 the plot (if there even was a plot) damn near ran away from me—it’s more friend focused than lando x reader until the end! i hope you guys find this funny, otherwise what did i do this for?

⌕ join taglist | requests & feedback | upcoming chapters | table of contents ↻

georgerussell63

liked by lilymhe, mercedesamgf1, and 4,100,123 others

georgerussell63: off to a terrible start for golf day. my girlfriends “wife” is crashing the party, and my mates gf is already -4 after two holes 🙂

view comments

lilymhe: light work 💪🏼 no reaction🥱

user: not his girlfriend’s wife ☠️

➥ user: who does he think keeps carmen’s bed warm when he’s not at home???

alex_albon: welcome to watch mojo! and today we’re counting down our top 10 times our gf’s ditch us for each other 🤨

➥ user: and?

➥ user: what else are they supposed to do alexander 😀

y/ninstagram: put some respeCK on my name princling, or next time i see u its on sight 😡 im aiming the golf club straight at you

➥ georgerussell63: you can’t even hit the golf ball in under three tries, or aim anywhere near the holes

➥ georgerussell63: i think i’ll be fine

➥ y/ninstagram: 😟😐 i'll remember this george william russell, ur asking for it

carmenmmundt: george failed to mention that he’s +3 already

➥ georgerussell: like, literally nobody asked you to say that 😒

➥ landonorris: drag him !!! he doesn’t get to say shit about our wife 😤

➥ carmenmmundt: *my wife

➥ user: lmfaooo im 💀

alex_albon

liked by y/ninstagram, carmenmmundt and 3,431,543 others

alex_albon: ladies and gentlemen, introducing: *my* girlfriend 🤤✨

tagged lilymhe

view comments

y/ninstagram: we MUST stay focused sisters

y/ninstagram: gawd damn‼️ wifey could hit me with that golf club any day

➥ carmenmmundt: fuck the club, i’ll let her run me over w the cart🥴

lilymhe: next hole, i’ll show you guys what a proper stoke is 😏

➥ lilymhe: since our bf’s seem to underperform…on the golf course obv

➥ user: AYOOO?!!

➥ carmenmmundt: okay 😇

➥ y/ninstagram: why r my thighs wet rn

➥ user: dO THEY KNOW THIS IS PUBLIC

alex_albon: i’m at a loss for words

➥ landonorris: this is literally your fault

➥ georgerussell63: can’t believe you mate 🫤

➥ alex_albon: how is this MY fault??! whattddiddiddoo

lilymhe • 5hrs ago

view replies

y/ninstagram: idk y ur complaining? the cart is parked. on its side, but it’s parked😊

carmenmmundt: i think we’ve punished ourselves

alex_albon: should’ve left her ass at home like i said 😒

francisca.cgomes: idk even know why y’all let her drive the cart😨

y/ninstagram • 4 hrs ago

view replies

maxfewtrell: ur joeeee kingggg. ur joe king 😐

francisca.cgomes: i wouldn’t even trust u with the scorecard—but pop off !!! girl boss shit

danielricciardo: SO I HAD TO, GRIND LIKE THAT TO SHINE LIKE THIS 🗣️🗣️‼️💯

lando.jpg

liked by maxverstappen1, oscarpiastri, and 3,862,431 others

lando.jpg: “i have the highest score out of everybody here! +26 up on y’all hoes!” - y/n

tagged y/ninstagram

view comments

lando.jpg: BRO SAID ABSOLUTELY NOTHING 🥶🥶🔥🔥🔥

➥ maxfewtrell: SHE SOUNDS FIRE 🔥 ON MUTE ‼️💯

lilymhe: SHE GOT A HIDDEN TALENT 🔥🔥🔥 KEEP IT HIDDEN 🔥🔥🔥

➥ alex_albon: no talent ✅ JUST STRAIGHT ASS 💯💯🗣️🗣️🔥🔥

georgerussell63: THIS IS FIRE 🔥 PUT IT OUT ‼️

user: SHE SPITTING BARS 💯💯💯 PUT HER BEHIND THEM 🔥🔥🔥

user: THE SILENCE IS SO LOUD WHEN THIS HITS 🗣️🔥🔥

user: WE STARTED FROM THE BOTTOM 🔥🔥🔥 NOW WE’RE DIGGING 🗣️🗣️🔥💯‼️🙌🏽🙌🏽

y/ninstagram: y u hurt me 😪

➥ carmenmmundt: i think you’re underrated, honestly &lt;; 3

➥ y/ninstagram: aw ty carmie :)

➥ carmenmmundt: I HOPE IT STAYS THAT WAY 🥶🥶‼️‼️🙌🏻🙌🏻

➥ y/ninstagram: bee-eff-eff-aur: be FUCKING for real 😒

y/ninstagram • 3 hrs ago

view replies

maxverstappen1: i don’t want to laugh—man who TF am i kidding 😹😹😹

alexandrasaintmleux: how THE fuck did u manage to give yourself a concussion??!

carlossainzjr: pobrecita😪 how 😭 terrible 😭 can you tell lando to come over when ur done

carlossainzjr: hello

carlossainzjr: niña i can see you reading my messages

landonorris

liked by carlossainzjr, mclaren, and 6,234,765 others

landonorris: thank you for all the wishes about y/n (not u carlos, you’re in time out). she only has a mild concussion, and verbally assaults me when i wake her up every two hours 😒 to make sure she’s alive 🤗

view comments

landonorris: god forbid i stop her from dying ��

➥ carlossainzjr: heyyy be nice to her she’s in another world right now

➥ landonorris: u r not slick sainz. don’t expose our affair to my gf when she’s injured

➥ carlossainzjr: she won’t even remember this 🥺

➥ user: sir👁️👄👁️, this is a wendy’s drive through

➥ user: they know this on the internet 4ever right…?

lilymhe: this girl swung the club, missed the ball, and let go of the damn club no follow through

➥ carmenmmundt: it hit the ground and ricocheted back at her

➥ alex_albon: and she got knocked on the forehead hard asl

➥ georgerussell63: the noise it made was hilarious 😂 y’all should’ve been there

➥ user: geORGE WILLIAM????

➥ georgerussell63: i’m mad we didn’t get it on video smh 😔

© httpsserene - do not reupload. photos in header image are from pinterest. divider by @cafekitsune.

[sherewrytes]

𝔹𝕣𝕠𝕜𝕖𝕟 ℙ𝕚𝕖𝕔𝕖𝕤, ℝ𝕪𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕟 𝕊𝕦𝕜𝕦𝕟𝕒  18

↳ Sukuna x f! black reader

Summary: After the death of his grandfather, Sukuna Ryomen is left to shoulder the weight of his family, caring for his younger brothers, Yuuji and Choso. As he withdraws into grief, his relationship with Y/N, his girlfriend of a year, begins to crumble. When Y/N discovers the truth about his grandfather’s passing during a heated argument, it leads to a painful breakup. Now, both are navigating life apart, but Sukuna’s heart aches for Y/N. Determined to win her back, he must confront his pain and find a way to break through the walls he’s built. Can he rekindle their love, or is it too late?

contents: heavy angst, modern au, 18+, smut, dark romance, drug use, talks of depression and similar topics. (a lil )

fic warnings. ooc, profanity, mental health issues, toxic relationships, cheating, explicit smut, serious drug use, mentions of depression + more to be updated as story progresses.

Please read with proper discretion. this is a work of fiction. all characters are written to portray roles that are necessary to the plot and are in no way a reflection of their canon counterparts.

Taglist: @for-hearthand-home@clp-84@thelightknight21@favvkiki  @helightknight21@dylsw@ria-s-writes@sleepymothafterhours@sukunasstomachtongue@cosmic-lovr@imm0rtalbutterfly@kyo-kyo1 @7thsthings

if you wanna be added to the tag list comment

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Masterlist

Geto reached out, his hand brushing against my shoulder, but I yanked away, the need for space pulsing through me like a raw wound. “Don’t,” I muttered under my breath, the frustration rising in my chest again. I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t be touched, not now, not by anyone.

I moved through the house like a ghost, aimlessly stepping from room to room, as if walking through the places where everything had gone wrong would somehow bring clarity. I stopped in Yuuji’s room, staring at the empty space where he usually slept. It felt so quiet here, too quiet, like the weight of what was missing—of what was never going to be the same—was settling in the walls.

I kept moving, like I was searching for something I couldn’t find, walking to Choso’s room, then Grandpa’s, then finally stopping in mine. My feet stopped just at the door, staring at the boxes piled up against the wall. The boxes of everything I had taken back from Y/N that night we ended things. The night that felt like it had happened years ago, but in reality, only a few months had passed.

Without thinking, I yanked open the first box. The first thing I saw was a photo of us—me and Y/N, smiling at some stupid event or concert or something that no longer mattered. My hands trembled as I ripped it in half, the tearing sound like a sharp breath between us, but it felt like the only thing I could do. I kept going, tearing through the boxes, each one filled with things I didn’t know how to hold onto anymore.

Pictures of us, our stupid memories, things that used to matter but now only stung. I tore them all, like I could tear away the pain with every shred of paper. The laughter, the late-night talks, the warmth I once felt when I held her—it all felt like someone else’s life, someone I couldn’t even recognize.

“Fucking shit,” I cursed under my breath, grabbing another photo, this one of me and Y/N at the beach, her laughing while I looked like an idiot with my arms around her. The pain twisted in my chest, sharp and ugly.

I couldn’t breathe. I didn’t know how to feel anymore, so I kept tearing, like if I destroyed all of it, I could destroy what was left of the hurt.

But it wasn’t working. The tears came again, mixing with the rage. I wanted to scream, but I didn’t know who I was angry at anymore. Her? Me? Both of us?

“I fucked this all up,” I whispered to myself, the words as broken as the pictures scattered around me. “I fucking ruined it all.”

Fuck I need to calm down

I started pacing my room, digging through all my hiding spots where I kept all my shit

. "You won’t find anything. I cleaned you out. You had so much, I thought you were dealing, man..."

I froze, my chest tightening as Gojo’s voice echoed from the doorway, his words cutting through the haze of panic and frustration I was drowning in

You did WHAT?

My heart pounded in my ears, rage burning hotter than ever. I whipped around, my gaze locking onto Gojo as if he were the one responsible for every goddamn bad decision I had made. My chest heaved, and the anger took over, turning into something ugly and raw.

“You cleaned me out?!" I spat, my voice rising with every word. "What the fuck gives you the right to go through my shit? Who the hell do you think you are?”

Gojo just stood there, arms crossed, like he was completely unaffected by the storm of emotions crashing down around him. His usual carefree smirk was nowhere to be found. It was replaced with something colder, like he was really serious for once.

“You’ve been spiraling, Sukuna,” he said, his tone almost casual but with a sharpness that caught me off guard. “I wasn’t about to sit around and let you ruin yourself. Not like that.”

Ruin myself?

I could barely comprehend the words, too consumed by the overwhelming frustration and shame that had followed me since everything went to shit with Y/N. But this? Gojo had gone through my stuff, thrown out what little I had left to calm myself down when I couldn’t breathe through the weight of it all.

“I didn’t ask for your help,” I sneered, voice shaking with the fury bubbling inside me. “Who the fuck do you think you are to come in here and just clean me out like I’m some fucking child?”

Gojo stepped forward, his expression softening just a fraction, but the intensity in his eyes was still there, like he wasn’t backing down. “I’m your fucking friend, Sukuna. And whether you like it or not, I’m trying to pull you back from the edge. You’ve been on that damn edge for too long."

I clenched my fists, grinding my teeth together as if I could force the frustration out, but nothing worked. The room felt suffocating, and Gojo’s presence only made it worse. He was too close, too calm in the middle of my storm.

"You think you can save me, huh?" I snarled. "You can’t save me. You can’t fix this. This is me. This is all I have left. I’m broken, Gojo.”

Gojo’s eyes narrowed, not with anger but with something that felt like pity, like he already knew what was coming next. “You’re not broken, Sukuna. You’re just... lost. And you don’t want to be found.”

The words hit harder than they should have. My throat tightened again, my chest feeling like it was collapsing in on itself. It took everything in me not to lash out, not to punch something until the world went quiet. But I stood there, shaking, fists clenched so tight I thought I might break my own bones.

“I didn’t ask for your pity,” I hissed, but it came out weak, lacking the venom I meant for it. “And I don’t need you coming in here and trying to fix me. I’m beyond fixing.”

Gojo didn’t flinch. He just stood there, arms still crossed, like he was waiting for me to come to terms with what he was saying. Like he already knew I was on the edge of giving in, of acknowledging that maybe... maybe I did need someone to pull me back.

But I couldn’t let that happen. Not like this. Not with Gojo—of all people—standing there like he was the answer to my mess.

“I’m fine,” I spat, though I didn’t believe it. “Just leave me the hell alone, Satoru.”

But he didn’t. He never did. And for some reason, that felt like the biggest punch of all.

Geto stormed back into the room, slamming something onto the floor. My eyes locked onto it instantly—the glint of the crystals catching the light. I knew exactly what it was.

MDMA. Pure as hell.

A sick smile spread across my face before I even thought about it. This... this was heaven. A rush I couldn’t resist, a way out from everything choking me inside. Everything I was feeling—the pain, the emptiness, the frustration—all of it would melt away in a moment. I knew it. I could already taste it on my tongue, the high that would lift me, make me forget the whole goddamn mess.

“Be my guest, Sukuna," Geto sneered, his voice dripping with disdain. “Take it. Take it all. If you wanna go this route, then do it. I’m done with you, man. Take it.”

I didn’t even hesitate. My hand shot out, ready to claim the fix, the escape that had been out of my reach for too long. The pain in my chest was unbearable, but this? This would make it stop.

But before I could grab it, Gojo was there, slapping my hand away with surprising force. “What the fuck are you doing, Geto?” Gojo’s voice was sharp, his usual carefree demeanor gone. His eyes were hard now, pinning Geto down like he was ready to throw punches if need be.

“You’re gonna let him do this?” Gojo snapped at Geto, his words barely making it past the shock that flickered across his face. He turned to me, disbelief written all over him. “Sukuna, you don’t need this shit. You’ve had enough.”

I didn’t look at him. I couldn’t. I was too focused on the glistening crystals sitting on the floor, too focused on the way they shimmered like a promise, like they held all the answers to my problems.

Then, Geto’s voice cut through the air, venom dripping from every word. “Look at you. You’re a fiend. A fucking fuck-up. That’s all you’ll ever be. You’re pathetic.”

The words stung. They hit harder than I wanted to admit. But I couldn’t stop myself. I needed this. I needed to escape this crushing weight in my chest, the burning anger, the aching loneliness. This was the only way I could breathe again.

I reached for it again, ignoring everything else. “Shut up, Geto,” I growled, my hand trembling as I finally gripped the crystals. I couldn’t think. I didn’t want to think. I just needed the fix.

Gojo didn’t try to stop me this time. Instead, he just stared, his face unreadable. But I could tell he was worried. He was always fucking worried about me.

“You’re making a mistake, Sukuna," he murmured, voice low. But it didn’t matter. It didn’t fucking matter.

This was the only thing I could control right now. So I poured the MDMA into my palm, ready to feel the warmth spread through me, ready to forget it all. To forget the pain of everything that was falling apart.

But Geto’s words rang in my ears, and for a split second, the high felt farther away than it ever had. I wasn’t just running from the pain anymore. I was running from everything—everyone.

And I knew, deep down, I was about to lose it all.

I murmured under my breath, my voice barely a whisper, "You guys don't get it. I don't want to be here."

I wasn’t sure how much I took, but I didn’t care. I tossed the crystals into my hand, feeling the familiar rush of relief as I tossed them down my throat, swallowing everything in one move. The moment it hit, the high began creeping up on me like a storm, quiet at first, then swallowing me whole. My body felt weightless, my mind foggy, and for the first time in what felt like ages, I could breathe.

Geto’s reaction was immediate. He cursed, a mix of disbelief and anger in his voice. "Shit... what the fuck, man?" His words felt distant, barely making it through the haze that was already settling in my head.

I leaned against the wall, the room spinning just enough to remind me I was still alive, still here, even though I didn’t want to be. My vision blurred at the edges, and the pain that had been gnawing at me—the ache of everything I had lost, everything I was—began to dull. It felt like I was sinking into something warm, something comforting, but it was empty too.

“Damn it, Sukuna!” Gojo shouted, stepping toward me, his face twisted in frustration and concern. But it was too late. I had already crossed that line. The coldness I’d been fighting off, the feeling of being trapped in my own head, it was fading.

I couldn’t think anymore. I didn’t want to. I just wanted to feel something other than this weight that was crushing me from the inside out.

Geto, pacing in front of me, rubbed his hands over his face. "You’re a fucking mess, Sukuna. This is exactly what I was talking about. You keep doing this shit, and you’re gonna end up dead in a ditch somewhere. You need help."

But I couldn’t hear him anymore. The words were just noise, fading into the background as I focused on the way my heart slowed, the way my limbs felt lighter. I didn’t care. None of it mattered.

All I wanted was to escape, to run far away from everything I couldn’t fix.

I closed my eyes, letting the numbness take over, letting myself sink into the high, until the only thing that mattered was the feeling of not being—just existing without the pain. The voices around me were muffled, distorted like they were coming from a distance.

I heard Geto’s voice, still angry, still trying to reach me. “You don’t get it, do you? This shit isn’t gonna fix anything. You can’t just numb yourself forever, Sukuna."

But I wasn’t listening anymore.

Gojo’s grip on my jaw was tight, his fingers digging into my skin as he tried to force my mouth open. His voice was urgent, but there was an edge to it I couldn’t quite place. "Sukuna, you need to throw this shit up, now. It’s not too late."

I twisted my head, trying to break free from his hold, but his hand only tightened. "What’s the point?" I sneered, my words slurring slightly as the high took over. "What the fuck’s the point of saving me from myself when I don't even want to be saved?"

Gojo’s eyes hardened, frustration flashing across his face, but I could see the flicker of concern buried underneath the anger. "Don’t do this," he hissed. "You're not the only one who's hurting, Sukuna. This isn’t gonna make it go away."

But I was past caring. The crystal MDMA was already in my bloodstream, coursing through me like fire. The numbness was settling in, and it felt too good to let go of. Too easy. The weight that had been pressing on my chest for so long—gone.

"Just... let me be," I muttered, pushing against his hand. I wasn’t even sure who I was talking to anymore. Him? Me? The void that had swallowed me whole? "I’m tired, Gojo. I’m fucking tired."

I could feel the heat of my emotions—anger, sadness, regret—rising within me, but I didn’t have the strength to fight them. Or maybe I just didn’t want to. I didn't know.

Gojo’s grip loosened slightly, and for a second, I thought he might actually listen. But his next words broke through the fog in my head.

“You’re gonna let yourself drown in this, aren’t you?” His voice was rough, almost pleading, but there was something else in it too. Disappointment.

I tried to pull away again, but my body wasn’t obeying me like it used to. The numbness was taking over everything. "You don’t understand," I whispered, my voice barely audible. "You think I don’t know what I’m doing? You think I want to be this person?"

Gojo didn’t answer at first. I couldn’t see his expression through the haze, but I knew he was still standing there, just staring at me. Waiting for something.

"Please," he said, finally soft, a rare kind of desperation in his voice. "Come back, Sukuna. I don’t want to see you destroy yourself."

But I couldn’t do that. Not tonight.

