#but was nevertheless acutely aware of it

[trans-cuchulainn]

i wonder if i'll start being able to sense the full moon again now

[incognit0slut]

MASTER OF PERSUASION

Part 4 of kinktober | main masterlist

meandom!Spencer/Hotch x fem!reader; Threesome, creampie, dumbification, degradation, brat taming, abuse of power, edging, dubcon

Your involvement in a heinous crime was questioned by the two FBI agents who were eager to do anything to get you to talk.

Words: 6802

a/n: This one is dedicated to my nasty, touch-starved btches who secretly wants to be manhandled by two older men. Enjoy this pure filth🫶

YOU WERE FAR FROM BEING A GOOD PERSON. From the surface, you seemed like a normal, typical woman, just one of the countless faces within the crowd. But when the doors shut behind you, you find yourself involved in endeavors you should never have pursued in the first place.

You knew too much. You were acutely aware of how many crimes happening in your vicinity. The number of deaths resulting from these heinous acts should be enough to terrify you, but it didn't, because unbeknownst to your peers, you were one of the reasons why they happened.

Although you never played the role of the perpetrator, you were the person these criminals came to for information. You were good with technology, you could hack into any secure system in the blink of an eye. It was almost as if you were a deity of the dark web, a mastermind whose mere presence served as a godsend to those carrying out these crimes.

It was easy money; you gave what they wanted, received what they paid you, and most importantly, you made sure to never look back. You always wiped everything out after each job was done, but somehow, after working on so many deals, your luck finally struck out.

Somebody hacked into your system—no, somebody good hacked into your system. This person knew what they were doing. They managed to hack through your firewall and retrieve a few of your data while also discovering your identity.

You honestly wanted to praise whoever was on the other side because you had never encountered someone who could match, if not surpass, your own skill. But it wasn't until you heard the loud banging on your front door, followed by people in uniformed vests rushing in and pointing their guns at you, that you finally realized who had breached your system.

It was the FBI.

So that was how you found yourself sitting inside an interrogation room hours later with two agents across from you. A very tall, intimidating man stood at the corner, his arms crossed as he watched you silently. Dr. Spencer Reid was how he introduced himself, and the way he emphasized the title in front of his name, you were certain he was the type of person who took extreme pride in his intelligence.

He seemed a little too cocky.

Special Agent Aaron Hotchner, on the other hand, was hard to decipher. The older man appeared somewhat guarded as if his job had forced him to put on a facade devoid of genuine emotions. Maybe it did. He was, after all, a federal agent. Both of them were. These men were probably taught to master the art of maintaining an inscrutable poker face.

Nevertheless, they were both intimidating, and you wondered to yourself, was good cop bad cop not a thing anymore? Because as far as this was going, none of them seemed inclined to make things easy for you.

The man in front of you cleared his throat, his voice was a well-practiced blend of authority and curiosity. "You've been quite elusive, haven't you, Miss Y/L/N?"

You leaned back, studying him through half-lidded eyes, your fingers tracing the edges of the table with a cool, almost casual detachment. "Elusiveness is a matter of perspective, Agent Hotchner. I prefer to think of it as adaptability."

"Adaptability?" He leaned in closer, his sharp gaze never wavering. "You've made quite a name for yourself. You've infiltrated government agencies, stolen classified data, and even orchestrated financial heists... Impressive, I must say."

A faint smile danced upon your lips, revealing just a glimmer of amusement. "I simply explore the hidden avenues of the World Wide Web. It's not about the thrill; it's about the knowledge."

His eyes narrowed. "But your actions have consequences. You've caused quite a chaos, don't you think?"

"Consequences are a part of every action, whether in the digital realm or the physical world. As for chaos..." You met his gaze with unwavering confidence. "Well, sometimes chaos is necessary for evolution."

He leaned back, his expression unyielding. "Evolution or anarchy?"

"As I said, everything is a matter of perspective, even anarchy," you replied, your voice smooth as silk. "In the grand scheme of things, I'm just a catalyst. Society's flaws were there long before I came along."

The man in the corner took a step forward. His eyes bore into you with resolve as if he had grown weary of the ongoing debate. "You've had your say," he interjected with a steely tone. "You know why you're here. Our victim's files were found on your computer, we need to know who requested them."

You met his gaze with a mixture of defiance and amusement, unfazed by his direct approach. "Doctor Reid," you said, your voice laced with a hint of mock surprise. "Always chasing ghosts in the machine, aren't you?"

His expression remained composed, his intellect undeniably sharp. "We're not here to discuss my pursuits. We're here to talk about the life you've disrupted."

"Disrupted? I'd say I've merely revealed the cracks in the system. Your victim, as you call them, was a casualty of a much larger game."

