#im glad he can get a good and happy ending

[jigglyjeon]

aberration -> jjk (four)

aberration࿐ a departure from what is normal, usual, or expected; typically an unwelcome one.

summary: jeongguk had always preferred to be alone; untouched by the scrutiny of his father and away from the responsibilities that sealed him to a fate he never wanted— being promised to the princess. when rumours of a unicorn plagues the town, jeongguk is ordered by the king to capture it and bring it to him. with the opportunity his intentions are to lead it to safety, reminded of a wild young pony that was once his only friend.

rating: R18+ MATURE, minors please do not interact

pairing: unicorn!fem reader x human villager!jk

genre(s): dark fantasy au, childhood friends to lovers, angst, romance, smut

word count: 13k +

warnings/tags: oh? jimin's past love is revealed?, making out, eager snow lol, slight exhibitionism, some dry humping, very intimate fingering scene, implied non-con (the princess to jk, it's barely mentioned but it's alluded to in conversation), snow wants to take it further but jeongguk stops her:(, jeongguk is quite literally so haunted by his past, sort of gets a bit angsty but super soft and sweet overall <3

author's note: i didn’t mean for this chapter to be so long, but it was necessary plss im sorry this is what i get for promising a double update y’all better enjoy it

soundtrack: where i come from - passion pit // and so it begins - hero // all is found - kacey musgraves // this world - leah fayre

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Chapter Four: Lover's Moon

𓇢𓆸

Jeongguk is awakened by the sounds of light laughter and thudding of footsteps; it shakes the floorboards slightly and it vibrates through his body.

His first attempt to open his eyes fails, so his body moves first, and he groans at the stiffness in his back and shoulders. He had slept upright against the couch in which Hoseok slept on; his snoring was just as obnoxious as one would expect, might he add. No really, he’s so very glad the elf got a good night’s rest.

It’s unironically the sound of Hoseok’s voice that eventually gets him to peel his eyes open, just so he can scowl in his direction and ask him why he’s honking about so early in the morning.

He sees you instead, throwing your head back in hysterics, only to hide your toothy smile in your palms. “That is utterly ridiculous, Hobi!” You exclaim, your voice muffled by your hands, completely amused with the tooting sound he’s making by flapping his palms together tightly. At least you had acknowledged that it was in fact ridiculous.

Jeongguk has no mind to judge you for your outdated humour when you look like that.

Gone are the light blue clothes you were wearing yesterday, replaced with a navy-blue dress with maroon and floral accents. You wear the garment with an off-white tunic layered beneath. Maroon coloured laces cinch you in at the waist, the deeper colours contrasting against the white of your hair, which – in his opinion – has only made you look all the more striking.

The dress was a lot more casual than the travellers clothing Jimin’s grandmother had gifted you the previous night, and the subtle floral detailing along the hems of your bodice and the end of your dress had admittedly made you look like a local. You had always seemingly been light-hearted but the evident shift in your confidence and comfort was stark. He feels terribly that he soon has to rip you from a place that clearly makes you happy.

The sun was beaming down on him through the window, and it was unusually warm for being so near to winter, not that he was complaining.

“Oh good, he lives.” Jimin stops in front of him with a teasing smirk, holding his breakfast: warm bread and eggs. Jeongguk wakes fully as his senses kick to life, sitting up to take the plate of food from him.

“I know you and your party make plans to continue your travels today, but might I urge you to stay one more night? There’s a moon festival happening tonight that I’d like for the lady to attend.”

Jeongguk looks up at him, chewing tiredly on the bread and butter that slowly begins to taste of bribery. His jaw slows, swallowing the bite. “Moon festival?”

“Yes, I think you’d enjoy it yourself.” He persists, falling onto the couch. “Do they have such things in the east? Or are the rumours true and it truly is void of personality?”

Jeongguk laughs. “Just because we don't have your nice clothing or fancy stone buildings for homes, does not mean we don't know how to have any fun.”

“I suppose that’s true. Alright, tell me about it then, what do the townspeople of the east do for leisure?”

Jeongguk blinks blankly at him, barely having to think before he answers. “The king’s birthday is always a treat; there’s music, we get drunk and then we dance around a fire until we eventually pass out.”

The blue-eyed one rolls his eyes, pushing himself off the couch. “Oh, how very exciting that must be.” He mutters sarcastically under his breath as he walks away. He stops for a moment, looking over his shoulder at Jeongguk, “I set up a bath for you by the way. You reek of man.” He snorts, turning back to make his way over to you and Hoseok in the kitchen.

You’re humming softly as you help clean up the mess from breakfast, while Hoseok sits at the table and looks out the window at the town coming to life. You lightly sway side to side with pursed lips. Your gentle tune brings a vision to him; there’s a young girl and her mother, frolicking the meadows together. The girl didn’t have white hair, but it was long and silky and had a natural wave to the tresses. It’s brief, but it tells him plenty.

Jimin smiles softly “Do you enjoy music?” He asks.

You gasp, not noticing he had come over to you. “Yes, I love to sing, but unfortunately there’s only one song I’m familiar with.” Your shoulders fall at that. “There wasn’t much music in the village I neighboured, not unless the townspeople were celebrating a royal birthday.” You reveal to him.

“The one you hummed to just now; how do you know it?”

You wipe your hands against your dress when you finish putting away the plates and pans.  “My mother used to sing it to me, she said my father had sung it to her on the day they were married and would recite it to her each night since.” You look sullen at the mention of your father, even though you never knew him. “Perhaps my love for music comes from him.”

Jimin hums, your words only affirming his short vision. “Might I urge you to convince Jeongguk to stay just one more night? There will be plenty of music that you can hear since tonight Proviance celebrates the moon.”

“You…celebrate the moon?” You your nose crinkles up, looking at him as if he was silly for saying such a thing. “How strange! Why only tonight if it comes every night?”

“We celebrate many things, but it’s not just the moon— it’s the lover’s moon in which we rejoice.” Jimin explains.

Hoseok nods in confirmation. “I’ve heard about this before! That the lover’s moon is sacred, and it’s said that it brings the truth in your heart to life when a full moon shines its light unto us.”

“If you were to be technical with it, it is really a reaction to the different forces of magic coming together to honour its importance to our village. All that power elicits intense, strong emotions that make the townspeople drunk with affection and appreciation, so most often than not, lovers come together openly, but only because they have no choice but to feel. Hence, the name Lover’s Moon.” He describes the festivities with a longing look in his eyes as he tells you about the night.

“Usually, I enjoy the music and the lights from my home, but since I have company, it’d be rude not to let you experience just how magical it can be.”

Your eyes flicker over to find Jeongguk, but you quickly discover that he had no longer been resting in the spot he had been prior. He had left a while ago to get clean, but you hadn’t noticed, too engrossed in conversation with the other two men.

“It sounds lovely, but it also sounds…awfully intimate.” The heat your cheeks appear without warning, when you think of him.

“Yes, I suppose it is. But love is supposed to be intimate, is it not?” He leans forward, whispering. “Do you have love in your heart for someone, Snow?”

You clear your throat loudly, looking over at Hoseok who had hardly been paying attention. You relax if only a little that he seems not to have heard the grey-haired one utter your name. He leans his cheek against his fist, waiting. He had never been a fan of being cooped up inside for longer than necessary.

You don’t answer Jimin, moving past him and ignoring the knowing smirk on his lips.

When prompted, Hoseok had revealed to you and Jimin that he had spent his entire life travelling the world since he was thirteen, so there was never any time to get to know someone for long enough to fall in love. When you asked if he had felt lonely, he had been quick to shut that down. He wouldn’t trade his lifestyle for anything, or anyone for that matter. But he hadn’t been opposed to the idea if the day were to ever come about.

“Do you have a love, Jimin?” Hoseok perks up in wonder, an innocent looks in his green, glowing eyes, swooning at the idea of something he himself had never experienced.

Jimin sighs, averting his gaze. “That ship has sailed, I’m afraid.” Jimin reveals to him. “I had a love, but she now has another.”

“Aw, don’t be that way! You will find somebody someday, it’s never too late!” Hoseok’s ears lower, standing up and pounding in his lightly into the table. “You shouldn’t give up on finding love! Perhaps she wasn’t your true soulmate.”

Jimin laughs sourly. “Actually, she was. She was my one and only soulmate.”

It was true that it was possible to have more than one soulmate in your life, whether it was platonic or romantic, a friend or a lover. For some people, though, people like Jimin, there was only one true soulmate that you came across in your life. That didn’t mean it wasn’t fully possible not to be with that person, in this life you had free will, you could do what you wanted— that included choosing someone else over the person the universe specifically hand-picked for you.

In the end, his person hadn’t chosen him, and it took him a long time to make peace with that. She had a child with another man, and they both lived amongst him in this very village. It was precisely why he had chosen to isolate from others and only leave the house to help Grandmother with the stall, only to come straight back home when he was done. Anything to avoid seeing her with someone else, being happy without him. Jimin refused to love another, and that was the end of that. Nothing was going to change his mind on the matter, either. No lick of hope, a pretty smile or a kind face was going to change the love he had for his woman.

Because she will always be his woman— regardless of who she chose to lay with each night.

Every vision had led Jimin right to this moment. While he could see the past, he hadn’t been able to see the future, and he definitely hadn’t seen the day the love of his life decided to rid herself of him for good, leaving him with an aching heart. They were younger then, perhaps it wasn’t all that strange for her heart to change along with the growth that came with the passing of time.

His grandmother had said that they were connected by their souls. She sensed these things— she could see what truly lies in someone’s heart. It was good for weeding out the ones with ill intentions. Learning this filled Jimin’s heart endlessly with glee.

When she left him, for a long time, he had hated his grandmother for lying to him about such a thing.

She was still adamant to this day that she was the one for him, but they don’t talk of her anymore.

Jimin furrows his brow. “You should stay as you are elf; love is a wildly complicated thing. If you’ll excuse me, I must leave to help with the shop. But you should all go on and explore Proviance in the daylight. It is much more forgiving, and the drunken men don’t yet litter the clean streets, well, for the most part anyway.” He babbles on, tossing the sack by the door over his shoulder, bidding you and Hoseok goodbye before he leaves.

“I will check on Jeongguk, then we can go, okay?” You smile at him.

The elf groans, throwing his head back. “Yes, at long last! The sun looks so lovely and warm out there, I hate for time to chase it away.”

You snicker at his dramatics as you walk down the hall carefully to the room you slept in that night. A slight glimmering from the corner of your eyes stops you in your tracks. You narrow your eyes, slowly walking toward it, instantly recognising it as your necklace. Your eyes widen, snatching it into your hands to hold it tightly your chest. You around the small room in which you are alone.

“Is it yours?” Hoseok is standing by the door, a soft look in his eye.

“Yes. Oh, yes! Were you the one who found it? Oh, thank you! I was so sure I’d lost it. You don’t have any idea how much this necklace means to me.” You hurry to him, crashing into him in a tight hug. He wheezes, patting your back as you squish your face against his chest.

“You’re welcome.” He laughs softly, and you pull away to smile gratefully at him.

“You should let him give it to you.” He nods toward the necklace when he steps back beyond the room.

“Who?” You tilt your head, clutching it tighter to your chest as if you’re afraid to lose it again.

“Who else?” He shrugs. “The lover’s moon will reveal what’s hidden deep in your heart, Snow.” He gives you a pointed look. The use of your name making him gasp. You were wrong, he had heard Jimin call you by your name earlier.

“But it’s for his own protection, i-it’s not safe with me–”

“He was willing to die for you, kid. I think he can make that choice for himself.”

With that he turns on his heel to leave you with your thoughts. You stare at the place he had once been standing and calling your bluff, then down at the snowflake you thought you’d never see again. You’re reluctant when you toss it back onto the bed, following Hoseok out of the room.

Where would you even begin if you were to tell Jeongguk the truth?

If what the things that Jimin and Hoseok claim were true? If they are, well then you may as well let the moon do the talking for you.

You didn’t wait terribly long for Jeongguk to return, it was only a few minutes more before he came sauntering into the living room, looking blissfully unaware of the conversation between you and Hoseok. Or perhaps he was choosing to ignore the obvious tension that it causes between you.

Jeongguk looked refreshed, and his hair was still slightly dripping with water. Gone were the messy strands from before. You wonder if they were naturally waved like yours or he was just in desperate need of grooming.

“Where’s Jimin?” He asks casually, patting around his waist to ensure he had everything, mainly the dagger he had paid unfairly for at the stalls last night, and the necklace.

“Helping his grandmother with her shop. Can we get out of here?” Hoseok urges, already walking for the door.

“You didn’t have to wait for me; you could have left.” Jeongguk shrugged, noticing the slight irritation laced in the elf’s words.

“And leave the girl alone?”

“I was here still.”

“Exactly.” He grumbles.

Hoseok had been far too eager to leave the house, and had ventured off on his own, promising to find you later on. You weren’t sure where or how he was going to do that because this village was vastly bigger than what you’ve seen of others thus far. He points to his ears as if he can hear your inner thoughts. He can’t, he just has big ears and can hear pretty much everything.

You feel as if the sunny days you’ve witnessed throughout your life hardly compared to this day. Everything was bright, the clouds didn’t plague the sun as they so often did in the east.

Perhaps it was the uplifting atmosphere that had scared them off.

There’s plenty of foot traffic the moment you enter the lively streets ahead of you and it overwhelms you. Jeongguk notices as such when he sees you chewing on your thumb nail as you take everything around you.

When a man in a hurry pushes his wheelbarrow hastily in front of you, Jeongguk grabs your wrist before he can open his mouth to warn you. “Do be more careful, in busy places like this you need to watch your footing.” He scolds you gently, and you look down shyly.

“Sorry.” You mumble. “I don’t know where to look, there’s just so…much.”

He nods, “I understand, it’s different for me also.” He admits. “The only colours I saw in the royal quarters were different shades of black, gold and emerald green.”

“What does emerald green look like?” You ask him, “How does it differ from just regular green?”

Jeongguk hums, looking around him. As if on cue, a girl wearing an emerald green hooded capelet walks by them, cooing at a tall, brown dog who walked obediently alongside her. “That woman’s capelet is emerald green.” He points to her, catching the attention of her dog. The dog barks once, turning off his path and dashes over to him.

“Oh, oh!” You gasp, flinching behind Jeongguk as the dog greets him with excitement. He laughs, bending to his knee to scratch the back of its’ floppy ears.

“What a sweet hound.” He grins brightly, allowing the slender dog to jump over him, unable to control its’ tongue that darts out against his jaw in excitement.

“Bam!” The woman calls, rushing over to her dog. She looks to you first. “I’m terribly sorry, he must have gotten a whiff of food.”

You blink at her, parting your lips but the words never leave them. She looks down at the man to apologise, but she’s just as taken aback as you are when she sees him.

“Jeongguk?” She doesn’t wait for him to stand; she falls to her knees to get a better look at his face. “Is…is that you?”

Jeongguk looks up at her, and his smile falters quickly into a look of shock. “Aerum?” He swallows thickly, his eyes big and glassing over. “Oh my gods!” He pulls her into his arms without having to think twice, erupting into sobs of relief and excitement. “I thought you were dead, everyone thought–”

Aerum pulls away, taking her little brothers face in her hands. “I know, I know. I am so sorry Gukka.” She sniffles, smiling as she takes in the grown features of him.

“My, how you’ve grown up. Who are you and where have you taken my little brother?” She laughs, pulling back to wipe the tears from her cheeks.

You knew that was her, your assumptions had been right. She hadn’t looked terribly different from the last time you’d seen her, only her hair was longer, and she had only slightly grown into her features in a similar way that Jeongguk had.

“What brings you here? I– how did they ever allow you to leave?” She helps him to his feet, ushering him off the path and to the side when you stand, watching between the siblings. Your heart twists seeing the tears drip down Jeongguks cheeks. He doesn’t bother wiping them away, too shocked by the presence of his long-lost sister.

He shakes his head. “Why did you leave us without saying, Aerum? Mother…she thought you dead. We all did.” He says again.

Her face falls. “Is she alright?”

Jeongguk shakes his head again, turning his face away, the tension locking in his jaw as he bites back another sob. “She–”

“She what, Gukka?” She pushed, worry filling her the deep eyes that looked just like her brothers. Full of uncontrolled emotion, round like saucers.

“Mother is gone, Aerum.” His breaths out shakily. “She fell ill, she stopped eating, she cried many tears and died praying that she would see you again.”

She lifts a hand to her wobbling lips. She gasps for a breath, hiccupping as she erupts into tears of sadness this time. Jeongguk hugs her again, silent waterworks of his own falling down the trail that had stained his cheeks already from before.

The dog, who had since calmed down whimpers and rounds to sit beside you, leaning against your leg. You look down sorrowfully, petting his head gently with soft stroke of your fingers. Bam leans into your touch. He must be able to sense that his master is sad.

“And father?”

“Curse him.” Jeongguk says through gritted teeth. “To the depths with him! Father is a poor excuse for a man; he rots in his sorrows, drowns himself in mead.”

“He must have been hurting, worrying…” Aerum frowns. “Spare him, brother.”

“He beat on me, Aerum!” He scoffs, and Aerum furrows her brow in disbelief. “Oh, you still take his side over mine, even after knowing this?”

“That can’t be, Jeongguk.” She shakes her head, rejecting his claims. “Father would never lay a hand on his children.”

“Yeah? Well, he did. You were gone and nobody knew what to do with themselves anymore. I tried so hard to take care of mother, tried even harder to please father when all he did was blame me for your death. I have a bad leg from the time he practically threw me into your bookshelf.” He spits angrily. “It still troubles me to travel a far distance.”

The warm moment of siblings reuniting is quickly replaced with a thick tension. Aerum’s eyes shuffle over Jeongguk, as if searching for injuries. She could spot a few; a scar on his left cheek, a fresh wound across his chest which truthfully isn’t anything to do with their father. “Let’s not fight.” She sighs.

“Yes, I’m grateful to see that you’re alive and well.” He agrees, turning look at you over his shoulder, he holds his hand out to you, inviting you over to his side. You shuffle toward them, feeling Aerum’s eyes on you and it makes you nervous. When you look up at her, she looks into your eyes deeply, searching.

“This woman is a unicorn, Aerum. She’s saved my life more than once.” This is how he chooses to introduce you to his sister for the first time? You feel slightly awkward. “She… has no name.” He looks at you with eyes that tell you that he doesn’t truly believe that; he drags out the words as if he struggles to say this.

“A unicorn, you say?” Aerum raises her brow. “She is a strange looking unicorn.” She pokes fun at you, but there’s no malice in her tone. “Trust my brother to keep such unusual company.”

“You should see the elf boy that we picked up along the way.” Jeongguk rolls his eyes playfully, and it makes even you chuckle a little.

“Are you from here?” She asks you, walking over to you to stand beside her dog, who swaps his weight on her leg instead.

You shake your head, a bashful smile appearing on your lips for a brief moment. “No, I wish that I was— it’s lovely here.”

“I could have sworn I have seen you before; you have familiar eyes.” She confesses. “I thought that maybe I had seen you in passing, you look like you belong.” You shift from foot to foot in the silence that comes over them after, feeling both pair of eyes on you. Her words warm your heart unknowingly, a sense of belonging being something you’ve only ever yearned for. Aerum refrains from asking you’ve come from just yet.

“It’s our final night here. Will you be at this…moon festival they speak so highly of?” Jeongguk asks.

Aerum nods eagerly. “I never miss it. Oh, brother it is glorious. You will have so much fun.”  She gleams, “I can introduce you to my daughter, and you can explain to me why you’re leaving so soon.” She scolds light-heartedly, elbowing his stomach. He curls inwards and grunts, although the impact isn’t all that harsh.  

“You have a child?” He roars in surprise, earning a slap to the back of his head.

“Any louder?” She hisses quietly. “Bam, come.” She calls her dog, who happily follows her when she starts walking ahead. “Where are you two heading?” She asks, walking backward on the trail she set forth before bumping into you and her brother.

“We were just passing through. We weren’t going anywhere in particular.” You admit, looking up at Jeongguk for ease of mind. Aerum looks at her brother, whose eyes linger on you longer than necessary even when you look away from him. She still can’t help but feel a sense of familiarity when she looks at you.

“Would you care to join me then? I’m taking Bam to the river for his last swim before winter arrives.”

“Would you like to?” Jeongguk turns to you, a hopeful look in his eyes.

“Of course we should go with her! You have just found your sister! We must.”  You tell him, walking ahead of him to join her side.

He lets the two of you talk amongst yourselves, enjoying the sight of you and his sister getting along. You make her laugh with your charm and intrigue her with your glow, as you did so many others who met you for the first time.

She asks you many questions about your magic and what it was like to be one of the most mystical beings to ever exist, valued greatly for its rare beauty. You answer all of them happily, even when he had warned his sister to stop bombarding her with simple minded queries.

Jeongguk always knew that Aerum would like you.

As you walk, he spends more time entertaining Bam than he does catching up with his sister. He doesn’t seem to mind, and it’s the loudest you’ve ever heard him laugh, and the biggest you’d ever seen him smile. The further you went along the trail, the fewer people that passed by the three of you.

“Where is your daughter now?” you ask after a comfortable silence. Bam runs ahead when he sees the river, and Jeongguk chases after him, racing him toward the water’s edge. You smile to yourself when he nearly trips over his own feet, blaming the dog for his loss of footing.