The high felt like I was floating, untouchable, a version of myself that was free from everything. The weight of the world was lifted, and for the first time in what felt like forever, I could breathe without feeling like I was suffocating. Every part of me felt... light. I didn’t care about the look on their faces, or the fact that I could probably see the worry in Gojo’s eyes, the frustration on Geto’s.

But I didn’t care. They could stare all they wanted. It didn’t matter anymore.

I let out a slow breath, watching the two of them like they were a distant memory, fading in and out. Their voices seemed muffled, far away, as if I was hearing them underwater.

“You look like shit,” Geto muttered, his voice laced with something I couldn’t pinpoint. Maybe it was anger. Or pity. Could be both. “This isn’t you, Sukuna.”

I blinked slowly, trying to focus on him. It was hard, though. The room felt like it was spinning, the edges of everything blurring into a haze. But his words stung, more than I cared to admit. Not me? I wasn’t sure if I even knew who I was anymore. The man they knew—the man I once was—felt like a stranger now.

I grinned bitterly, tilting my head back and letting my eyes fall shut for a moment. “I’m done, Geto. I’m done. You and Gojo... you don’t get it. There’s no coming back for me.”

There was a long pause, and when I opened my eyes again, I could feel Gojo's gaze on me, sharper than the rest. He stepped closer, crouching in front of me, his eyes burning with something fierce, something like a desperate plea.

“That is exactly why I’m not letting you go down this path, Sukuna. You don’t get to decide you’re beyond saving. You don’t.” His voice was low, intense. “If you’re so far gone, then why the hell am I still here?”

I stared at him, really looked at him for the first time in what felt like days, or maybe even weeks. His words hit harder than I expected. It wasn’t about me letting them save me—it was about me not being alone.

I took a breath, trying to ground myself in the reality that was slipping through my fingers. But the high was overwhelming, the numbness too thick. I wanted to tell Gojo how much it hurt to feel nothing at all, how much I wished things could’ve been different. But I couldn’t get the words out. Everything felt like it was trapped behind a wall, a glass barrier between us.

Instead, I just shook my head slowly. "You can’t fix me, Gojo. I’m already broken."

And for a moment, there was nothing but the sound of my own breathing filling the silence. The room, once filled with so much chaos, was now still—except for the thumping of my heart and the rushing of my thoughts.

Then, I felt it. The weight of their stares, their concern... the pressure was almost suffocating. But there was a strange comfort in it too. Maybe they didn’t know how to save me, but at least they were trying.

For the first time in a long while, I wondered if I even wanted to be saved.

YN POV

I stood there, staring at the door long after Sukuna left. My mind was still processing everything that had just happened, the way his words had hit me harder than I expected. I’d never seen him like that—so broken. And I realized, maybe I never really saw him at all, not the way I thought I did. It was like I was looking at him through new eyes, eyes that saw the pain he’d been hiding under all that arrogance, that reckless facade.

I didn’t think he’d take the news this badly. I always thought he was untouchable—invincible. But watching him fall apart like that, it was hard to ignore the cracks, the things he never showed. He’d always been so focused on self-destruction, so sure of his own control. But that... that wasn’t the Sukuna I knew.

My heart clenched, guilt seeping in. Maybe I was too harsh with him. Maybe I should’ve handled things differently. But what else was I supposed to do when he kept pulling away? When he chose everything—everyone else—over me?

I shook my head, trying to clear my thoughts. There was no point in going down that road again. I had to focus on what was in front of me now.

I felt Toji's presence before I realized he’d moved closer, his strong arms wrapping around me as he pulled me onto his lap. His warmth enveloped me, and I immediately leaned into him, the familiar scent of his cologne offering me a sense of comfort I didn’t know I needed.

“Hey,” he whispered, his voice soft, a stark contrast to the tension that hung in the air. “You okay?”

I nodded but didn’t say anything at first. The weight of everything felt like it was crashing down on me, and I couldn’t find the words. I wasn’t sure if I was okay. I didn’t even know what “okay” looked like anymore.

“Toji…” My voice cracked, betraying me as I tried to speak. “I didn’t mean for things to go like that with him. I thought... I thought I was doing the right thing. But now, I just feel... lost. Like I fucked everything up.”

Toji’s grip tightened, pulling me closer as his fingers softly traced my spine, a gentle rhythm that seemed to ease some of the tension from my shoulders. “You didn’t fuck anything up, Y/N. You did what you had to do. Don’t let him make you feel like you’re wrong for setting boundaries.”

I took a shaky breath, trying to steady myself, but the words from earlier kept echoing in my mind. You’re wrong for setting boundaries. The idea that he could make me feel guilty for walking away, for protecting myself—it cut deep.

“You’re right, though,” I finally admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. “I just... I don’t know what to do now. I can’t keep feeling like this, caught in this cycle of trying to fix everything and everyone. I just... need to breathe, Toji. I need to breathe.”

Toji didn’t say anything for a moment, just held me, his hand resting on the back of my neck, gently massaging the tension away. I let myself sink into the comfort of his embrace, the weight of his presence helping me ground myself.

“You don’t have to fix everything, Y/N,” he murmured, his voice low and steady. “And you don’t have to do it alone. I’m here. We’re all here for you.”

For a brief moment, I closed my eyes and let his words wash over me. Maybe he was right. Maybe I didn’t have to carry the weight of the world on my own. But there was still a part of me that couldn’t shake the feeling that everything was spiraling, that nothing would ever be the same again.

“I just...” I trailed off, unsure of how to finish the thought. What am I even supposed to do with all of this?

Toji’s lips pressed gently against the top of my head, his arms holding me tight. “You don’t have to figure it all out right now, Y/N. Just take it one step at a time. And don’t forget—you’re not alone in this.”

I closed my eyes, trying to take in his words, trying to believe them. For now, that was enough.Toji’s lips were soft against mine, slow and deliberate, each kiss lingering a little longer than the last. His hands, warm and steady, roamed across my back and shoulders, his touch more comforting than anything else. There was no rush, no urgency in the way he held me, just the quiet assurance of his presence.

His fingers traced the lines of my body as if he was trying to memorize me, each movement gentle and soothing, grounding me in the moment. I could feel the weight of everything that had happened today—Sukuna, the fight, the pain—but for the first time in what felt like forever, there was a calm. A calm that only Toji’s embrace seemed capable of bringing.

I melted into him, my body relaxing as I allowed myself to feel something other than the chaos that had taken over my mind. It wasn’t about desire or heat—it was the way he wrapped me up in his arms and kissed me with so much tenderness, like he could make everything better with just his touch. It was the comfort I didn’t know I needed, the kind of reassurance I couldn’t get from anyone else.

His hands moved with purpose, but they weren’t invasive. He wasn’t pushing me for anything; he was just there, making sure I felt safe. It was like he understood the storm inside me, offering his stillness as an anchor, grounding me when I felt like I was floating away.

I could feel myself letting go, the tension in my body starting to melt, and though I wanted to tell him how grateful I was for this moment of peace, the words stuck in my throat. Instead, I just closed my eyes, pressing closer to him, letting myself sink into the quiet comfort he was offering me.

Toji’s hands continued their gentle exploration, one cradling the back of my head while the other rested on my lower back, keeping me anchored against him. His kisses never deepened, never strayed into anything more than soft, lingering pecks that seemed to whisper, I’m here. I’ve got you.

I rested my forehead against his shoulder, the scent of him—something warm and familiar—pulling me further into the bubble of peace he was creating. My fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, holding onto him like he was the only thing keeping me from falling apart.

“I’m sorry,” I murmured into his chest, my voice barely audible over the sound of our breathing. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. I didn’t mean to hurt him this much.”

Toji’s hand moved up to stroke my hair, his touch soothing as he replied, “You don’t have to apologize for protecting yourself, Y/N. Sukuna’s pain isn’t your burden to carry anymore.”

I closed my eyes, swallowing hard against the lump in my throat. “But it feels like it is. I keep replaying the look on his face... the way he shouted at me. It’s like he wasn’t even the same person.”

Toji sighed, his breath warm against the crown of my head. “He’s been spiraling for a while. It was bound to boil over eventually. This isn’t on you—it’s on him. He has to want to change, Y/N. You can’t save someone who doesn’t want to be saved.”

His words were logical, but they didn’t lessen the ache in my chest. “I feel like I failed him,” I whispered.

Toji tilted my chin up gently, his green eyes meeting mine with a seriousness that made my breath catch. “You didn’t fail him,” he said firmly. “You loved him. You gave him chance after chance. But you can’t set yourself on fire to keep someone else warm, Y/N. You deserve more than that.”

I blinked up at him, my throat tightening at the raw honesty in his words. He meant every syllable, and for a moment, I wondered how I’d managed to end up with someone who saw me so clearly.

“Toji…” I started, but he silenced me with another soft kiss, this one lingering a little longer as if to remind me of the life I’d started to rebuild without Sukuna.

“You’re safe with me,” he murmured against my lips. “And I’ll remind you of that as many times as it takes.”

I let out a shaky breath, the weight of everything pressing a little less heavily on my shoulders. For the first time that night, I felt like maybe—just maybe—I could let go of some of the guilt I’d been carrying.

Author's note: So I'm off hiatus I had a lot of stuff going on personally. I only mentioned a small bit on my blog, but I pulled myself out of the slum of it a bit to be back on Tumblr. I miss writing this story.. The post date is still Friday but I wanted to drop this chapter today

Thank you for everyone who is reading this chaos I came up with on a whim.

[lanawinterscigarettes]

How do you think James (Wilson) would react to reader wanting to wait until marriage to have sex? Like he's pretty understanding and respectful but let's face it he's also kind of a man whore

saying he's "kind of" a man whore is a bit of an understatement but I absolutely agree

How James Wilson would react to the reader wanting to wait until marriage to have sex

Warnings: nothing explicitly nsfw but obviously sex is discussed/mentioned a lot given the subject matter

He'd be a little taken back at first to be honest, probably asking you some questions on why you want to wait (is it because of religion, etc.) but not pushing the subject if you don't want to talk about it

I think it would all depend on how long you planned on dating or being engaged first. Six to twelve months? No problem. Longer than a year, though, and his resolve would begin to crack some

Obviously he's very respectful and considerate of your boundaries and things like that, but he's also no doubt a manwhore, so he has a lot of internal battles on what he should do

Something else to consider is what exactly you'd meant when you said you wanted to wait to have sex. Are you abstaining from it altogether, or are there certain loopholes or exceptions to the rule?

Wilson would feel a little weird asking you a question like that, even if you're dating. He doesn't want to say or do any inappropriate or that might make you uncomfortable

If you were to bring it up first, however, then he'd certainly be relieved to be able to talk about it without having to start the conversation himself

He gives you the biggest, most pathetic puppy dog eyes ever when he asks whether or not you'd be okay with touching and things like that as long as they don't end in sex

If you say no then he won't bring it up again, but if you say yes then he'll want to know more about your boundaries on it and just how much you'd be comfortable with/how far you'd be willing to go

The two of you probably do end up getting married because Wilson really does love you a lot and wants to be with you (and yeah maybe it's partially because he wants to have sex with you, but he'd never say that out loud)

If anything, not having "proper" sex before your wedding night only made him even more excited to finally get to go all the way with you once the time came

When he wakes up the next morning to find you sleeping next to him in the bed of your honeymoon suite, he realizes that despite the wait you definitely made it worthwhile

End notes: I'd planned on not posting this until Monday but I just couldn't wait any longer so y'all get it a little early

Likes < reblogs | comments are greatly appreciated | requests are currently open

Main masterlist | House MD masterlist | wanna be added to my taglist?

🏷 taglist: none yet to tag

[safination]

For Your Heart

Part 1: The Beginning

|Masterlist| |Part 2: The Middle |

Pairings: Alastor x wife!Reader. Tags/ Warning: SFW. fem!Reader, AFAB, Established Relationship, Human! Alastor, Human! Reader, tooth-rooting fluff, Demon! Alastor, Husband! Alastor

Harana – a traditional form of courtship done during the night where men will go to someone’s window with an instrument, usually a guitar, along with some of his friends to sing. TLDR: Sometimes all you need is a guitar and a song to catch hearts…and well, Alastor has a guitar and a voice perfect for singing. The beginning, the middle, the end, and the new beginning with a guitar and a song (feat. Ben&Ben)

I decided to make this into a four-part series instead or releasing it all at once. Just comment if you ever want to be added into a taglist for this mini-series I'm doing.

♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ

♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ

The light of the moon shines past your curtained windows.

Tink…

…Tink.

…Tink…

TinkTinkTinkTinkTinkTink.

The sounds from your window catch your attention, each pebble that bounces off the glass beckons your attention. Cautiously, you barely part the curtains to peek out into the night.

Alastor throws another pebble at your window. Despite the darkness, his unmistakable brown hair blows from the prompting of the night air. Strands of hair poke his eyes, and he runs a hand to tuck them away. He bends down to pick up more pebbles, wiping the soil off his hand with his faded jeans.

There’s a guitar strapped around his chest. It’s smooth and dark wood shines against the night. Even with obvious dent marks indicating its age, it seems Alastor’s taken good care of this instrument. His fingers strum across the guitar strings as he produces cords for a mindless melody.

Finally, you part the curtains until your eyes catch his.

Alastor’s brown eyes light up brighter than the stars shining above, and he waves at you from the outside and then points at your window. There’s a boyish smile on his lips as he does.

The window unlocks, and fresh nighttime air blows cold into your bedroom. Still, you leave it open. “Hello, there.”

“Good evening to you as well.” Alastor chuckles, pushing his worn-out glasses up his nose. It slides back down his face just as fast.

“Whatever you’re about to do…do it quietly. My parents will hear us if you’re too loud,” you tell him, leaning your cheek on your palms. “Why are you even here, Alastor? It’s the middle of the night—you’ll catch a cold if you stay out for too long.”

“Ha!” Alastor barks out, laughing at you. It’s breathy and light, and the best thing you’ve heard all night. “Can I take that as admission for your concern for me?”

Your smile brightens a smidge. “Alastor, I’m worried about you.”

“…Oh…well…uh…Well, the gods have given us these things called ‘eyes’ and if you take a proper look at me, you’ll be able to see the guitar I’m holding.” Alastor drums his fingers on the word of the instrument as his eyes suddenly find the grains on the wood interesting. “I think you can deduce why I’m here.”

“You’ve come to play for me.”

“A good but simple observation, yet it’s not quite close enough.” Alastor raises the guitar above his head, that same wide and boyish smile on his lips. “I’ve come for your heart.”

“Alastor,” you say, a hint of warning in your tone, yet…you poke your head further out the window. “…my family.”

“Let them hear.”

It’s a silly, silly, boy who stands proudly underneath your window. It’s a silly, silly, boy who smiles at you with a guitar and overflowing confidence. It’s a silly, silly, boy who comes for your heart. Somehow, this doesn’t singe the heat tingling your cheeks, nor does it calm the flutter in your gut that threatens to spill out at any moment.

Quite the silly boy, indeed.

How lucky that you’re quite the ridiculous girl.

You lean against the windowsill, smiling down at him. The cool wind of the night breeze past your tingling cheeks, flush with the warmth Alastor placed. “Are you going to sing for me?”

“Well…,” he says, once again strumming the guitar to create a soft melody. “Are you going to listen to me?”

Yes.

“I should just close the window,” you say instead. “I’m positive the screeches will sound the same.”

Alastor twists his lips, points his nose into the air with a huff. Pebbles are halfheartedly cucked up at you. They sail into the air, and stay far away from actually hitting you. “That’s quite rude!”

“My apologies, then.”

“Listen to me?” Alastor readies the guitar, adjusting the straps that secure the guitar around his chest. The balls of his feet shift against the grass, and his smile wobbles for a fraction of a second. “I’ll make it worth your time.”

“You’re going to sing…,” you say, taking in the words…the gesture he’s about to do. That smile on your face quirks even brighter, and the heat tingling your cheeks travel all the way up your ears. “…just for me?”

“Only for you.”

“Go on then—take my heart.” The words spill out quicker than you’d prefer, but Alastor smiles up at you and it strikes you like the most ridiculous school-girl. “I’ll listen. No matter how horribly it could grate my ears…I’ll listen to you.”

Alastor’s smile widens, and you know you did good.  His skillful fingers work across the strings of the guitar, each cord he plays creates a playful melody of sounds.

It’s weird…a sunset flashes through your mind…a train passes through the city, the window displaying a blur of buildings. Each jostle of the train bumps your shoulder to…to…Who do they bump against?

“It’s frustrating that you won’t believe my love for you. What else do I need to prove to you, my love.” Alastor sings to you with a steady voice but past the confidence, wisps of nervousness hide below his words.  “But I understand you’re just trying to avoid getting hurt, but you won’t lose out if you just say yes to me.”

The edge of your teeth catches on your cheek as you nibble on the skin, trying to prevent your smile from widening even further.

It’s an effort spent in vain. It’s impossible to repress this smile, not when his voice filters across the night air.  Each word he sings pokes your cheek higher and higher and higher until he’s painted a wide smile across your mouth.

“I’ll stand by you, oh yes. I’ll love you wholeheartedly.” Alastor’s fingers glide over the strings with masterful proficiency even as he bounces along to the melody. “Even as we grow old, I’ll be yours.”

Alastor glides over the strings of your heart. Each word strikes your soul, and you fall deeper and deeper and deeper into the promises he sings to you with unwavering confidence. The night air carries his voice across the open space and yet…despite the moon, you think of the sunset once more, its light shining against the brown strands of his hair.

Part of you wants to carve out your heart out of your chest and throw it at him, blood and all.

“I’ll stand by you, oh yes, despite what the chaotic world says. Even if they don’t want me to be yours, I will take care of you.”

His eyes flutter to a close as he presents his truth to you like a promise. There’s this selfish part of you that wants to demand him to open his eyes, to open those brown eyes that shine brighter than the stars themselves.

Oh, what a ridiculous girl, indeed.

“You make me feel giddy whenever you come near me, my love. All my confidence disappears no matter how hard I try to hide it.”

Finally, his eyes flutter open and they gaze up at you and only you. Alastor stares at you with a wide smile… and … and it’s as if you and him were the only people in this whole world. For a second, you believe you are because where there is him, there will be a you.

“Mm, the way you tolerate me when I’m about to burst. With all the noise around us, you are my silence.”

Deeper and deeper and deeper and deeper and deeper. You fall into the strings of Alastor’s guitar. Each word wraps the threads around your body, and each lively beat of his cords pulls you closer.

Once more, the image of the sunset passes through your mind. The passing view of the city buildings. The jostling of the trains. The shine of the remaining embers of the sun from the window. Shoulder to shoulder, elbow to elbow, the face next to you grows clearer.

“I’ll be with you even when surrounded by problems. In hardship and in ease, I’ll stand by you, my love.”  Alastor flashes you a smile as he sings, proud and unbothered underneath your window. “I’ll stand by you even though I know we will change, from the beginning to the end.”

Each word he sings wipes away the haze until the city buildings fade away, until the jostling of the train calms, and until the only thing you see is the way the sunset reflects against the brown in Alastor’s eyes.

“Since we’re already here…Let’s stand by each other.”

The song fades away, and it brings the sunset with it.

It’s only the moon that shines above you now. It’s only the fluttering of the leaves that pass through the scene. It’s only the steady floor of your bedroom. Yet, Alastor’s smile remains the same.