"Games have rules, Miss Y/L/N. You seem to operate outside of them."

"Rules are made to be broken, Spencer," you retorted, your tone cutting like a blade through the air. "I can call you that, right? I hate having to speak with such formalities."

"It's Doctor Reid," he corrected. "Tell us who you're working for."

His unwavering determination was met with a subtle, knowing smile from you. You leaned forward, your eyes locking onto his with a hint of intrigue.

"I don't know, Spencer," you began, your tone slightly softer, as if you were letting him in on a secret, "The digital world is a labyrinth of information. Files come and go, they disappear and reappear... It's like trying to catch a shadow in the dark. It's useless."

He addressed you with a cold stare. "You're playing a dangerous game here."

You raised an eyebrow, your voice honeyed with allure. "Oh, I'm well aware of the game we're playing. But don't mistake my refusal to cooperate for arrogance. It's just that some secrets are meant to stay hidden."

The room seemed to contract, the air thick with unresolved tension. Aaron cleared his throat and your eyes fell back on him. "Miss Y/L/N, give us a name and we can make things easier for you. But if you don't cooperate..." His eyes traveled down along your body, the goosebumps rose on your skin in response to the heat of his gaze. "I'm afraid we have to resort to extreme measures."

A brief pause hung in the room. There was something in the way he was staring at you. He was looking at you with a profound determination that seemed very different from the way he assessed you before. Under the weight of his scrutiny, you felt your body growing hot. Your breath hitched, and a flush of warmth crept up your neck and tingled in your cheeks.

You regarded him for a moment before you finally spoke, your voice calm but tinged with a hint of defiance.

"If you think you can break me, Aaron, you're gravely mistaken. But if you're interested in the name..." you leaned back, crossing your arms. "I guess you'll have to earn it."

The tension in the room escalated as your words hung in the air. His jaw clenched, and when you thought you had won the upper hand over this battle of wits, he surprised you by waving his hand in the air, and Spencer came forward.

It was as if they had planned this. The way Aaron instructed his partner to move seemed rehearsed and calculated. Spencer walked over to you and before you could register what was happening, he grabbed onto your arm and wrenched you out of your chair with a force you didn't know he possessed.

Your voice carried a mix of anger and frustration as you protested, "What the hell are you doing?"

You suddenly felt him run his hands along your arms. "Checking for weapons."

The scoff you gave him was loud. "Oh, now you're treating me like a criminal?"

"It's a mere precaution."

And then you felt it, the way his touch lingered on your body. It was far from any normal search. His hands felt warm on your skin, even over the material of your shirt, as he continued to pat down your arms. There was a certain roughness in his movements as he slid his arms around your backside and you couldn't mistake the way he gripped your ass more than he should probably have.

"This is ridiculous," you muttered under your breath. "You won't find anything."

"I'll be the judge of that." He slightly shoved your shoulders. "Put your hands on the table."

You reluctantly did as you were told, silently gritting your teeth. His hands moved with purpose, and as much as you wanted to stop this questionable act, your body was reacting in a way that had you questioning yourself instead.

Why was your heart beating so fast as he stood behind you? Why was it getting so hard to breathe when his hands slipped around your waist? And why did it seem you were anticipating more when his palms slightly hovered over your breasts?

"Is this really necessary?" You asked quietly, trying to act as if his rough hands on you weren't affecting you. "This feels more like an attempt for intimidation."

You could practically hear the smugness in his voice as he asked, "Are you intimidated, Miss Y/L/N?"

You liked to think that you weren't, but honestly, you didn't know anymore. You had tried your best to put on a mask to avoid appearing weak, but as he started to squeeze your breasts in the palm of his hands, it finally dawned on you what was happening—You were finally caught, there was a high chance of you ending up in jail, and now a federal agent was touching you inappropriately, groping you in a crude form of patting you down.

And to your dismay, you actually liked it.

But you had too much of a pride, that was why you found yourself lying through your teeth. "No."

Spencer hummed a reply as if he didn't believe you. He squeezed your breasts through your shirt again, palming at them as he slightly felt your nipples stiffen through the material, and he couldn't resist rolling them as his touch continued lower. Your breath hitched as he mapped out your curves, one of his hands delving between your thighs before he stopped right at the center of your heat.

You let out a gasp.

"I-Is this even legal?"

Your mind went blurry as you felt his fingers touching you through the thin fabric of your pants. "Are you questioning how the law enforcement works?"

You couldn't answer him. Not because you didn't want to, but because you weren't able to form any coherent words as he continued to palm your sex, his fingers continuing to rub you. You were suddenly so focused on the way he was touching you, your head hanging low as you felt the sensation throughout your body, that you didn't even hear Aaron calling out your name.