“My partner has her today. Well, he’s no longer my partner.” She tells you truthfully. “We share her among us and honestly, it’s been going well. We split amicably, and I get to spend more time bonding with my dear Bam.” Aerum smiles softly, turning off the trail and onto the grass toward her Doberman dog, who wrestled Jeongguk eagerly for the large stick he had seemed to find.

“Why did you split? Did he wrong you, or did you fall out of love?” You ask, immediately back tracking when she raises a brow at you. “Forgive me, I’m prying. That isn’t my business–”

“That’s quite alright.” Aerum chuckles, shaking her head. “To answer, I do still love him, just not like that. Not anymore.”

When you look over at Jeongguk, your heart does that thing where it stops for a moment, the same way your breathing stops when you’re holding your breath. Then he would look at you and meet your prying eyes, and they would be so comforting to you. Your heart beats again, only faster than it did a moment ago. You wonder if what you were feeling, what you’ve always felt in these moments was love. You have nothing to compare it to. If it did happen to be love, you can’t imagine not feeling that way anymore; you felt it strongly as children, and the time spent without him was dark, only when he returned it all came back to you ten times stronger. You find it hard to believe that you could ever feel so many things for another person ever again.

“I had someone like that once.” Aerum smiles, but it’s laced with the pain of her memories. It isn’t missed by her that your eyes had lit up brightly when you looked at him. You blush wildly, hiding your face with your hair. “He’s the reason I am the free woman I am today, the first man I ever loved.”

“What do you mean by free?” You wonder, following her down onto the grass when she sits down a few feet away from where her brother and dog play.

“Where Jeongguk and I grew up…there’s a rich man who oversees all the villages in the east, the king.” She huffs. “He hates everything except his youngest daughter Leona; maker help his other poor children.”

Your blood boils at the mention of them, reminded of what Jeongguk had revealed to you about them. How they treated him. You want to say all the bad things in the world about them to her, but you bite your tongue, nodding instead.

“He is strict with rules; he permitted families to travel out of the east by one family per year, and only fathers were permitted more than one trip per year.” She explains, scoffing at her own words.

“There was a boy, not from there that I met in the wood when I used to bring my brother there to play with a sweet pony that he used to go on and on about.” You bite on your lower lip, lighting up the new information. Aerum pretends not to notice.

“At first, I would just wait for him outside the treelines, but one day I got curious, and I wandered too. I met him and it was love at first sight. We spent hours together that first day, he showed me that magic was true— and it was beautiful. Ever since, we would promise to meet along the borders end of the forest where could only hope nobody saw us.”

“That is so romantic.” You swoon. Hugging your knees to your chest, resting your cheek atop them. Aerum giggles with you.

“Yes, I suppose it is quite romantic. He was a smooth talker, and he had a way with words that the men in my village wouldn’t even be able to fathom.” She snorted.

“He was so colourful in the dullness in which I was raised.” She recalls, her hand rubbing the back of her neck, sliding down to where her heart thumped at the memory of his touch, the sweet whispers of his love.

“Then I let him go. I was a fool.” Her hand falls to her lap, her head drooping with it. “I tore his heart in two, now I think it’s too late to tell him I was wrong.”

You frown. “Love doesn’t expire, Aerum.” You are straight your back, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. She shivers at the warmth of your tough, as if she can feel the light inside of you course through her. Her eyes water.

“Maybe.” She squeaks, blinking away her tears. “Can I ask you something?”

“Yes of course.”

“Does he know?”

“Does he–what do you? Does who know what?” You gape at her, stumbling over your words.

“Bam!” Jeongguk groans. You both look over at him to find him begrudgingly shaking off the splash of water that Bam created when he hauls himself into the river.  

“No.” You shake your head, looking down at your boots, your fingers tracing the leather. You’re not entirely certain what she means by her question, but you answer it anyway. “He doesn’t know.”

She doesn’t pry any further, humming in understanding. Instead, she spends the rest of their time there basking beneath the last warm sun of the year, still trying to come to terms with the fact that her brother had grown up so much.

When you visit Jimin and his grandmother at their stall, you’re glad to see that Hoseok is already there. The stalls are closing up early for the festival later that evening, in which everyone will be partaking. Some will work to cater food and others to serve beer but other than that, work wasn’t permitted. The lover’s moon was a time to be with one another and appreciate the beauty in simply existing.

Back at the house, Jimin’s grandmother offers to help you get ready for the festival. You insist on just wearing the clothes she had given you, that they were already so nice, but she had said it would be better you keep them for your travels and not to risk soiling them before you leave Proviance.

“What a waste it would be not to try something on, at least; when was the last time you got to play with dresses and jewellery and make yourself feel beautiful?”

 “I don’t remember if I ever did.” You press your lips in a straight line, rubbing them together to avoid the tightness in your throat. “I was already so young when I parted with my mother.”

The grandmother clicks her tongue, rubbing your arms. You give her a sad smile.

“It is fun for me also; I never had a daughter to dress up or do her hair. You’d be doing this old woman a kindness, really.” She chuckles. “Come dear, let me show you these.” She waves you over to her vanity where many beautiful jewels and silvers, even golds sparkle up at you.

“These are divine.” You admire them, your fingers ghosting over the silvers.

“You favour the steel?” She notices the particular choker that your brush your curious fingers against. It’s a deep silver, carved into a deep v shape, a small blue jewel is wielded into the apex. “That would complement you well, you have such a pretty neck. Take this one.” She nods, pointing at the necklace.

“I couldn’t, it seems precious.” You shake your head, pulling your hand away. The grandmother picks it up for you, motioning for you to turn around as she put it on for you.

“You don’t seem to realise that women are precious things.” She hums easily, “You are a precious thing, it’s an honour for the steel to compliment your beauty.”

You touch the necklace when she stops fiddling with the clasp, and you turn to look at yourself in the mirror. Your grin flashes brightly before you, but you’re too excited by how pretty it looks against the skin of your neck. You don’t notice the way she disappears behind you, swiping through her closets of dresses, tops, bottoms, skirts and corsets. Smiling beside you, the grandmother taps your shoulder, and you turn to look at what she holds in front of you even though you already catch a glimpse of it in the reflection of the mirror.

In truth, you’re uncertain. It’s a dress, with a revealing leather bodice with an iridescent sheen reminiscent to an oil slick. While it was hauntingly beautiful in its deep blue and black stitching, it lacked the material necessary to cover you fully; it looked to rest along shoulders and collarbone area, but a large cut out in the middle removed any sensibility from the top. It also swooped down at the end into a v shape, similar to the necklace you were wearing now, which meant your stomach and your hips would show as well. Your eyes flitter down the dress, where it connected to the same deep blue in the skirts which were long. At least that was a little modest. You subconsciously wrap your arms around your stomach.

“Where is the rest of it?” You ask, pouting as you pinch the part that would rest along your shoulders.

“This is it, dear. Will you try it on? I wore it to the lover’s moon when I was around your age, and it brought me good fortune.” She thrusts it towards you eagerly, and you find yourself unable to turn her down. You reluctantly move behind the wooden panels to change.

You feel just as exposed as you thought you would.

“Dear? Are you done?”

You suck a nervous breath through your teeth, you’re hunched over, and your arms are wrapped around yourself. She claps the instant she sees you emerge from behind the panels. “Stunning, absolutely stunning! It fits you like a glove.”

You stick out your right leg that’s on display. “Is there here on purpose?” You refer to the long split along the skirt.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it? Oh, you are just so beautiful I could cry!” She clucks, holding her fists to her chest as she beams at you. Even though you feel uncomfortable, you feel good to make the woman so happy. You wonder if your mother would tell you the same thing. Or would she tell you to cover up? You would take either, you think, or anything at all for that matter.

“Won’t it get cold as the night goes on?” You ask her, in search of an excuse to try something else. “Perhaps I should wear something…warmer.”

“The fires and the dancing and the wine will all warm you, but you can bring a cape if you must.” She tells you. “But please, see yourself before you decide.”

You waddle toward the mirror to look at yourself. You feel ridiculous so you only expect to look it, as well.

Slowly, your arms fall from your torso, and you admire the way the leathers hug you perfectly, comfortably and it really does look nice. While the tops of your breast are pushed up and on display due to the cut, you didn’t feel cheap by any means. The shapes of the cut outs, the parts that connect to one another all distract from your exposed skin due to the intricate design. It’s cohesive, how the straps on the side of the bodice hold up the soft cottons of your skirts, and the grandmother was right, the long slit is rather elegant. You feel like a warrior princess.

As you take in the sight of yourself, she shows you a head piece that matches the steel necklace you’re wearing. “This will work beautifully. Come, let me fix your hair! There’s so much of it.” She drags you down into the chair, combing her fingers the white strands. “Have you ever thought of cutting it?” She asks you, and you shrug.

“It sometimes gets bothersome.”

“It must drag you down terribly.” She observes. “I will style it, so it is back and out of your face.”

It takes some time to get your hair into the thick braid, and you thank her many times for her patience. You haven’t had your hair braided in a very, very long time.

You can feel the air against your face, and you feel lighter without all your hair in your face. You pull the braid over your shoulder with a smile.

“Let us go, the men must grow tired of waiting.” She rolls her eyes.

“Wait!”

She turns to you with a raised brow, her hand hovering over the door handle. “Yes, dear?”

“Do you…have a cape I can borrow?” You ask her sheepishly, and she chuckles at your bashful nature.

She helps you wrap a purple one around your shoulders, and it does well to hide the bodice from sight. You feel comfortable to follow her out the door where everyone is waiting.

“It’s nice to live amongst clothing merchants, isn’t it?” Hoseok grins, patting at Jeongguk’s shoulder. He grunts, shrugging his shoulders.

They’re both in new attire. Hoseok wears a deep green tunic and a brown vest with matching pants that match surprisingly well with his pink hair. Jeongguk’s shirt is a soft grey colour, the strings at the neckline are untied, the black pants he wears are seemingly fresh as well.

You hope you’re not overdressed, your cheeks already start to feel warm.

“Will there be food? I’m famished.” Hoseok throws his head back in a whine.

“There will be plenty and more, do you like the taste of wine?” Jimin throws an arm around Hoseok’s shoulders who nods eagerly. “Good. We have the best tasting line in all the land. Trust in me, for I’ve tried nearly all of them.” He snorts.

“Night has fallen, children. Hurry along.” Jimin’s grandmother shoos everyone toward the door in a haste. “Go, go! Have the most wonderful night.”

You look over your shoulder with a sullen expression. “You’re not coming?” You ask her.

“But I’m here if you wish to return, worry not, dear girl.” She waves her hand in dismissal. “You have Jeongguk, I trust that he will look after you well. Won’t you, boy?”

You look to him and he nods curtly. “Yes, that was my intention.”

You hum, looking down at your shoes. “Thank you.”

He leads you out the door, bowing to the grandmother one more time before she closes the door behind you.

The sky is darkening outside but still swirls in different shades of blue, purple and hints of the colour you’ve grown to favour— pink.

Your steps are slow as you take in your surroundings as if for the first time; Jeongguk mirrors your pace, noticing that you tend to indulge in the world around you, admiring its beauty. The littlest things had made you look on in astonishment.

The streets are alive, different from the first night that you arrived here. Perhaps it looks different because of the enthusiasm of the festival, or maybe you’ve just grown to enjoy this town.

Tonight, it will be your final night here. at the very least it will be a memorable one.

“You like it here.” He states, pulling you out of your head.

“Yes, it’s been lovely. I do wonder what else is out there.” You confess. “The world must be so big.” You look into the distance to where Hoseok and Jimin are casually chatting with the cook who stirs ingredients in a large pot. The smell is savoury, but it is a welcomed smell. “I do hope the rest of it is as kind as Proviance has been to us.”

“We can only hope.”

The sound of music catches your attention then, it starts off quiet, you look around to find where it comes from. You find it to be coming from the hands of an elf girl who presses the small instrument to her cheek, gliding a long stick against the strings along the board. Her black strands are long and straight, adorned by intricate braids along the sides of her head just above her ears. They stick out longer than Hoseok’s. She’s laughing with other members of her crew, who all wielding different instruments of their own. They seem to be setting up for the night.

“I think I might join Jimin and Hoseok, I’m feeling a little bit hungry myself.” You admit, looking up at Jeongguk. You pinch the cuff of his shirt. “Will you join me?”

“I think I want to look for my sister, but I will join you again soon. Go ahead.” He smiles. “Don’t travel too far, okay?”

“Neither should you.” You roll your eyes light-heartedly, and he offers you a half smile before he walks ahead to search for Aerum. Your feet move first before you will yourself to drag your eyes away from him, a strange pang in your chest surprising you when he leaves your side.

You shake it off and turn your back, going towards your friends.

“Oh good, you came! I was just telling Jimin that you need to try this.” He hands you a piece of bread. It’s shaped like a cloud and is glossy on the top, coated in a sticky substance. You inspect it with narrowed eyes, but the rumbling in your stomach screams at you to take a bite and so you do.  

You gasp, chewing the bread happily. The sweetness coats your tongue in a taste you’ve never had before. You take another, larger bite, looking up at the elf with big eyes. “Delicious!”

“Slow down, Snow. You will choke.” Jimin chuckles, shaking your shoulder as he watches you shovel the sweet bread past your lips.

“It’s okay, I already know.” Hoseok furrows his brows, looking between you and Jimin who freezes when he realises his slip up. “So, you told him before you told me? I see how it is.” He pouts.

You look down, picking smaller pieces out of the bread. You nod. “I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you sooner.”

“Ah, it is a relief to be able to say your name now, though.” He waves you off. “Snow.” He repeats, sending you a friendly wink. You smile, feeling almost giddy to openly be referred to by your name like this.

Even though it’s not your real name, it feels natural to be called by it; Snow was the person you became out in the wilderness— it was who you are now.

“Come, they’re starting!” Jimin, pushes you in the direction of the drums sounding off. You turn to Hoseok with a pout, making grabby hands at the food stall that makes the sweet bread that you thoroughly enjoyed. He makes sure to get two more, one for each of you to enjoy as Jimin sits you down to enjoy the music.

Jeongguk doesn’t travel too far after he leaves you, and he finds Bam before he does his sister; this meant she couldn’t have been very far. He leans down to scratch at the dog’s scalp, who pants happily in his presence. He pushes his nose at his palm and scurries off, willing him to follow which he does.

When he looks up, he sees her with a man and a small girl who she squats down in front of.

“You be good for your father, okay Yoona?”

“Why can’t I come!” She whinges, stamping her foot all while she still clings to her father’s hand. Her father, who in which has split from his sister, looks at her as if they never had. His eyes look at her tenderly, like he wants to hold her hand, too.

“It’s for grown-ups only, that’s why.”

“Then why isn’t father going with you?”

Aerum looks up at him, causing both to laugh awkwardly. “Who will take care of you if he comes with me, clever girl?” She stands up, crossing her arms.

“Then we should all go together!”

Aerum presses her palm into Yoona’s forehead, and she grumbles. “Mother…” She complains.

“Go, my little flower. I will pick you up tomorrow morning and we can collect the leaves before they wither away in the wintertime.”

“Okay…”

Jeongguk saunters over with Bam at his side, his hands held behind his back as he approaches.

“As stern as ever, Aerum.” He gives her a snarky half-grin when she looks at him. “Some things never change.”

Jeongguk can feel the eyes of the man on him as he smiles at his sister. “Carter, this is Jeongguk— my brother.”

He greets him with an outstretched hand and a charming smile. “Good to meet you.” There’s a mischievous twinkle in Jeongguk’s eye when Carter awkwardly changes the look into his eye.

“Pleasure.” Carter shakes his hand, but it’s shortlived. “You’re the famous baby brother, then?”

“Famous, am I?”

“Aerum never shuts up about you. She must be over the moon to see you, she never thought she would again.” Unintentionally, his words darken the clouds above their heads. Aerum looks at her brother with soft eyes.

“Yeah? Well, that was foolish of her to think.” He says, nudging her with his elbow. It pulls a cheesy grin out of her before she hits his arm. “I don’t know if I miss that, though.” He pouts, feigning a sore arm.

He takes his attention away from them and kneels in front of Yoona, whose chin is tucked into her chest.

“Well, I didn’t quite expect to meet a munchkin on my travels!” He teases, tilting his head. Yoona giggles wildly, shaking her head.

“I’m not a munchkin, I’m a kid!” She protests.

“No? Oh, do forgive me, little miss! I thought you were a munchkin!”  He props his fists against his hips, clicking his tongue.

“Of course not! I am Yoona!” She squeaks, mirroring his actions with a scrunched-up expression. She pretends to be offended by her smile gives her away.

“Heaven’s sake! My eyes deceive me, then!” He pinches the tip of her nose with a chuckle. “Pleased to make your acquaintance, little kid Yoona. My name is Jeongguk.” He rises to his feet when she nods in acknowledgement.

“Jeongguk is your uncle, Yoona.” Aerum explains. “The one I tell you stories about.”

“You mean the one you use all the examples of what not to do unless I want to get a lashing?”

Jeongguk scowls.

“Where is your woman?” Aerum changes the subject.

“She is not my woman.”

“You want her to be, I can tell.”

“It’s nice to finally meet your man, sister. Are you wed?”

Carter buckles in the same way Aerum does. She shakes her hands in denial, the two of them blabbering over one another to reject his words.

Jeongguk hums triumphantly, turning on his heel. “Come Bam, let us enjoy this special moon your people celebrate; I hear it’s great fun.” He bellows into the cool breeze of the evening. Aerum goes after him once she gives her daughter a final goodbye, pulling on his collar. He splutters, rubbing at his throat when the material presses tightly against his jugular.

“Just because I am bigger now, does not mean you can be so much rougher with me.” He complains.

“I didn’t mean it that time, you take very long strides, and I was only trying to catch you.”

“You could have just asked.”

“Would you have stopped?”

“Maybe yes, maybe no. Now you will never know.” He teases, flinching on instinct but she only glares at him.

“Some things never change.” She repeats his words from earlier. “Jeongguk?”

He hums, looking ahead as they walk together. “Why are you here?” She asks.

A part of him had hoped he wouldn’t have to tell her. It was already hard enough telling her that he hated their father, that he had given up on him the moment he lost his daughter, doubling down when he had lost his wife. “I am running.”

“I see that, but from what?”

Jeongguk’s face hardens, and the silence between them grows thick as she waits. “Brother?”

“How do I even say without worrying you?” He huffs.

“What did father do to you?” She assumes, which makes him laugh dryly.

“What didn’t he do?” He counters. “No, it was more like what he didn’t do, sister. He didn’t even notice I was gone.”

“I was visited by the king and his daughter.” He starts. “His daughter, for whatever godsforsaken reason, she took a liking to me.”

“Oh no.” Aerum whispers, hiding her parted lips behind her hand.

“It was as terrible as you might be assuming.”

“What did they do–”

“I’d prefer not to relive this memory.”

Aerum nods, understanding. Her poor little brother, she had left him to the unkind hands of the king. She didn’t know the princess all that well, but she could only assume the worst given his curt responses.

“This is why I must carry on, even if I were to stay with you, they will come through this village soon and they will find me fast.”

“Where will you go?”

“Somewhere far, even if it means I need to leave the country. I will go until they give up searching for us.”

“Running will only make matters worse, running from the king is hardly a light thing, brother.”

“I know. But I know the king, I know his daughter— they will not entertain the idea of finding me for very long. I’m only a common village boy, they will get bored, and she will find another.”

“You are not just a common village boy, Jeongguk; you are a brave man that honours his family, the protector of a woman who looks at you as if you hung the stars for her.”

Jeongguk lowers his head and sighs. Yes, you; half the reason he runs is so that he can protect you, before he knew that Aerum was alive, he may have hung his head in the guillotine at his own will. He had nothing to live for.

“That’s just how she is— she’s just nice.”

“She clings to you like a bear cub does to its mother.”

“Weird comparison, but okay.” He snorts, rolling his eyes.

Aerum cackles loudly. “You know what I mean.” She shoves him lightly.

“She is her, Aerum.” The both of you watch her from afar as you dance to music that Hobi plays on his piccolo, “I am so certain of it now.”

“I thought as much.” She hums, her eyes fond as she looks at her little brother.  “It doesn’t matter who you are or what you become— you can never change the look in someone’s eyes.”

“Snow, I remember you called her?”

“I’m sure that isn’t her name.”

Aerum shrugs. “I’m sure it still means something to her.”

“What if I’m wrong?”

“Your feelings for her,” she stops him in his tracks, turning to face him. “Are they rooted in marvel, or do they stem from your memories? Even if you’re wrong, why do you feel the way you do for her? Because she’s beautiful, different?”

He doesn’t find his heart to nod in agreement. “I just...I want to protect her, I don’t know. Maybe I always knew it was her, either that or I really wanted her to be. When I saw her again, knowing she had stayed there, waiting. Gods, Aerum. I felt sick. How could I let her down like that?” There’s a sting that shoots up his nose, bleeding through his eyes. He sucks in a breath.

“There was a large part of me that wanted to prove to her that she mattered to me, that I didn’t abandon her. Not on purpose.” He explains. “There were too many things telling me it wasn’t her. The way she glows, the fact she had been a girl all along. A unicorn? It couldn’t be, because Snow was a horse.” He pulls the necklace from his pocket, showing it to his sister.