You can’t meet his eyes, not when he stares into you as if every word he sang was a vow—perhaps it was. How foul of him to come here in the middle of the night with a guitar and a song.

“My love…,” Alastor calls out for you and the way he does forces you to bury your face into your arms. How foul, indeed. “What do you think?”

“Can you climb up here?” you ask, barely peeking out from your arms. “Don’t come in…just… come closer and I’ll show you what I think.”

Alastor removes the straps of the guitar, and leans the instrument against the tree. He walks across the grass, and pulls on the drain pipe bolted on the wall, testing its weight. With a deep breath, he plants his shoes on a small crook and pulls himself up with his arms. When the bolt holds, Alastor climbs up until his head reaches your window. He slings an arm around the windowsill, smiling as he finally reaches your eyes.

You plant a hand on Alastor’s cheek. It’s cold. “Are you not freezing?”

“Not anymore,” he says, nuzzling into your palm. So, you let your hold linger to warm his skin. Each swipe of your thumb on his cheek prompts him to lean further into you.

Those worn-out glasses slide down his nose, and you pull them off Alastor’s face. You inch closer until your foreheads connect. The puffs of your breaths mix together when you brush your lips above Alastor. It tingles…the way the cracks on his mouth poke and press against you.

Finally, you steal a kiss from this silly, silly, boy. The warmth of your kiss transfers to his cold lips.

Alastor’s eyelashes are quite long, and this fact makes itself known to you when his eyes flutter to a close. They brush against you as lips press kiss after kiss after kiss. More facts make themselves known, like the way his nose pokes into you and how his lips are even more chapped than you expect. It only prompts you to deepen the kiss.

It’s you who pulls away first.

Alastor’s smile grows impossibly wide…yet, he’s blinking at you, lips slightly parted. The next kiss you press goes on his cheek, and his grip on the window slips. Alastor tumbles down to the soft grass of your parent’s lawn. He doesn’t try to stand, even as he lays sprawled out on the grass.

A hand presses his mouth, covering it slightly. Truly, he looks like a deer in headlights. “…oh.”

“Thank you for the song, Al…hmmm…. Actually, thank you for the song, my love,” you tell him, and begin to close your window. “Be careful on your way home. I expect you to keep your promises.”

The latch locks your window but still, you peek out your curtains.

Eventually, the silly, silly, boy springs up from the grass with an impossibly wide but happy smile. He grabs the guitar from the tree and pumps his fist into the air. And this ridiculous girl watches him walk away with the stupidest smile.

♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ

The things I will do to have this deer man at my window with a guitar, roses, his closest friend, and faded jeans, and going, “Uso pa ba ang Harana?” Seriously think that all my problems would be solved if Alastor did this. Like guitar in hand and strumming as he sings, “Ano ba talaga mas gusto ko? Ang Beer na to o ang pagibig mo?” Listen, Alastor lived in New Orleans and s very into jazz and knows how to play instruments like piano and the saxophone. This is something he 100% would do. For my kabanayans, I’m releasing a version with the original lyrics because so much of it gets lost in translation and Ben&Ben did not give us masterpieces for this to happen. I’ve got to tell you, the original lyrics hit differently when you understand them hahaha. Please keep in mind that I'm not an expert translator, I just formed it in the way it makes sense to read. Sneak Peek of the next song: Araw-Araw Taglist: @rapturenyx @thehiddenvase, @kny-kween

[jetii]

Event Horizon

Chapter Thirty-Three: The Waiting

Chapter WC: 8,545

Chapter Tags/Warnings: none, maybe some happy tears

A/N: We are crawling towards...certain events, and I feel compelled to once again put out a PSA that canon divergence can and will happen at any time. In like a squiggly line kind of way.

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Nadiem, 20 BBY

When you wake, it's morning, and the first rays of pink light are shining through the boarded up windows. Your head is still throbbing, and the nausea is still there, but the pain has receded, and you find yourself able to breathe and sit up without much difficulty. The room is quiet, the only noises the hum of the medical equipment and the steady breathing of the men and civilians sleeping around you.

You look over at the bed beside yours, expecting to see the child. But instead, there's only an empty space. The sheets are rumpled, and there's a hint of blood, but the child himself is nowhere to be found. Your chest tightens, a stab of panic lancing through you, and you start to scramble out of bed, only to stop, a hand pressed to your temple as the room spins.

"Where—"

"He's with the others," Wise interrupts.

You look up to find him sitting at a nearby desk, his feet propped up and a datapad in his hand. He's wearing a pair of glasses, his brow furrowed as he scans the screen, and he doesn't bother looking up as he continues speaking.

"He woke up about an hour ago. Did a couple scans, and everything came back fine. I wanted him to stay here for a while, but he was having none of it," he explains, his eyes flitting to you and his mouth twisting into a wry smile. "I tried to tell him that there's a war going on, and that he can't just wander around a bombed out city, but he wasn't having it."

"And what, you let him?" you ask, incredulous.

"I don't think anyone has ever accused me of being a pushover before, sir," Wise replies, his tone dry. "He's fine. Snap and his little fan club are with him. He's probably showing them how to hotwire a speeder bike."

You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose.

"I guess I'm not surprised," you mumble. You rub your face, wincing at the ache in your jaw, and Wise hums, his eyes returning to the screen.

"How are you feeling?" he asks, his tone casual.

"Like shit," you admit, and his lips quirk up slightly. "My head hurts, and I feel like I got trampled by a herd of bantha."

"Sounds about right," he shrugs. He finally looks up at you, his eyebrow arching over the rim of his glasses, and his lips press into a thin line. "You should really eat something."

You hesitate, a sudden queasiness rising in your stomach, and the idea of eating anything is repulsive. But you know that Wise is right. It's been a long time since you've had a proper meal, and the exertion from earlier certainly hasn't helped matters.

"I will," you say.

He hums again, a knowing look on his face, and he pushes the glasses onto his head, setting the datapad aside. He leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees, and his eyes narrow.

"Look," Wise starts. He pauses, his gaze drifting over to the bed where the boy was sleeping. He seems to be searching for the words, his eyes flitting to the ceiling and the floor and anywhere but you. "What happened last night was...I can't even describe it."

"I know," you say quietly.

"You saved his life," he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

"We both did."

"No," he counters. His hands clasp in front of him, and his brow furrows. "It was you. All you."

"Well, the bacta helped, too," you offer, and he rolls his eyes.

"Don't do that," he says, and there's a sharp edge to his tone. "Don't act like it was nothing. Don't make light of it."

You open your mouth, a retort on the tip of your tongue, but you bite it back. He's right, of course. And, if you're honest with yourself, a small part of you is proud. Proud that you were able to use the Force to heal someone. That you were able to do something good, something useful, for once.

And, more importantly, that it worked. Not just that the kid survived, but that you finally managed to do what you had never been able to do before. What Yaddle had tried to teach you and failed.

It's a victory.

A small victory, perhaps, but a victory nonetheless.

"Sorry," you mumble. Wise lets out a soft snort, and he shakes his head.

"I'm serious," he continues. "That was...that was something else. And I don't mean to be insubordinate or anything, but you scared the hell out of me."

"I know," you repeat.

"No," he argues, and his voice rises, his frustration seeping through. "I don't think you do."

Wise stops, his jaw clenching, and his fingers drum against his thigh. He takes a deep breath and squeezes his eyes shut, and his head dips, his gaze returning to his clasped hands.

"You're amazing," he tells you, his eyes flicking up. "And you're terrifying."

"That's what I hear," you joke, and he sighs.

"No," he says again. "No jokes. Not now. I'm serious."

"Wise," you begin, and he cuts you off.

"Let me finish," he interrupts, his voice stern. "Just listen, okay? Because I need to say this."

You nod, your lips pressing into a thin line. He takes another breath, his eyes closing again, and his shoulders slump.

"I've seen a lot of shit. Too much, really. But, this...I've never seen anything like this. What you did...what you did was nothing short of miraculous. It was fucking impossible."

You open your mouth to protest, but Wise holds a hand up, silencing you.

"Don't. I don't need a speech. Or a pep talk. Or whatever bullshit the Jedi like to spout."

His eyes open, and they're filled with an emotion that you can't quite place.

"I've spent my entire life watching my brothers die, and I've learned to accept it. I've made my peace with the fact that there's not much I can do, except try to make them comfortable and help them pass on peacefully," he says. "And you just...you just walked into that and changed everything. You did the impossible, and you saved a life. You gave a kid a chance. And it's..."

Wise trails off, his gaze shifting, and a sad, crooked smile appears.

 "I just want you to know that...that I do trust you. And that I believe in you. Even if I can't say the same about the rest of your kind," he finishes.

The silence settles between the two of you, and you can't help but stare. Wise has always been a man of little words, and this is probably the most you've ever heard him speak. It's an unexpected declaration, and it's hard not to feel moved by it. Especially coming from a man like him. A man who's seen so much, who's witnessed the worst the galaxy has to offer, who's watched his brothers die and had to move on.

You've always known that he cares about you, in his own way. But this is something else. This is trust. This is a level of respect and faith that you've never been given before. Not from the Republic, not from the Jedi Council, and certainly not from the Senate. And it's an honor to be on the receiving end of such an unshakable belief.

But at the same time, the burden of responsibility weighs heavily, and you know that you don't deserve it. That, even if you can't say it aloud, the truth is, he shouldn't trust you. Not after everything that has come to pass, and is still to come.

"I appreciate the sentiment," you finally manage, and the ghost of a smile flickers across his face. "But I'm not sure if I'm worthy of such praise."

Wise laughs, and the harshness in his eyes is gone.

"Well, that's just the problem with you Jedi types, isn't it?" he says, his voice light and teasing. "You're all so humble and self-sacrificing. It's almost painful."

"Don't forget wise and mysterious," you add, and he snorts.

"I'd hardly call you mysterious, General," he retorts. "As for the wise part, well, I'll reserve judgement on that until I see some evidence."

"I suppose you would be the expert on that," you counter, and he grins.

"You're damn right I am."

Seemingly satisfied, Wise turns away, moving through the rows of cots and checking on the wounded men. You watch him for a moment, a warm feeling blooming in your chest. 

The boy's survival is a miracle, and the knowledge that the Force can bring about such a thing even in dark times is a comfort. It's the kind of hope you desperately need. The kind that reminds you of what the Jedi Order stands for, and what you stand for.

It's the kind of hope that's been missing from your life for a very long time.

As your eyes fall closed again, drifting in and out of sleep, you think of the meadow and Rex. The feeling of being safe and secure, the warmth and the love. And the possibility.

You know it's dangerous to want, but you can't help yourself. You've never been able to, and it's the same now. It's foolish, and reckless, and stupid, but you can't stop the thoughts from crossing your mind.

A life with him. A simple, happy life, far away from the war and the chaos. Just the two of you, together. It's the future you want, and the thought that it might actually be possible is overwhelming.

Your eyes open as footsteps approach your cot, and the shadow of an armored figure blocks out the light.

"Congratulations, sir,” Booker announces as he looms over you. “You finally made Wise crack."

Booker's expression is neutral, his features calm and composed, but there's a gleam of worry in his eyes, and his hands are clenched into fists at his side. When you sit up and swing your legs over the side of the cot, his body tenses, and his gaze darts to Wise's back.

"Are you alright?" he asks quietly.

You nod, and the lines around his eyes deepen.

"Are you sure?" he presses, his hands hovering as if unsure what to do with them. "Wise said—"

"I'm fine," you interrupt. "It was...complicated. But I'm fine now. Promise."

Booker's shoulders relax, his face breaking into a relieved smile. His arms come up and wrap around your shoulders, and he pulls you in, squeezing tight. You laugh, patting his arm and trying to pull away, but he doesn't let go, his embrace almost crushing.

"You scared the hell out of me," he says, his voice muffled against your shoulder.

"Sorry," you reply, and he snorts.

"I don't even want to imagine what would happen to me if you died," he grumbles, and you sigh, your arms wrapping around his waist. "I'd probably end up in a medical facility. Or a psych ward."

"Oh, come on," you tease. "You'd survive without me."

Booker pulls back, his hands gripping your shoulders.

"Just...please don't do it again," he says quietly. "I know that's probably a lot to ask, considering the circumstances, but..."

"I'll try," you tell him. He sighs, releasing you, and his hand lingers on your shoulder, giving it a squeeze. "So, are you going to tell me how the kid is?"

"Oh, he can tell you himself," Booker replies with a laugh, and he backs away, heading for the door. "He's been waiting."

You can't help the grin that spreads across your face as Snap enters, the boy perched on his hip. His arms are wrapped around Snap's neck, his legs dangling, and his eyes are wide and bright. The bruises have faded, no bandages in sight. He's awake, alert, and full of energy, a far cry from the injured child from the night before.

"Hi, General," the boy chirps, and you smile, gesturing for Snap to approach.

"Hi," you greet with a wave. "Glad to see you're feeling better."

"Yep," he replies. He squirms until Snap sets him down, the boy immediately moving to the bed. He climbs up, and Wise is quick to react, sliding a pillow between his head and the wall.

"How are you feeling?" Wise asks as he runs a medscanner the child, checking his vitals. The boy shrugs, fiddling with his blanket.

"Good," the boy answers. His eyes widen, and his gaze darts to you. "Oh! Thank you for saving me."

"Of course," you reply. You gesture to the medscanner, raising an eyebrow. "What does the scan say?"

"Nothing to be worried about," Wise says, turning the scanner so you can see the screen. "All vitals are within normal range, and there's no sign of injury or trauma."

"That's great," you murmur, relieved. "I'm glad to hear it."

The boy smiles, his eyes shining with excitement. He wriggles his way closer to you and reaches into the pocket of his borrowed trousers, sitting up on his knees to face you.

"This is for you," he declares proudly.

In his hand is a small flower, yellow petals curled at the edges and a green stem, the color a duller shade of what it once was. It's a little crushed, a few petals missing, but it's beautiful nonetheless.

"Wow," you gasp. "Thank you."

The boy beams, and he places the flower in your hand, his fingers lingering. You turn the flower in your palm, marveling at its beauty before tucking it behind your ear.

"There," you say. "What do you think?"

"It's pretty," he declares.

"Yeah, it is," you agree, and the boy giggles.

You can't help the smile that forms on your face, the sight of his happiness a joy in itself. After everything he's been through, everything he's endured, the fact that he's able to be so positive, so carefree, is inspiring.

It's the kind of innocence that's rare, the kind that's lost all too quickly in the galaxy, and it's precious. A reminder of the beauty and the wonder of life, of what the Force is truly meant for. Not for death and destruction, not for violence and chaos, but for light and love and hope. For creation and new life, and for the future.

You look up, finding Snap watching you, and he gives you a knowing smile. The expression on his face is familiar, and you realize with a start that it's pride. A warmth settles in your chest, and your throat constricts.

You've always believed in the good in the galaxy, in the strength and resilience of its people, but the past decade has worn away at that hope, and you've found yourself struggling to maintain it. Seeing the boy's resilience, the way he's overcome his trauma and is now able to smile and laugh and give others joy, is a testament to that strength.

It's a testament to the goodness and the compassion that exists in the universe, and it's a reminder that, even in the midst of darkness, there is light.

You swallow thickly, blinking a couple times and looking away, trying to gather yourself.

"Come on, kid. Let's go get some breakfast," Snap says. "I think there's still some of those sweet rolls left."

The boy perks up, his eyes widening, and he scrambles down from the bed. He reaches up, grabbing Wise's hand, and tugs, trying to pull him towards the door.

"Come on, come on."

Wise rolls his eyes, but he doesn't fight the pull. He allows himself to be led away, and the boy skips out of the room, his hand still holding onto Wise's. Snap follows, giving you a final nod before disappearing from sight.

Booker waits until the two of them are gone before turning to face you, letting out a sigh.

"The Council wants to speak to you," he informs you, his voice low. "I tried to hold them off as long as I could, but apparently they're eager to hear your report."

"Wonderful," you mutter. 

You can't imagine why the Council would want an immediate debrief. Usually they're happy enough to read your reports. Or not read them. You've learned to accept that most of the Council rarely pays any attention to anything you say or do. Unless they think you're doing something wrong. Which you frequently are. 

In this case, though, you've done nothing out of the ordinary, at least as far as they're concerned. It doesn't make any sense.

Then again, it's the Council.

They could be having a meeting to discuss the weather, and it would still feel important.

"Any idea what this is about?" you ask, and Booker shakes his head.

"They didn't say," he answers. "But I'm gonna guess it's not about that vacation to Zeltron I've been asking about."

You snort, rubbing your temples. Your head is still pounding, and you can feel the fatigue weighing on you, but you're not going to get a break. Not anytime soon. You glance at the door, debating whether or not you should just run, and Booker chuckles, seemingly reading your mind.

"They're not going to like that," he warns.

"What else is new," you grumble. You sigh, pushing yourself upright and swinging your legs over the side of the bed. "Alright. I guess we should get this over with.”

"Don't worry," he starts, offering you a hand. You accept it, and he helps pull you to your feet, placing a steadying hand on your arm. "Whatever it is, I'm sure you'll handle it with your usual grace and charm."

"I'll do my best," you mumble, and Booker chuckles. His grip tightens as the world tilts, and he takes a step closer, his free hand moving to your back.

"Easy there," he says. He pauses, his expression sobering. "You sure you're up for this?"

"No choice," you answer, and his brow furrows.

"There's always a choice."

"Yeah, well, I made mine about thirty years ago," you mutter. You shake your head, trying to dispel the dizziness. It's slow to abate, and you close your eyes, taking a deep breath.

"Do you want me to get Wise?"

"Please don't," you groan. You know he would come, but you also know he'd give you an earful. And more than likely try to force feed you some of the vile liquid he insists on calling soup. "I've had enough lectures from him for now."

"That bad, huh?"

You breathe through the pain, and after a while, the sensation subsides. You open your eyes, and the room comes back into focus.

"Worse," you say. You straighten, pulling away from him, and give him a weak smile. "Thanks."

"No problem," he replies, and you step away, taking a moment to center yourself. The headache is still there, and your limbs feel heavy, but it could be worse. "Dash has some caf waiting for you at the command tent."

"Great, thanks," you murmur. You're about to ask if you have time for a shower, but Booker's commlink beeps.

"Commander, the Council is waiting," Dash's voice says, and you sigh. Of course they are.

"Copy that," Booker answers, and he gives you an apologetic smile. "Looks like they're not in the mood for excuses."

"Of course not," you grumble. You roll your eyes and start to head towards the door, but Booker stops you, his hand resting on your arm.

"You don't have to do this," he says. "We can just pretend the connection was bad, and—"

"No, it's fine," you cut him off. "I'll deal with them. I always do."

"You're a brave woman," he jokes, and you chuckle, shaking your head.

"No, I'm just used to it," you correct. You reach up and touch the flower in your hair, the memory of the boy's smile warming your heart. "There are worse things."

"I'll take your word for it," he mutters, and the two of you leave the medbay, heading towards the command station. The streets are quiet, the morning still too young for much activity, and you use the time to compose yourself. It's a peaceful silence, the first rays of dawn lighting the sky, and you can't help but enjoy the stillness.

But, like all things, it doesn't last long.

The Council is already connected when you enter, and you're greeted by the holographic forms of Master Mace, Master Mundi, Master Plo, and Obi-Wan. You bow, greeting each member in turn, and they acknowledge you with a nod.