It wasn't until Spencer retrieved his hand from between your thighs, and yanked your hair from behind, that you were forced to meet Aaron's gaze. "He called you," Spencer mocked, tightening his grip.

Aaron leaned forward, assessing the way you were arching your back with both of your hands planted on the table. "You have two options. One, we can play nicely, you give us a name and we'll go easy on you." His voice dropped lower as he continued, "Or two, you keep with this attitude and we might have to coax the answer out of you."

You locked eyes with him, a silent challenge burning in your gaze. Despite being in this vulnerable position, there was an undeniable strength in your stare, a refusal to surrender to their intimidation. Aaron met your gaze with a profound understanding.

"The hard way it is then." You saw him lean back in his chair as he crossed his arms, the subtle movement actuating his broad chest. "You know what to do, Reid."

There was nothing remotely gentle about the way Spencer handled you after those words. He shoved you, knocking the air out of your lungs as you gasped, your body pressed against the cool surface of the table. Somehow between your struggles, he managed to slide his hands around your waist, unbuttoning your pants before pushing them down your legs.

The air hit your bare skin, and even when you felt the cool breeze, your body was seething with fire, burning through your veins. The warmth spread along your cheeks as you realized you were wearing your skimpiest underwear, a flimsy material of dark lace that barely covered your sex. He gripped your ass with the palm of his hands, fingertips digging into the plush skin as he spread you apart.

"Well, aren't you a pretty thing?" You felt him shift behind you and you imagined him kneeling right in front of your heat. The moment his knuckles brushed along your wet patch, your hips bucked involuntarily. "She's wet, Hotch, I think she's getting a little too excited."

"I'm not surprised," the older man said. "She does seem like a slut."

Your head snapped at him. "I am not a slut."

"Oh, you are a slut." He leaned forward and reached out his hand, holding your chin in a vice grip, forcing you to look at him. "And we'll prove you how much of a whore you actually are."

Right on queue, a surprised gasp left your lips when Spencer's large palm burned your skin, giving your ass a harsh slap. The sound echoed in the room and he repeated the motion, watching in satisfaction the way your ass rippled for him. You fell into a false sense of security as he began to soothe his hand against your burning skin before pulling back to give another loud smack, and your mouth fell apart in pleasure.

"Not a fucking slut?" Aaron taunted, his thumb brushing on your lower lip. "That's the most farfetched lie you told us ever since you walked through that door."

You glared at him, but your defiance slowly shattered when you felt Spencer pulling down your panties over the curve of your ass, slipping them down your legs. The evidence of your arousal stuck onto the fabric and you felt your cheeks going warm in embarrassment. Spencer sucked in a gasp as he took in the sight of your lower half completely naked for him.

"Barely even touched you and you're soaking wet," he murmured, letting his thumb brush over your pussy, gauging your reaction. Your nose scrunched as you tried to bite back a moan that threatened to slip out. He started with gentle strokes, keeping his fingers only on the outer side, yet you could still feel his touch everywhere.

Each downstroke he made gave a light pull against your clit without giving any direct contact, and each time his fingers came back up, he slowly spread your folds open for him, briefly allowing your slickness to come in contact with the cold breeze of air.

Your mind became hazy, and just when you thought your body couldn't react more to his touch, he slipped a finger between your folds, feeling your slick against the dainty flesh. The motion caused your hips to buck erratically and your hands immediately reached up to grip onto the edge of the table.

He slipped deep inside you as your arousal coated him, circling your tight entrance as he felt the way your walls fluttered around the tip of his finger. He let out a low grunt as he felt how tight you were around him, curling at the knuckle while he began to drag his calloused pad against the soft spot inside you, making your body shake just from the mere contact.

The subtle reaction didn't go unnoticed by Aaron and he watched as your eyes glazed over. He couldn't stop himself from smirking, his features revealing a hint of amusement.

"You're enjoying this too much. I'm starting to think you're keeping your silence for the sake of this." You moved your head away from his grasp, only for him to grip your jaw harder. "Don't fucking move. Keep your eyes on me while he fucks your tight little pussy."

You never thought you'd be hearing such crude words from him, not with his stoic demeanor and polished facade, nor did you expect your body to react the way it did when those words filled your ears. You couldn't help it, your body betrayed your mind as your cunt continued to throb between your thighs. You could feel the desire building inside you, threatening to burst as you felt your body shake, and Spencer was well aware of this as he felt your walls clenching around his finger.

The laugh coming through his lips rang in your ears, sending shivers down your spine. "She liked that."