“I always thought you traded our good dinner for the necklace to give to a girl, but to know you gave it to a horse only makes more sense.” She jokes. “But I suppose she really was a girl all along.”

“The more of the Maker’s great creations I witnessed outside of home, the more I learnt that anything is possible. A girl that can change herself into a magical creature? It was only the beginning of the things I thought I knew beyond the east.”

“The world is a beautiful place, Jeongguk.” Aerum says, “I know you are running, but I’m glad for you that you get to see it.”

“One day I won’t have to run anymore, and I will return to you.” He reassures her.

She hums, wiping her eyes before she can let herself cry. He hasn’t left yet; she would have to save the tears for later. “You should give it to her. Tonight.”

He looks down at the snowflake, running his thumb over the delicate glass. “Should I?”

“I think she’ll be happy to see it, if she’d be wearing it since she got it and had lost it along the way.”  Aerum looks up, searching for the white head of hair. She finds you, almost instantly, but the man dancing alongside you, twirling you in circles around him has her frozen in place. Aerum gasps, grabbing Jeongguk’s arm to stop him.

“What is it?” He furrows his brow

“Do you know him?” She whispers, even though they’re both too far for them to hear. She doesn’t know about the elf, whose ear twitches when she hears Jeongguk approaching with his sister.

“Yes, he’s been housing us. Why, do you know him?”

Aerum clicks her tongue, turning away from the sight of him. The silver of his hair looks black in the dim light of the flames that ignite the streets in the night. She hides herself behind Jeongguk who gives his sister a confused look.

“What on earth are you doing?”

From the otherside where you and Jimin are completely unaware of what’s going on, Hoseok taps on Jimin’s shoulder. “Do you know that girl that’s standing with Jeongguk?” He points over to them, watching the girl peak from behind Jeongguk’s frame. “She’s looking over here all funny.”

Jimin stops, excusing himself from you as you dance on to the lively music that consumes you. He looks around in the direction Hoseok nods, and it feels as if all the breath he held in his lungs has been stolen.

He’s taken back to the first time they met.

“ Aerum ...that is a beautiful name.”

“Please, you sound like Father,” she scoffs. “It is merely a name.” She tucks a strand of her short black hair behind her ear, looking to the ground. Her cheeks are light pink against her alabaster skin.

It had only been a few hours since she stumbled across him, threatened to stab him if he came any closer to her and asked him what he knew of the world beyond the east all in the same breath. It was in the way her fiery attitude didn’t match her soft, pouty features, and how her eyes grew big in awe when he told her of things she could only dream to see for herself.

She was radiant, and Jimin made a mental note in his mind to return the same tomorrow. He just had to see her again. He hoped someday she’d smile at him the way she smiled at the ground.

“Just like yours– sorry, what was your name again?”

“Jimin.” He chuckles softly, leaning back against a nearby tree.

“Right. Jimin.” She nods. “See? It’s only a name. Boring.”

But she knew that.

She just wanted him to say it again.

Jimin.

It would be the name that echoed in her heart forevermore, no matter how hard she tried to rid it of him.

This was what Jimin had spent the past few years trying to avoid. He could feel his heart creeping up through his throat, and he might simply regurgitate it if she came any closer.

They’re coming this way.

“Sorry, Snow, Hoseok— I must go now. Please, enjoy your night and feel free to let yourselves in when you wish to retire.” He hurries, backing up as his eyes struggle to peel themselves from Aerum.

He shakes his head at her, turning away before her and her brother can reach them.

“That was odd.” Hoseok looks at you, and you’ve since stopped your twirling and jumping.

Jeongguk’s hand steals the frown from your lips when he places it on your arm. You look up at him with a smile. “You’re back.”

“Don’t sound so excited.” Jeongguk raises a brow at you, and you chuckle. He holds out his hand to you. “Do I get to dance with you also?”

“Really? Will you?” You perk up instantly. You turn to him fully, revealing your hot cheeks and heavy breaths from partaking in the fun earlier with Jimin. Without hearing his answer, you take his hand, and he leads you closer to the crowd of others that indulge. He turns to give Aerum a look and she waves him off, mouthing at him to go.

He bows at an angle before you. How formal, you turn away, feeling slightly embarrassed at the scene it causes. Nobody is paying attention. Bodies sway together and mind their own business. Lost in the eyes of their lovers.

You too, see no one else when he comes toward you, his hands drift from your shoulders and drag down your arms from beneath your cape that still covers you, letting your hands slips from his. He holds a hand behind his back as he circles you, holding your gaze that looks at him in wonder. This is a different kind of dancing. It wasn’t bouncy or lively like what you were doing with Jimin. He moves around you like he’s the predator circling in on his prey in enigmatic movements. He returns in front of you, taking your hand and pulling you close. He puts a hand on the small of your back, placing one of yours at his shoulder.

“I don’t– what type of dancing is this?”

“Forgive me. Do you not like it?”

“It’s just unfamiliar to me.”

The music is softer than before, you supposed it wouldn’t make much sense to dance the same way.

“Don’t worry, just follow me. I will guide you.” He whispers, against the shell of your ear as you sway with him. You sigh, the movement is calming, and you feel safe being in his arms this way. You follow his lead with each small step he takes, focused on your feet just in case you stumble and step on his shoes. That would be embarrassing.

He’s already looking at you when you finally look up.  “I’d like to ask you question.” Jeongguk says quietly after you seem to get the hang of this new style of dancing.

“Yes?” You tilt your head.

“Do you…remember much of your childhood?”

Your lashes flutter up at him, dragging your bottom lip between your teeth. “I remember it well.” You tell him.

“What do you recall of your memories?” You sway with him, no longer dancing in circles. You remove your hand from his, it’s beginning to sweat. You place it on his other shoulder, and he holds your waist with both hands. He feels you tense up, but with a gentle squeeze you ease yourself.

“I grew up in the forests in the east where I strayed too far from my mother and I was found.” You summarise the story, shifting your gaze to the side.

“Is that all?”

“No, that’s not all.” You voice barely comes out. “I…met a boy.”

“You did?”

“I did.”

You shift under his deep eyes, analysing you. “He found me one day. I’d be wandering all night, and I was scared, constantly calling for my mother. My throat had begun to feel dry, and I was terribly hungry” You swallow thickly. “He made me feel like I wasn’t alone.” Your hands slide up, connecting your wrists around the back of his neck. “He returned each day thereafter; he fed me, he brought me gifts and told me stories, taught me life— everything I know today comes not only from watching the townspeople, but because he taught it to me.”

“He sounds like he was a smart kid.” He says lightly.

“Yes.” You chuckle, looking down.

“And you said he gave you your name?” He asks, and you nod. “What was it that he called you again?”

“I never said.” You feel dizzy when you glance up at him. His nose nearly brushes yours, and his brown irises are dark and bigger than you remember them to be. Was he always this close? “It is hot.” You reveal. “I– I feel hot.”

He waits a moment, relishing the look in your eyes. You’re nervous, but you can’t look away from him. And it is true; you are warm to the touch. He steps away from you, his fingers tugging lightly at the string of your cape. “Why don’t you take this off, then?”

You gape at him, distracted by his blown-out eyes, unsure of what to make of how your stomach flips because of it. He pulls on the string until the loose knot comes undone.

He watches your eyes for any sign of discomfort, but your shoulders rise and fall comfortably as he pushes the purple material off your shoulders, collecting it in his hands. His breath hitches when he sees the dress you’re wearing.

Even in the dark, underneath the fullest moon, the rainbow reflects off the leather lad to your skin. It shimmers against your glow, and there was no doubt about it— you are the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen.

None have held a candle to your light.

You’re too lost in his eyes to feel shy now. Gone was the boy that clung to your happiest memories, and before you now, there was a man with eyes that tell.

Your fingers twitch at your sides. He moves behind you again, you want to turn to him but his fingers against your neck stop you. He tucks the loos strands of hair that have fallen from your brain behind your ear. Your eyes shut when you the cold feeling against your neck, his knuckles brushing the back of your neck as he secures your necklace. You hold your breath, reaching to grab the familiar glass pendant against your chest. You close your eyes, but not fast enough to catch the droplets that escape your eyes, trailing down your hot cheeks.

When you turn to him, his face falls with worry. He cups your cheeks, wiping your tears away with his thumbs. “Are you sad?”

You shake your head, laughing. For some reason, you can’t control them now. You’re crying, but you’re smiling as well. “Quite the opposite.” You sniffle.

“Ah, you have a strange way of showing that you’re happy, Snow.”

You crash into him, wrapping your arms around him. He takes you by surprise when he lifts you off the ground, spinning you around. You squeal, kicking your feet.

“So, it is then? It really is you.” His excitement is palpable, and so very infectious. “Gods, if I had known then what I know now…”

I wouldn’t have left you on your own like I did.

“You shouldn’t worry yourself with such things, Jeongguk.” You tell him, taking his hands. “I was sad that you had to go, but I am even sadder that you had to go through what you did all on your own. If I knew, I would have done everything I could to protect you.” His eyes shift over you; your face is hard to prove your words to be earnest.  

“I am the one that is supposed to protect you.” He insists, “I failed you.”

“Don’t say such things. You couldn’t, Jeongguk, you could never fail me. I lo–” You hold your breath, using his shoulders as leverage when you move onto the tips of your toes to reach his lips. You hesitate with half a mind to stumble back but he catches your lower back and closes the distance.

Your teeth clash together, your head turning to the side as you melt into the feeling of his lips against yours. You don’t know how to kiss, and he’s been wanting to kiss you, his eagerness and your inexperience meld together in the messiest lip lock.

You breathe heavily through your nose as he lowers you, allowing you stand flat on your feet so he can leave down to kiss you instead. You don’t mean for the small whimper that comes out of you when his tongue swipes at your bottom lip. He pulls away. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh.”  

“I don’t want you to get the wrong idea.”

“Yes, of course.” You huff, wiping your bottom lip with the back of your hand, turning your head away in embarrassment. “I suppose you are right.”

“I don’t want you to think I’m trying to take advantage of you.”

You look up at him with slight kink in your brow, a faint crease appearing between them.

“You mean so much more to me, I need you to know that.” He sighs. “You say I taught you so many things, Snow, but you taught me the most important thing of all.” He leans down, closing the distance between your bodies. He holds your face gently, caressing your cheek with his thumb. “You taught me how to make space in my heart for others.”

To have company meant that you weren’t alone, that there was someone on your side. He knows this now. Maybe he quite liked it over the life of solitude he had once begged for.

The dancing had ceased a while ago.

One by one, the townspeople leave to allow themselves to love. Openly, by the fire, bare, clothed— lovers coming together as one underneath the full blood moon. You’re the last ones standing, the music reduced to a quiet solo tune tweeting of a flute, and the tranquil strings of the harp.

You and he are too engrossed in the other’s presence to notice much else aside from each other. You talk with for hours, hand in hand as you stroll through the quiet streets. Somehow you end up in the fields where Aerum proud you earlier that day, and it’s no surprise you feel yourself wanting to kiss him more. So, you do.

One of his hands are caressing the skin of your arm, the other holding your jaw firmly as he finds a steadier rhythm than the first time you kissed; it’s slower this time, and your lips are more in sync. Every now and then he would pull away to ask if you’re okay with this, and every time you whine, leaning in to find his lips again.

For the longest time your heart yearned for Jeongguk. Even during the years you were kept apart, your thoughts somehow always led to him. As a young girl your heart had only just begun to swell to know you were the centre on his attention, only to be ripped from those new feelings too soon to decipher the truth behind them. You were only certain when you saw him again that even after being apart from him for so long, you knew that you wanted him to hold you close this way, needed his gentle touches.

You let out an airy moan when his lips trail down from the corner of your lips and down your jaw, behind your ear. When he finds a particularly sensitive spot on the side of your neck, your fingers card through his soft hair. He hums against your skin, letting you know that he likes the way you tug on the strands just slightly. The vibrations sending shock waves of pleasure throughout your body as he lays you down on soft the grass beneath you.

“Is this okay?” He breathes, kissing your cheek as he lowers himself above you.

“You sound like one of those birds that repeat the words you say back at you.”

“A parrot?” He raises an amused brow.

“Yes— you sound like a parrot.” You nod curtly. Jeongguk snickers, finding your lips in a tender kiss that makes your head spin.

The way you look beneath him, looking so desperately up into his eyes, his source of light in the darkness of the night, he can’t help the want that grows within him. You gasp when you feel him, pressing heavy against your inner thigh. You bite your lip.

“Jeongguk…” You sigh,

“Hm?” He traces your jaw, adoring your beauty.

Your eyes shift to his puffy lips. “Will you make a woman of me?”

Jeongguk lowers his head, tonguing the inside of his cheek in amusement. You seemed to have

 a way with your words that made him want you more.

You lift your leg, your boot brushing against his outer thigh. He laughs.

“You will be the death of me.”

Gods, you want him.

“We mustn’t rush these things.” He tells you, giving you a swift kiss.

His hand finds your lifted thigh, encouraging you to wrap it around his lower back. You gasp, the new angle allowing his erection to press flush against your clothed cunt. “This is what you do to me, sweet girl.”

“I-I’m sorry.” You breathe, “How can I fix it?” Your words are slurred, and your hips buck up to unintentionally chase the feel of him. It rips a low groan from him, and you part your lips at the new feeling.

“Oh.” You do it again. “Oh…hah.”

You throw your head back, and Jeongguk hisses as you rub yourself into him, encouraging him to meet the sloppy bucking of your hips. “Do you ache, dear Snow?” You nod rapidly, running a hand up his chest, craving his touch. “Where does it ache, beautiful?” He whispers against your ear, nibbling on your earlobe. You shiver

“Down there.” You croak. “My cunt.”

“You mean…this pretty thing?” His fingers trail down your stomach, your skin tingling whenever he passes an exposed patch of skin. He presses his middle and pointer finger against your underwear, which he quickly learns is soaked through. “Maker’s sake…you crave it, don’t you?”

“Yes…yes.” You whimper, moving your head up and down.

His fingers draw slow, deep circles into the wet patch. This newfound sensitivity has you keening, and he’s hardly even touched you yet. Jeongguk looks at you with hungry eyes.

“Snow,” he peppers kisses over your face, “Breathe for me.” He jests, because you’re panting like crazy. He knows it’s because he’s teasing you, rubbing terribly slow. You round your hips up to fasten the pace, to feel more pressure, anything to intensify whatever he’s doing to you.

You let out a frustrated cry.

“What is it, beautiful?” He coos, “Hm?”

“I want you closer…” You mewl.

“Closer?” He muses “I’m afraid if I come any closer, we’d become one.”

“Yes, please. I want this.” You beg. “You and I as one.”

Pleased with your words, he decides you’ve been patient enough. He pushes the soiled fabric to the side and connect his fingers to your sopping clit, flicking the sensitive bud.

How does it feel even more intense? You barely let out a squeak as the pleasure hits you. Your entire body is hot even though your dress doesn’t help much to cover you. “Jeongguk…”

“You are the most beautiful woman I have ever met.” He sighs, kissing on the exposed parts of your chest as his fingers play with your clit. You arch your back, pushing your chest for his mouth to devour. “Inside and out.”

“A-as you mentioned many times…already.” You sigh when you mean to laugh, but it feels too good. Whatever it is he’s doing to you empties your mind and makes your body feel light.

He doesn’t stop rubbing you even when he changes his position, leaning back on his heels. He looks wildly down at your pussy, wetting his lips. He drags his finger down to circle at your tight entrance. “Are you…have you ever been…”

“I’m untouched.” You admit, “I…only my hand…to the thought of you.”

“Fuck.” He brings his thumb against your clit, testing the waters when he pushes the tip of his finger into you. “You can’t say things like that, Snow.” He growls.

“Why? I-it’s true.” You whinge “Ah!” It’s a tight fit, gliding his long digit into your fluttering hole. “Your fingers are…thicker.” You hiss, but you lowered brows, and stuttering hips tell him that you’re in no pain. “F-faster.”

He obeys your request, plunging his finger a little faster in and out of you, curling his finger through your spongey walls. His thumb tapping on your clit soothes the slight burn from the stretch of his finger. “Does it feel good?”

“So good…”

“Yeah? You like to be played with do you?” Jeongguk hums, gliding the palm of his free hand up your body, his finger tracing your bottom lip. You open your mouth, taking his finger past your lips and bite on it gently.

He watches you with dark eyes, his pace faltering only a little when he presses his finger against your tongue and you swirl your tongue around his digit.

This is Jeongguk’s first time being with a woman that wasn’t Leona, against his will. Ripped of his choice to lose his innocence to the one he truly loved. He has to push away the gnawing feeling of guilt. Your contorted features that scream pleasure make it easier to do so. “I, wait! Oh–” He slows down, but you grab his wrist and shake your head “Wait! Don’t– keep going! Please.”

“Are you going to cum for me?”

“It feels so tight! Oh! it burns but it feels so good, Jeongguk…” You cry, “Please come to me.” You reach out for him, and he positions himself on top of you again.

You pull him close to you as you ride his hand. He moved faster each time your hips snap upward faster. He buries his face in the crook of your neck as you writhe and whimper beneath him. “Come on, cum for me beautiful girl.”

With a final cry of his name, your orgasm crashes over you hard. You’re loud in your praises, sobbing as the high comes over you. Jeongguk hushes you, rubbing gentle circles into your spent pussy as he helps you ride it out.

He moves off of you and props himself up beside you, his elbow on the brow and his head on his fist.  “Did so well, pretty.” He moves the baby hairs that stick to your skin away from your face.

You can’t speak, too taken aback by how good he made you feel. Your legs are still spread open, the space feels empty from when he lay on top of you. You bite your lip, thinking back to the feeling of his cock against you. You look down, the obvious strain of his hardened length a welcomed sight. Your limbs are stiff when you roll over, shuffling closer to him.

Jeongguk watched you closely as you begin to caress him, tracing the features of his face, hid jaw. done his chest and beneath his shirt. You feel the ripples of his abdomen under your wandering hand, and you sigh, your hand eager to feel his bulge. The moment you brush your fingers on him he grabs your wrist roughly. You flinch, and he lets go of you immediately, sitting up.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” He rubs his forehead. “I just haven’t– I’m not used to.”

Your lips fall downward when you realise his concern.

“I want you to, but–”

“No, forgive me.” You place your hand on top of his to reassure him, pulled out of the haze of it all. “I should have asked.”

“I want to.” He tells you.

“I know.” You nod. “When you’re ready.” You press your lips tenderly to his cheek. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Neither am I.” He reassures you. Your lips brush his, pulling him into a slow kiss. You feel him relax against you.

You pull away and press your forehead against his, closing your eyes in contentment. “Do you promise?”

“I promise.”

taglist: @mirinaeii, @xodidarks, @soju4shi, @satisfied18,  @youphoria, @oopscoop, @internetbelle, @impossiblecopoaffire

©jigglyjeon 2025 all rights reserved

[nortonwifey]

HERES MY MERCH HAUL 💚💚💚💚 + me rambling more about it!!!! ... yes i know what you're thinking.... They're both there ... we'll power through each purchase /lh

- a bunch of kpdh stuff along with a CUTEEE zoey crochet keychain!!!! my friend told me abt it and i got soo excited and he helped escort me there 🥹 i am so excited to use all the zoey stuff 💚💚💚💚

- more pokemon stuff as usual!! my happiest purchase was the grass type tote bag 🥹🥹🥹 i used it to carry the rest of my stuff hehehe

- there was a surprising amount of shadow content,,, but i didn't want to buy so much after investing much on the bigger purchases... so i settled w a pin ueueuue. also hero hi hero my best friend forever 💚💚💚

- MIRACULOUSLY FOUND ID.V CONTENT!!!!!!! 😭😭😭😭😭😭 IT WAS HIDDEN AWAY IN THIS ONE STALL AND IM SO GLAD I FOUND IT DHDHHSHSHRHD (i forgot to take a pic of the rest of the pin collection tho,,,) IT WAS KINDA FUNNY BECAUSE I HAD TO ASK THEM TO PHYSICALLY BRING OUT THE IDV PINS 😭😭 it was literally STASHED AWAY and they took time to look for norton and victor,, the person carrying the stash didn't know them and the artist was like "umm get the pin with the purple and pink background😅😅😅" (I FELT SO BAD SHSHEHSHS) BUT ALAS IM SO HAPPY I HAVE MORE NORTON CRUMBS AWAWAWA I CAN SHOW HIM OFF ON MY ID NOW,,,,,, UEUEUEUEUE

- AAAAND FINALLY. YES. YES MOOTIES. I DIDNT THINK ID GET FUCKING IB MERCHHHHHHH I SHIT YOU NOOOOOOOT 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 IM SO SURPRISEDDDDDDD me and my friend were looking at this one multi fandom vendor and i was scanning,,, and then i SAW HIMB,,,,,, AND I POINTED HIM TO MY FRIEND AND WE FREAKED THE FUCK OUT (I WAS SCREAMING MY LUNGS OUT) ODDJFJFJJFJRJEIRRI.I WAS SO HAPPY 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 i ended up buying two copies of garry because they had a good "4 for (price)" deal so i was like ahh fuck it. Double Garry. Big Brain JEHFHDHFHRJDJJRRJEJE

anywyas,,,,, bless,,, im sooooo happy ghrhrhrjrrkkkk Garry merch came to me. my friend manifested and it worked. thank u ari ily 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

[dbphantom]

you know if you guys voted for stretch armstrong i probably would have shut up a lot sooner tonight

[chisungie]

.