Master Mace is as stern as ever, his expression blank and his gaze assessing. Master Plo's mouth is hidden behind his mask, but the creases around his eyes betray his concern. Master Mundi is stoic, as usual, but you can tell he's not happy. Out of the four of them, Obi-Wan's expression is the most telling. He's trying to hide it, but the worry is written all over his face, and his hands are clasped together tightly, his fingers entwined.

You give him a smile, trying to reassure him, but it only seems to make him more uneasy. You're sure you look a mess, with a fresh bacta patch on your forehead and bloodshot eyes. You can feel the dried blood on your nose, and your hair is sticking up at odd angles, but it's the least of your worries.

"General," Mace says. His tone is flat, and you can't help but notice the tightness of his expression. Something's wrong. "It's good to see you’re alive and well."

"Thank you, Master," you reply, bowing your head respectfully. "It's good to be seen."

Obi-Wan's frown cracks, and a smile twitches at the corner of his mouth. Booker looks away and disguises a laugh as a cough. Mace gives the two of you a hard stare, and you resist the urge to smirk. It's a bad habit, but sometimes it's impossible to resist. Especially around Obi-Wan.

Mace's eyes narrow, and he gives you a pointed look.

"You should have checked in earlier," he chides. "Your mission report was due twelve hours ago."

"My apologies, Masters," you answer. "The situation here was...complicated."

"So we've heard," Plo interjects, his tone grave. "We'd like to hear your account."

"Of course," you respond. You step forward, clasping your hands behind your back, and the weight of the four pairs of eyes resting on you is almost stifling. You take a moment to collect your thoughts, trying to organize your memories of the battle. 

Dash steps into the tent, a mug of caf in hand. He's not wearing his helmet, and he gives you a quick salute, placing the mug on the table. The two of you share a look, the brief eye contact conveying all that needs to be said.

You've got this.

Dash offers you a small, reassuring smile and exits the tent. You watch him go, and you find yourself feeling oddly emboldened. Whatever the Council wants, whatever they're going to say, you can handle it.

"Would you like me to rehash what Luminara has already told you?" you ask, and the Councilors exchange a glance. "Or would you like me to skip ahead to the part where the droid forces employed droids armed with cortosis?"

"We have read her report," Mace says, his tone clipped.

"But we'd like to hear it from your perspective," Plo adds, his gaze softening. "Please."

"Very well," you agree.

You spend the next hour relaying the details of the battle, describing the initial landing and the subsequent deployment. You talk about the engagement, the tactics, and the losses, and you're careful to note any mistakes and shortcomings. There are plenty to choose from, and you can't help but cringe as you recount them.

You're no fool. You know that the Council doesn't need a detailed recitation. They've already read the reports, and the intel from the battle, and the aftermath. You're not telling them anything they don't already know. But the way they watch you, as if they're waiting for you to slip up, or miss something, or fail to meet some unspoken standard, it's unnerving. And, as always, it's exhausting.

"It was an impressive victory," Obi-Wan offers. "Despite the unexpected complications."

"Thank you," you murmur, giving him a slight smile. You can't bring yourself to look at Mace. "But we could have done better. I could have done better."

"It was a difficult battle," Master Plo points out, and you shake your head.

"It doesn't matter," you counter. "In the end, the Republic suffered great losses. And the civilians here suffered most of all. Their lives were disrupted, and their homes were destroyed. There were thousands of casualties, and many more wounded."

The Council members fall silent, and you can't help but glance at Mace, who meets your gaze with a cool, indifferent expression.

"The Separatists are not the only ones who have failed here," you continue. "We have, too. And the people of Nadiem will have to live with the consequences."

You look at the holograms of the Councilors, their images flickering in and out. They're staring at you, their faces impassive, and you can't tell what they're thinking. Not that you ever can, really, but it's even more frustrating now, and the anger begins to build, a low simmering heat.

"Your compassion does you credit, General," Master Mundi says, and it takes everything in you not to roll your eyes. He may as well have called you naïve. Or stupid. "But the war effort must take precedence."

You open your mouth to protest, but Obi-Wan steps in, his voice calm and reassuring.

"With all due respect, Master, I believe the General's point is valid," he interjects. He's addressing Mundi, but his eyes are fixed on you, his expression gentle. "These are people's lives we are discussing, and their safety and security are our responsibility. The fact that the Separatists attacked here is troubling, and we must consider why."

"I agree," Mace cuts in. He gives Obi-Wan a pointed look. "But there is another matter we must discuss."

You look at him, waiting for him to elaborate. He's clearly holding something back, and your mind races, trying to figure out what it could be. There's an odd energy in the air, a strange sense of anticipation, and the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. 

You'd managed to keep yourself contained throughout the battle, pushing aside your emotions and focusing on the task at hand. You'd managed to ignore the anger and the frustration and the fear. But now, in the silence of the tent, surrounded by the familiar faces of the Council, the walls you'd erected begin to crumble.

They can't possibly know. There's no way they could. You'd been careful. Extremely careful. You'd kept everything under control. Obi-Wan had agreed to keep your vision to himself, and as tentative as your bond was, you trusted him to keep his word. He would not betray you again, of that you were certain.

The Council wasn't wholly unaware of your fragile mental state, either. The events of the last several months had made that abundantly, and unfortunately, apparent. It wasn't something you were proud of, but it was a truth that couldn't be ignored. But there was an unspoken agreement that as long as you continued to function, continue to fight, and continue to do your job, it wouldn't become a problem.

It was a fragile balance, and a thin line to walk, but you'd managed to do it so far. So why should they worry about you now?

As Mace's eyes bore into yours, his mouth pressed into a thin line, you suddenly wonder if that assumption had been incorrect. If the Council knew more than they let on. If the Force had shown them what it had shown you. Your fall.

Finally, Mace sighs, his hands folding in front of him.

"We have a task for you, General.”

You blink, taken aback. The relief is immediate, and you breathe a silent sigh. They didn't know about the vision. They had no idea. It was just another mission.

"A task?"

"General Skywalker and the 501st have been deployed to Duro. We would like you to join him," Mace informs you, and you blink, taken aback. It's not what you expected, and the Council seems to be just as surprised. Master Mundi, in particular, doesn't seem pleased by the idea.

"Me?" you question. "Why me? Shouldn't Obi-Wan accompany him?"

"Obi-Wan has other responsibilities," Mace replies, his voice flat. “And your brigade is the closest, both in terms of location and skill set. General Krell's brigade has recently suffered a devastating loss, and they are in no condition to provide the assistance required. You are the best suited for the task."

You open your mouth to argue, to protest, but the words die on your tongue. You're tired. And injured. And, honestly, a little confused. And frankly, you want nothing more than to finish the conversation, get some breakfast, and take a nap. But despite all of that, there's a hopeful flutter in your stomach, a spark of excitement that you can't deny.

You haven't seen Rex in months. If the Force was going to be kind and finally grant you this wish, well, who were you to argue?

Obi-Wan's eyes narrow, his brow furrowing as he studies you, and a small, knowing smile crosses his lips. You wrinkle your nose at him, and he gives you a wink.

You can't help but smirk, and you're about to make a retort, something about how he has no business being smug, but Mace clears his throat, and you turn your attention back to him. His eyes are boring into yours, his face still neutral, and his voice is sharp.

"Do you accept?"

You're not sure if there's a right answer. You're not sure if there's an acceptable answer.

It doesn't really matter.

"I accept," you say, and the words seem to echo in the room. “But may I ask, what exactly is the purpose of this mission?“

"The Separatists have established a foothold on Duro's flotilla of orbiting cities," Master Plo answers, his tone grave. "The Republic has managed to maintain control of the planet itself, but we have reason to suspect Grievous is planning to invade the surface and secure their resources in order to force the Chancellor's hand."

"What would be the point?" Booker asks. He's leaning against the desk, his arms crossed, and his expression is thoughtful. "Grievous knows that the planet is of little strategic value. So what’s his play?"

"The Duros' loyalty to the Republic is shaky at best," you answer, and Mace nods. "If they were to see the Chancellor unable to protect them, they could very well side with the Separatists."

"So this is about politics, not resources," Booker murmurs, and you nod.

"It seems so."

"You and the 419th are to join Skywalker's forces at these coordinates," Mace tells you. He leans forward and taps a button, sending a set of numbers to your datapad. You open the file and study the data, committing it to memory.

"The 501st is already en route," Obi-Wan adds. "They'll set up a perimeter around the planetary shield generators and begin preparations for the inevitable attack."

"How long will we have before that happens?" you ask.

"Hard to say," he admits. "But Grievous' forces were spotted in the system a little over a week ago, and it's only a matter of time before he gets his claws into something. The Chancellor is anxious to put a stop to this, and I don't blame him."

"Understood," you say, nodding. At your side, Booker shifts, leaning over to whisper in your ear.

"This place is still a mess. We can't just leave these people," he argues, and you give him a look.

"I'm aware," you hiss back. "But we're going."

"They're already in rough shape as it is. If we're not here, the Separatists could—"

"I said, I'm aware," you repeat, elbowing him in the ribs. He winces, rubbing his side, and shoots you an annoyed look. "I'm getting to that."

You turn back to the holograms and square your shoulders, giving the Council your most confident, charming smile.

"If I may, Masters," you start, and they wait, watching you with wary curiosity, "the 419th would like to extend our assistance here on Nadiem. While the city has been liberated, there are still many civilians in need of food, shelter, and medical attention. The local hospitals are overwhelmed, and the remaining infrastructure is not capable of providing the aid they need."

"And you would like us to send additional medical teams," Master Plo finishes, and you nod.

"Yes, Masters. And engineers. And perhaps even some troops, in case the Separatists return," you explain. You look at each of the Council members, searching their faces for any sign of approval, but you find nothing. Just the same, indifferent expressions. "Please. These people have been through so much, and all they have left is our compassion. To deny them that would be a cruelty beyond measure."

The Council is silent, each member considering your proposal with the impassivity you’ve come to expect from them. You can't read their expressions, can't tell if they're agreeing or disagreeing, and it's a struggle to keep the frustration at bay. It's always like this, always a fight, and it never gets easier. But you won't give up. You can't.

The holograms flicker and shimmer, and the weight of their decision hangs heavy in the air. You resist the urge to fidget, your fingers tapping against your leg, and Booker shifts, his foot kicking the edge of the table. His eyes meet yours, and you share a look, a silent conversation passing between the two of you.

It's a lot to ask. Especially given the current state of the war and the Chancellor's demands for speed and efficiency.

The Jedi Code preaches compassion, but it's rarely an easy thing to adhere to. There are always conflicts, always compromises, and it's rarely the most effective solution. You're asking them to risk more lives, more resources, and more time. For a planet of farmers and tradesmen. It's a difficult sell, and you can't help but brace for the inevitable rejection.

But, surprisingly, it doesn't come.

Mace's eyes close, and he inhales slowly, his shoulders rising and falling. When his eyes open, his gaze meets yours, and there's a hint of approval, a flash of pride.

"Very well, General," he agrees. "We will see what we can do."

Your chest swells, and you can't help but smile.

"Thank you, Masters," you say, and Obi-Wan laughs, a short, quiet chuckle. You shoot him a glare, and his smile widens, his eyes dancing with mischief. "I assure you, you will not regret it."

"See that we don't," Master Mundi grumbles, and his hologram disappears. Master Plo follows suit, leaving only Obi-Wan and Mace.

Obi-Wan steps closer, his hands folded behind his back, and his face breaks into a bright, joyful grin.

"I can't believe I'm going to say this, but...I've missed that," he confesses, and you can't help but return his smile. He shakes his head, chuckling softly, and you roll your eyes, trying to keep from laughing. "You were very impressive, my dear."

"Well, someone had to speak up," you reply, and he chuckles.

"Indeed. And thank you for that," he says, and you can tell from his tone and his expression that he means it. He glances over at Mace, who shakes his head, the barest hint of a smile tugging at his lips. "We can't forget where our true priorities lie."

"No, we can't," Mace agrees. "Even if the Chancellor seems to."

There's a note of bitterness in his voice that makes your eyebrows raise. It's a rare occurrence, but it's not entirely surprising. Chancellor Palpatine has been pushing the war effort, his demands and requests for more soldiers and more weapons becoming increasingly aggressive and impossible to ignore. The Jedi Council has not taken kindly to his actions, and the conflict between the Order and the Senate has only increased over the last several months. But no one can deny that it’s needed. The war is only escalating, as is the Jedi’s role in it, and the casualties are mounting. The entire galaxy is at risk, and something has to be done. Even if the Council doesn't agree.

The two men exchange a knowing glance, and Obi-Wan sighs, shaking his head.

"We will see to it," Obi-Wan promises, and the hologram cuts out.

You're left alone with Mace, and the silence settles, the only noise the muffled voices outside and the distant roar of ships taking off. You can feel his eyes on you, and you brace yourself for the inevitable lecture, your hands fisting behind your back. It's always the same. A mixture of concern and disappointment, wrapped in stern, unyielding authority. But it's not like you've never heard it before.

"You are doing good work here," he finally says, and your eyes snap up, surprised.

"Thank you, Master," you murmur. You pause, hesitating, before adding, "I do my best."

"I know.”

Mace's gaze softens, a flicker of understanding in his dark eyes. The two of you stand there, watching each other, and the moment stretches, the air heavy with things unsaid. But you can't find the words. You've never been able to, really, and this isn't the first time.

You’re about to end the transmission, your hand hovering over the console, but his voice stops you. He says your name, and the familiarity is startling, catching you off guard. His tone is low, almost gentle, and there's an emotion in his eyes you can't quite identify.

It's a calculating expression, a weighing and measuring, but not unfriendly or unkind. There's something about it that reminds you of the look Master Yaddle used to give you, a mixture of fondness and worry, and it takes everything in you not to break under the pressure of his gaze.

"This is a difficult time," he starts, his tone carefully neutral. "It takes a strong, steady hand, and a steady heart, to see the way forward."

You bite back a sigh. A lecture, then. You should have known better.

"The war has tested all of us," Mace continues. "But some more than others. And, at times, even the strongest among us can lose their way."

You nod, a lump forming in your throat. You're not sure if he knows. You're not sure how he would know. But the way he's looking at you, the way his eyes are searching your face, it's as if he does.

And yet, the words you're waiting for don't come.

"You have shown remarkable courage and strength," he says. "And while your actions do not go unnoticed, and certainly not without criticism, the fact remains that you are doing important work. Important, necessary work. And I am...grateful, for your efforts."

Your breath catches, and you blink, shocked. You can't remember the last time Mace has ever praised you. Or even spoken to you without a hint of judgment or exasperation. But there's a softness in his expression, a gentleness, and you're not sure how to process it.

You stare at him, not quite believing what you're hearing, and the corner of his mouth twitches, almost smiling. After a long moment, you snort and shake your head.

"Careful, Master," you tease, "that sounded almost like a compliment."

He lets out a chuckle, and the corners of his eyes crinkle.

"I assure you, it is," he assures you. "In truth, I had my doubts about this mission. About you. But you've proven me wrong."

"Again," you mutter, and his smile widens.

"Yes, again," he concedes. "As you are so fond of reminding me."

You can't help the smile that spreads across your face. The expression is rare, and a little bittersweet, but the warmth and the pride radiating off of him is unmistakable. It's a feeling you've missed, a sensation you've yearned for, and the realization that Mace, of all people, would be the source of it is surprising, to say the least.

He studies your face, his gaze thoughtful, and his expression sobers.

"It's a shame things turned out the way they did," he murmurs, and you nod. You both know exactly what he means. Dooku. Yaddle. The war. Your failure. It's a long list, and it's not getting any shorter.

"It's not too late," you reply. You don't elaborate. He doesn't need to ask.

"Perhaps not," Mace concedes.

The two of you regard each other, a silent understanding passing between the two of you. You've always respected him, even though he's rarely shown you the same courtesy. But in this moment, the feeling is mutual. You're both struggling to hold the galaxy together, and neither of you can afford to lose sight of the path.

The silence stretches, and you sigh, rubbing your eyes. It's late, and the fatigue is creeping up, and Mace gives you a sympathetic look.

"Get some rest, General," he orders. "You'll need it for what's to come."

"Yes, Master. May the Force be with you," you say. Mace bows his head, returning the gesture.

"And with you," he replies, and the transmission ends.

You stand in silence for a moment, staring at the empty space where the hologram once was, before letting out a long sigh. The sigh turns into a laugh as the reality of what just happened sets in, and you lean against the table, your arms braced on the cool metal surface. Your head hangs low, your hair falling around your face, and you chuckle, shaking your head.

"I'll never understand how you Jedi can switch moods so fast," Booker remarks, and you snort, lifting your head. "I feel like I've got whiplash. One second, they're interrogating you, the next they're giving you pep talks. It's exhausting."

"Welcome to my life," you retort, and he rolls his eyes, crossing his arms.

"I'm serious," he says, and he gives you a look, his brow furrowing. "I don't get why they're always so..."

"Contradictory?" you finish, and he nods.

"Exactly."

You shrug, leaning back and stretching your arms above your head. It's not like you haven't wondered the same thing. The Council's mood swings are a mystery, and often a source of frustration, but there's a reason behind them. You're just not sure what that reason is. At least, not in this case.

"They're just trying to do their job," you offer. "And so am I."

"By giving you the run around," he mutters. He shakes his head, scoffing, and pushes himself off the desk, turning to face you. "And still, they ask you to jump, and you keep asking how high."

"Sometimes the answer is 'further than you thought,'" you point out. "And, in this case, it was. They agreed to send reinforcements. That's a win, Commander."

Booker frowns, and his eyes search yours, looking for some sign that you're upset. You're not. Not really. Sure, you're a little annoyed, and a little confused, and a little suspicious, but that's normal. If you didn't leave a meeting with the Council feeling that way, something would be seriously wrong.

"I still think you should've said no," he argues. "We need to be here. These people need us. You can't keep going back and forth, running from planet to planet and putting out fires. It's not sustainable."

"And let the Separatists have their way? No, thank you."

"We've got other troops. Other Jedi," he insists. "Let someone else handle it."

"There's no such thing as 'someone else,'" you retort. You sigh, rubbing your temples. "Look, I get it. You're worried. But we're doing the best we can. It's just..."

"Politics," he finishes, and you nod. He runs a hand over his face, groaning. "Duro is a dump. A literal dump. It's a planet-sized trash heap with enough factories to poison the entire galaxy. The Separatists would be doing the galaxy a favor by blowing the whole place up."

You frown, crossing your arms over your chest and glaring at him. You know that his words are mostly born of frustration and exhaustion, but you can't help but be annoyed by the sentiment.

"Don't tell the Duros that," you reply. "They might not take kindly to it."

“They would agree with me,” he retorts, and you can't help but roll your eyes. “They’re the ones who ruined their own homeworld. Why should they expect the Republic to save theirs now? Especially since they don’t even want our help? We're already stretched thin. Why are we wasting resources on a lost cause? We should be focusing on the planets and people who actually want us."

You open your mouth to argue, but he holds up his hands, a weary look on his face. His shoulders slump, and his gaze is pleading. He doesn't want a fight. You know he doesn't. And, honestly, neither do you. You're both too tired for this.

"Alright, alright. I get it. The needs of the many, etcetera,” Booker grumbles. He folds his arms across his chest and fixes you with a look. "What's the real reason you're so eager to go?"