[waywardsalt]

not tooooo sure how i think i want to go with bellum's... tone of voice? for this fic

[mintaikkcorpse]

Okay, so, we're all freaking out bcuz this is the first time a beast has used the word "love" to describe what they feel for their ancient, right?

The other beasts all have some kind of obsession with their ancient, bcuz they have the other half of their soul jam, which would make them soulmates in some fucked-up way. But, obsession is still a form of love. So, I really want to go over how the Beasts "love" their ancients, even if it is kinda (EXTREMELY) fucked up.

Also, before I go on with this, don't spam my replies and reblogs with, "But it's toxic-" I KNOW! THAT'S THE POINT! IM EXPLAINING THE WAY THE BEASTS HAVE SUCH A TOXIC, TWISTED LOVE FOR THEIR ANCIENTS.

(This is going to be such a rambly mess, and I'm sorry)

Burning Spice

Burning Spice is obsessed with Golden Cheese because he's bored (he's actually depressed bcuz history is just a cycle of evil people hurting each other and innocent people only for the civilizations to all crumble in the end because of those evil people, but saying he's bored is easier than saying all of that), and he believes that Golden Cheese will make him feel alive again (by hunting her and having both of them fight each other to the death but you know-).

His kind of obsession torwards Golden Cheese is the (literal) destructive kind. He wants to kill her, but he also wants her to try and kill him.

The first time he meets her in person, he congratulates her for beating up Nutmeg Tiger Cookie and says, "Yes, excellent! I like my prey to have a little bit of fight in them!" He literally gets DISSAPOINTED when she was easy to defeat, but he doesn't kill her, nor fuse their soul jams, because he wants to keep her alive so she's angry enough to try and actually kill him, because he believes that it will be "electrifiying" to fight her (his words, not mine). He speaks of hunting her like it's all some fun game, because he believes that she is exciting, and he hasn't felt excited in a long, long time. He even gives her nicknames when he talks to her such as "Little bird", and he even calls her "his" and "his prey." And, I'm sorry to say this, but you could read their battle dialogue as some version of flirting-

Burning Spice: "Oooh! I see you still can channel the power of your Soul Jam! Good... I'm glad I didn't make it mine yet!"

Golden Cheese: "Hmpf... Yes. Yes, that might just be your greatest achievement! Know that I do not give praise lightly. You really should be thankful!"

Burning Spice: "Ha ha ha ha! Ahhh, lovely! Keep going, I'm thoroughly enjoying our little dance!"

He gets excited when he realizes that she isn't weak and can still fight him. He literally compliments her by calling her, "lovely", and then refers to their fight as a dance. That's flirting. That's literally flirting.

Anyways. Back to destruction as love.

I know, I know, I've said he's completely obsessed with destroying her multiple times in this post, but, for the person reading this who doesn't play the game or keep up with the lore (why are you reading this then???? Like, I'm happy, but huh???), I cannot stress enough that when I say "obsessed", I REALLY DO MEAN IT

SHE DEFEATED HIM. I THOUGHT SHE KILLED HIM WHEN SHE DID! SHE DROPPED A WHOLE AS BUILDING ON HIS HEAD.

And this motherfucker LAUGHED, when she did.

This mf is down bad, and NOT in a healthy way.

Tldr: Burning Spice loves in a incredibly destructive way, since he believes that fighting and killing Golden Cheese will make him feel alive again.

Mystic Flour

Mystic Flour has an obsession with Dark Cacao bcuz she wants to show him apathy, though, I honestly don't see them in a twisted romantic kind of way. More honestly a fucked up, misguided person trying to teach another person. She even mentions that she's old, and she talks to him as if she's a teacher. But, don't think that just because her care for him isn't romantic that it isn't interesting.

The thing about Mystic Flour Cookie is the fact that she believes that everyone embracing apathy and turning into flour is the only way the world can be at peace. She wants the other half of Dark Cacao's souljam so she can gain the power to do so, and, the easiest way to do that is for him to embrace apathy himself and give her the souljam.

But, despite her being apathetic (though she is definelty not beating the "Igaf" allegations. I see you being sweet to Cloud Haetae, girl), there is some sort of care when she talks to Dark Cacao. After all, even though she says she feels nothing, what she wants to do to the cookie world, she does because she cares. She just goes the wrong way about it. She believes that Dark Cacao's resolution and determination are only weighing him down, and she wants to help rid him of it.

Throughout the entire story, Mystic Flour guides him like a teacher would to a student. She takes him down the path of apathy; telling him the story of how she came to her conclusion, turning his soldiers into flour, waiting atop the mountain as a sort of test to see if he still had his resolution, and telling him about how everything suffers for no reason and apathy is the only way you can stop it. And, when those don't work, she keeps showing him and teaching him and trying to get him to return to flour. She goes so far as to show an illusion (I think it's an illusion? Could be an alternate timeline or smthn) of his son, Dark Choco, ruling the Dark Cacao Kingdom, and how, if he crumbled here, no one would miss him. She says that his kingdom is a moment in time, and that with time, he will be forgotten, and all of his efforts in his kingdom will be forgotten as well. And, for a brief moment, Dark Cacao accepted apathy. But, that's when she took his soul jam.

The thing is, if this was all a ploy to take his souljam, Mystic Flour would've stopped there. But she didn't. When the Dragon's escape, and he no longer has his souljam, nor his sword, Mystic Flour asks him how it feels to finally see the world of white. She then explains to him her plan of how she wants to guide everyone into Enlightenment.

This is the scene where she gently cups his face, and says this to him:

"Would I not be doing you a favor by relieving you of the burden you have carried your whole life? Now, there is nothing holding you back. Live the rest of your life free from any burdens, sorrows, and responsibilities."

She believes she is doing him a favor. She wouldn't go through so much to explain what she is doing to him and to comfort him in (what she thinks are) his last moments if she didn't care about him.

Tldr: Mystic Flour Cookie cares for Dark Cacao in the way a teacher would care for a student. She takes the time to teach him about apathy, even after she got ahold of the souljam, and even tells him that she believes she is doing him a favor. She wants him to turn the flour, just like she wants the rest of the world to turn to Flour, because she doesn't want him to be burdened in his life anymore. If he is flour, he no longer feels pain.

...Fucking. Shadow. Milk. Cookie

Oh God, where do I even begin with this-

Okay, so Shadow Milk's obsession with Pure Vanilla DEFINETLY goes beyond the simple "I want my soul jam back", no matter how hard he tries to make it seem that way. If that was the case, he wouldn't trap PV in his spire and play games with him and give him his own room which he made sure looks EXACTLY like his room in his kingdom and being all happy and giggly when PV says the he is his forever-

Yeah, it's a lot.

Shadow Milk Cookie is lonely. Once the Fount of Knowledge, forced to hold the horrifying truths of the world and realizing that the cookies would much prefer a nice lie over a bitter truth. He fell to deceit because of that realization. And throughout all of it, he was alone. He never had a normal life, because he was baked as an adult and immediately thrusted into a world to be the Fount of Knowledge. He never got that choice. He was always a god, with everyone else being below him, whether he liked it or not. It's difficult to make regular connections when everyone Worships you.

And this obviously had an effect on him. Shadow Milk is incredibly lonely (one of the devs even said that himself), so when he saw Pure Vanilla Cookie with his soul jam, someone who was like him all those years ago, who is worshipped as "the perfect hero" and only wants to seek the truth, his mind was filled with the emotions of rage, jealousy, but also hope. Pure Vanilla Cookie is just like him, after all. He can finally find someone who understands him.

Except his version of "You're the only one who understands me", is making Pure Vanilla Cookie suffer, telling PV that he'll just end up like Shadow Milk (a beast who sees no meaning in truth and who just wants to watch the world fall into chaos), and taking away everything he once loved. #justgirlthings🥰🥰🥰

But that doesn't stop the fact that Shmilk still yearned for someone to understand him, and Pure Vanilla is the closest thing he'll get to that, bcuz they have lived very similar lives, and now, they share their soul jam as well. And trust me when I say that his obsession with Pure Vanilla goes beyond the soul jam. Shadow Milk really wanted them to fuse their souls, and knowing that makes a lot of his dialogue make much more sense.

"You and I are bound..."

"Why, you've said it yourself! We are like the two sides of the same Coin!"

"Oh but it's inevitable. In the end, you will become... me! And it's gonna feel good!"

And, while Burning Spice and Mystic Flour wanted to destroy their ancients, Shadow Milk doesn't. He wants to keep Pure Vanilla alive, and have him stay with him in the spire. ("Why don't you stay for another day? Or FOREVER")

Since a lot of showing that him and PV are the same, he also took great pleasure in psychologically torturing PV and deceiving him. He tortures PV because he wants to know how far he can push him before he snaps, so, while he relishes in the game, he also is excited for when PV finally admits that Shmilk was right. It's why he was so damn excited when PV became Truthless Recluse, and started using his own deceiving tactics.

To survive the Yogurt River of Rebirth, one has to embrace deceit, he congratulates Pure Vanilla Cookie for surviving it and coming out on the other side, even though, if he died, he could take his soul jam back

When Pure Vanilla tricks him in the game of Chess and cheats, using his own methods against him, he is ESTATIC! He is laughing, and his sprite is blushing, and he talks about how he "wants to keep playing with his new favorite toy." Even Black Sapphire is surprised because, according to him, "He doesn't give multiple second chances." So, obviously, PV is a special Cookie to him

Shadow Milk also has an obsession with Pure Vanilla being "his." For Burning Spice, he meant like, "his to destroy", but Shadow Milk's version of it has a lot more romantic-coded undertones.

"Indeed, all this time, you've been my most treasured marionette!" (I think it's doll in KR, which I think is better. You control your marionettes, but you hold dolls close to you)

"Ah, there you are! My long-lost other half!"

"YES! YES! YOU ARE MINE!"

Anyways, to the point that made everyone lose their shit: fusing their damn souljams.

"Pure Vanilla: "Is this what you wanted? or is it even better? Instead of one Soul Jam of Knowledge, you will have two Soul Jams of Deceit. And me, forever by your side"

Shadow Milk: "You would do that, after what I just did to your friends?"

Pure Vanilla: Hah! It's no longer important. Now it's clear as day. There simply is no point in denying it... You and I... We are meant to be together.

Shadow Milk: Ah ha... Ah ha ha...! HA HA HA HA HA!

Shadow Milk: "Yes, YES! Now, you are mine!"

They fuse their souljams together. Shadow Milk didn't just want the soul jam; he wanted Pure Vanilla along with him. But then, in the ultimate deceitful betrayal, PV tricked him, and takes back the soul jam, separating their souls, and becoming even more powerful. Shmilk is completely heartbroken and tries to dearroy PV (and the souljam in the kr dub), but of course, PV defeats him. But, instead of going away after that, PV says that he felt how lonely Shadow Milk was, and that he's the only one who can understand him, something that Shadow Milk hws been looking for for a long, long time, and asks if he wants to be his friend. The worst part is that, with the way Shmilk's voice softened, he actually thought about it.

He then proceeds to crash out and try to destroy him again, but we still saw what we saw. Shadow Milk really just wanted someone who could understand him.snd be by his side so he wouldn't have to feel lonely anymore...

Also, I feel the need to point out that this is the only time in the story where Shmilk gets upset at PV for deceiving him, and that's bcuz it was emotional. The other times were a fun game to show that he is becoming him, but this time, he lied to him about being by his side forever, only to leave.

And then, other things I couldn't put in here that alludes to a romantic kind of love

Candy Apple Cookie is jealous of Pure Vanilla Cookie, and she canonically has a crush on Shadow Milk

Shadow Milk gave PV a plushie of him in his room

The story for Shmilk's special cakehound is that he is a wolf who fell in love with the cream sheep, and just wants to be closer to it. All I'm saying is that Shadow Milk already has multiple "wolf in sheep's clothing" things in his story, and Pure Vanilla is associated with cream sheep

The KR voice actors for them doing a duet together as their characters????

Anyways, I truly do not have the energy to talk about Shadowvanilla for millionth time. I'm moving on now.

Tldr: Shadow Milk loves Pure Vanilla like how someone would love their favorite doll, so he constantly dotes on him and plays games with him, but, as you own a doll, you control whatever it does and stop it before it gets out of line. A doll is also what helps someone feel less lonely (why do you think traumatized kids are always given dolls in therapy?), so there's that as well.

ETERNAL GOD-DAMN SUGAR COOKIE

Oh, baby, you thought that Shadow Milk was bad? WAIT TILL YOU SEE ETERNAL SUGAR COOKIE!

But, out of all of the Ancients, Sugar's love for Hollyberry is probably the most obviously romantic one out of all of them. She constantly dotes on Hollyberry, is really sweet to her (even if a bit twisted), looks at her through her crystal ball and smiles, calls her "her other half" (just like shmilk), and "my love", is constantly in her personal space, talks a out how she just wants Hollyberry to be happy, makes a song which she says "is just for you (Hollyberry) alone," etc, etc. Yes, she wants her soul jam back, but why not just take the soul jam and be done with her? Yet, Sugar asks for Hollyberry to "stay by her side", which isn't something you ask someone you supposedly hate and see as your enemy to do.

__________________________

Okay, so like, I wrote all that BEFORE the other half of ET'S update came out. And now it's confirmed she has feelings for Hollyberry so....

I think Eternal Sugar Cookie has BPD, and that VERY much affects how she loves. If you're curious, here's the full BPD symptoms list. I'm going to make a post that goes over how these symptoms apply to her, so look forward to that ig.

But anyways! Eternal Sugar's story shows that she is INCREDIBLY lonely and has an INTENSE fear of abandonment. She didn't want the other half of her soul jam; she even let Hollyberry leave without it. She gently just wanted Hollyberry by her side forever.

I think she has this toxic, romanticized view of Hollyberry. I've said it before, but the Beasts and the Ancients are LITERAL soulmates because their souls are both tied to the souljams. Sugar must've also seen it like that, because she constantly refers to Hollyberry as "her other half", and again, didn't even wanna take the damn souljam away from her. She says that she felt like her soul was "missing something", and, now that Hollyberry is here, "everything feels complete!" She doesn't need her souljam to feel complete, because Hollyberry Cookie, her other half and the one who wields the other half of their soul jam, is right there beside her.

All she knows is that Hollyberry Cookie makes her feel complete. Combine this with her genuine want to make a paradise for cookies, and this leaves the belief that Hollyberry can only find happiness if she's with Eternal Sugar, and that creates the belief of, "She doesn't know what she wants. If she stays here with me, both of us will be happy! But if she leaves, both of us will be miserable."

And, because she's a god whose gone insane, anytime Hollyberry tries to escape, she always does something that she thinks is helpful, but she knows will make her stay.

Giving her and her teammates a scent that will attract monsters so they come back to her garden for safety

Harming Wildberry Cookie via the monsters so she has an even bigger reason to stay

Showing how happy that Hollyberry Soldiers are in the garden

Attending to her every want and need

Bringing the Hollyberry Kingdom to the garden so she won't leave, and then giving them something that will make them happy to show that they would be miserable if they go back

Trapping her teammates in jars, because she knows that she will not leave without them.

One thing I love about Eternal Sugar is that she isn't manipulating out of malice. She isn't thinking, "Hehehee, I'm going to manipulate this cookie for funsies." She's doing it because she genuinely believes this is what will make both of them happy, and because she does love Hollyberry in some fucked-way. Her mind is probably going, "Hollyberry Cookie is misguided in what she believes in. I will do all those to show her she is wrong, and that she can only find true happiness if she stays here with me."

Because that's how a lot of abusers work. A lot of abusers do love their victims. But, the love they feel is so, so incredibly toxic and not the way someone deserves to be loved. Eternal Sugar's love for Hollyberry feels like how an obsessive abuser would feel about their partner, and I love it.

So, when I go over this scene, please know that I don't think that ET is doing this because it's fun. She's doing this because she believes it will make Hollyberry stay with her. Even Shadow Milk did that to an extent. While yes, he did enjoy torturing PV, it was all so he could get him to embrace deceit and stay by his side. For most abuse cases, there's always another reason.

(Not defending abusers, I'm explaining things. You don't have to sympathize with your abuser AT ALL. And I'm not just saying that to say that. This is the bitch who still holds grudges from the assholes in middle school who made her feel like her body was an object meant to be ridiculed, judged, and to be eyecandy for horny men who dont understand consent. YOU DONT HAVE TO FORGIVE YOUR ABUSERS).

______________________________

At the end of their story, Eternal Sugar says that she will let her leave with the cookies she holds dear, as long as she sees what will happen if she does, and if she takes a bite from the Golden apple. Sugar then shows Hollyberry a world where Dark Enchantress Cookie takes over her kingdom, with all of her friends and family dying trying to protect her. This, obviously, horrifies Hollyberry and she feels conflicted about leaving, and Sugar tries to convince her to stay, by reminding her of her past emotions and how awful she felt, and saying she won't have to feel those in her Garden.

What she did is a manipulation tactic. She made it seem like she gave Hollyberry a fair choice, but in reality, what she did was manipulating Hollyberry's emotions because she knows that most cookies would refuse to after seeing that, and then she tells her that, to make that go away, she can stay here. What she showed her probably wasn't even real (GingerBrave would NEVER let that happen), so she purposely gave Hollyberry a false idea, which she thought would make her stay.

So, when Hollyberry STILL chooses to leave, and Sugar's begging and pleading don't work (she also pulls the "no one understands you like I do" card while doing though, and I do think that she genuinely believes that), she crashes out. HARD

(I showed this to my sister who doesn't play crk, and she went on a rant about how "any yuri that toxic should just end in a join suicide" and "what the fuck? Is this supposed to make me want to play the game?" But, you know)

When she realizes that Hollyberry doesn't want to be with her, she starts flooding the entire Garden with jam, and only stops after they defeat her. Even then, she keeps repeating, "Don't leave. Don't leave", because she is so, INCREDIBLY hurt at the thought of being abandoned.

And that's another thing. Eternal Sugad has a MAJOR fear of abandonment (BPD symptom as well) and will do anything to keep those she loves from abandoning her.

Sugar says that she cares about everyone in her garden, and I really don't think that she's lying. But, it's because she cares about them that she keeps them trapped in her garden because she believes that if she doesn't, they will leave her and go into a world of pain and suffering.

And now, someone who she loved so much to call her her love and other half, has left her. After she tried so, so hard to make her stay.

But, lucky for her (or unlucky depending on how you see it), Hollyberry has still given her hope when she decided to save her.

Instead of being mad, Sugar is overjoyed that he other half decided to save her. She asks Hollyberry if she changed her mind for her, and, even though Hollyberry doesn't answer her, she tells Sugar to think about her advice (waking up and understanding that this isn't healthy), and, to my surprise, Sugar said that she would! She even lets Hollyberry go, without any of that weird monster scent stuff!

I think it's because, in that convo, Hollyberry said that she would come back. Eternal Sugar now knows that Holly isn't leaving her forever, and she will come back at some point. So, she wants to focus on making the perfect place for her when she returns.

Tldr; Sugar's love is obsessive and tied to her belief that what she is doing is right, her major fear of abandonment, romanticization of Hollyberry, and the fact that she's incredibly lonely.

_____________________________

Has it ever occurred to you that, with each update, it appears as if the beasts wanna fuck their ancients more and more? Atp, I'm half expecting White Lily and Silent Salt to just nasty fuck on screen...

[taeeflwrr]

oh my god was this a rollercoaster of emotions #bringbackangst #imafeministdespiteallthethoughtsthatthisficmademeentertain #forgivemesinceitwashyuck

death by a thousand cuts | l.hc

“but if the story’s over, why am i still writing pages?”

💿now playing: death by a thousand cuts by taylor swift

❯ summary: If you get more than one love in a lifetime, why does your heart still beat for the boy who wrecked you completely?

❯ pairings: haechan x fem!reader

❯ genre: angst, second chance, cheating trope, smut.

❯ words: 9.6k

❯ tags: 18+ minors dni!, smut, cheating (booo), exes, toxic relationship, a therapy joke, lots of angst, swearing, heartbreak, a whole lotta hurt, drinking, insecurities, jealousy, arguing, heavy petting, protected sex, nipple play, oral sex (fem receiving), i can’t lie this is just 9k words of heartache and sex lol.

an: this fic will not be for everyone!! i do not condone cheating in any way, you’re a loser if you cheat. i just felt like writing something heart achey, and this is my favourite taylor swift song that inspires cheating fics whenever i listen to it.

“Give me that!”

Yeji snatches the phone out of your hand with the kind of urgency only a best friend possesses—the kind forged after too many years of watching you do the stupidest things when it comes to boys. Her eyes flare the moment she spots the familiar username. 

@ haechanahceah

“Oh my god. You’re kidding.” Her thumb hovers accusingly over the screen. “Y/N, it’s been a year. A whole year. Why haven’t you blocked Hyuck yet?”

You don’t answer immediately. Just tilt your head back with an exhausted exhale, reaching for the phone. Not because you want it back, but because it feels incriminating in her hands. Like a wound she’s now inspecting. And you don’t need her inspecting it.

“Because we’re okay,” you say, not entirely convincingly. “Mostly.”