"Eager is a strong word," you correct, your brows pulling together.

"It's an accurate one."

You look away from him, your mouth twitching, and a warmth blooms in your chest. You haven't seen Rex in so long, and you can't deny the excitement of finally being able to spend time together. The thought of seeing him again, after all this time, it's...nice. It's a feeling that has become more and more rare, and it's a sensation you want to hold onto. Even if it's only for a little while.

You may be about to enter another active war zone together, but maybe, just maybe, the two of you will be able to spend a little time together. Alone. And talk.

About...everything.

Booker's eyes narrow, and a smirk curls his lips. He watches you for a moment, and you can't help but fidget. After a beat, his smirk turns into a wide, knowing smile.

"I knew it," he exclaims, pointing at you. "This is about Rex."

"This is not about Rex," you deny, and Booker scoffs.

"Yeah, sure it's not," he teases. He leans closer, his grin widening. "So you're telling me you've got absolutely no ulterior motives? No desire to see a certain handsome captain?"

You groan, pinching the bridge of your nose.

"Booker..."

He grins, and you roll your eyes, but you're unable to stop the flutter of anticipation rising in your stomach. You've been so busy the past several months, and the only contact you've had with Rex has been over the comm. Seeing him again, being with him, it's going to be wonderful. And exciting. And terrifying.

The reality is that there's so much that needs to be said, so much left unspoken, and it's a daunting prospect. You have no idea how the conversation will go, or if you'll ever find the right time to have it. But the possibility is there, the seed planted, and it's impossible to ignore.

"Of course it's Rex," you finally admit with a huff. "Why else would I want to go? The weather? The scenery?"

"Well, you could have just said that," he replies. He gives you a playful shove, and you laugh. "You know, if you miss him so much, why don't you just tell him?"

"I have," you point out. You lean against the desk, and his expression softens, a sympathetic smile tugging at his lips. He crosses his arms, mirroring your pose, and the two of you share a knowing look.

"Have you ever considered that maybe you're overthinking this?" he asks, and you sigh.

"Maybe," you concede, chewing the inside of your cheek. You shake your head, trying to dispel the doubt and uncertainty that's plagued you for months. "But what if he doesn't—"

"He does," Booker cuts in. His expression is firm, and his eyes are earnest. He puts his hand on your shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. "He cares about you. And if he doesn't make a move soon, I'll fight him myself."

You snort, shaking your head.

"Please, don't," you beg. "That's the last thing I need."

"I'll do what I have to do," he threatens as he raises his fists, a playful glint in his eyes. "For my General."

You roll your eyes and shove him away. He chuckles, catching himself, and straightens.

"You gonna let him know you're coming, or are you just going to show up unannounced and give him a heart attack?" he asks.

You shrug, giving him a playful grin. "What, and spoil the surprise?"

Booker barks a laugh, throwing his head back. You laugh with him, and the two of you stand there for a moment, sharing a laugh and enjoying the moment. It's been so long since either of you have had anything to be happy about, and the feeling is refreshing.

"I'll tell him. But first I need to have Dash contact the fleet and arrange transport," you inform him. You push yourself off the table, turning to face him, and give him a small, encouraging smile. "And you'll have to—"

"Take over while you're gone, yeah, I know," he finishes. He crosses his arms, a smug smile tugging at his lips. "Don't worry, I won't let the place fall apart while you're away."

"I'm not too sure about that," you tease. "But I do appreciate it."

"No problem," he shrugs, and he gives you a wink. "Just promise me that if you're gonna run off and elope with Rex, you'll invite me to the wedding."

"If you keep Nadiem in one piece while I'm gone, you can be my maid of honor," you shoot back, and his smile widens.

"Deal."

With a quick salute, he turns and exits the tent, leaving you alone. You breathe a sigh, leaning against the table, and stare at the open doorway, a small smile on your lips. It's a strange feeling, being excited about a mission, but there's no denying the anticipation in your chest, the fluttering of nerves.

You've missed Rex. And not just his company, but him. His voice, his laugh, the way he smiles. The way his hand feels in yours. The way his arms wrap around you, the warmth of his embrace.

It's been too long since you've seen him, and the distance between the two of you has been a source of pain. It's an ache that you can't quite soothe, and it's hard not to wish for more. To imagine a world where you don't have to fight, where you can be together. A world where the two of you can live in peace.

Your brief glimpse into a possible future, a vision of a life together, had only made the longing stronger, the desire sharper. A future together, a life together, it's not something either of you can have, but you can't stop yourself from hoping. From wishing.

And in the meantime, there's only the war. And the battles. And the fighting. And the waiting.

You've become well acquainted with the waiting.

But now, at least, you'll have him.

You reach into your pocket and pull out your comm, opening your last conversation with Rex and starting to type, a smile on your face.

You’re not going to believe this…

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[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook

𝐁𝐚𝐛𝐲 𝐃𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 | Part 1

For every beginning, there has to be an end first.

Tags/Warnings: Punk!Jungkook, strangers to lovers, Stereotypes, description of Unrequited love, romance, accidental flirting, some angst, major fluff

Length: ~3k Words

There is no taglist for this fic.

-> Masterlist

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Jungkook’s apartment is surprisingly clean, and most of all.. Bright.

His shelves are filled with trinkets, pictures and little things that seem to value for him. LED lights roam around the white walls, while soft music playing in the background- all while he cooks in his open kitchen, singing to the song currently filling the apartment. It feels oddly comforting to just watch him like this, hair a bit wild on his head, casually dressed, everything domestic and without any force at all.

“Do you like yours spicy?” He asks, and you shrug.

“Not really.” You answer, resting your head on your arms on the kitchen counter. “I enjoy.. Bland foods. Like chicken ramen, with just an egg.” You giggle softly. “I know what to expect from it every time I make it.”

He looks at you for a second, before he smiles knowingly. “But where’s the fun in that?” He chuckles. “Gotta have some.. Variety every now and then, no?” He asks, but you shake your head.

“I’m not the kind of girl for.. Variety. And fun.” You answer.

“Well you were certainly up for something fun last week.” He mentions, making you roll your eyes as you sit up, leaning back a bit as you look at the countertop your hands rest on.

“That was.. Kind of just because I was tired of it.” You mumble, while Jungkook turns off the stove to fetch some bowls and cutlery to plate up the food.

“Tired of what?” He asks as he puts the food into appropriate portions.

“Being a virgin.”

Jungkook’s entire body freezes at that, even the chopsticks he holds stiffening as he stares into nothingness for a moment, eyes wide. He slowly puts everything down, before he looks at you.

“That was.. Your first time?” He asks, and you nod, not seeing the issue with it at all.

“My first kiss, too. In the car.” You mention, and at that, he dramatically turns around, hands on his face.

“Oh my god, what?!” He whines towards no one, and you can’t help but laugh at his misery. Why he’s so invested in that you’re not sure of- but it’s oddly cute almost, how it seems to affect him. “No, no no no I’m not letting that stand!” He denies, shaking his head as he braces himself on the countertop opposite from you, looking at you with a serious expression that holds no harsh feelings however. “We’ll rewind the whole thing, I don’t care.”

“What, are you going to sew up my hymen back together and try again?” You ask, making him laugh at your blunt words, unable to keep a straight face at the way you so dryly ask that.

“I-no, but I can, I don’t know, give you such a good experience you’ll forget the club-incident altogether.” He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively, making you laugh. “So no sex and no kisses until I took you out on a proper date, got it?” He playfully threatens.

“You’re weird.” You tell him, but he just shrugs with a grin, leaning over to kiss you- just to slap the counter and yell to no one-

“Ah fuck!” making you laugh once more.

Amused that he can’t seem to follow even his own rules when it comes to you.

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

“Alright, so I kind of have a little rule for you.” He tells you as you both finally sat down in the restaurant a few days later, surprisingly fancy and way out of your usual price range. “There’s.. Probably gonna be a guy coming to our table as soon as I order food. Do not, under any circumstances, take anything that comes out of his mouth seriously.” He tells you with a dramatic expression, making you furrow your brows a little- though you nod.

“Okay?” You answer, getting a bit nervous at the prices on the menu.

“By the way, just order whatever.” He chuckles, watching you- before he leans forwards. “Trust me, don’t look at the price.” He urges, and you nod, though still a bit uneasy.

After ordering something for the two of you- deciding to share a large steak and some side dishes just in case you can’t finish it on your own, something happens that Jungkook spoke about earlier- a man walking from the kitchen into the restaurant, seemingly searching for something or rather someone- making a beeline for Jungkook as soon as he spots him.

“Jeon Jungkook, I can’t believe this!” He barks out, but instead of greeting him, he straight up walks towards you- smiling as he bows politely, and reaches out to shake your hand. “This isn’t true is it? A date?” He asks, now looking at him- though Jungkook is busy hiding his face, looking down and shielding his eyes with his hand before he glares at him.

“Can you maybe talk a bit less like you’re at a fish market?!” He hisses at the man, before he looks at you with a sigh. “You’re free to kick or bite him, I’m sorry he’s being weird.” He apologizes, but you just laugh it off, amused by the whole interaction.

Well, Jungkook is a little odd. So it’s not surprising his friends are just as unusual.

“I’m not weird, you’re weird for not introducing me to her!” The man whines. “Kim Seokjin. I’m so glad he finally got over his weird crush-”

“Jin please-” Jungkook complains, and you feel a little sorry for him.

“What? That harpy lived off of your paycheck for months if not years! Was about time you pulled your head out of that situation.” He mumbles, crossing his arms. “Anyways, I’ll make sure your food comes out right away. You two just relax and enjoy your night yeah?” He smiles. “And don’t worry about the check. I’ll cover it for you.” Jin winks at Jungkook, who runs a hand over his face as his friend leaves.

“I’m so sorry for that.” He chuckles a bit embarrassed, but you wave him off.

“He seemed nice.” You say, and he nods.

“He is. My best friend, really- but he can be a lot.” He explains. “He was worried about me for quite some time.” He admits a little shameful, but you just shrug it off.

“Understandable.” You simply answer. “I hope he knows I’m not here to use you.” You say, as the food finds its way to the table.

“I know that you’re not.” He tells you softly, smile warm as he looks at you. “And that’s more than enough.”

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

A few days later, you’re staying over for the first time.

He’s busy washing the dishes with you when someone knocks on the door however, making him excuse himself to go check who it might be- just for someone to enter right away, the person quickly stopping however at the sight of you at the sink in his kitchen. “didn’t know you had a friend over, kookie.” She says, waving at you in a friendly manner-

Though there’s a strange sharpness in her gaze, like an animal snarling more than someone smiling.

“Why are you here?” Jungkook asks, and he looks oddly.. strange to you in this moment. Like he’s internally fighting with himself, unsure what to really do. Like he’s cornered, pressured to pick a side, like a child asked which parent they love more or less.

“Its kind of private?” she meekly says, wringing her hands a little. “I’ll just text you later, maybe we can hang out tomorrow after work?” she wonders, and Jungkook looks at her.. very oddly. Even she seems to notice, sensing something off as his gaze changes, becomes softer, but not in a way she was most likely hoping for.

“Lucy, I don’t think that’s a good idea.” He denies gently, taking a deep breath. “I.. I can imagine what you’re going to ask me, and I can’t keep doing this.”

“You don’t even know what I’m gonna ask you-“ she defends herself with an uneasy chuckle, and you feel like you’re witnessing something you shouldn’t be. But you’re trapped- you can’t move, can’t escape, because they’re having this conversation right where you’d need to pass to get out the open kitchen. “Kookie come on, is it because of that night with-“

“If you think that’s what bothers me, how come you never mentioned it?” He asks, but it’s without any bite. It’s more.. disappointed, if anything. Like he’s exhausted. “You knew all this time that I liked you. You knew it.” He tells her, and she sighs, looking away.

“It was just awkward, okay?!” she defends herself. “after I turned you down that one day at the Cafe, I regretted it. And then I felt like.. I missed the chance. I didn’t know that you like me still.” She offers softly. “I.. Jungkook, I’m sorry for how it went. Let’s talk about it properly tomorrow okay?”

You feel out of place. You really want to leave.

You don’t want to witness any of this, or what’s to come.

“No. “ He however answers, catching her off guard, clearly. “You’re.. too late. I’m sorry.” He shakes his head, before he walks to open the door.

“ju..” she looks at you with both devastation, and something akin to both jealousy and envy, strangely enough. “Well, if you change your mind, I’ll be there.” She says while looking at you, before she walks past Jungkook- her attempt to hug him denied as he gently pushes her away by her shoulder. “right.” She simply sighs, before she leaves- his phone vibrating multiple times after the door closed, probably with texts she’s sending him.

The device is promptly thrown onto the couch- though it misses the furniture, and clatters to the floor harshly, vibrating somewhere under the coffee table before it becomes quiet.

You carefully move to walk out the kitchen, give him space- but instead, you feel him hug you from behind, arms around you holding onto your body as if you’re a lifeline. You turn around to hold him too, unsure for a moment what’s wrong-

When he takes in the first shuddering breath, sniffling from trying to not make it obvious that this just hurt him. It must have- after all, he’s been after her for such a long time, just to have her basically confess days after he’s started to get involved with you instead.

Does he feel regret?

“You can meet up with her tomorrow.” You tell him. It doesn’t hurt you as much right now- after all, you haven’t had enough time yet to get emotionally attached to the point of no return yet. “Maybe this was all just.. one big misunderstanding.” You shrug, but he holds you tighter now, shaking his head that’s still hiding in the crook of your neck.

“I don’t want her.” He denies, voice awfully fragile. “I hate her.” He even tells you, while you run your hands over his back. “Please stay..” he mumbles into your skin, and you nod.

“If you want me to.” You offer. “but don’t feel like you have to choose me right now. I’ll be fine.” You make sure he knows, but again, he shakes his head.

Instead, he removes his face from you to show himself vulnerable, tears still falling from his eyes, emotions boiling over as he moves to kiss you, the gesture desperate. Maybe he needs to convince himself he made the right choice. Maybe he’s imagining her instead? Has he ever kissed her at all?

“no-“ he whines, complains like he can read your mind, hands on your cheeks as he looks at you with frustration. “What’s wrong?” He asks, but you just look at him confused.

“What do you mean?” You ask, because you’re genuinely not sure what his problem is.

“You’re not kissing me.” He explains, but you just frown.

“What? I am.” You respond. “not right now, obviously, but I was.. you know. Kissing back.”

“No.” He shakes his head. “not like you did before.” He denies. How can he even tell? “is it because of her?” he asks, carefully so, as if he’s afraid of the answer. “I promise I’ll delete her number-“

“Jungkook you’re really emotional right now.” You tell him. “You’re not thinking clearly-“ you try and make sure he doesn’t rush things, but he shakes his head.

“I am.” He denies. “for the first time, I feel like I actually am.” He tells you, hands moving to rest on your shoulders now instead. “but, if you want to go home . now, you can. M-maybe that’s a good idea? I don’t know..” he tells you, confused.

And it just underlines you statement that he’s not very clear in his head right now to make any kind of decision.

So you do it for him instead, packing your little bag to go home on your own tonight-

Though he pays for the cab, no amount of words from you able to change his mind.

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

You slept way too long- phone telling you its pretty much the middle of the day as you accept the call, mumbling something incoherent.

“Good morning.” Jungkook chuckles on the other end of the call. “Could you like, let me in maybe? Your neighbor keeps asking me if she should call the cops on me.” He tells you, and you frown to yourself, slowly walking out your bedroom and to open the front door- where he actually sits, right in front of it, back having been resting against the door. “thanks.” He tells you, getting up to stand in front of you now. “can I come in?” He wonders, and you sleepily nod, letting him in before you close the door behind him. “damn it’s cold in here!” He laughs, and you rub your eyes.

“I sleep better when it’s cold..” you mumble. “What’re you doing here?” You ask, yawning.

“have been thinking.” He tells you, hands in his pockets after he takes off his boots. “like you told me to.”

“Oh.”

You’re not really sure what to expect now- but then again, you did tell him to really think about it once he’s had a good night’s rest and all, so you can’t really complain now if his answer is not one you’d like to hear. “I’m sorry that.. you had to witness what happened yesterday. Both her visiting so unannounced and.. well, my slight mental breakdown after.” He tells you, rubbing the back of his neck a bit before he straightens his posture again. “and I’ve made my decision. Properly, this time.” He promises.

“Oh, okay.” You nod. “you.. gonna meet up with her later?” You ask. He shakes his head.

“No.” He denies. “though I did call her to tell her I don’t want to stay in contact any longer.” Jungkook says, and you look at him for a moment. “I really meant it. I don’t want her any longer. I.. you kind of made me break free.” He shrugs.

“Oh uh.. I’m glad then.” You nod. “You’re.. you deserve that. The freedom, and stuff.” You say.

“I still want you, just to be clear.” He chuckles. “if anything, I really kind of.. fell for you yesterday.” He bashfully confesses.

“What? How?” You wonder, sitting on your small sofa with him next to you.

“You.. technically had me. Right in the palm of your hand.” He says, looking at your bare legs. “And yet you chose to step back, and let me catch myself. You made sure I didn’t just.. rush into things without thinking, and I’m very thankful for that.” He admits. “You were looking out for me.”

“I.. did what was right.” You shrug. “or what felt right to me at least.”

“You’re very kind, you know?” He says, smiling softly. “I’m.. it’s kind of scary just how quickly I’m becoming attached. It’s ridiculous.” He complains with a laugh, shaking his head. “But at the same time I can’t really bring myself to care.”

“Do you still feel bad for taking my virginity in a club?” You giggle, but he just rolls his eyes.

“I’m still gonna erase that memory from your mind one day, just so you wait.” He points a finger at you playfully. “but also no. You said you’re okay with the way things happened, so I accept it too.”

“so..” you mumble, moving your legs up to have your feet rest on the couch. “what now?” you ask.

“whatever you’d like.” He shrugs, resting his head on the backrest just like you do, looking at you with a warm gaze.

“What do you wanna do?” You wonder, and he grins.

“How about we fall in love?” He asks-

And you can’t help but smile too, as you look at his eyes sparkle, much more than the silver piercings decorating his lip and ears.

“Okay.”

[dustmusings]

oldest trick in the book

Hardcase x F!Reader

word count: 3.4k

description: you've been secretly pranking hardcase as payback for a prank he pulled on you, but this time he catches you in the act

warnings/tags: friends to lovers I suppose, hardcase is a smug little shit at the beginning & a little bit adhd-coded, reader is described as shy/anxious and potentially also neurodivergent in some way but I wasn't writing it to be like that on purpose am I telling on myself? I feel like this is very cheesy lol

a/n: alright. I wouldn’t say this is my best work but I just needed to get it out of my system. this definitely took a more sweet turn than I was anticipating, probably because I didn't plan it at all and just pulled it outta my ass. I blame @ghostymarni making me thirst for this man to a concerning degree

masterlist | join my taglist | read on ao3

Perhaps if anyone knew what you were doing, they’d think it was weird, and honestly, maybe it was.

You tiptoed into the barracks, your footfalls light and ear reaching out in search of any noises. You knew there shouldn’t be anyone in here at this time, but it didn’t stop you being cautious. After all, that was how you had kept this operation going so long.

Not entirely sure which bunk was the one you were searching for, you tried to look for any identifying items. A pack of smokes? He didn’t seem the type. Hairbands? Definitely not, that one most likely belonged to Tup. A pile of laundry? Could well be his. Among other things, you knew Hardcase could be messy, something you had picked up on in your time studying him, figuring out his daily routine. It was much the same as the other clones, naturally, but in watching him you’d realised just how different from them he was.

As strange as this all sounded, you didn’t start it. At least, that was how you rationalised what you were doing.

Hardcase was a known prankster aboard the Resolute. Him and a few of his brothers, namely Fives, filled their spare time by terrorising the rest of the crew, and you were not immune. You had been burned by them on several occasions, and the most recent was a tipping point for you.

That time, it had been just Hardcase, and he had made you look a fool in front of your employees. You were the head technician aboard the venator, and standing in front of your team, giving a briefing without being privy to the ‘kick me’ sign stuck to your back, was not something you had been pleased about. It was especially irritating as you were still relatively new in the role at the time, and to have your leadership put into question, being a little shy to begin with, did more damage to your confidence that Hardcase probably realised.

So, you had been pranking Hardcase back. They weren’t so much proper pranks as harmless inconveniences for him, but in any case, it was a satisfying form of payback. Most of the time you’d steal his things only for them to ‘turn up’ in the strangest of places, none where you could be implicated, and other times you arranged little situations designed to embarrass him.

The only problem with that was that he refused to be embarrassed, and honestly you admired him for it. His ability to brush off jokes at his expense was commendable, and made you feel like a spiteful cynic for reacting in the way you had to his admittedly innocent prank. Though, you were having too much fun with it now to stop. You knew you were safe from him suspecting you, considering he probably just saw you as the quiet ship tech who he liked to bother when he was back on the Resolute, and he was yet to mention it if he did.

So here you were, rifling through the drawers beside his bunk for something you could steal or use to your advantage. You opened the final draw and your lips curled into a grin as you saw the only item inside: his music player and headphones. You had stolen them before, and remember him being particularly irritated about it, more so than at your other exploits.

You were so caught up in your glee at finding the player again that you didn’t register that someone had entered the room. The pile of dirty blacks should’ve been a clue really, but when someone cleared their throat and you whipped around, finding Hardcase himself with just a towel slung around his waist, you couldn't help but gawk.

“What are you doing?” he asked, his suspicion as obvious as his amusement at your flustered state.

Your hands were behind your back to hide the almost stolen item, your eyes fighting to keep away from his bare chest and failing miserably. You had no idea that his tattoos stretched down his chest, and the way they dipped beneath the edge of the already dangerously low towel had your mind reeling.

“Nothing, just a— it's a routine check” you finally peeped out, trying to sound casual. You had never been good at lying, and you could tell that much was obvious to Hardcase by the way his lips twisted in a smirk.

You quickly darted for the door, the offending item still behind you back to not get caught. You knew the jig was going to be up soon enough, but you didn't feel like answering for your crimes while he was only wearing a towel and you couldn't keep your eyes on his. Unfortunately, Hardcase had other ideas.

He reached out, blocking the exit and causing a small startled yelp to fall from your lips. Your eyes trailed along the toned arm that stopped you from leaving, lingering on the tattoo that circled his bicep, and finally making your way up to his face.

“A routine check?” he spoke, smirking broadly at you, “mesh'la, we both know that's well beneath you”

“Well, I like to know what's going on aboard my ship” your voice was wavering and you internally cursed yourself for letting him get to you like this.

He leaned in a little, his voice dropping fractionally, “you need to know what's going on in my bunk specifically?”

Hardcase had always had fun toying with you, even outside of the pranks. When he'd seek you out during his moments of respite and natter away, telling you a great many things about his most recent deployment, he'd always find a way to gently push your boundaries, not enough to make you uncomfortable, but just enough to get you flustered. It was low hanging fruit really, with you being so shy it was so easy to make you blush, as you knew you were now.

“I— it wasn't just— I was—” you shut your mouth, just looking up at him not knowing how to explain yourself without some kind of confrontation.

Hardcase stared back, his gaze appraising and amused. He nodded behind you, “what have you got there?”

Your eyes went wide, “nothing! It's like I said, just doing some checks”

You knew you were bright red, betraying your lies even further than your shaky and stuttering voice, and you had to look away from him. He took the opportunity to quickly reach around you, taking back his property and holding it above his head so you couldn't seize it again, even though you tried to. He was much taller than you, it was helpless.

“Ah, my player, you know this has gone missing be—” his eyes thinned as he looked back at you.

You rocked back onto your heels and clasped your hands together, looking up at him innocently. You knew you were caught now.

“…Before” he finished the thought and his eyes widened, “you're the one who's been stealing from me?”

You were surprised to see that he was grinning as he said it, and it only unnerved you more.

“No! I don't do that sort of—” you tried to argue your case, but he wasn't having it.

“And yet here you are… stealing”

You looked away, your face aflame, and uncertain of how to get out of this situation. Before you could figure it out, you felt his hand on your chin, tipping your face back his way.

“I must admit, I'm impressed” He said as he looked down at you with a thoughtful expression.

“Impressed?” you practically squeaked, unsure what direction this was going in.

“Mhm” he hummed as he ran his thumb over your chin, “I didn't realise you were so… devious”

You didn't say anything, but one side of your mouth quirked up on instinct. His gaze flicked down to watch it happen and then he peered back into your eyes, mischief swirling within his own.

“You know, you owe Jesse an apology” Hardcase said, towering over you even more as he stepped into your space, and you frowned a little, not understanding his words. “I called him a thief and said he was stealing my stuff, started watching him more closely”

You were entirely captivated by him, hanging on his every word, and it was as much a shock to you as it was amusing to him. He was still holding your chin and with his proximity to you now, your head was tipped back to look up at him.

He gripped you tighter with a calculating smirk, “Only… you were the little thief I should’ve had my eye on”

You gulped, the deep baritone timbre he was employing evidently having its intended effect, and rendering you speechless.

“Better watch your back, mesh'la”

You didn't know what that word meant, he’d said it to you before, but that was no comfort as he left your space and went back over to his bunk, placing down the items you had tried to steal. Still rooted in your place and watching him, he hooked his thumbs into his towel, and smirked at you once again when he noticed you standing there.

“you're not gonna try steal my towel too, are you?”

At that point you scrambled from the barracks and back to your own quarters, too embarrassed to do anything dignified.

It had been so long since Hardcase had caught you in the act, that you'd forgotten just how long it had been.

You'd kept your eye on him ever since, and watched out for incoming pranks every moment of every day, but nothing had happened. Hardcase went on like he hadn't even caught you that day, continuing to throw small adulations your way as he passed you by in the corridor, occasionally sitting by you in the mess hall, coming to irritate you when you were working late. Though, unfortunately for you, it wasn't so irritating anymore. Maybe it never had been.

While you were weary of incoming tricks, his presence was such a simple joy that you didn't mind it at all. It was often soothing in a particularly strange way. You didn't speak an awful lot, but Hardcase would fill the silences with stories of his time in deployment, telling you about the tricks that him and his brothers had got up to. The friendship between you worked well because of it. He didn't mind that you were quiet, and in fact seemed to respect you more for it.

You were working in your office, sat on the floor with a cup of caf balanced dangerously on your knee as you tinkered with your malfunctioning datapad. You would be sat at your desk, but the mess that was atop it made doing any sort if work difficult. Besides, you preferred working on the floor, it made the work feel less tedious.

The door slid open and Hardcase strolled in, as if the office were his own, and he walked over to your position with a grin on his face. Without a word he sat down opposite you, cross legged to mirror your posture, his knees almost touching yours as he grabbed the mug of caf from your knee and took a sip. He placed it down on the floor as you eyed him suspiciously.

This behaviour wasn't abnormal for him, and you didn't mind it, but you were still suspicious of any incoming pranks. Your eyes roved his body, looking for anything unusual, but you found nothing. His expression was amused, watching you evaluate him.

“What?” you asked, giving him an uneasy look.

“What?” he asked back.

You narrowed your eyes at him. He wasn't usually bugging you at this time of day, usually he came by during the evening, but right now it was early in the morning. You had gotten up before everyone else to finish up a personal project; fixing your datapad. It had been on the fritz for a few days and it was starting to affect your workflow.

“Why are you awake?” you asked, looking back down to your datapad and flipping the tool in your hand to access a new angle.

You saw him shrug in your peripheral, “why not”

“As good a reason as any, I suppose” you muttered, your focus more drawn to your work than him.

He began tapping his foot gently, watching you as you worked. It was more of a comforting rhythm than a distraction, but you noticed it all the same. Then it stopped, as if he'd been thinking and come to a conclusion.

“Tell me something mesh'la” he spoke quietly, and your gaze snapped up to his, “have you been watching your back like I suggested?”

You frowned, suddenly very unnerved, “yeah, I suppose so”

“You've been watching me? making sure I'm not up to anything” he asked, the hint of a smirk lifting one side of his lips.

You were hesitant, but you answered, “yeah”

He hummed, nodding a little, “and what have you noticed?”

“Nothing”

“Nothing? Mesh'la, I'm hurt” he pouted, his hand rested over his heart, mockingly upset.

You huffed, unimpressed, “stop saying that, I don't know what it means”

In a distinctly agitated manner, you continued on tinkering with your device. Hardcase tipped his head so that he entered your field of view, trying to gain your attention.

“Come on, humour me”

Your eyes flicked up once again, and the look he was giving you made your stomach flip. His smile seemed genuine, so you put down your datapad and tool, clasping your hands together in your lap and giving him your undivided attention.

“I haven't noticed anything out of the ordinary” you said honestly, looking for an indication of what he might have done in his reaction.

His eyes narrowed a little, sending you an almost puzzled look, “then what is the ordinary?”

“I don't know…” you trailed off, the response somewhat of a default, but Hardcase looked strangely interested, “I don't need to tell you what you do ordinarily”

He chuckles, “maybe not, but go on anyway”

“Okay…” you gave him a strange look, not understanding why he wanted you to report your findings about his everyday routine. You thought for a moment, looking down to your fiddling hands, “well, you… you’re always more excitable right before meal times, just because you have more energy then. You use your music player when you've been around your brothers for a long time and they're being loud. You sometimes shy away from things if you've said you're going to do them, but otherwise you're impulsive. Uh— not that that’s a bad thing. You're… more focused than your brothers give you credit for, at least, when you are focused it's—”

You halted when you looked up, Hardcase’s expression was so tender that you were startled into silence for a moment.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you asked hesitantly, your body recoiling unsurely.

“You already knew all that stuff about me before I said to watch your back?” his voice was quiet, quieter than usual, and everything about his demeanour made you put your guard up further.

“Yeah, I mean I—” you stopped, eyes widening as the credit dropped, “wait…”

Hardcase’s lips lifted into an amused smile, though it was no less genuine.

“This was the trick, wasn't it?” you gestured vaguely in the space between you, “getting me to watch out all the time?”

He huffed a small laugh as his grin grew, “maybe, I figured you might torture yourself trying to figure out where it was coming from, so I just let you get on with it”

You shook your head in disbelief of your own foolishness, a light scoff passing your lips as you looked back down to get on with fixing your datapad. You really should have thought of that, but the more you let your mind dwell on it, the more you realised it was the perfect prank for someone as anxious as you.

You heard your name called before you could pick up your datapad once more, letting your eyes wander back to the man before you.

“I don't—” he paused, mouth twisting as if holding himself back before he found the right words, “I didn't know you… knew all that stuff”

“Well, it's just— no one pays attention to me, so it's easy to move around unnoticed” you shrugged nonchalantly, “it was pretty easy to figure you out”

“My brothers haven't figured out half the stuff you just said” he pointed out, his smile bordering on a smirk.

You scoffed quietly, “they're just not paying attention then”

“And you are?”

“I—” you then realised what he was really saying, what he had been saying, or trying to imply. You had to look down with the way a rosy tint spread across your cheeks, mumbling a reply, “I don't know, maybe”

Hardcase leaned forwards, resting an elbow against his knee as he tapped your chin gently, urging you to glance up at him once more. He was a lot closer than he had been, his face only a few inches from yours now, but you didn't back away.

“I did notice you, for the record” he said gingerly, his tone far more reverent than you were prepared for, and your insides constricted at the sound.

You waited for him to continue, make himself clear; you didn’t want to misinterpret what he was saying. Looking between his eyes to try and search for his meaning yourself, he let a small smile lift one side of his mouth to give you a more subdued version of his usual lopsided grin.

“I noticed you watching me, I just didn't know why”

You tilted your head to the side, “why didn't you say anything?”

“Didn't want to get my hopes up” Hardcase shrugged.

A frown creased your brow as you tried to understand, “I don't— um…what?”

He chuckled, the sound so warm and inviting that your heart skipped a beat, “I guess I hoped you were watching me because you were… interested in me, or something”

As his eyes darted to the side, his hand curling around the back of his neck in a sheepish manner, you saw the way his cheeks bloomed with colour, his eyes a little wide as if he'd said something he shouldn't have. You had never seen him act so bashful, and something about it made your stomach erupt into butterflies.

“And if I was?”

“What?” his eyes snapped back to yours, growing even wider.

“Interested in you” you clarified.

Hardcase's mouth hung open slightly, and you couldn't help but let a gentle smile curve your lips at his almost shocked expression.

“You are?” he was now grinning, his voice a whisper of disbelief.

You nodded tentatively, and his hands reached forward to grab you. A squeak left you at the sudden motion, and you had been pulled into his lap before you could even comprehend what's going on. His grin was enough already, but the steadfast grip he had on you made any self-discipline you had crumble into nothing.

“Mesh'la…” he whispered the foreign word as his eyes trailed the lines of your features, his fingers gently brushing across your cheekbone and resting his palm against you.

You offered a fake pout, and he chuckled, running the pad of his thumb over your bottom lip, “sorry, can't help it”

He didn't seem very apologetic at all, and as much as it drew a laugh from you, it made your intrigue grow. The words were almost on your lips, to ask what the word meant, but Hardcase got there first.

His lips captured yours with an eagerness and fervour that made your heart implode, beating against your chest and his as his arms snaked around your waist and pulled you flush against him. It was good really, that he held you so tightly and kept you rooted in place, otherwise you may have melted into a puddle as his ardour thawed any of the apprehension within you.

You pulled away, unable to hold yourself back from asking, “what does it mean?”

“what?” he blinked at you, his expression almost worried at your sudden departure from his lips.

“Mesh'la” you clarified.

“Oh” he broke out into a grin, rubbing his nose against yours as he chuckled lowly, “I'm not telling”

You huffed with a frown but he just smiled broadly at you, his eyes shining with the usual lick of mischief. Of course he was still going to find a way to toy with you, even now. You shook your head and brought your lips back to his with a fond smile, and he melted against you, a blissful hum sounding in his throat and rumbling through his chest.

taglist: @darthnihila @cdblake1565 @heidnspeak @burningnerdchild @orangez3st

[diamonddaze01]

The Somerset Affair | Chapter 2: When the Music Stops

pairing: lsk x fem!reader genre: Bridgerton AU, friends to (?????) to eventual lovers, brother’s best friend, SLOWWWW BURNNN chapter wc: 8.8k warnings: alcohol consumption, societal expectations, crying, mentions of a panic attack (not being able to breathe), eventual smut, more to be added a/n: sorry sorry i know ch 2 took forever // as always, ENORMOUS thanks to indi @wongyuseokie for this GORGEOUSSSS banner // and to my lovely betas shu @welcometomyoasis lou @tusswrites haneul @chanranghaeys this could not have happened without you // 3rd chapter will be up faster than this one i swear!!!

summary: when the music stops and everything goes wrong, will seokmin always be there to defend you?

comment to be tagged when chapters are posted, or join the fic taglist here!

The morning of your debut should have been perfect. Every detail had been painstakingly planned over months, from the delicate lace of your gown to the pearls in your hair. But as you sit in front of your vanity, eyes bloodshot and heavy with fatigue, you know deep in your bones that this day is not destined to go smoothly.

You had stayed up the entire night, restless, thinking about Seokmin. Every word he had said, every smile, every fleeting touch that had seemed so innocent before now felt charged with meaning, occupying your thoughts and stealing away any hope of restful sleep. The result was staring back at you in the mirror: bloodshot eyes, dark circles beneath them, and lips that trembled as your maid worked tirelessly to dress you. It’s a pity – no amount of powders or rouge can hide the exhaustion and heartbreak written plainly across your face.

The soft rustling of your white debutante gown fills the room, each movement whispering of elegance and careful tradition. The gown is a masterful creation, carefully chosen by your mother months ago to reflect the quiet dignity of your family’s name. Its bodice is fitted, meticulously embroidered with the finest ivory threads that weave delicate patterns of lilies and vines across the fabric, adding dimension without overpowering.

Around the neckline, a border of tiny pearls catches the morning light, giving the gown a subtle shimmer that, like everything else about it, speaks of refinement over opulence. The gown’s sleeves, long and sheer, are trimmed in lace as fine as a spider’s web, designed to lay gently against your skin rather than cling, as if even the gown itself recognizes the demands of decorum.

The skirts cascade from the waist in a perfect fall of lace and satin, layers upon layers of gossamer fabric that float with your every step. Each layer, though fragile to the touch, is artfully arranged to maintain the gown’s perfect shape, a testament to the skill of its makers and the patience it took to assemble. At the hem, more intricate lacework peeks out, creating a subtle scalloped edge that brushes softly against the floor, finishing the gown with a grace that echoes the restraint of your mother’s discerning eye.

You cannot deny that the gown itself is a marvel, designed to highlight and enhance rather than dominate. It is beautiful, in the way a rose is beautiful—with an elegance that feels both timeless and delicate, whispering that a lady’s virtue lies in restraint, in never asking to be noticed and yet never failing to command attention.

But the corset. Oh, the corset. It felt as though it were designed to squeeze the very life from you.

“Breathe in, my lady,” your maid instructs, her voice strained from the effort of pulling at the stiff fabric. She pulls at the stays until your ribs protest in pain.

“I can’t breathe in anymore,” you bite out, trying and failing to draw in a proper breath. The corset feels like it’s made of iron, constricting your lungs until your vision begins to blur. “It’s too tight. I— I can’t—”

But your lady’s maid is relentless, ignoring your protests as she cinches you even tighter. She ties the final knot with a satisfied sigh. “There. That should hold.”

Hold? It felt more like it was keeping you prisoner, you think grimly, but before you can voice any more complaints, your mother sweeps into the room, her graceful presence filling the space with a quiet authority. Dressed in an elegant gown of soft gray silk, she pauses to take in your appearance, her sharp eyes noting every detail.

Your mother’s eyes scan your dress approvingly, but when her gaze lands on your face, her expression falters. “Dearest, you look... unwell.”

Your heart sinks. “I didn’t sleep much last night,” you confess, eyes cast downward, though you don’t dare mention why. The last thing you need is your mother knowing Seokmin has occupied your thoughts in such a way.

Your mother sighs softly and moves to stand beside you, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. “This day is important, darling. I had hoped you would be well-rested, but...” She trails off, her tone not unkind, but laced with concern. “There is no time now to dwell on it. The Queen waits for no one.”

You nod, feeling a rush of guilt, knowing how much effort has gone into preparing you for this moment. But the weight of the corset and your sleepless night are conspiring to make you feel utterly overwhelmed. Your mother notices, of course. She always does.