It was just a like. On an Instagram post. Of him—with his friends.

(Some of them girls. Most of them girls. All of them tagged. And you definitely weren’t planning on clicking through their profiles in the middle of your best friend coffee date with your screen brightness criminally low. Definitely not.)

“And because we’re friends,” you add breezily. Then you pluck the phone from her hand and tap back into the app, your thumb moving faster than your brain, already leaving a comment beneath his photo.

Something flippant. Something funny. Something that screams: See? I’m a functioning, emotionally stable adult who can totally be friends with the boy who annihilated my heart while he gallivants around Europe on a boat with girls. 

Except probably subtler. 

Yeji stares at you like she’s witnessing a slow-motion car crash. “Oh, absolutely. And when that guy drove me home from the bar last weekend and told me I had pretty eyes, we were just friends too.”

You roll your eyes, swatting the air with your hand. “That’s different. Hyuck’s my childhood best friend. I can’t just cut him off now that we’re not…” you pause, the words catching in your throat like they always do, “you know?”

“No. I don’t know,” she says, arms crossed and chin lifted in that annoyingly perceptive way of hers. “Because you two are in a loop. An exhausting, toxic, ‘I-don’t-know-where-we-stand-with-each-other’ loop. And staying in touch with him is why you can’t move on.”

“We are not toxic.”

You are. 

But you’d already said it out loud like a reflex, before you even had time to make it sound believable. So, you try to fix it. 

“We’re just…”

You trail off, blinking hard like the answer might fall from the ceiling.

 “Co-dependent?” Lia offers helpfully. 

 You sigh. “Yes. That. Thank you, Lia.”

“It’s weird, is what it is,” Yeji says. 

You lean back in your chair, arms folded across your chest like armour. “Ugh. You wouldn’t get it.”

And they wouldn’t. They never have.

Because nobody gets you and Hyuck. Not Yeji, not Lia, not even the therapists you’ve paid a concerning amount of money to explain it all to you. No amount of therapy or psychoanalysis can remove the him-shaped hole inside of you. The way he exists like a second heartbeat.

How many times does a person truly get to fall in love? Not the practical kind. But the kind that rewires you completely. That makes you wonder how you ever existed before this person, and fear who you might become after. 

If love were fair—the answer would be simple. Once. Only ever once.

Because to love someone—truly love someone—is not just to hand over your heart. It’s to fold it delicately, wrap it in every part of your soul, and place it willingly in that person’s pocket. Trusting that they won’t ever give it back frayed or barely beating. 

And if they do (and he definitely did) well, what remains might resemble a heart, but it never beats the same again. You don’t think it ever will.

So yes. One love. One person. One boy—him.

Yeji calls it nostalgia. Says that since he was your first everything, it feels bigger than it was, and that’s why he’s taking up too much space inside your chest. She says you're scared of forgetting. But that’s not it.

You’d give anything to forget. It’s better than remembering everything. Of living in a world where he’s everywhere and nowhere all at once. Where songs feel like him. Where movies feel like him. Where your own body sometimes feels like him because he’s marked it so damn much.

But if you did move on, if you could—you’d still have to ask yourself: where does all that breathless, foolish, all-consuming love go? 

The common consensus is that love turns to hate when it stays too long without being fed. But you can’t imagine a universe cruel enough to make you hate the very boy who made you believe in soulmates.

So you don’t hate him. Even though you should.

“Fine,” Yeji slumps back in her chair, arms crossed, eyes sharp with that familiar fury she reserves exclusively for you—when you’re being like this. “You’re right. I don’t get it. I don’t get why you’re still in cahoots with the same boy who cheated on you and left you a complete mess.”

Lia gasps. “Yeji!”

But the thing is—Yeji has a point. And you know that. But knowing something and truly understanding it is two different things. 

You don’t understand how he put his hands on someone else. How his mouth touched a body that wasn’t yours. How he delivered that line—“I didn’t mean for it to happen”—with the kind of ease that made you wonder just how many times he’d practised it in the mirror before he had the balls to actually tell you. 

You didn’t understand, yet you knew all the same.

You were wearing his shirt when he told you. Still in his house. Still in the space you thought was yours too. And all you could think was: how many nights did he lie next to you like nothing was wrong? How many times did he touch you with hands that had already betrayed you?

He never told you when, or who. Just a sorry. A soft one. A useless one. And a vague promise that he’d do anything to fix it.

But there are some things sorry can’t fix.

You clear your throat, suddenly too aware of how loud your heartbeat feels in a room full of people who love you enough to hate him.

“Because we’re not in cahoots,” you correct. “We’re friends, Yej. Him and I have always been friends.”

It’s not a lie. Not exactly. 

You have been friends with Hyuck ever since he moved in next door to your family when you were six. And even then—when you climbed trees and shared crayons—you think your heart was already beating for him. So much you don’t know what life is without that pulse anymore. Without a hint of him running beneath your skin.

It’s why you plaster on a smile and say, “In fact, I even invited him to my birthday party next week.”

They look at you, eyes full of pity and sympathy. And that hurts way more than him breaking you ever did. Because now your friends are staring at you like you’re some sad, shattered, pathetic thing he left behind.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Lia asks weakly. 

“You’re seriously a lunatic,” Yeji cuts in before you can respond. “You’re just dragging this out for yourself. Death by a thousand cuts and all that.”

“I am not a lunatic,” you say, shrugging her off. “It’s just... he’s still part of my life. It’s not like I’m inviting a stranger.”

“He fucked up your life,” she huffs, the words stinging. “He hurt you.”

“Yes,” you breathe. “But I love him anyway, don’t I?”

And you do. Because some loves don’t end—they just rearrange themselves. 

Yeji yanks her chair back so hard the legs screech against the floor.

“He’s gonna hurt you again,” she spits. “How many times are you gonna let him rip you apart before there’s nothing left? Before you’ve sacrificed yourself and everyone else around you and you’ve got nothing left to give?”

You want to say something, but the words get stuck, because she’s right.

Lia reaches out, “Yeji—”

“If he’s there next week, Y/N,” she says, eyes burning over her shoulder looking from you to Lia, “then I won’t be.”

When Hyuck got a DM from the only girl he’s ever loved—two days ago, now—he sobered.

Which, if you asked Mark, was some kind of divine miracle. Because Mark had been watching his best friend drink himself into oblivion for the better part of a year. A slow, intentional kind of fucked up that was clearly a desperate, pathetic attempt to forget you.

But no shot, no spirit, no stranger’s skin pressed to his could ever do the trick. Not really. Because no matter how hard Hyuck tried, the hangover was always the same: he’d wake up, and you still weren’t his girl.

So when he saw your username light up his phone, he paused. 

Because the preview didn’t give anything away. It did that annoying thing that said “2 new messages.” No hint. No breadcrumb. Just a loaded gun of a notification staring up at him.

And, of course he clicked it. He had to. You knew he would. You’d sent two back-to-back messages on purpose—he’s certain of it. Because that’s exactly the kind of person you were. Always two steps ahead. Always orchestrating even your vulnerability. 

You wanted to see when he’d read it. 

And he did.

At 2:36 a.m. Because you’d definitely be asleep by then. And that meant he had enough time to draft the right response—measured, brisk, detached—like the past year hadn’t cracked him open.

He read it in the half-light of Mark’s living room, surrounded by people he didn’t really like and a bottle of something he couldn’t quite remember picking up.

hey. i’m having a thing next friday for my birthday—just a chill party. nothing major. 

you can come, if you want.

Hyuck stares at the two messages.

It’s not because of the party. He couldn’t care less about the cake or the candles. That’s not what has his heart in his throat. It’s the fact that—for the first time in a year—you actually reached out. None of that accidentally bumping into each other nonsense you two pull. No one buys that it’s an accident. 

At least, it’s not an accident on his behalf.

It’s not an accident when he keeps frequenting the same coffee shop you once claimed made the best lattes in the city—always at the same time. It’s not a coincidence when he drives through your favourite places on rainy days, just in case you need a ride and are too proud to just call him. And it’s definitely not a coincidence that makes him take the long way to your house. He does it deliberately. He selfishly takes more of your time than he deserves.

Because saying goodbye wasn’t an option for him. Not until it had to be. He’d take prolonged suffering. Death by a thousand cuts.

And it’s not his fault. Well. It is. All of the ruin, anyway. But in the twelve months since he blew it all up, you’ve still lingered. You always do. You always will. So he just keeps showing up in your life when he knows you need to move on. Because he doesn’t want you to. 

Because everything in his life is still half-yours. And he won’t board up the windows of that love—not even now. Not when some part of you still flickers inside it, and half of his heart is still in your chest.

Hyuck stares at your message again. He types something. Deletes it. Types something else. Deletes that too.

what kind of thing is it?

Too uninterested.

who’s gonna be there?

Too nosy.

sure, if you want me there.

Too honest. 

Everything felt like a trap—too much, too little, not enough to win you back, but equally too honest and would remind you of his actions that hurt you. 

How was he supposed to respond to the girl who once memorised every mole on his face? Who was the muse of every song he’s written? Who still makes his hands shake on the keyboard? Who he cheated on? Who he destroyed completely? 

Eventually he landed on:

might swing by, angel. happy early birthday, btw.

He hit send before he could change his mind.

11:27PM

Thirty-three minutes left of your birthday, but you’re not celebrating.

Instead, you’re sitting on the edge of the kitchen counter with one leg dangling, the other tucked beneath you, whilst your dress wrinkles and bunches around your thighs because you stopped caring how ruined you looked an hour ago.  

You don’t care that your lipstick is all but gone or that your mascara is smudged under both eyes. You don’t care because he’s not here. 

You were supposed to be smiling by now. 

But he didn’t walk in. 

He still hasn’t.

And you don’t even know why you’re surprised. He’s not your boyfriend. He’s not your baby. He’s not your Hyuck anymore. He doesn’t owe you a goddamn thing—not a happy birthday, or his time. You gave that privilege up the night you stopped being his. Or maybe the night he stopped being yours. You still haven’t decided which one came first.

Still, you hoped he would come. 

It was the only thing keeping you remotely sane—delusional hope that he might still show up. That maybe he’d walk through the door like he hadn’t betrayed you and still want you. You still wanted him. 

You hated that he broke you and still got to keep the pieces. Hated that even now, on your birthday, all you could think about was him. Hated that you still wanted his birthdays, his weekends, his forever. 

You take another drink. Cheaper vodka this time, and let it burn your throat as it goes down. You want the sting. You deserve the sting. Your eyes drift (again) to the front door.

Still nothing.

“You need to stop doing that,” Lia pads barefoot into the kitchen, coming right behind you to smack both her hands on your shoulders. “Stop watching that door like a hawk. Yeji would kill you if she saw you pining after him on your birthday.”

You press your lips together and glance away like you’ve been caught red-handed. Because, well. You have.

“Yeah, well. Yeji isn’t here,” you mutter, taking another sip—longer this time. 

Lia raises an eyebrow. “And why’s that?”

You drain the last of your drink and look her straight in the eye. “Because I invited him.”

Lia looks at you expectantly. You know she hates being caught between you and Yeji, but it’s clear she thinks you were wrong to invite Hyuck tonight, knowing full well how Yeji would react.

And maybe she’s right.

That’s why you sigh.

“Look, he said he might come,” you say finally. “He didn’t promise anything. Yeji was overreacting.”

“He never promises,” Lia says gently. “And yet, you keep prioritising him like he’s still that sweet boy we both used to love, who used to buy your favourite cookies before class, or pick fights with the boys who made fun of you. But he’s not that boy anymore, Y/N. And he’s not yours anymore either.”

You flinch.

She notices. Regrets it. “Sorry.”

You shake your head. “It’s fine.”

But it isn’t, not really. Because this is the first birthday he’s missed since you were kids. Since you were eleven and he showed up with a homemade card. 

It’s not fine because his absence would say something that the cheating weirdly never quite did—that he’s not the boy you fell in love with. Maybe he hasn’t been for a long time.

Lia leans against the counter beside you. “It’s allowed, you know? Being hurt.”

“I don’t get to be,” you reply, glancing at her. “He doesn’t owe me anything anymore. I was the one who didn’t want to forgive him that night. I said I was done. I don’t expect him to grovel forever.”

“No,” she agrees. “But you deserved something. More than a half-assed apology at least.”

That lands in your chest harshly. You press your tongue to your cheek, the way you do when you’re trying not to cry. You’re not drunk enough to cry yet. Give it another hour.

“Come on,” Lia sighs and wraps an arm around your shoulders, tugging you into her side, “I’m not letting you stay in here staring at that door and giving him the power to ruin the rest of your birthday.” 

But even as she says it, your eyes flicker to that door again—still no him.

Lia doesn’t let go of your hand as she leads you out of the kitchen and into the living room, where people are scattered across the sofas and floors. They all feel like strangers at your own party because you’ve spent the whole night looking for one person who never came. 

“Y/N,” Lia says, squeezing your hand, “this is Hyunjae.”

You blink. The boy in front of you is pretty. Dark eyes, strong jaw softened by the curve of a perfect smile, black hair pushed back sexily. He’s holding a drink loosely in his hand as his eyes sweep over you. 

“Happy birthday,” he says. “You look—”

Please don’t say beautiful. Please don’t say gorgeous. Please don’t say anything he would’ve said.

“—pretty,” Hyunjae finishes. “Really fucking pretty.”

You smile. Or try to. “Thanks.”

And look, it’s not that Hyunjae isn’t nice—he is. You can already hear Yeji telling you to give him a chance. He’s the kind of boy who’d text back, who’s safe, who’d never leave you staring at a door wondering if he’ll show up on your birthday or not. Hyunjae is the kind of boy who wouldn’t cheat on you. 

But the truth is, you don’t know if you can be the girl who lets someone call her pretty and fawn anymore. Not without wondering if they’ll still mean it once they see someone better, shinier, hotter than you. 

Just like he did. 

You nod along when Hyunjae talks. You laugh where you’re supposed to. Play nice. Be sweet. But everything he says sounds like static. Everything he is feels like a placeholder. 

And then, you hear it. That deep, honey-smooth, familiar voice saying: “Happy birthday, angel.”

It slices through the room. Through you.

Because there’s only one person who ever called you that. One boy. Lee Donghyuck.

You didn’t even hear the front door open. Typical. But there he is, leaning in the doorway, all tan skin and messy hair. His hands are buried in his pockets, his jaw set tight—too tight, like he’s seconds from grinding his teeth into dust. 

But it’s not you he’s looking at. It’s Hyunjae. Sitting far too close. Arm tossed lazily behind you on the couch, thigh pointing into yours, almost grazing like he owns your space. 

And Hyuck notices. You know he notices.

His eyes narrow. Lips parting slightly as his tongue presses against the inside of his cheek. You know that look. You’ve seen it before. That blend of heat and hurt and possessiveness he has no right to anymore.

It hits your chest all at once—shame, hurt, lust—and you fumble. Your hand twitches with the red plastic cup still clutched tight. The drink tilts before you even realise it’s slipping. Cranberry vodka sloshes, causing sticky, cold liquid to spill down the front of your dress, dripping into the neckline. 

“Fuck—” you hiss, jerking upright as the cup lands onto the coffee table. You paw uselessly at the now soaked fabric, trying to blot it with the hem of your sleeve, but it’s only smearing it worse.

Hyunjae starts to reach for a napkin, concerned. But your eyes have already found Hyuck’s again. And the way he’s looking at you now…

Your throat goes dry. “I—I’m gonna go change.”

You don’t wait for a reply. You’re moving before anyone can stop you, heart hammering against your ribs because this wasn’t how it was supposed to go. 

You barely make it up the stairs, breath coming fast, fingers trembling as you reach for the door to your room. You close it. But you don’t get the chance to lock it. Because the door creaks again behind you. And then it clicks shut. You spin around. And there he is.

You don’t say anything at first. 

Just stalk over to your wardrobe like it’s perfectly sane to have your ex-boyfriend—your ex-best friend, the boy you used to see every single day, the only boy you’ve ever slept with, the only person who knows all the tells on your body, the boy you still love—in your bedroom for the first time in over a year.

You wrench the closet door open. A pair of heels fall out and land with a little thud. You don’t flinch. You pretend to rifle through hangers, but you’re not looking for anything specific. All of it is just something to do with your hands, because looking at him right now would be a sick kind of torture.

“What are you doing here!?”

Hyuck doesn’t respond immediately. Instead, you only hear the soft thud of his shoes on your floor, the creak of your floorboard by the dresser. He’s closer than you want him to be.

“You invited me,” he says, like it’s obvious.

You spin around. “I invited you to my birthday party. Which started five hours ago.”

He lifts his phone, the screen glowing in the dark. “As far as I’m aware,” he says, tapping it once, “you’ve still got thirteen minutes left. So again, happy birthday, angel.”

You stiffen. 

There it is. That.

That fucking word. The one that used to make you feel warm and wanted. Now it feels like an insult wrapped in silk.

“Don’t call me that.”

That stops him. Just for a second. Then, slowly, he lowers the phone. Shoves it back into his pocket.

“I thought you liked it when I called you that.”

“I used to like it,” you spit. “Back when it meant something. You know, before you fucked someone else behind my back.”

His jaw tightens. Good, you think. The truth hurts; you hope it hurts. And maybe that makes you cruel. But then again, he was cruel first.

He rubs his jaw, then exhales. “We’re really doing this now?”

You laugh dryly. “Oh, sorry. Would you prefer we pencil it in for next week instead? Talk about it over brunch sometime, yeah?”

You turn back to your wardrobe, suddenly too irritated. Your fingers find the old grey hoodie you always loved. It looks soft. Comfortable. Definitely not party appropriate. But you don’t care because you don’t want to go back out there. Not after this.

You peel your dress off in one motion, leaving you in the black lace set you picked out this morning—because it was your birthday. Not for anyone else. Not for a boy. Certainly not for him.

Him. 

You forget for a moment that he’s still behind you.

It’s like your brain short-circuits in his presence. Like it still confuses this boy for the lifeline he used to be. Like your heart can’t shout loud enough to warn you: this boy broke us, this boy hurt us, this boy is bad for us. All it says is: this boy is Hyuck. This boy is sweet. This boy—we love.

You only remember when you hear him inhale—sharply—and turn around. 

He’s looking at you like that again. Like he did back when he loved you, and you loved him, and he hadn’t ruined everything yet. He looks hungry, and like the only thing that might satisfy him is you. 

That thought makes you clutch the hoodie to your chest. “Turn around!”

He does. Obediently. But then: 

"So, did you wear that for me?"

His voice is so annoyingly smug it makes you roll your eyes as you reply. “No.”

But your cheeks betray you. Hot. Guilty. Flushed. Thank god his back is still to you, because if he turned around now and looked at you, he’d know. Because he knows all your tells. Always has.

And from just a simple flush, he’d know that yes, you wore this set for him. That yes, despite pretending you were over him in his Instagram comments, your traitorous heart had hoped that he might come tonight and rip the set off of you.

And just in case he caught your second tell (the tremor in your voice), you twist the knife a little more.

“I wore this set for Hyunjae, actually.”

A silence. Then the fucker starts laughing.

Not a little laugh. A full-bodied, head thrown back, belly laugh. You hate how much you’ve missed that sound, how it still makes your stomach flip. 

“Five minutes ago, I might’ve believed that, angel,” he says, turning slightly. Just enough for you to catch the outline of his grin. “And it would’ve driven me fucking crazy.”

Your heart stutters when he nods toward your chest.

“But I wasn’t talking about your underwear,” he says, eyes dipping lower. 

You follow his gaze down to the delicate gold chain resting just above the swell of your breasts. The one with the tiny heart pendant. The one with the H engraving. 

“I was talking about that necklace. The one I bought you for your sixteenth birthday,” He cocks his head. Smirking now. “Did you wear it for me?”

Your fingers fly to it instinctively. You hadn’t taken it off. Not even after finding out. You always wore it underneath your clothes, tucked away like a secret, because Yeji would have a field day if she knew you still wore his necklace.

But in the heat of the moment, stripping down to your underwear, your brain hadn’t realised that he’d see it again. 

“I thought I told you to turn around,” you snap, furious with yourself.

He lifts his hands defensively. “I am turned around.”

“I meant your head, not just your body, Hyuck.”

And so he does, again. Obediently.

You pull the hoodie on. It swallows you immediately. The sleeves dangle past your hands, the hem skims your thighs, and it smells like dust and weirdly like…the boy behind you.

“I’m decent,” you mutter.

He turns around, eyes flicking down before he smiles. Not smug, this time. Just soft and… a little sad?

“That’s mine.”

You roll your eyes, tugging at the sleeves. “No it isn’t.”

“Yes, it is. It’s massive on you. And unless you’ve got a secret stash of men’s hoodies in your closet, that one’s mine.”

You glare. “Oh yeah? And who says I don’t have a collection of men’s hoodies in my closet?”

“I do.”

 So fast. So sure.

You scoff, a single sharp laugh. “God, you think so highly of yourself.”

He crosses his arms—all tensed jaw and too-tight t-shirt—and it’s irritating, how stupidly good he looks whilst being smug.

“Yeah,” he says, deadpan. “I do. Because, despite us being broken up, you still wear my necklace.”  He nods toward your nightstand.  “You still have a photo of us beside your bed.” And then, one step closer. “And you fucking invited me here tonight.”