“Try not to worry too much,” she says, her voice softening, though it still holds that undercurrent of expectation. “You must keep your chin high, shoulders back. No one need know what little sleep you had. You are beautiful, my dear, no matter the circumstances.”

Her words, though comforting, do little to ease the anxiety building in your chest. But there’s no time left. Your lady’s maid places the final pearl pins in your hair, and your mother gives you a reassuring squeeze before she gestures toward the door. “It’s time.”

Your nerves flutter violently as you’re escorted downstairs and into the awaiting carriage. The ride to the palace feels both endless and far too short. Every bump in the road jostles your already-tight corset, pressing against your ribs and leaving you breathless. The palace is as magnificent as you had heard—no, it’s more. The palace itself is a marvel of architecture, an opulent structure that seems more the work of fantasy than reality. Vaulted ceilings soar impossibly high, held aloft by marble columns adorned with delicate carvings of ivy and mythical creatures that seem to come to life in the flickering candlelight. Every archway is flanked by gilded moldings, winding and curling like golden vines, each detail rendered with the precision of a master sculptor.

Each corner, each angle of the palace seems to lead to something grander than the last, as if it were designed to swallow you whole in beauty. And perhaps it is, you think, as you press a hand over your fluttering heart. For despite the elegance, there is an undeniable sense of intimidation in the sheer scale of it all—a reminder of how small you are in the face of such a place, and of the scrutiny that awaits within these towering, timeworn walls.

You can feel the architecture itself imposing upon you, weighing down like the firm hand of tradition. For a fleeting moment, you imagine yourself wandering through the palace alone, exploring every column and arch, free of the hundreds of eyes upon you. But here, now, with the gaze of history and expectation pressing down, you straighten your shoulders, drawing in a steadying breath, and follow your Mama into the Great Hall. 

The hall is grander than anything you had even dared to imagine. The polished marble floors shine like glass, capturing reflections in delicate ripples that turn the passing gowns of debutantes into pools of lace and silk. Chandeliers hang from above, so immense and dazzling that they appear to drip crystal stars. They illuminate the room with a glow that is almost celestial, casting every inch of the hall in a warmth befitting the Queen herself.

To your right and left, mirrors taller than any man stretch to the ceiling, framed in gold leaf as intricate as lacework. The mirrors hold your gaze as you pass, capturing the girls beside you as they float forward with their mothers, each one a shimmering, blushing vision in white. You see yourself in these mirrors too, and although the gown fits you perfectly, somehow you feel like you’re wearing another’s skin. For a moment, you imagine your reflection whispering back, “Are you really here?”

The walls are covered in the richest velvet, deep greens and ruby reds that somehow make the hall feel even grander, as if you’ve stepped into the very heart of royalty itself. Enormous portraits of past queens and kings line the hall, each gaze strong and serene, as if they’re assessing every girl who dares to walk beneath their painted eyes. Somewhere in your chest, a knot forms and tightens. It’s strange, the feeling of being surrounded by so much opulence, as if the walls are watching, waiting for something that only they understand.

And perhaps that’s why your breath is so unsteady, why your heartbeat seems to echo through the hall in time with your footsteps. The palace, beautiful as it is, leaves you feeling like a creature of some lesser world, an intruder who has somehow wandered into a realm that does not belong to you. It’s not so much a place as a spectacle, a stunning, overbearing reminder of all that you must live up to, of all the scrutiny you’ll face from these grand walls, these glittering chandeliers, and yes, the very Queen herself. Every step feels like you are walking deeper into a lion’s den, where your every move will be scrutinized, your worth as a young lady judged by the sharpest eyes in the kingdom.

You move with the other debutantes, each girl dressed in white, adorned with jewels and delicate veils, the picture of youth and grace. The line seems to stretch forever as you wait your turn to be announced. The air is thick with anticipation, the rustle of satin and silk as the ladies murmur quietly to one another, some excited, others as nervous as you feel. Your own dress, despite its beauty, feels like a trap. The corset restricts your every breath, and the weight of expectation presses on your shoulders like a leaden cloak.

Your heart pounds in your chest as you scan the room, your nerves growing worse by the second. And then, in the far corner, you spot them. Minghao stands with an air of composure, his eyes quietly observing the room, his presence as regal as ever. Your brother watches the proceedings with a detached elegance, his eyes flickering over the debutantes without much interest. His gaze flicks to you, and for a moment, you feel a strange sense of calm knowing your brother is watching.

But next to him, is Seokmin.

He stands taller than most, his posture rigid but his face warm, though tinged with concern. While your brother is a portrait of his birthright and title, Seokmin is different. His gaze is sharper, more intent, and when his eyes find yours, the familiar comfort of his presence makes your heart stutter. You try to remind yourself to breathe, but the memory of his touch, his words, from the night prior clings to you like a shadow.

Seokmin’s expression softens when he sees you, and for a moment, the whole room seems to fall away. His lips quirk in a small, reassuring smile, and though you try to return it, your own face feels tight, your nerves too frayed to muster anything convincing.

As if sensing your unease, Seokmin’s eyes narrow with concern. Does he notice how your corset presses too tightly into your ribs? Or how your eyes are puffy from lack of sleep? The warmth in his gaze is mixed with a flicker of something unreadable, something almost protective. You are painfully aware of his gaze, and the thought of him watching you stumble through this day feels like too much to bear.

The line of debutantes inches forward, each young lady presented with grace and poise, or at least, the appearance of it. Your nerves churn violently in your stomach as your name is finally called. Your mother tightens her grip, ever so slightly, and it’s a silent reminder – You are a Xu. Do not falter. 

“Miss Y/N Xu, sister of the Duke of Somerset,” the herald crows, and every eye in the room fixes on you. “Presented by her mother, the Right Honorable Dowager Duchess of Somerset.”

Your legs feel like jelly as you take your first step forward, your skirts swishing around you. The weight of the gown, the tightness of your corset, and the heavy stares from all corners of the room press down on you. You try to steady your breathing, but the corset refuses to allow for even that small comfort.

Just as you take a step, disaster strikes.

Your heel catches on the hem of your gown.

You stumble forward, arms flailing slightly to catch yourself, but the weight of your skirts and the tightness of your corset make it impossible to recover gracefully. A collective gasp echoes through the room, and you feel your cheeks flush with mortification.

The whispers are instant, rippling through the crowd like wildfire. You can feel the stares—sharp, judgmental, unforgiving. Your mother’s grip tightens, and though she says nothing, you can feel her disapproval radiating through her hold. She doesn’t need to scold you—not in public. But the sting of her disappointment is enough to make you want to shrink into the floor.

Still, you manage to regain your footing, if only barely. You take a shaky breath and continue forward, your knees trembling with each step. But it gets worse. With every move, the corset seems to tighten further, squeezing the breath from your lungs until black spots dance in the corners of your vision.

Just as you’re about to curtsy before the Queen, your knees buckle.

A choking cough rips from your throat, loud and desperate, echoing through the grand hall. You’re bent over at the waist, gasping for breath, your corset pressing tighter with every moment. You cough again, and again, unable to stop, your eyes watering as you struggle to compose yourself.

The Queen, perched on her throne in all her regal glory, watches with a raised eyebrow, her disapproval palpable. Her expression is one of distaste, as if you are a spectacle—an amusing disaster.

Your mother murmurs beside you, “Steady yourself,” and her grip tightens with fury and disappointment in equal measure. It’s too late. Your corset has robbed you of the ability to breathe, and the weight of the entire room’s gaze crushes you. Your vision swims again, and for one horrifying moment, you think you might faint right there in front of the Queen.

Finally, you manage to straighten yourself, gasping for air, your face flushed and tear-streaked. You risk a glance toward the far side of the room, where Minghao and Seokmin still stand.

Minghao’s face is impassive, though his eyes are dark with what could only be disappointment. Seokmin, on the other hand, looks as though he might bolt across the room to help you. His hands clench at his sides, his jaw tight as his eyes flick between you and the Queen.

The Queen’s cold, cutting voice slices through the silence. “Miss Xu,” she says slowly, her tone dripping with disapproval. “It seems you are... unwell.”

Your heart sinks into your stomach. You manage a wobbly curtsy, your knees nearly giving out beneath you again as you lower yourself.

“Perhaps Miss Y/N should reconsider her readiness for society,” the Queen continues icily. “A young lady of such delicate constitution may not be suited for the rigors of court.”

Her words land like a blow. You rise slowly, trying to keep your chin held high, though your hands tremble and your vision remains blurry from the humiliation. All you want is for this moment to end. To disappear.

As you retreat, the whispers rise in volume, filling the grand hall with gossip and speculation. You can feel the weight of every gaze on you, every judgment passed in an instant. But it is Seokmin’s gaze that you search for in the crowd. His eyes meet yours, and though they are filled with concern, they are also gentle, understanding. A small comfort in the midst of your disaster.

Your mother, ever composed, whispers to you as she leads you from the room, her voice calm but firm. “We will speak of this later, darling. But for now, we must leave with grace.”

You nod weakly, still too breathless and embarrassed to respond. And as you step out of the grand hall, the day that was supposed to mark your entrance into society feels like anything but. All you can think about is how miserably everything went wrong—and how, even in the midst of it all, Seokmin’s gaze had found yours, steady and unwavering.

The silence presses on as the carriage trundles through the city streets, each wheel hitting the cobbles with a sound like a hammer to your heart. You’re trapped, here in this carriage, with no escape from your mother’s disappointment or the day’s memories—the whispered laughter, the blunder before the Queen, and the sheer, unbearable heat of your mortification.

Minghao’s hand rests over yours for only a heartbeat, but it’s enough to keep you from crumbling entirely. Though he releases your hand quickly to avoid Mama’s watchful eye, the gesture is enough to ground you, pulling you back to this place instead of letting you spiral into all the things you could have, should have done differently.

At last, your mother clears her throat, a carefully composed sound that cuts through the quiet like a knife.

“Well,” she says, her voice clipped and precise, “that was… quite the spectacle.” Her tone is a blend of disappointment and a tight, forced restraint. “I had hoped, naturally, for a… more dignified presentation.”

You swallow, feeling the flush of embarrassment burn anew. “I—” you start, but the words catch, failing under the weight of everything you wish to explain and the knowledge that no explanation will undo what’s done.

She adjusts her gloves with a sharp, precise tug, a calculated movement that somehow manages to convey her frustration without a single word. “I trust,” she begins slowly, every syllable measured, “that you understand the gravity of today’s events.”

You swallow, focusing on the intricate embroidery of your gown, tracing the delicate threads to distract yourself from the pressing sting of her words.

“Mother, I—” you stammer, but she holds up a gloved hand, silencing you before the words even form.

“We spent months preparing for this moment,” she continues, her voice tight with restrained emotion. “Months, to ensure you would have the debut any young lady of our family should. Your dress, your bearing, every detail was attended to so you would represent us with grace, with decorum. And yet, today…” She trails off, her eyes gliding over you with a look that could curdle milk.

“It wasn’t her fault,” Minghao interjects quietly, and though his tone is gentle, there’s a faint edge to his words, as though even he cannot quite hold back his defense. He shoots a quick, sidelong glance at you, a small, reluctant smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “The Queen’s hall was suffocating, and the entire affair was clearly designed to unnerve anyone in attendance.”

Your mother’s expression softens just a fraction as she regards her son, but she’s hardly swayed. “The Queen’s hall has been the site of countless debuts. If anything, the occasion called for composure, not… fainting spells.”

You clench your fists, the fabric of your dress twisting between your fingers, and look resolutely at the floor. As painful as it is to hear, you know your mother is not entirely wrong. Today was supposed to be your moment of triumph, the day you stepped forward as a young woman ready for society, carrying your family’s reputation with poise and dignity.

But instead, you remember the heat that had pressed in from all sides, the feeling of your corset cutting into your ribs, how your hands had trembled with each step. It was supposed to have been an easy task, to walk forward, cursty, and meet the Queen’s gaze with calm respect. And yet, you had felt every gaze upon you like a burn, each stumble echoing through the endless hall. And then, Seokmin’s eyes finding yours, calm and steady…

The memory stirs something warm within you, a faint flicker of relief that somehow dampens the embarrassment. The Queen’s gaze may have been unyielding, your mother’s disappointment all-consuming, but for that one moment, you had felt tethered, no longer alone.

Outside, the sun dips lower, casting long shadows across the city as the carriage continues its steady roll homeward. The silence stretches again, and the weight of it settles around you like an invisible veil. Minghao catches your eye, and though he says nothing, the look he gives you speaks volumes—a quiet reassurance, a reminder that this one day does not define you, that he still believes in you despite every misstep.

Your mother finally sighs, a faint softening in her shoulders. “We’ll regroup,” she murmurs, almost to herself. “There will be more opportunities, of course, but we’ll need to be mindful, thoughtful. A second chance may not be as kind.” She glances at you, and though her expression remains stern, there’s a glimmer of something almost like understanding.

The carriage ride stretches on in silence once more, each of you lost in thoughts. You glance out the window, watching the city roll by, lanterns casting fleeting golden glows against the carriage walls. It feels surreal, how a day so longed for turned into a series of mishaps, one after another. But as the carriage rounds a corner, you catch a memory from earlier: Seokmin’s eyes, grounding you, unwavering, somehow knowing how terrifying each step felt, how every misstep seemed amplified beneath the weight of so many watching.

As the carriage wheels finally begin to slow, approaching the gates of your family estate, you feel a shift within yourself. Today may have been a disaster, and yet, Seokmin’s gaze and Minghao’s quiet support linger, like small anchors in the storm of the day.

The drawing room is a sanctuary of elegance, its ornate moldings and rich fabrics designed to impress. Tall windows frame the view of the manicured gardens outside, sunlight pouring through in golden streams that dance across the polished wooden floor. Yet, despite the beauty surrounding you, it feels more like a gilded cage today. The delicate scent of lavender from the nearby vase does little to soothe the turmoil within.

You sit hunched over a needlepoint project, your fingers fumbling with the bright threads that feel foreign against your skin. The canvas before you, a swirl of colors and patterns, seems to mock your inability to focus. Your mind wanders far beyond the needlework, replaying the events of your disastrous debut like a never-ending nightmare. Each time you think of it, a fresh wave of humiliation washes over you, sharp and unyielding, like a thorn that refuses to dislodge itself from your heart.

“Goodness, how is one expected to focus with this nonsense?” you mutter under your breath, the needle slipping from your fingers yet again and leaving a careless knot in the thread. You curse softly, frustration bubbling to the surface.

Your mother sits comfortably in her armchair, her brow slightly furrowed as she loses herself in the pages of a novel, the rustle of paper punctuating the silence. Minghao lounges on the settee across from you, flipping through a collection of sketches, the corner of his mouth twitching in amusement at his artistic efforts. Every so often, his gaze flickers towards you, a mixture of concern and curiosity etched into his features, but he respects your silence, understanding that you are still recovering from the scarring events of your debut into polite society.

Just then, the door swings open, and Seokmin steps into the room, his presence a burst of light that seems to chase away the shadows clinging to your thoughts. It has been years since the butler last announced his arrival—his visits are far too frequent now, and you can’t help but feel a mix of warmth and apprehension at his entrance. His usually buoyant demeanor is tempered by a trace of concern as he takes in the scene before him, the way your shoulders droop as if weighed down by invisible chains.

“Good morning!” he declares, his voice bright yet careful, testing the waters of your melancholy. “I do hope I’m not intruding.”

“Not at all,” your mother replies, glancing up from her book, her eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief. “In fact, you may be just what our dear girl needs.”

You offer a small, half-hearted smile, the corners of your lips barely lifting. “And what would that be? A distraction or a dose of reality?”

Seokmin approaches, his smile as warm as the sunlight flooding the room. “A bit of both, if you’ll allow me.” He perches himself on the arm of your chair, leaning in just enough to draw your focus from the needlepoint chaos. “That was quite the debut you had, dear friend. How are you holding up?”

“Barely,” you sigh, tossing the errant needlepoint aside as if it were the source of all your woes. “I feel as if I’ve stumbled through a door marked ‘exit’ into an abyss of mortification.”

His eyes widen with sympathy, and in that moment, your heart flutters, torn between admiration and the painful reality that he may never feel the same. Seokmin has a way of making the world feel lighter, yet your feelings for him are a weight that often threatens to pull you under.

“Ah, yes,” he nods sagely, as if you have just shared the most profound wisdom. “The abyss of polite society can be quite unforgiving. I believe it’s marked with ‘no entrance’ signs, but alas, they are easily overlooked.”

Minghao chuckles softly, his attention now fully diverted from his sketches. “You do have a gift for exaggeration, Seokmin.”

“It’s a talent,” Seokmin replies, feigning an air of grandeur, his hand pressing dramatically to his heart. “But truly, do not let the Queen’s judgment define you. You are far too radiant for that.”

You snort, the sound escaping before you can suppress it. “Radiant? Is that what you call it when one trips over their own gown and nearly faints in front of our sovereign?”

“Why, yes! A splendid display of athleticism!” he shoots back, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “You’ve inadvertently entertained a room full of people—something they are certain to remember for ages.”

“But not in the way I had hoped,” you reply, frustration seeping into your voice as the memory of the evening flashes before your eyes, a storm of embarrassment churning within you.

“Ah, but hope can be a slippery creature,” he counters, tilting his head to meet your gaze. “What matters is how you choose to move forward. I have heard of many a lady whose debut was marred by similar accidents—yet they rise from the ashes like phoenixes, dazzling everyone with their resilience.”

“Is that your way of saying I should make a grand return to society?” You raise an eyebrow, your heart flickering with the suggestion. “Perhaps adorned in feathers and sequins to distract from my previous mistake?”

“I’d be the first to support such a feat,” he replies earnestly, the sincerity in his voice a soothing balm for your frayed nerves. But beneath your amusement lies an aching truth: his encouragement only highlights the chasm between your feelings and his indifference. He will never look at you the way you long for.

“Yes, Lord Lee, what a wonderful idea!” your mother exclaims, her book long forgotten. “The Fitzwilliam Ball is to be held in the coming weeks—what a splendid way for our darling girl to re-enter society!”

Your face falls. A ball? So soon? The very thought sends a tremor of panic racing through you. “Mama, I—”

“Yes, Mother, a splendid idea indeed,” Minghao muses, a teasing glint in his eye. When you turn your glare to him, he sticks his tongue out meanly, and Seokmin suppresses a chuckle.

You take a deep breath, fighting against the swell of anxiety rising in your chest. “I’m not certain I’m ready for another ball, not after—” you start, but the words die on your lips as Seokmin’s gaze locks onto yours. His expression is gentle yet determined, a silent encouragement that stirs something deep within you.

“Ready or not, life moves on,” he says softly, leaning closer as if sharing a secret. “You have to take the reins, even if the prospect is daunting.”

You want to believe him, to embrace his unwavering optimism, but doubt gnaws at you. Can you truly face another crowd, the whispers, the judgment? Your heart flutters erratically, caught in a tempest of affection and despair. Seokmin’s eyes shine with an earnestness that quickens your pulse, yet it only reminds you of the gulf that lies between your feelings and his casual indifference.

“Life indeed moves on,” you echo, your voice barely above a whisper, more to yourself than to anyone else. “But what if I stumble again? What if I make an even greater fool of myself?”

Seokmin’s smile falters for just a moment, replaced by a flicker of understanding that cuts through the air like a knife. “We all stumble, but that’s how we learn to rise,” he replies, his tone steady yet soft. “And besides, I’ll be there. I promise I’ll help you navigate any disaster.”

His words wrap around you like a lifeline, a flicker of hope igniting your heart. But as the warmth of his promise settles in, a cold weight begins to press upon you. You look into his eyes, searching for something more, but find only the steadfast gaze of a friend—someone who would catch you if you fell, but only as a friend.

“Right,” you murmur, the pain of acceptance settling in your chest like a stone, heavy and unyielding, a reminder of the distance between you.

The late evening light filters softly through the sheer curtains of your room, casting a warm glow that barely reaches the pile of books haphazardly stacked beside your bed. These books, filled with tales of love and adventure, have provided a much-needed refuge from the reality of your recent debut. For days now, you’ve chosen to cocoon yourself in their comforting embrace, avoiding the whispers and curious glances of society that followed you after your disastrous introduction.

You had resolutely refused to attend any of the society events your mother deemed essential—the lady’s tea, with its orchestrated conversations and veiled judgments, or the garden party, where laughter seemed to echo around you while you felt only isolation. The thought of facing the same debutantes, the same mamas, their glances lingering a moment too long on you, made your stomach churn. Instead, you preferred the solace of your room, the pages of your books offering both distraction and comfort as you lost yourself in worlds far removed from the judgmental eyes of the ton.

But tonight, your mother is insistent. At last, the Fitzwilliam Ball is upon you, and you have no escape from your mother’s gentle chiding. “Darling,” she calls gently, her voice a melody that pulls you from the pages of your latest escape. The delicate scent of lavender wafts through the air as she steps into the room, her presence commanding yet warm. It is an unusual moment—your lady’s maid typically oversees your dressing, managing the layers of fabric and the intricate details of your ensemble. But today, it is your mother who steps into that role, a significant act that carries with it the weight of her affection and a chance to bridge the gap that your previous missteps had created.

“It’s time to get ready, my dear,” she says, her tone gentle but firm, as she approaches your wardrobe. As she opens the doors, the sight of your gown hanging inside takes your breath away.

The dress, an ethereal creation of lavender silk, shimmers like moonlight trapped in fabric. The bodice is adorned with intricate embroidery that depicts delicate vines and blossoms, each stitch telling a story of artistry and care. The sleeves are fitted, with lace cascading down to create a soft ruffle at the wrist, and the skirt flows in layers, each tier of lace and silk billowing like clouds as it moves. It is a gown befitting a princess, meticulously designed to showcase your family’s esteemed standing while allowing a hint of youthful exuberance to shine through.

“This gown is truly magnificent,” you murmur, your fingers tracing the embroidered flowers as your mother gently lifts it from the wardrobe. “I can’t believe you chose it yourself.”

“Of course, I did. It’s time for your grand re-entrance to society, after all,” she replies, a smile dancing on her lips as she helps you into the gown. The fabric wraps around you like a dream, soft and luxurious, but as your mother laces the bodice, the realization of how tightly it pulls leaves you breathless. Each tug of the laces feels like a reminder of the expectations that have come to define you, but your mother’s presence softens the edges of that pressure.

Yet, it is not discomfort that fills the room. Instead, the sounds of your mother’s laughter and intelligence wrap themselves around you. Your mother’s hands are gentle as she fastens each lace, her fingers brushing against your skin in a manner that reassures you. The stern disappointment of your debut, where you felt like a shadow beneath the weight of expectations, seems to dissipate, replaced by her usual grace and kindness. As she works, her voice drifts like a melody, recounting stories from her own youth, her laughter echoing softly against the mirror as if the memories bring light to the room.

With every loop of ribbon and every gentle tug, she weaves a tapestry of love and support, a tangible reminder that tonight is not merely a duty but a celebration of who you are. As she arranges your hair into an elegant updo, delicately weaving in pearl pins that glimmer like stars, you catch a glimpse of the woman she has always been beneath the layers of propriety. The warmth of her presence washes over you, igniting a flicker of hope that perhaps tonight will mark a new beginning.

“Are you ready?” she asks, stepping back to admire her handiwork, a satisfied gleam in her eyes.

“I suppose as ready as I’ll ever be,” you reply, taking a moment to admire your reflection. The gown transforms you into a vision of beauty, yet beneath the surface, you feel a tempest of uncertainty swirling within you.

“Now, let’s see what your brother thinks.” Your mother gestures toward the door, and as you descend the staircase, your heart quickens with every step.

At the foot of the stairs, Minghao waits patiently, the embodiment of duty and familial pride. His presence, regal and calm, adds to the moment’s gravity. Dressed in a tailored coat that accentuates his stature, he stands as the dutiful son and duke, ready to escort both you and your mother to the ball. The contrast between his composed demeanor and your own fluttering heart is stark, yet comforting. As you make your way down the stairs, your mother’s gentle squeeze of your hand gives you a modicum of strength, each step drawing you closer to the world outside that awaits your return.

“Sister,” Mighao greets, mirth dancing in his eyes. “I suppose if tonight is your big night, this gown does not offend the eyes.”

“Minghao!” Your mother’s rebuke is instant, a gentle reprimand that lightens the atmosphere with her authority.

“For goodness’ sake, brother,” you admonish, donning a façade of false bravado to hide the anxiety swirling within. “It seems as if you would simply keel over before you ever paid me a proper compliment!” You attempt to feign indignation, but the corners of your mouth betray you with the hint of a smile.

As you reach the bottom step, he extends his arm, a silent invitation to escort both you and your mother to the ball. It’s a gesture of duty, but there’s an undertone of affection that brings warmth to your heart. He may be the dutiful son and duke, poised and impeccably dressed in his tailored attire, but in this moment, he is simply your brother—standing beside you as a steadfast protector against the uncertainties of the evening ahead.

Your mother glances at both of you, her eyes sparkling with pride and a hint of nostalgia. “Shall we?” she prompts, her voice carrying a note of excitement that sends a flutter through your stomach.

With a deep breath, you take Minghao’s arm, feeling the reassuring strength of his presence as he leads you both toward the waiting carriage. The air outside is brisk, filled with the scent of blooming jasmine and the distant hum of music preparing to fill the grand halls. Each step you take resonates with the rhythm of your heartbeat, a mix of trepidation and hope.

As you settle into the plush interior of the carriage, the door closes with a soft click, sealing you away from the familiar confines of home and ushering you into a world of possibility. The grandeur of the evening awaits, and as the carriage rolls forward, the cobblestones beneath you echo with the anticipation of what’s to come.

You can’t shake the feeling that this night holds the promise of something new—perhaps redemption, or at the very least, the opportunity to reclaim your place among the society that had once felt so cruel. As the carriage sways gently with each turn, you steal a glance at your mother and brother, their expressions a blend of excitement and encouragement. In this moment, surrounded by their unwavering support, you begin to believe that maybe, just maybe, tonight could be different.

Fate is certainly a cruel mistress—despite your greatest hopes, the ball is positively dismal.

The ballroom is every bit as grand as you’d imagined—no, grander. Chandeliers dripping with golden light cascade overhead, casting a warm, ethereal glow over the polished marble floor. The air is thick with the intoxicating scent of roses and jasmine, mingling with the lively music of the orchestra, where violins soar and the occasional trill of laughter punctuates the harmony. Silks and satins swirl in every direction as the season’s debutantes twirl with their suitors, their gowns a riot of color that makes you feel like a ghost in comparison.

But none of it feels as magical as you once thought it would. Instead, you stand to the side, clutching the silk of your gown, its intricate lace and delicate pearls feeling like a weight rather than a luxury. Your mother had ensured that every stitch was perfect, every detail immaculate, to help erase the memory of your disastrous debut. Yet, it hasn’t worked. The whispers haven’t stopped. Even here, amidst the splendor, you can feel the gazes sliding over you, only to dart away, as if your very presence is a reminder of your failure.

The other debutantes are radiant, their smiles bright as they are swept onto the dance floor by handsome, eligible gentlemen. But you... you might as well be invisible.

Your heart sinks as you watch them, a heavy weight settling in your chest. This is meant to be a night of joy and celebration, yet you feel like a fragile glass ornament left behind, forgotten in the bustle of a festive occasion. The laughter and music create a vibrant tapestry of life around you, but inside, you’re drowning in a sea of insecurity and self-doubt.

Just when despair threatens to envelop you entirely, a presence beside you breaks through the haze. Seokmin, as effortlessly charming as ever, sidles up, his dark eyes twinkling with mischief. “Quite the spectacle, isn’t it?” he remarks, his voice low so only you can hear. “I’m certain some of these mamas could lead an army with the way they maneuver their daughters.”

You blink at him, surprised by his lightheartedness. Despite the heat of embarrassment burning your cheeks, a smile pulls at your lips, momentarily pushing aside the shadows clouding your heart.

Before you can respond, he holds his hand out to you, a silent invitation, and for a moment, you hesitate. Seokmin, who could have any lady in the room, is asking you to dance? Your heart stutters, a wild flutter of hope mingling with anxiety, and you glance around, acutely aware of the whispers beginning to stir again. People are noticing the exchange, their eyes narrowing in speculation. But Seokmin stands before you, his hand outstretched, waiting with an easy confidence that momentarily disarms you.

With a deep breath, you place your gloved hand in his, and he leads you to the center of the ballroom as if it were the most natural thing in the world. The moment your feet hit the floor, however, the murmurs begin in earnest, slicing through the enchantment that had briefly settled around you.

“Isn’t that the girl?” someone whispers, just loud enough for you to hear. “The one who fainted?”

“I’d heard,” another voice chimes in, “that no one would ask her to dance. Poor dear, but what did she expect after such a performance?”

You keep your eyes firmly fixed on Seokmin, but each word is like a needle, sharp and painful, pricking at your composure. The worst of it comes when you catch sight of one of the mamas, her face set in a smirk as she whispers to her daughter—the same daughter you had once taken pianoforte lessons with. The girl lets out a small, mean-spirited laugh, and your stomach twists, the laughter echoing like a death toll.

The memory of your debut hangs over you like a dark cloud, heavy and suffocating. Your embarrassment simmers, threatening to boil over. The murmurs become unbearable, and instinctively, you move to pull away from Seokmin, ready to flee. But before you can, his grip tightens, firm but gentle.

“Leaving so soon?” he teases, his voice low and playful, a lifeline in the midst of the storm. “Didn’t your mama teach you it’s bad manners to leave in the middle of a dance?”

You try to focus on his words, on the feel of his hand in yours, but it’s no use. You feel like every eye is on you, dissecting your every movement, judging, whispering, laughing. Seokmin is a shield, but he can’t block all the venom aimed at you.

“I can’t—” you begin, your voice thick with emotion, but Seokmin cuts you off.

He reaches up, loosening a perfectly pinned curl from your hair, letting it fall gently by your cheek. His eyes are soft, almost tender, and in that moment, you feel something flutter to life in your chest. “Eyes on me, Tulip,” he murmurs, and the way he says it—so calm, so sure—makes your heart skip a beat.

For the briefest moment, you think he might love you. That despite the gossip, despite the humiliation, Seokmin sees you—the girl beneath the debutante, the one who has admired him from afar for so long. But then, out of the corner of your eye, you see Minghao. He stands by the edge of the ballroom, watching. And then—he nods. It’s subtle, almost imperceptible, but Seokmin notices, and he nods back.

Your blood runs cold.

You blink up at Seokmin, the warmth in your chest turning to ice. “Did you do this because Minghao asked you to?” The words slip out before you can stop them, low and desperate, laced with betrayal.

Seokmin’s brow furrows. “Do what?”

“This. The dance.” You glance around at the swirling crowd, the eyes that have never left you. “The attention. Did you ask me because he wanted you to? To salvage my prospects?”

His confusion is genuine, but the truth is written in his face—open, honest, and devastating. He hesitates, and it’s all you need to know.

“Damn you,” you whisper, voice shaking with fury and hurt. His eyes widen, shocked by the venom in your voice, the curse slipping from your lips like something foreign. “Damn you, Lee Seokmin.”

“Y/N—” he starts, his voice softening, trying to explain, to defend himself. But you don’t give him the chance.

“I thought,” you continue, the words tumbling out in a rush, “I thought you asked me because you wanted to, not because you were told to. I thought you held me in higher regard than this.” You laugh bitterly, a sound that catches in your throat. “How foolish of me.”

The onlookers are whispering more now, their curiosity piqued by the tension in the air, the way your voice trembles with barely contained emotion. But you don’t care. You’re done caring.

With a mocking curtsy, you drop your hands from his and step back. “My lord,” you say, dripping with sarcasm, “I do apologize for any inconvenience to your social standing.”

Seokmin’s eyes widen, panic flashing in them as he realizes the gravity of your words, the weight of what you’re about to do. “Y/N, wait—”

But you don’t wait. You turn on your heel and stalk toward the ballroom’s exit, your skirts swirling around you in a flurry of lilac silk and lace, your heart pounding painfully in your chest. The gasps and murmurs of the guests fade into the background as you flee, your vision blurred with unshed tears.

Behind you, Seokmin’s voice calls out, desperate, pleading. “Y/N, please—stay—”

But you don’t look back. You run.

The chill of the night air bites at your skin as you emerge from the grand ballroom, the sounds of the festivities quickly swallowed by the night. Minghao is hot on your heels, and you hear the familiar click of his shoes echoing against the cobblestone streets. As you enter the carriage, your fury erupts like a dam breaking.

“How dare you meddle in my life?” you exclaim, the words bursting forth with a fervor that sends a shiver down your spine. The tears spill over, mingling with the delicate fabric, each droplet a testament to your exasperation. “I wish to be left alone!”

Minghao, ever the picture of serene composure, raises an eyebrow, though his calm demeanor only serves to ignite your temper further. “I’m only trying to help you, dear sister,” he replies, his voice as soothing as a summer breeze.

“Help? Is that what you call this? You think I’m some delicate flower that requires your constant tending?” Your heart beats faster, each pulse an echo of your indignation. “You are not my keeper, Minghao!”

He opens his mouth, surely to deliver some well-meaning retort, but you are not in the mood for restraint. “You think I can’t manage my own affairs? That I need you to dictate who I should associate with? Let me remind you, I am not a child!”

In a fit of fury, you throw one of your shoes toward him, the delicate slipper soaring through the air; Minghao ducks just in time, the shoe landing with a soft thud against the carriage wall.

“Is this truly your idea of a civilized discussion?” he remarks, feigning offense. “Throwing footwear instead of engaging in rational discourse? My, how you’ve mastered the art of temper tantrums!”

“Better to throw a shoe than to be lectured like a schoolgirl!” you counter, your voice rising to match his. “You presume to know what is best for me, but you are merely reflecting your own apprehensions! You have no concept of my struggles!”

Minghao’s brow furrows, and for a fleeting moment, his expression softens, as if he might relent. But then he leans forward, his voice low and fervent. “And you believe that sulking in the corner will resolve anything? You are only isolating yourself further!”

“Perhaps I wish to be alone!” you declare, your voice ringing with defiance, the words spilling out like water from a broken dam. “Perhaps I grow weary of this charade, that everything is perfect when it is most decidedly not!”

A tense silence envelops the carriage, the air thick with unspoken words. You both breathe heavily, the conflict hanging between you like a fine silk thread ready to snap. The rest of the ride is steeped in a heavy silence, each passing moment thickening the air with unspoken words and unresolved feelings. You lean against the plush seat of the carriage, your gaze fixed on the world outside. The blurred lights of the city flicker past, dimming into the encroaching darkness, and with each glimmer that fades from view, a piece of your heart seems to shatter.

Inside, your thoughts spiral. Betrayal gnaws at you like a ravenous beast, devouring any remnants of confidence you had managed to muster before the ball. Seokmin was supposed to be your ally in this fight, your so-called “loyal servant”; a beacon of warmth amidst hushed whispers. Yet now, as the reality settles in, you realize he is merely Minghao's friend, not yours. 

How could you have been so naïve? Your mind races back to moments you once cherished: the laughter shared over private nicknames, the comfort of his presence when you felt small and insignificant. He had danced with you, yes, but it had been an act of duty, an obligation to your brother, not a genuine desire to hold you close. You had hoped, foolishly, that he might look beyond your failed debut, that he might understand the person beneath the gown and lace. Yet here you are, reduced to a mere pawn in a game you didn’t even want to play.

A sob catches in your throat, but you swallow it down. Instead, you grip the edges of your gown tightly, feeling the intricate lace and delicate pearls dig into your palms, until you are sure you will have bruises in the morning.

How could Seokmin have allowed himself to be used this way? Did he not care enough to stand by you when it mattered most? He had seen you, yes, but only through the lens of loyalty to Minghao, not as the woman you wished to be, not as the friend you had thought he saw.

By the time the carriage arrives at your home, the bitterness in your chest is a wellspring of anguish. The vibrant ball is now a distant memory, a dream turned nightmare, and all you can do is silently mourn the friendship you thought would endure. You glance at Minghao, his face set in a mask of determination, oblivious to the storm of emotion swirling inside you.

As you step out of the carriage, he follows closely behind, his footsteps heavy with regret. “Y/N,” he begins, his voice low and earnest, “I thought I was doing what was best for you. I thought—”

You cut him off, spinning to face him, your expression fierce with hurt. “It’s too late, brother,” you declare, the words like shards of glass spilling from your lips. “You don’t get to decide what’s best for me. You’ve ruined everything.”

His eyes widen, a mixture of shock and remorse flooding his features. “I never meant to hurt you—”

“It doesn’t matter what you meant!” you snap, frustration and pain intertwining in a chaotic dance. “You acted without thinking. You’ve taken something precious from me.”

Minghao opens his mouth to argue, to defend himself, but the words die on his lips. The truth hangs in the air, heavy and palpable, as the reality of your fractured trust settles between you.

For the rest of the season, you do your best to blend into the walls at every ball, and you succeed. You become a shadow flitting between vibrant gowns and boisterous laughter. Each event becomes a blur of swirling colors and muffled sounds. You move quietly, navigating the sea of opulence with a heavy heart, wearing a mask of indifference that hides the turmoil brewing just beneath the surface.

You linger in corners, your fingers tracing the intricate patterns of wallpaper as if seeking solace in their delicate designs. The bright chandeliers above cast their warm glow on the happy couples swirling in perfect harmony, while you remain firmly anchored in your solitude, an invisible wall erected around your heart. You watch as others twirl and laugh, and your heart aches for Seokmin’s easy companionship, the lively conversations and playful banter that now feel like a distant memory.

With each passing ball, the weight of your isolation grows heavier. Minghao’s well-intentioned apologies echo in your mind, but their impact fades against the reality of your existence. You’ve become an expert at deflecting curious gazes, practicing the art of blending in so well that the laughter and music seem to wash over you like water off a duck’s back.

But it is Seokmin’s absence that echoes loudest in your heart. He might have always been your brother’s best friend, but you had hoped he would be something more—something real. As the music swells, the realization settles heavily on your shoulders: you are utterly, irrevocably alone.

Seokmin doesn’t ask you to dance again for the rest of the season. 

Tagging: @kibs-and-bits@moondustmemories@shinwonderful@ivehypnosis@gwend0lyne @thestoryofana13 @mellowamour @blissedjoon @begentlewithme-please @xabsolutelynothingx @reiofsuns2001 @mngyulvrs @mooniewrld @archivistworld @lexyraeworld @ateez-atiny380 @walkinganxiety01 @lovecleastrange