You lift your chin. “I invited everyone. It was a mass text.”

“Funny,” he says, a fake smile forming, “Mark didn’t get a text.”

“Aww,” you coo, mocking. “You still talk to your friends about me, Hyuck? Christ. Now I’m gonna start thinking highly of myself.”

“You should.”

For some reason, those two simple words hit you like a slap across the face. Because no.

“You don’t get to do that!” you snap at him. “You don’t get to tell me I should think highly of myself when you’re the exact reason I can’t even imagine the top anymore, Hyuck!” You laugh bitterly. “I don’t know my worth because you had me. But you wanted something else.”

And in that moment—maybe it’s your tone, or maybe it’s accountability—a flash of hurt crosses his face, that makes him wince. 

“Y/N, angel…” His voice cracks a little on your name, as he runs a hand through his hair. “Fuck! It was one mistake. You don’t understand—”

But you don’t want to hear it. You’ve already heard it.

You hold up a hand, stopping him from wasting his breath. “I don’t want to understand anything about the night you decided to fuck another girl, thank you very much, Hyuck.”

“Of course, I get that but—”

“But?”  you raise an eyebrow in disbelief. 

“Yes, but, Y/N,” he fires back. “Because I don’t know what you want from me. You say you don’t want to forgive me—and I get it. I don’t deserve your forgiveness.” He’s pacing now. “But you string me along. You comment on my posts, you let me drive you home, you still have my fucking hoodies—”

His eyes flick down to the one you’re wearing now, oversized and drooping around the neckline to show that gold chain. 

“—you wear my initials around your neck, and you asked me to come tonight—you. And now you’re mad that I’m here?”

His voice rises and you swallow—hard. Like maybe if you keep swallowing, you’ll stop the tears from climbing all the way up your throat. Because it’s all too raw. All of it. Him. You.This.

He’s unraveling in front of you. And even though you know—deep in your bones—that he doesn’t have the right to be this angry, a part of you gets it. Because this awful, splintered, aching love you have for him is confusing. It’s contradictory. It fucks with your brain so much that it doesn’t matter that you’re hurting because he’s hurting too. 

And that’s all you can focus on.

It’s like you said:  nobody gets you and Hyuck. 

“I don’t know what you want from me, angel,” he says again, quieter this time. He takes a slow step forward. Close enough to reach out and tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, like he used to.

His hand lingers.

“I don’t know what you want,” he breathes, “but if you tell me—I’ll give it to you.”

Your breath stutters. Your throat tightens.

And then, so quiet you almost miss it: “Because. I. Love. You.”

You close your eyes. You don’t want to. You don’t even mean to. But those three words wrap around you tight. 

“Don’t,” your voice cracks. “Don’t say that to me, Hyuck. Not after everything.”

When you open your eyes again, they’re full of tears. Angry ones. Bitter ones. Hopeful ones too—because you’re weak, and stupid, and still a little bit in love with a boy who shattered you.

“I mean it,” he says instantly. His hand twitches at his side—you see it. He wants to touch you. Wants to wipe your tears like he used to because he hates them. But he doesn’t know if he has permission anymore. (He does, but he doesn’t know he does.)

“I’ve always meant it.”

“Then why’d you throw it all away?” You spit the words out like poison. “Why did you ruin us for a quick fuck?”

“I don’t know,” he breathes, stepping back. “But I do know I hurt you. And I’ll hate myself for that forever. But I never stopped loving you. Not for a second.”

You laugh. But it sounds more like a sob. “You have a funny way of showing love.”

“I know.”

“You know everything,” you say, “except why you did it.”

A beat passes. Two. Three.

“You should go,” you whisper. “The party’s over. You’ve said what you needed to say. And I thought I could do this but I can’t.”

“No.”

Your eyes fly to his. He’s shaking his head, tongue in his cheek again as he sniffs.

“No,” he says again “I’m not leaving us like this.”

“I don’t want you here.”

“Liar.”

“Hyuck—”

“You want me to say it again?” he asks, voice rising just slightly. Not angry. Only desperate. “You want me to beg? Fine. I will. I’ll fucking get on my knees if that’s what it takes.”

And then, to your absolute horror, he does. 

“Hyuck, stop—”

“I’m sorry,” he chokes out. “I’m sorry for everything. For all of it. For her. For the lies. For shattering everything good we ever had. But I love you, Y/N. And I’m not sorry for that. I’ll never be sorry for that.”

You’re trying to stay angry. Trying to hold onto the rage but it’s slipping. Because you want him. You love him.

He’s still on his knees. Still looking up at you. Still pleading. You wish he’d just stand up. You wish he didn’t look so much like the boy you fell in love with instead of the man who broke you.

“Please,” he says again.“I know I don’t get to ask. But I’m asking anyway. I’m asking because I love you. I never stopped. I swear to God, I never—”

“Stop it,” you say, too fast.

It feels like your chest caves in. Because the thing about love is: it’s loud. Louder than hurt. Especially right now. You love him so much you could scream. But instead, you drop down to your knees. Right there in front of him. And before you know it, your hands are reaching for him. Stupid, traitorous things.

“Stop,” you whisper. “Please, stop.”

But he doesn’t.

Of course he doesn’t.

Because he’s Hyuck. And Hyuck never knows when to shut up.

“I know I ruined it,” he’s saying. “I know I don’t deserve a second chance. I wouldn’t forgive me either. I wouldn’t. But I can’t stop loving you. I’ve tried. God, I’ve tried so hard. I’ve kissed girls who weren’t you and I’ve gone home wanting to claw off my own skin.”

You suck in a breath.

“You don’t have to forgive me now. Or ever. Just let me prove it. Let me try. I’ll wait. I’ll wait for you for fucking ever, I swear—”

You’re kissing him. 

You have no idea why, but it just feels like you have to. Because you physically can’t not. Because the love of your life, him, is bleeding out in front of you and you’re the only one who knows how to stop it.

And when your mouth crahses into his, it tastes like heartbreak and history and every stupid, selfish thing he’s ever done. But you keep kissing him. Because just as much as it hurts—it feels like home. Like you’ve finally been returned to the place you belong. Like his lips have been waiting for yours all this time. 

He’s kissing you back just as fiercely. Like he might die if he doesn’t. And maybe he would. Maybe you would too.

You don’t know who moves first. You think it’s you, but maybe it’s him. You’re both equally desperate—lunging backward until his back knocks against the foot of your bedframe and you’re straddling his hips. 

His hands find your waist, landing heavy and possessive around you. But you don’t mind, because your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging just hard enough to make him groan into your mouth—and God, you missed that sound. Missed him like oxygen.

His mouth moves to your neck, lips skimming every slither of skin he can reach, greedily not wanting to miss a single piece of you since he’s trying to make up for all the parts he used to take for granted. And you tilt your head back, giving him that access, because you’ve never been able to deny him anything.

“Tell me you’re still mine,” he breathes against your skin, half-choked.

You should tell him no. Should tell him he doesn’t get to ask things like that—not when he gave himself away so easily. Not now when he’ll never solely be yours like you’re solely his. 

But your heart is so tired and so in love it’s ridiculous, so instead you whisper: “I never stopped being yours.”

And then he’s kissing you again—deeper, this time. Until he pulls away and his forehead presses to yours, and he pants against your lips. “Let me love you,” he begs. “Please. Let me love you right this time.”

He feels solid beneath you. It’s making your brain fuzzy. It’s making you whimper.

“Okay,” you pant, tugging harder at those soft brown strands, as your hips shift and grind down against him, making him groan lowly. 

His hands clamp tighter around your waist, dragging you down harder, closer, like he’s trying to fuse you to him. And suddenly your skin feels too tight. You’re too aware of the clothes between you—what little there is.

Because you didn’t put on pants. Just that hoodie of his over your pathetic pair of black panties—thin, useless fabric—and now your pussy is rubbing right up against the thick outline of him through his jeans, and it’s overwhelming. You can feel absolutely everything you’ve missed.

Heat blooms in your stomach and you roll your hips again. It’s so shameless. So needy. But you don’t care. Not when it’s been this long. Not when it’s his fault it’s been this long—because you never would’ve let it be anyone else.

And he meets you in it. Each grind matched with one of his own, more harsh than the last. Until his hips are moving on impulse, chasing you like a man starved. His head drops to your shoulder, and his breath stutters. 

“Fuck, angel, slow down,” he chokes, “You’re killing me.”

You press your lips to his temple, to his jaw, anywhere you can reach, and whisper, breathless, “You deserve it.”

He groans—louder this time—like he agrees.

His hands slide beneath your hoodie, fingers splayed wide, dragging up the warm skin of your back like he’s relearning it. 

“I can’t believe this is happening again,” he breathes into your neck. “You can’t be real.”

But you are. You’re right here. Straddling him. Shaking for him. Letting him touch you like he never stopped having the right to.

He kisses your collarbone. Then lower—your sternum, the tops of your breasts, the edge of lace peeking from beneath his hoodie. His hoodie. That fact alone seems to snap something inside him.

“Fuck,” he mutters, and then he’s pushing the fabric up and up and up, until it pools around your ribs and the cold air hits your bare stomach. You shiver. 

“Take it off,” he murmurs. “Please. Want to see you.”

You raise your arms, let him peel it over your head, and suddenly you’re half-naked in his lap—wearing nothing but that black set you wanted him to rip off, then didn’t, then did… and now, he is. Fingers working at the clasp, slipping the straps from your shoulders and tossing the bra aside in your room somewhere.

And then, he takes his time letting his eyes drag over you. Taking a sick pride in seeing his initial rest in the valley of your breast. 

“Jesus,” he whispers. “You’re still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

And something about that word—still—makes your stomach twist.

Your arms fold over your boobs on instinct, shielding yourself from the one person you’ve always felt safest with. Because still means there’s someone else now. Someone he’s looked at. Someone he’s touched. Someone you had to beat—and somehow did.

But you shouldn’t have had to.

He notices the shift immediately—how your arms cross, how your body goes stiff, how the room, warm just a second ago, chills.

“Hey. Hey,” he says, brows furrowing. He cups your face, thumbs brushing just beneath your eyes. “Talk to me, angel. What’s wrong? What happened?”

You’re still straddling him, half-naked, kissed raw and dizzy, and yet you feel like you’re a million miles away. You try to speak, to explain, but the words choke you. How do you tell him something he’s never known? How do you make him understand? You’ve never done this to him before—and just knowing how much it hurts—you don’t think you ever could.

“I just—” your voice cracks. “I can’t stop thinking about her.”

He flinches—just enough for you to know it landed. But he doesn’t pull away.

The thing is, he doesn’t say her name. Doesn’t even mention her. Never has. But she’s here. Right here. In this room. Your room. In the silence. In his presence.

He shakes his head like he’s trying to wipe the thought away. “No. No, don’t do that. Don’t think about her. This—” his hands cup your face tighter, gently desperate, “—this is you and me. Always you.”

Your jaw clenches, your eyes sting. “Then why wasn’t it only me?”

He swallows hard, his gaze dropping to your lips before flickering away. He doesn’t answer—of course he doesn’t. He never does. And that’s been half the war between you. He doesn’t want to tell you the why.

Instead, his hands drift from your face to your waist, pulling you in like proximity might somehow make up for his silence. Like touch could smother your insecurities. 

His breath ghosts over your skin as he leans in.“Forget her. Just for now. Right here, right now, it’s only you. Only us.”

You hate that you melt. Hate that the ache in your chest loosens its grip the second his hands coax your arms from where you’d folded them. Hate that even after everything, he still knows how to make you feel safe inside the wreckage he caused.

He’s infuriating.

“Let me show you,” he whispers. “That it’s always only been you for me.”

His hands skim up your sides, thumbs brushing delicately beneath your tits. His eyes never leave yours—not for a second—as he kneads and explores and feels your body in his palm. And then his mouth follows.

Lips warm, slightly chapped, close around your right nipple. Your breath punches out of you. You can’t help it because his tongue flicks once, then again, then again until your spine arches and pushes the bud further into his mouth.

“Hyuck,” you moan, helpless, feeling the curve of his smirk drag against your skin.

His free hand trails up your other side, rolling the neglected peak between calloused fingers so deliciously because he remembers exactly what used to make you fall apart, and now he’s hell-bent on proving he hasn’t forgotten.

“God, you’re fucking unreal,” he murmurs against your skin, then bites gently, just enough to make you gasp. 

His words make you ache. Everywhere. Especially between your legs, where you’re still pressed tight against the thick, unrelenting shape of him through his jeans. And he hasn’t even touched you there yet, but it’s coming—you know it is. 

His mouth keeps going, warm and wet whilst he stays sucking just hard enough to turn your bones to water. And whenever you whimper he groans. 

“Please, Hyuck,” you plead. “Need more.”

He lifts his head, murmuring, “Yeah? You want me to show you how much I missed you?”

You nod, dizzy. 

“Fuck,” he groans and wastes no time lifting you off the floor like it’s nothing, carrying you to your bed. He lays you down gently, spreads you out beneath him like something precious. And then he peels off his t-shirt.

That tan skin—scattered with moles you’ve memorised, counted, traced with your fingers and your mouth—is on full display, just for you.

“I’ll give you everything,” he says, voice low as he drops to his knees, crawling between your legs. “Absolutely everything. As long as you don’t regret this. Don’t regret me.”

Your fingers sink into his hair before you can think. “I won’t,” you whisper. “Couldn’t.”

And then he dips down.

His mouth finds the inside of your thigh, open-mouthed kisses dragging tantalisingly up your skin. He’s not rushing. He never does when he gives head. It’s his favourite thing to savour. You. On his tongue.

“You’ve no idea how long I’ve thought about this,” he murmurs, nipping at your skin, making you gasp. “How many times I’ve had to stop myself from texting. From begging you to take me back.”

“Who said anything about taking you back?” You say, hips shifting, dying for friction, but he pins them with strong hands, keeping you right where he wants you. 

“I did,” he says, a smirk ghosting over his lips. “Am I wrong, Y/N? Because if I am, we can stop right now?”

“No,” you whine on a trembling breath.

He smiles. “I didn’t think so.”

Then, finally, finally—his mouth finds the place you need him most.

He licks a slow stripe up your center, groaning from the taste of you in his mouth. He does it again, and then again, until your legs are trembling and one of your hands fists the sheets, the other tangled in his hair, pulling and tugging at it, just how he likes. Just how you like.

He flicks his tongue, circles it, moans when you cry out for more.

“God, you taste the same,” he says hoarsely. “Still fucking perfect.”

You try to respond, to say something, but then he sucks again, so hard, you almost shoot clean off the bed.

“Hyuck—please,” it’s half a sob, a half moan, one hundered percent completley ruined.

He growls, arms locking around your thighs to keep you still, mouth relentless as he licks and sucks and worships like this is his penance.

“Shit, Y/N,” he mutters between licks, “I missed how fucking responsive you are. Always so good for me.”

You whimper. “Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”

“Not gonna,” he promises. “Not until you fall apart for me. Right here. Right now.”

He hums, the vibration making your stomach flutter, and you swear your heart forgets how to beat.

“Let me make you come,” he says, voice completely ruined now too. “Wanna feel you fall apart on my mouth. Please.”

And you do. You let him. Because you want this. Want him. Still. Always.

Your entire body coils, legs shaking, hands clawing at the sheets as your orgasm crashes through you. It’s shattering, making you cry out, his name falling from your lips repeatedly. 

Hyuck doesn’t stop. Not until your body finally slumps back to the mattress, boneless and trembling. Only then does he lift his head, lips wet and shiny. He crawls up your body, kissing your thigh, your stomach, the underside of your boobs, your jaw. Everywhere. Until he’s hovering over you, and you’re staring up at him, glassy-eyed and overwhelmed.

“You okay?” he whispers, brushing hair gently back from your face.

You nod, breath catching. “Yeah. I just... I can’t believe you’re here.”

“I never really left,” he says. “Even though I know I should have. I’m too damn selfish.”

Your throat tightens. You reach up, tracing his jaw with shaking fingers. “I want you to fuck me, Hyuck.”

He blinks, then his eyes darken. “You’re sure?”

You pull him down until your foreheads press again and then whisper a soft, “Yes.”

Then he kisses you. Slowly. Passionately in a way you know this about to be more than just fucking. It feels like the before. The soft. His hands coming up to your face, thumbs brushing your cheekbones. Everything so tender and full of love. 

And somewhere between the kiss and the forgetting, his pants are off. His boxers too. He’s about to fuck you completely raw—like he used to—and for a moment, your body almost lets him. Because it remembers. The blind trust. 

But this isn’t then. And that’s why you reach out, fingers curling gently around his forearm. Stopping him.

“Condom,” you whisper, cheeks flushing as you glance toward the nightstand.

Because it shouldn’t have to be like this. Back then, you were on the pill. You were his. He was yours. There was no one else. But now? Now you’ve had to share him—with her. Maybe with others too. 

He freezes. And for a second, you swear he looks gutted. But then he nods.

Wordlessly, he reaches into your nightstand, gets one open and rolls it on his cock. He doesn’t protest. He never would. Because it’s not the condom that guts him—it’s what it means. It’s that reminder that everything’s different now. And why. A barrier he put there himself because he was reckless, drunk, stupid and ungrateful. A consequence he crafted with his own hands.

But he doesn’t let that thought linger too long. The past is the past—he hates thinking about it. It’s what wrecked him. What wrecked this. What wrecked you.

Now, all he wants is the present. Not even the future. Just this. Just you. Because you’re here. Beneath him. Asking him to fuck you. You’re his—if only for now. And that’s enough.

He slides back over you. And for a second—just one—you both just… look.

You’re looking at him like maybe this could fix it. He’s looking at you like he knows it won’t. Sex doesn’t fix anything. It’s what broke you two in the first place if you really think about it . But he’s still doing it. And so are you.

He pushes inside of you slowly and your breath stutters, nails digging crescent moons into his biceps.

“Fucking hell,” he groans, voice tight and thick. “You feel like—”

“Home,” you whisper, beating him to it.

Because you do. And he does. And it’s pathetic. And perfect. And completely going to destroy you in the morning.

His forehead drops to yours and he lets out a shaky breath, like the kind that comes right before someone starts to cry. But he doesn’t cry—he moves. Gently. Tenderly. 

You cling to him, every nerve alight, oversensitive in that desperate, raw way that makes you breathless beneath him—letting him kiss you through it, through the pain, through the slow, aching stretch of him inside you. 

And in between those kisses and the thrusts and the way your fingers tangle in his hair again, he whispers:

“Missed you.”

“God, I missed you.”

“I’ll never stop being sorry.”

He fucks you like he’s trying to put you back together with every snap of his hips. And maybe he is.

So you let him.

You let him fuck you until you’re both a mess of moans and apologies and, fractured I love yous. Until you’re panting in time with each other. Until you’re cumming—together.

After, it’s quiet.

Not awkward or bitter or biting, but comfortable. You’re tangled in each other, limbs overlapping, as Hyuck brushes his nose against your temple. Eventually, he slips out of you, careful to not hurt you, but you flinch at the loss. He presses a kiss to your forehead, one to each cheek, and then he’s moving—disposing of the condom, finding his way back to your side. 

“Let’s shower,” he murmurs, thumb storoking your jaw. “Let me take care of you first. And after… we’ll talk, yeah?”

You don’t say anything—because you can’t. Your throat is raw from all the moaning and the whimpering. And also because you’re scared of the talking. Terrified, really. Of the hurting that’ll come with addressing it. 

So instead, you swallow and say softly, “I’ll be a minute. Just... need a sec before I move.”

He pauses, like he’s checking you over again, brows pinching. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

Not in the way he means.

“No,” you whisper. “Just… been out of the game for a while.”

He pauses but doesn’t argue. Just leans in and presses the gentlest kiss to your cheek. 

“Okay,” he murmurs, brushing a damp strand of hair behind your ear. “I’ll start the shower.”

He slips out quietly, to the bathroom attached to your room. You hear the soft creak of the cabinets. He still remembers where everything is. 

And then—of course—his phone buzzes.

You glance over. You don’t mean to look. You really, really don’t. You know you shouldn’t if you wanna rebuild trust and whatever. It’s just…It’s on the floor, fallen from his jeans with the screen lighting up. 

It was taunting you. 

And anyway, he’s the one that broke your trust first. He’s the one that made you so paranoid. He’s the one who made you like this. 

Yeji

if i find out you went to that party tonight, hyuck, and didn’t tell her the truth, i will.

Your stomach drops straight through the mattress.

Another buzz.

Yeji

i’m serious. how long are you gonna keep it from her that it was lia you cheated on her with?

you’re ruining our friendship!

And suddenly you’re not warm anymore.

Suddenly you’re freezing. And hollow. And very, very awake and out of the afterglow sex haze. 

You can’t breathe.

You feel sick. 

Are you sick? Are you dying? Are you about to have a fucking panic attack?

Because it feels like something has clawed its way into your chest and is now eating you alive from the inside out.

Lia?

It all makes sense. It all echoes.

“That sweet boy we both used to love.”

“He’s not yours anymore.”

The door creaks again. Hyuck walks back in, towel slung low on his hips. Completely clueless. 

“You okay?” he asks, soft and smiling. “Shower’s warm.”

You don’t answer because your heart is hammering against your ribs and because you physically, viscerally, cannot breathe.

His smile falters, just a touch.

And then you say it.

One word. One name.

“Lia?”

You’re not even sure if you want to scream at him, or sob, or laugh—because how dare he. How dare he touch you like that, kiss you like that, look at you like that, when he knew—he fucking knew—he’d fucked your best friend and said nothing.

The same best friend who held you while you cried over him for a year. Who told you it wasn’t your fault. Who had her arms wrapped around you less than an hour ago trying to comfort you about him. 

You hold out his phone, pointing to the screen. “You fucked my best friend, Hyuck?”

He freezes. He lifts an arm reaching out towards you or towards his phone, you can’t tell. Probably the phone to see how much you know so he can spin it. Twist it. Try to manipulate this—manipulate you—again.

“Angel—”

“My name is Y/N.”

The words are a blade. His hand drops.

“Y/N,” he breathes, swallowing thickly, “it’s not what it looks like—”

But it is. You both know it. 

“Yeji seems to think it’s exactly what it sounds like.”

And then it hits you. All over again. Yeji knew. Your other best friend. She knew. 

Did everyone know? Everyone you loved? Everyone you trusted? Everyone you thought was safe? 

And suddenly your knees give out. You drop to the floor, spine hitting the edge of the bed on the way down, but you don’t even register the pain. You’re already somewhere else, hands trembling, vision blurry, gasping like there’s no oxygen. 

That fucking necklace around your neck—the one he gave you, the one you swore you'd never take off—isn’t fucking helping. So you rip it off. The chain snapping in your fist and you throw it. It lands at his feet. 

It’s the first time you’ve taken it off since you were sixteen.

“Y/N—”

Hyuck’s voice sounds panicked now. Hurting. He kneels in front of you, eyes wide, reaching for you—

“Don’t you dare touch me!”

You flinch so hard you nearly hit the nightstand. You can’t stand the idea of him touching you now, even though you know there isn’t a part of you he hasn’t touched.

He freezes. Arm stopping in the air. His face furrowed. And you know that face. The face from the night, the one carved from guilt and horror and regret—but it’s too late.

It’s so late.

You’re sobbing now. And it’s ugly—gasping and choking and curling up on the floor. 

“I—I didn’t mean for it to happen like that,” he whispers. “I never wanted to hurt you—”

You laugh. Actually laugh.

“You didn’t want to hurt me?” You shake your head, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, spit and snot and mascara streaking your face.  “Hyuck, you fucked my best friend. And then you came here, tonight, and touched me like…like I was still yours.”

“You are—”

“No. No, I’m not!” You snap. “I don’t even know who I am right now. But I definitely am not—and never will be—yours again.”

“Please, Y/N,” he whispers. “Let me explain. It wasn’t—”

“You’ve had time to explain.” Your voice trembles, but the words are steel. “I gave you so much of myself. So much trust. So much love.” You swallow hard. “But it wasn’t enough, was it? You needed to fuck my best friend. And keep it from me. And somehow rope the other one into it too, so now—”

Your voice cracks.

“So now I can’t trust anyone.”

He opens his mouth, maybe to argue, maybe to lie, maybe to beg. But then he doesn’t. He doesn’t say a word. He just looks at you, regret written in every line of his stupid, beautiful face.

He doesn’t deny it. And that’s the last straw. You fold in on yourself. Arms wrapping tight around your knees as you bury your head and whisper: “I need you to leave.”

He doesn’t move.

You look up—eyes glassy, voice so quiet and weak.

“Get out, Hyuck. Now, please”

And this time, he listens. And you’re glad he listens. Because this time it feels different. This was it. The final fracture. Whatever you had with him? It’s dead now. You just wish you hadn’t kept it on life support for so long—wish you hadn’t clung so tightly to something already bleeding. 

That thousandth cut finally bled dry.

[cheriladycl01]

And … by Uber, I mean texting my boyfriend Franco - Franco Colapinto x Reader

Plot: In which you always seem to use your boyfriend as a convenient Uber and the media start to pick up on it!

You were being interviewed by the media while you were stood in the paddock waiting for your boyfriend to come out of his motorhome.

“Ah there’s Franco Colapinto’s girlfriend, Y/N Y/L/N. I’ve never spoken to her before but rumours around the paddock say she’s just as funny as her partner and she’s very sweet. Let’s go haggle her” Martin says into the camera that’s following him through his Grid Walk

“Y/N! Y/N hi hello, Martin Brundle from Sky Sports! Can we chat?” He asks you, your head whipping round at the sound of your name.

“Oh hi! How are you today?” You smile kindly as you reach out to shake his hand.

“I’m good, I’m good! Glad I’ve bumped into you!” He smiles and you nod.

"So Y/N how have you found the paddock!" Martin asks, moving the microphone a little closer to you.

“It’s really welcoming! Everyone here has been so kind to me, and I’ve made tons of new friends with Lily last year when Franco was in Williams and Kika this year! But I’ve also spoken to Oscar’s Lily, Alexandra and a few of the other girls and their all really sweet, it’s nice to have people other than Franco” you explain and he nods a smile on his face.

“Ah that’s brilliant, that’s something we love here. All about family and keeping those close connections right?” He asks and you again nod.

“Mmmm, yes I’ve become very close to Kika! We’re going shopping together after qualifying tomorrow!” You exclaim happily, you’d become incredibly close to Kika. You pretty much hung out with her all the time now.

Originally, you’d been very shy when Franco underwent his first year in F1. He was the hotshot new rookie who came in to replace Logan and he ended up being phenomenal. Which led to him getting pretty popular VERY quickly. Which frightened you as it meant you’d be more in the limelight.

You’d remained towards the back, silently cheering him on whenever you were able to attend a race and kept off camera.

However now that he’d gotten a seat in Alpine, he was begging for you to appear so … in his words he didn’t seem like ‘a lonely flirty man whose desperate for attention’ you’d of course joked back and said take out the lonely and that’s a pretty accurate description of him.

“So we’re happy you’ve settled into paddock life so quickly, but let’s move onto the racing questions?” Martin asks and you nod your head. You actually knew a pretty decent amount about your boyfriend’s sport and once he introduced you to it and his world you became increasingly interested in not just the sport but the engineering behind it.

"So obviously you were here last year when Franco stepped in for Williams, how was that knowing that those last few races for him, could be his last time ever in formula one?" Martin asks and your smile remains despite the question.

"Franco and i have dated for a while now and been friends for even longer. So i've always known he'd make it. Last year was stepping stones and i think everyone could see how promising he was with the way he was pulling points from that Williams and now that he's taken on this role in Alpine i can see him being a stellar driver for years to come!" you explain Martin seeming happy with your answer.

"Well that will mean we get to see much more of you which im sure everyone in the paddock will be incredibly happy about!"

"Yeah, I wasn't into racing at all before i met Franco at school and thats when he asked me to go to one of his races in the lower catergorys. I swore i was going to be so bored but the thrill was insane, looking out for Franco on track became my new fravrioute thing... and it still is!" you grin and Martin laughs, the imagine of a younger you cheering on for Franco now planted in his mind.

"Anyway I'm so sorry Martin but i have to go I gotta go get my Uber. And by Uber ... I mean my boyfriend Franco" you joke and he looks at you in mock shock.

"You don't drive?" he asks and you look down a little embarrased.

"I do, but im not the best. Franco's terrified whenever I'm behind the wheel. He actually refuses me to drive now!" you admit shyly and Martin just laughs.

"And Franco, he doesn't try and teach you?" he asks in shock and you nod.

"He's tried but i genuinely think I'm unteachable. I have no clue how i passed my test, so a passenger princess i will remain" you sing the last note making a crown motion over your head.

"Ah and here he is now Franco Colapinto the Uber!" Martin says before you boyfriend comes up to the both of you.

"Are you okay?" he asks you concerned knowing you get a little camera shy and don't really like being incredibly public.

"Mmmmm yeah" you smile kissing the side of his face before taking a hold of his hand.

“I’m an uber?” He asks with a laugh raising an eyebrow at the interviewer.

“According to Y/N you’re her personal taxi driver” Martin intervenes.

“Oh! Yes! You didn’t know? My day job is a chauffeur for this lovely lady” he says pulling you in for a hug, laughing at you.

“Ah well it was lovely talking to you both, but I think times up as you guys have some Alpine members running to come get you! I think maybe you’re needed Franco. Lovely to see you both!” Martin says before continuing on his grid walk.

“An uber seriously?” He asks holding you at arms length as he looks over you.

“WHAT! Come on I was having fun!” You laugh hitting his shoulder before he wraps and arm around you, walking to meet his team that have been looking for him.

“You’re a menace!”

Taglist:

@littlebitchsposts @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @daemyratwst @lauralarsen @the-untamed-soul @thewulf @itsjustkhaos @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @summissss @gulphulp @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhhhh @georgeparisole @youcannotcancelquidditch @tallbrownhairsarcastic @ourteenagetragedy @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @dark-night-sky-99 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @laneyspaulding19 @malynn @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @yourbane @teamnovalak @nikfigueiredo @fionaschicken @0picels0 @tinydeskwriter @ironmaiden1313 @splaterparty0-0 @formula1mount

[viperify]

Congrats on 1k im so happy for you girly ❤️

Can you do brother's bestfriend with "look me in the eye when you lie like that" and "don't stop. Don't you dare stop"?? With smut if alright.

I fucking love your works and the way you write tom? Ugh so good 🤌🏽😩🛐

1k celebration | ᴛᴏᴍ ʀɪᴅᴅʟᴇ x ᴍᴀʟꜰᴏʏ ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

₊˚⊹ Home Alone.

Short Summary: He is your brother’s best friend. And, ironically, also the only person who seems to care about you—taking care of you when your parents aren’t home.

Warnings: 18+ only! dubious consent. manipulative and toxic!Tom, naive!reader, deepthroating, rough oral m!receiving

A/N: Thank you for your kind words and for requesting, baby!!! I am so glad you’ve been enjoying my works! :33 I love you so much <333 And ahhhh I have been so so lazy with my requests, I am so sorry. It’s so hard for me to write atm. And I have my graduation tomorrow + I gotta start packing for my vacation. I love you, thanks for being patient🥺

wordcount: 1,6k

in this fic, you will find HINT NR #8 AND #9

“It’s a mistake, Tom. Us, I mean.” You mutter as he stands right before you, arms crossed. You don’t even dare look up at him, trying to get it over with as quickly as you can. “We can’t go on like this. If anyone finds out—“

He cuts your sentence short by grabbing your chin, tilting your head up so you are forced to meet his gaze. His expression is closed, jaw tense—air around you thick with tension. Tom waits just a moment before he speaks—letting it linger—the control he has over you even without words.

“You certainly did not sound unhappy just yesterday when you were screaming my name in your parents’ bed, did you, doll?”

Heat flushes your cheeks, and you avert your eyes at the memory.

—

It shouldn’t have happened—him and you, in your parents’ bedroom. But when his hands slipped under the hem of your dress, eager lips hastily trailing kisses down your neck—your brain short-circuited, and the nearest bedroom had to do.

Which—unfortunately—happened to be your parents’.

You weren’t even supposed to be home alone. But being Abraxas’ younger sister meant sitting out on family travels more often than you would have liked. You’ve always been in his shadow—and your parents don’t care quite enough to make it any better.

An unexpected event led them to leave for the weekend—and you were instructed to stay home and study. Or do whatever—in the end, they have never really cared. 

Mostly, that is. 

Your Potions grades haven’t been great as of late. Even failed one or two exams—and oh, what a shame that was on the Malfoy name. You didn’t get to hear the end of it for weeks.

So, instead of leaving you to yourself, they informed you that “one of Abraxas’ friends” would visit to tutor you while they were gone.

One of Abraxas’ friends. Just for one day.

While it was abundantly clear who they were talking about, you hoped it wouldn’t be him—Tom. 

Memories resurfaced—memories of the countless shared nights in the library when he spared you ten minutes of his time during prefect duties, the prefect’s bathroom he unlocked just for you, but always insisted on joining you…

Luck has never been on your side.

Also not now.

He didn’t leave after the first day. Not after the second either. It’s Sunday evening now, and he is still here. And you can’t help but grow more and more nervous at the thought of your parents seeing you together.

—

“Hm? Cat got your tongue?” He drawls, thumb caressing along the soft line of your jaw. “Tell me then. That I mean nothing to you.”

Tom knows exactly what he is doing—that you would never want to disappoint nor leave him. He’s got you wrapped around his finger. Abraxas’ little sister, naive enough to do anything and everything he wanted. Being your parents’ second choice, it was easy enough for him to make you feel wanted and special—even if he merely gave you an ounce of attention.

You attempt to swallow the knot that has formed in your throat. “I— It’s not right, Tom. I don’t think we should continue seeing each other… like this.”

He scoffs at your vague attempt to talk yourself out of the situation, squeezing your cheeks tighter. "Look me in the eyes when you lie like that."

You do look up to meet his eyes—and stumble over your words when you try to speak again. They feel as though they burn your skin as he stares down at you. A reminder.

You don’t repeat it. Because deep down you know he is right—that it’s a lie.

After all, Tom is the first person to care for you. Make you feel wanted—

“Thought so,” he murmurs, letting go of your face, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “You don’t want to disappoint me, do you? Make me angry? That’s not necessary, right?”

You shake your head no, immediately regretting bringing it up in the first place.

“How— how can I make it up to you?”

A grin tugs at the corner of his lips as he leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips, breath ghosting over your cheek, voice dropping to a whisper. “Be a good girl for me and kneel, will you?”

Your eyes widen at his words, expression twisting into one of uncertainty.

“But— they are going to be back any minute, I—“ you try, stumbling over your words as his gaze sharpens, eyes darkening as they bore into yours.

“Don’t you appreciate what I have done for you?” He asks quietly, tone strict—not how he usually talks to you—rather how he talks to Abraxas and the others. “Came here to help you study. Comforted you. Made you feel good. Don’t you think it’s time to return the favour?”

“I do, Tom— I just—“

He is the first to appreciate you for who you are.

He makes you feel wanted.

Loved.

Cared for.

“Get on your knees. Now. I don’t want to hear another word.”

So you do.

Your skin scrapes against the rough wooden planks as you drop to your knees in front of him, your hands already fumbling with his belt, undressing him in a hurry.

And Tom enjoys every second of it.

The way your fingers shake slightly as you free his cock, already half hard when you wrap your hand around his base, stroking him up and down a few times.

“Go on, open your mouth for me, sweetheart.” He instructs, hand cupping your cheek after tapping it gently. You obey, parting your lips and wrapping them around his length, swirling your tongue around the flushed and sensitive head, tasting the saltiness of his precum on your tongue. He groans lowly as you do, fingers tangling in your hair.

One of your hands rests on his thigh, the other wrapped around what you can’t take—but Tom isn’t satisfied, slipping his cock from your mouth, a string of spit connecting to his tip as your eyes meet his.

“You have taken more than that. Come on, darling. Don’t want to disappoint me now, do you?”

Before you even get to answer no, he thrusts back inside, heavy on your tongue—waiting. You try to take more, take him deeper—but barely half way inside, you gag around him and pull back with a whine.

He sighs, both hands now fisting your hair. “Dumb little girl. Open wide and let me do it.”

He pushes past your lips with practised ease. Slips deeper—inch by inch—until your nose is flush with his abdomen. You splutter around him, nails digging into his thighs—but he doesn’t let go until a few seconds later.

Tom guides your head, slow at first, yet firm. Pushing deeper until your throat constricts, tightening around him. He doesn’t let you adjust to his pace—never.

“That’s my good girl. Look at yourself taking me so well.” He praises, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes as he hits the back of your throat with every single thrust. 

It’s degrading, it’s addictive—the way his hands guide your head, using your mouth for his pleasure, deriving pleasure from your submission.

But it’s all worth it when you feel him getting closer—your name slipping past his lips in a silent prayer—telling you how good you are to him, how pretty you look stuffed with his cock.

You don’t want to stop, not now. Lips puffy, throat sore—yet, you are determined to make him feel good. Just like he did.

But just when he is about to cum—footsteps.

You pull back as far as you can, shaking your head—voice a whisper. “They are home. We should—“

“Don’t stop. Don’t you dare stop.” Tom hisses, taking a step forward. His fingers tighten in your hair—almost painfully so as he pushes back inside your warm mouth, instantly hitting the back of your throat, gagging sounds filling your bedroom. Your complaints are muffled by his thrusts, hips stuttering as his breathing grows ragged—and the next moment, with a few more thrusts, he spills down your throat. Only pulling out when he feels you swallow around him—lips curled into a smirk.

He lets you catch your breath, wiping a single tear from your cheek. “That’s how I want you. Nice and obedient, hm?”

You nod, looking up at him with glassy eyes—and he scoffs when he sees what he’s made of you in mere minutes.

“Filthy girl,” Tom purrs, thumb swiping over the mess on your chin, pushing the mixture of your saliva and his arousal back past your lips. “Clean yourself up, hm? I will buy you some time.”

And a few minutes later, when you go downstairs to greet your parents—he is still there. His mask is back up—acting as though nothing has happened.

“Your daughter was in desperate need of more lessons, so I decided to pay another visit. I am sure you don’t mind.”

That’s what he tells them.

You nod in silent agreement, eyes fixed on the marble tiles beneath you.

That’s all they need to hear before averting their attention.

What you do catch—the slight smirk tugging on Tom’s lips.

Taking in your expression from across the room—quiet and obedient. Hair dishevelled, lips still swollen.

Just how he likes you.

thank you for reading! feel free to reblog and leave feedback <3 — masterlist. | 1k celebration. <- event masterlist.

©2025 viperify. please do not copy, translate or claim my work as your own.

[moonlit-imagines]

Headcanons for being the Justice League’s computer intelligence

Justice League x reader

warnings:

a/n: THANKS BABE. this is such an old request i am so freaking sorry

prompt: anonymous: “Hello! I would like to request a Justice League (DC Extended Universe) + Reader who is sort of their 'Person in the Chair' - helping behind the scenes to keep their weapons/powers/skillset in tact, but is not afraid to fight back if necessary? I would like these to be a set of headcanons, please? Thank you and Happy Writing! P.S. You're writing is incredible!”

you and alfred got along well

“glad i’m not the only one doing the grunt work anymore” -alfred

“and i was under the impression you loved this job” -you, sarcastically

you could frequently be found switching between important sites that actually helped during missions and reddit

“alfred hang on i want your opinion on this: ‘am i the asshole for trying on my bosses suit? i (25m) work with some pretty famous people and my boss (45m) has a really cool suit. it’s a little stiff but i think i like it. anyways, there’s a matching hat (if you will) and it smells AWFUL, so i sprayed it with febreeze but it only made it worse—’” -you

“hang on. this cant be…” -alfred

“HOW DID YOU FIND MY REDDIT ACCOUNT?!” -barry, over comms

“your name is scarletspeedster, and we’ve been trying to wash that febreeze smell from the cowl for weeks.” -you

“my god, barry. next time, just use an old suit” -alfred

“really?!” -barry

“no” -you and alfred

you do a lot of gadget/weapon design with JL members

“it’s acceptable” -bruce

“wow, thanks” -you

“it’s…it’s good work. i mean it” -bruce

diana sits with you and tells you stories, sometimes theyre very informational

“so if you ever do end up fighting, you’re going to want to craft a very nice sword for yourself. i know you’re good at that, you’ll do just fine” -diana

barry nerds out with you sometimes

he gets real excited when he sees you designing stuff on the computer

and tries to be helpful

“wind resistance might be a problem with this design, you should go sleeker” -barry

“hey, barry? if you don’t let me do my job im gonna design a tool specifically to shut you up” -you

“harsh!” -barry

“sorry, maybe a little too far. but let me work” -you

arthur wanted cooler clothes

“can i get you some material from atlantis so you can make me a nicer suit?” -arthur

“only if you bring me extra so i can have fun with it” -you

“not a problem for the king, its a deal” -arthur

clark didn’t really need/want much

but he was a great help when testing new weapons and suits

“can you just…laser vision that target right ahead. new suit material” -you

“yeah, stand back” -clark

it held for a good 20 seconds

“better than i thought” -you

you were their eyes in the sky on missions

directions, lookout, enemies, obstacles, detours, you name it

and yeah, maybe victor could also do a great deal of this stuff, but you got to do it behind the scenes and you actually got paid pretty well for it

but occasionally you did ask him for tech support

“victor, the batcomputer froze” -you

“i know, i did that on purpose” -vic

“can you unfreeze it so i can see what’s going on?” -you

“what’s the password?” -vic

*sigh* “ilovevicstone123” -you

diana let you spar with her sometimes

which honestly scared you every time bc you know she could kill you if she wanted to (but you knew she would never)

(but she could)

you’d never be apart of the justice league, which was very okay with you because you loved being behind the scenes and not being shot at

and so long and you had tea with alfred while the rest of them were kicking ass, you’d manage

taglist: @locke-writes // @captainshazamerica // @summersimmerus // @deanzboyfriend // @zoeyserpentluck // @mr-mxyzptlk-1940 //

[invoncible]

could you post more of popstar!girly!reader? honestly really love the concept, would love to see that fic you mentioned you have in your drafts 👀

popstar! girly! reader sneaking MARK GRAYSON into her music video ✧˚.

— hiii anon ! im so glad a lot of people love the concept because i've been having brainrot about it for so long. also !! that fic is at 11k words so far 💀 idk if you guys wanna read all that LMAO here's another scenario for the time being <3

i'd like to think when you start dating, mark understands the need to keep public and private life separate. he gets it better than anybody, which is what makes your unconventional relationship work out as well as it does.

that's not to say he doesn't get a little selfish sometimes.

when he's scrolling on tiktok or the reddit page dedicated to you and sees all these people thirsting over you... he feels some kind of way.

people calling themselves your wife, husband, partner, whatever—mark was happy for your success but there was a part of him that wanted to scream from the rooftops that he was yours, not them.

so when you proposed that he feature in your music video, he was overjoyed.

"i was thinking..." you hummed, manicured nails tapping away at your phone screen as you texted your manager. "did you wanna be in my new video? we want to include a boyfriend part and well... you're the only one qualified for that."

mark sat up sharply with an immediate, "yes." he accepted it solemnly, like he was accepting a world-changing quest.

you brightened, glossy lips spreading into a big smile. "really? all you'd have to do is flex and pose and be hot."

he grinned and leaned over to kiss your cheek, pulling you into his arms. "so a regular day, then?"

your crew loved mark. they loved how dorky he was, carrying comics to pass the time while you got ready in your outfits and makeup.

little did he know he had an appointment with hair and makeup himself.

"you can pull out if you want to, you know." you said as you fixed your hair in the huge led-light mirror.

mark was fidgeting beside you, turning left and right and assessing his reflection with a critical eye.

"and have you run around with someone else?" he frowned, a slight pout tugging on his lips as he ran a hand through his hair. "how can you even look in this thing without getting blinded?"

you giggled and dimmed the mirror lights to something he could handle.

"it was either you or no one. i just want to make sure you're comfortable." you said slowly, patiently, walking up beside him and tugging his restless hands away from his face. "this is kind of like a soft launch, you know?"

it'd be a hard launch if he had anything to say about it.

at first, he was a little stiff. it wasn't everyday he had to stand shirtless on a set with cameras aimed right at him.

when you started dancing with him, he acted like he hadn't seen you naked before. hands balled into fists at his sides, a tight lipped smile, the sweat pouring down his forehead...

the filming process might have taken a few more days than intended, but it was worth allowing mark to grow comfortable with the set and the crew. he put his all into his screen time.

fast forward to the release day, the internet was buzzing. you had guys in your music videos before, but they always met horrible ends.

so when you were spinning in some random guy's arms—not even a known model or celebrity—they were thoroughly confused.

it looked like a home video more than anything else. they could tell you two had insane chemistry.

the edits of you two together came first; then, the edits of the mysterious backup guy exploded on the internet. you were eating good for once, having a wealth of edits of your boyfriend at your disposal.

he found you giggling and kicking your feet. "what's got you in such a good mood?"

you just bit your lip, barely containing your smile as you held up your phone. an edit, albeit of low quality, of him smiling down at you in the low light of the scene, shots of his muscular back and arms and oh, you just had to save it and the 100s of others just like it.

he felt his face heat up as he watched it, looking away bashfully. "did... people like it?"

"they loved it." you hummed, pulling him down to bed and kissing his cheek. "and so did i."

he hummed, the sliver of praise making his chest puff up proudly.

"look, they've dubbed you 'boyfriend.'" you giggled, scrolling through fan comments. who is this man?? / that backup boyfriend guy kinda fine tho?? / look at how boyfriend looks at her awww! / boyfriend can't take us all at once. / boyfriend can't handle all that. / can boyfriend fight?

he smirked to himself as he absorbed the playful outrage of your fanbase. they could complain all they wanted, but he can handle all that and yes, he can fight.

© invoncible

[norrisainz33]

home for the holidays || ls18

☆ summary: lance and his partner start a new chapter now that the season is over and take their relationship to the next level

☆ pairing: lance stroll x nonfamous!reader

☆ fc & warnings: none

☆ requested: nope! just a short one bc i don’t see enough lance fics so wanted to write one!!

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

ynuser has made a post

liked by lance_stroll, landonorris, carmenmundt, yourbff, fernandoalo_official and 128,134 others

ynuser: and just like that - the 2024 season has come to an end. this was a tough one but no matter what i am proud of the team and proud of lance. see all you beautiful people again in march 🤍

view all 324 comments

astonmartinf1: see you soon y/n/n! we love you ❤️

ynuser: 🤍 you more admin

user1: you are so real for posting the vegas pics of lance

lance_stroll: i love you 😘

ynuser: and i love you 🥹

user4: mama y papa

user2: i’m going to miss this silly season and seeing you practically every weekend smh

francisca.cgomes: see you sooner than march please😭

ynuser: you know i can’t go more than a couple weeks without you 😔

user44: can lance fight?

scottyjames1: no

user44: SCREMING

ynuser has posted to their story

view all story replies

user1: most canadian thing i’ve ever seen

lance_stroll: missed this and missed you darling

ynuser: i missed you more lance. i’m overjoyed to be back 🤍

yourbff: i’m so glad you and lancey are finally home

ynuser: me too! this season was a long one 😩

yourbff: you both are stronger than i

ynuser: i’m not sure how we made it honestly! but it’s time for new beginnings and rest 🫶🏻

user2: time for some much deserved relaxation

user6: just saw the f1 secret santa and can’t stop thinking about how good of gift giver lance is and how he probably got you the best gifts ever

fernandoalo_official: happy holidays mi amiga

ynuser: gracias nando! i hope you have the best break with all of those you love most 🤍

user3: i hope you have the best break y/n

ynuser has posted to their story

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yourbff: i can’t wait to visit you in your new home!!!

ynuser: i can’t wait for you to visit!! one of the spare bedrooms has your name on it bestie

user11: ahhh congrats y/n!!!

carmenmundt: congrats on your and lances new home!! looking forward to visiting 😘

ynuser: thank you carmen! i miss you sm already. please come visit soon 🤍

user14: so so happy for you and lance. end game fr

lance_stroll: remind me why i thought moving right after the season ended was a good idea

ynuser: you said, and i quote, “i want to be home for the holidays and host all the people i love in our home.”

lance_stroll: well when you put it like that….

cholestroll: yayyayayay!!!!! can’t wait to see it in a few days

ynuser: can’t wait to see you and scotty and the lovely little bug soon. it’s been too long

astonmartinf1: cheers to new beginnings ✨

lance_stroll posted to his story

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chloestroll: the tree is so cuteeeeee oh i love it

lance_stroll: it is ! y/n is very excited for the holidays

chloestroll: as she should be!! do you have everything set?

lance_stroll: everything should be set up according to plan! im beyond nervous though

chloestroll: don’t be!! it’s going to alllll be ok

user3: y/n is so cute

scottyjames31: glad she’s getting you into the holiday spirit

lance_stroll: between y/n and chloe there’s more than enough holiday spirit! we’ve got hanukah and christmas covered over here

user4: pookie christmas lets goooo

ynuser: i am having the most fun decorating our new house 🫶🏻

lance_stroll: me too my love. building this life with you is everything i could ask for and more ❤️

user5: i’m glad you’re getting the time to relax lancey. you deserve it after this season

lance_stroll has posted to his story

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user2: holy crap this is beautiful?????? and she managed this right after you two moved in???? get this girl an award

fernandoalo_official: looks beautiful! can’t wait to hear about how your evening goes

lance_stroll: you’ll be one of the first to know ❤️

user6: this called me broke in about 800 different languages

pierregasly: WOW! can i hire y/n to decorate my house?

lance_stroll: for a hefty price 😉

user9: you better marry this girl i s2g

ynuser: thank you 🥹 🤍😘🎄

lance_stroll: no thank YOU gorgeous! i am so thankful to have you help me host the holidays ❤️

ynuser: 😭 i love being a part of your family lance

lance_stroll: we all love you so very much ❤️

ynuser: you’re going to make me cry 🥹

chloestroll: eeeeek!!!!!! today is THE day 🤍🤍🤍🤍

lance_stroll: she doesn’t suspect a thing 😍

user12: her outfit is everything ??? literal angel

ynuser has made a post

liked by lance_stroll, iamrebeccad, fernandoalo_official, yourbff, scottyjames1, and 326,137 others

ynuser: tonight may have been the best night of my life. wishing you the happiest of holidays from the future mr and mrs stroll ❤️

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user18: this is so important to me you have no idea

chloestroll: welcome to the family sis 😘

ynuser: sis 😭 oh i love you chloe

georgerussell63: 🥹 congrats! you two make the perfect couple

ynuser: thank you georgie ❤️

fernandoalo_official: felicidades mis amigos

ynuser: gracias por todo nando 🫶🏻

user32: my mom and dad are getting married im overjoyed

lance_stroll: i can’t wait to make you my wife

ynuser: and i can’t wait for you to be my husband 😘

user23: you look so good in white

astonmartinf1: best news we’ve seen all day

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

a/n: thanks for reading!! likes and reblogs appreciated.

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

disclaimer: pictures are not mine and everything i write is fiction

© norrisainz33 || please do not rewrite, translate, or copy any of my works posted here on to any other platform

[rafeandonlyrafe]

gone wrong

words: 500

warnings: established relationship, pranks, brief yelling, death threat but in an unserious way

you skip happily towards the truck waiting at the end of your driveway. 

you hurry to open the door, letting out a small squeal when you see rafe sat in the drivers seat.

“missed you baby.” you say, climbing in and immediately leaning across to give him a kiss, which he's more than happy to accept.

you sit down in your spot, the passenger side that you've claimed for yourself. you reach the door handle and pull it shut when rafes head snaps towards you. 

“don't slam my door!” he yells. your eyes widen as you take in his harsh tone of voice.

you melt into your seat, physically shrinking as tears cloud your vision. you let out a small mumbled apology.

“shit, baby.” rafe grabs his phone from where it was set up, thrusting it into your hands. “it was just a prank, baby.”

“oh.” you giggle softly, but rafe can tell you're still upset as he tosses his phone down, not caring about the dumb tiktok as he wraps his arms around you, ignoring the center console poking into him.

“i would never yell at you like that baby, you're my whole world.” he presses kisses to your cheek until a genuine smile stretches across your face. 

“that was not a funny prank, rafey.” you wipe underneath your eyes, making sure no tears will escape and ruin your makeup.

“how about i take you shopping after we eat, yeah? would that make up for it?” he asks, gently rubbing his hand up and down your arm, still feeling guilty.

“do you think we could also get ice cream?” you ask, batting your eyelashes at him.

“anything for you.” rafe says, giving you another kiss. “and i really am sorry.”

“don't worry.” you shake your head. “ill get you back.”

-- two weeks later -- 

“thanks for driving me, rafey.” you say, looking down at your hands sheepishly. “and paying.”

“of course.” rafe chuckles. “you're my girl, i got you.”

“my legs are so soft now.” you say, knowing you have the chance now to back out of the prank, but no, you need to get him back. “and he did a great job, i swear i have no hair from the neck down.”

“he?” rafes eyebrow raises. “you didn't go to your normal girl?”

“nope.” you shake your head and shrug, like its casual. “she had another client so i went to a new guy.”

“you let a guy wax your fucking pussy?” rafes tone is slow and even, but you can tell there's a fire just beneath the surface.

“i mean, that's like his job.” you roll your eyes dramatically.

“was this guy gay?”

“no.” you look to rafe, trying to hold back your laughter. “in fact, his girlfriend just broke up with him. we talked about it a bit while he was doing my thighs.”

rafe unbuckles without another word, glad he hasn't started driving away yet.

“rafe, wait!” you reach across to grab his arm as he reaches for the door handle.

“no, im gonna kill-”

“it's a prank!” you grab your phone, showing him that you're recording. “and i got you good!”

“jesus, baby.” rafe places a hand over his chest. “you're trying to kill me.”

“sweet, sweet revenge.” you laugh maniacally.

sfw tags:

@winterrrnight @cameronswiftie @ladyinbl00d @ethanthequeefqueen @drewsephrry @wearemadeofstardust0

[whokilledsamara]

I love your Homicipher hc, they are so good! Would you be willing to do some N/ SFW for Mr. Chopped too? Like you did for some of the others? I understand if you don't want to or if it makes you uncomfortable, thank you anyway!

MR. CHOPPED N/SFW HCS

a hc list of Mr. Chopped x reader {an: SORRY GUYS IM POSTING MAINLY HCS RN,,, fics for me take a lot longer than usual so im just posting hcs to atleast get some reach.}

warnings! : smut, cunnilingus/blowjob, idk,,, cuckhold

{an: freaky shit,,,, like hes just a head so its kinda hard to fuck. did give him a section for IF he had a body.. MAINLY HIM GIVING HEAD,, i didnt rly know how to write this im sorry!! def will write more tho,,, im into him ngl}

SFW

what it would be like to be in a relationship with Mr. Chopped.

it would be relatively hard to be in a relationship with him for obvious reasons, though not impossible!

the thought of you makes him happy, and especially when you hold him.

he would have Mr. Silvair help most of the time. usually for the romantic aspects of things though.

while Mr. Silvair doesnt quite understand the relationship, he is glad to help.

being a talking head will obviously raise a few insecurities, so just reassure him that you indeed do love him! he gets his feelings hurt easily.

he absolutely loves when you play with his hair. if you put bows in it or decorate it, that will make it all the more special for him.

the first time he bit you when he was sleeping, had him crying for hours. he felt so bad that he harmed you in any way, and it took a while for him to "recover"

he loves kisses! he always shouts things like "Up, Up" or "Desire, Carry!" just so he can kiss you.

if you manage to get a hold of make up or something, he would absolutely love for you to do his makeup. {he likes to feel pretty}

he is a very sensitive boy, also a crybaby. how cuuuttteee...

if Mr. Silvair gives him a body, {ignore that one ending... we dont talk about it} then he wpuld be even more excited to see you.

the moment he gets a body would mean so many hugs and affection as a thank you for saving him.

he gets picked on a lot by the others so he usually tries his best to come to you.

NSFW

sex...?

sex is definitely a hard concept with him.

while yes, it is possible, just not in the way intended.

you could see him more as a pure object for your pleasure honestly, and he wants that.

whether you are amab or afab, he is perfect for the situation.

ive seen this referenced by another writer, but he would be like a "rose toy" or a "fleshlight" as people call it.

its a secret pleasure to watch you go at it with someone else. {ex: Mr. Silvair or someone.}

if he is gifted a body though, he definitely will pay you back for saving him in the first place.

personally he would be a soft and sensual lover with his new body, rarely going rough unless specifically asked to.

he is more of a giving top. definitely not dominant but is a top. he cares more about your pleasure than his. though, he does get all giddy when you wish to go down on his or something.

he is open to literally anything you want, he would have very few limitations on what he would do, but everything is open for discussion.

again, definitely either wants to watch you have sex with someone else, OR wants someone else to watch you and him go at it. {he would prefer Silvair.}

he definitely likes when you pull his hair or use him. will be submissive sometimes.

he is the type to cry during sex...

omfmg i love him sm

{ made by @whokilledsamara }

[sixosix]

kissing lyney awake doesn’t really work. wc 600. fluff, established relationship, more lyney content bc i need him to come home im so desperate its not funny

lyney sleeping is the only moment you see him at ease. he portrays a convincing act—laid-back, too friendly, performatively elegant, and it’s these that help you forget lyney is nothing like that at all on quiet days.

seeing him breathe slowly, eyes shut, and body language openly comfortable, makes your chest grow inexplicably warm.

there are no curtains. no cards, doves, or leather gloves. just you, him, and the bed with your legs tangled. you’re unable to help yourself, placing a delicate kiss on the apple of his cheek. it’s barely there: just a faint brush of your lips.

so it’s your surprise when lyney’s eyes fly open and a hand reaches for the back of your head before you can pull back.

“did i wake you?” you ask, voice barely above a whisper.

lyney opens his mouth to speak, but all that comes out is a quiet, hoarse groan.

“sorry,” you laugh gently, cupping his face.

“mm… no, don’t be,” lyney says, his eyes threatening to flutter shut from their sluggish weight. the consonants don’t form perfectly in his state. “it seems as… as if even in sleep my body reacts to your kisses eagerly.”

“you sure? it seems like your body seemed rather alarmed, actually.”

lyney smiles tiredly, that alone expressing more than his words could ever try. “if i were alarmed, i would’ve pushed you away. couldn’t you tell that i’m…” his eyes wander down. he makes an indecipherable noise.

“are you going to wake me up like that every morning?” he asks with a slow smirk.

“you told me to wake you up around this time to prepare,” you say, covering your mouth, much to his displeasure. “focus on the clock, not my lips.”

lyney almost whines, like the drama queen he is.

“up, lyney. and let go of my head.”

“no.” he pushes you closer, but his mouth only collides with the back of your fingers. “the cruelty. you’re heartless. kicking a man when he’s down—does this make you happy? do you derive pleasure from making a pleading fool out of this great, renowned magician?”

you successfully slip out of his grasp. he ends up clawing at air. “if you have the energy to complain needlessly, you have the energy to get up.”

lyney sighs heavily. he pulls himself up and pouts at you, like you’ve kicked a stray puppy in front of his eyes. he might be the stray puppy in question.

“if you can kiss me awake, you can also kiss me to stand up.” he yawns halfway through the sentence.

“we won’t get much done if you get your hands near me.”

instead of grinning smugly like you expect him to, lyney’s eyes crinkle alone with his soft smile. he pulls you in by your hips, pressing his forehead against yours and breathing deeply.

“hey, what’s wrong?” you ask, brushing a cheek as his eyes fall shut once again. it doesn’t take even a second before he melts back into the sheets. “you’re still tired, huh? good job performing yesterday. must’ve been exhausting. you can sleep for five more minutes.”

“mmh,” is what he replies with, pawing your waist to ask for something.

you kiss his nose, and his smile widens just a fraction—just enough of what his lax body can do. he later reveals that it was all a trick to make you kiss him awake all over again, but you know him a little better than that.

a/n ok anyway THANKS FOR ALL THE LOVE LYNEY LIKERS im glad u all like reading for lyney as much as i do writing for him

[montimer]

Cecil x hero!reader || random hc's

Gn!reader,(reader bit oc), kinda silly. Bit smutty at the end!

You have became his favourite. You follow orders, you listen, and you do your job right. But those are not the only qualities he likes about you. He might not say it but your kindness means a lot to him. Also the fact that you don't act like an asshole just cuz you got superpowers and he don't. You treat him as equal, even more. Well, good, he's your boss after all but- feels nice still.

But boy, do you got some guts. You really don't hide your affections towards him. Telling him he looks great, praising him. Happy to hear him ask you for missions, no ones this happy to talk with him. When he let's you close enough you even hug him.

When he seems sad to you, you move in to hug him, like over his shoulder. He only lets it slide cuz it wasn't in public. But it sure did make his heart beat faster. And your comforting words? Do you even know what you're doing to him? "I know you mean well. You're a good guy, even if others can't see that. I'm here for you too Cecil, remember that." Just know your words are stuck in his head for a very long time.

You can be a brat sometimes tho. Imagine carrying him from somewhere. Flying or not. Just like pick him up and go, what is he gonna do? Teleport away-? Oh he just did. "Aw man, lemme help you out a bit. Costs you a lifetime to teleport all day" (you just want to carry him)

He has an easier time getting things through your head. You understand that you cannot be fully good, that you need to bring sacrifices sometimes.

He let's you talk about your interests on quieter days. Makes him feel more human, to finally talk about anything but having the responsibility to save the world. Plus he likes seeing you so happy as you talk

He smiles at you. Like actually smiles. You think his smile looks so sweet. As reaction you smile back at him and it flutters his heart.

He teleports to you, specifically you. At a point it doesn't even surprise you.

He checks up on you, he makes it seem professional but he wants to know if yer okay. Both mentally and physically

He stares at you. He stares so hard you could stare back and it would take him a moment to realize. His confusion makes you giggle. Well, he takes it as a win, atleast he made you laugh.

Just imagine saving him. How fast his trust would go up from that. And you even stay by him, asking if he's okay. Of course, he replies in a calm tone "Im fine... thank you." You do hear the crack in his voice but you know better than to point it out

He gets jealous too. Staring at the person who's flirting with you with an angry but cold expression.

Speaking of, he'd only look super angry with you if you almost get yourself killed. He gives you the lecture and everything.

He tries his best to perish the thoughts of wanting to be held by you again. Or to kiss you, caress your hair, hug you close, take you out- is it too late for him?

This is wrong, he knows. Very unprofessional. Part of him wants you to want him back, the other wants to forget about the whole thing.

It gets to a point where he's curious to find out if there's a chance on earth you'd love him back. And so he tries to give back the affections

Putting a hand on your shoulder. Bringing you gifts. Telling you he's here if you need something, or to talk. He's soft with you. A small smile appearing on his face as he sees you. He even goes in to hug you when he sees its the right moment. You are very surprised, but also happy, and so you hug him back. He's just glad you didn't push him off.

Snuggle into him pls, you can hear how fast his heart begins to race just from that.

He wouldn't ask you directly.

You really have to catch him alone to kiss him and tell him how much you love him. He'll be all flustered, surprised. He starts rambling about how wrong this is, but its so easy to tell he wants this too. Caress his face in your hands to shut him up. Soon enough he'll give in and let you taste him again. You slowly go down on his neck, kissing and nibbling on it, while pulling his tie bringing him even closer. He let's out small gasp and moans. He guesses this is gonna be a long night