Aaron raised his eyebrows at you. "You like it when I talk like this?" He taunted. "You like it when I tell you how much of a slut you are taking his fingers so deep inside you?"

Your eyelids dropped lower at his words, and right at that moment, a lewd squelch filled the room as Spencer slowly slipped another finger into your dripping cunt, stretching you out as he began to thrust them inside you at a steady pace. Your body quivered as your breath quickened, and you found yourself grinding against his touch, desperately trying to get him to press the same spot inside you.

"Look at you fucking yourself on my fingers," Spencer cooed, his free hand smacking your bare ass again, and you found yourself arching your back. "You really are filthy."

Aaron laughed. "Acting like you didn't want it a second ago." He gripped your jaw tighter, forcing a gasp out of you at the subtle pain. He took advantage of your opened mouth by slipping his thumb inside. "Suck on my finger, Sweetheart."

You didn't know which one surprised you the most, his sudden term of endearment, or the order he gave you. You hesitated, because the moment you willingly sucked on his finger, you knew you would lose. The moment you followed through to his demand, he would have the upper hand and you would simply be the pawn in this game.

Aaron, as you realized, wasn't a patient man. His other hand reached for your hair and then, with a sharp and sudden yank, he tore at your hair. "Don't make me use more force than I already am."

Your roots tingled, your scalp throbbing, and a few tears welled up in your eyes. You blinked them away, not wanting to show any sign of weakness, and leveled your gaze at him.

He pulled your hair again. "Suck."

The pain was so much for you that you found yourself wavering. You swirled your tongue around his thumb before closing your lips and sucking with an approving hum. A husky moan was pulled from deep within him, overwhelmed by the feeling of your mouth on him, and, especially, the sight of you. "That's it," he praised you. "Suck on it as if you're sucking my cock."

Your walls clenched again. A sound of pleasure erupted from Spencer as he felt your cunt sucking in his fingers, and without warning, he pumped them into you with so much force you couldn't stop yourself from moaning this time. He laughed, as did Aaron, and your body shook as you felt that familiar sensation tightening along your body.

The room around you seemed to blur and melt away at the pleasure coursing in your veins. It started in the pit of your stomach, a warm, liquid sensation that spread like a slow-burning fire, radiating outwards in waves. Your hushed moan was muffled by Aaron's thumb in your mouth, but the sound of your pathetic whining didn't go unnoticed by both men.

You were so fucking close you could feel every nerve in your body on high alert. Your breaths came in ragged gasps, and your body quivered with the intensity of the sensation. Your eyes fell shut as the lewd sound of your arousal filled the room, and just when you were about to let go, Spencer suddenly pulled his fingers out of you, wrenching away that peak of pleasure you were desperately chasing.

Your eyes shot open, dilated pupils now wide with shock and confusion. Aaron met your gaze with amusement, a sadistic smile dancing on his lips as he pulled his thumb out of your mouth with a pop. "Stupid girl, thinking we'd actually let you cum."

The abrupt contrast between the heights of your pleasure and the stark void that followed was jarring. But before you could comprehend your disappointment, you heard a shuffle behind you followed by footsteps circling you. Spencer finally came back into your line of vision and with no one standing behind you, you tried to push yourself from the table, only to be shoved back down by Aaron.

"Fucking stay where you are," he commanded, his sharp voice piercing right through you. Your eyes were fixed on him, gaze unwavering as he slowly rose from his seat. And then suddenly he was the one behind you, and now Spencer stood right in front of you, looking down at you with amusement.

"You know," he started, his fingers trailing the side of your face. You moved your head away from his touch, but unlike Aaron, he didn't force you to look at him. He merely chuckled as he continued, "You wouldn't be in this position if you had given us the name."

Hearing this, you finally glanced up at him. The self-confidence he carried was starting to annoy you and you couldn't stop yourself from spitting venom, especially when he had ripped away the pleasure thrumming in your body. "I told you to fucking earn it."

The remaining air was knocked from your lungs when the palm of his hand collided with your cheek, your head jolting to the right from the force of the impact. Bright white stars danced behind your closed eyelids, and for a second you thought that you were dizzy from the shock. But then you felt it, the pressure that had been building in your core giving way, a wave of pleasure washing over you.

"Dirty girl," he taunted. "Here I was trying to shut you up and you actually liked that? You like being slapped around?"

You remained quiet, looking away from him.

"And don't worry, you will tell us by the end of this." You faintly hear the sound of metal ringing in your ears. Your eyes fell back on him and your heart sank when his hands moved down to his belt, unbuckling it as he let it hang around his hips.

His fingers moved to unbutton his pants before tugging down the fly. The sight of his hard cock tenting beneath his briefs had your cunt clenching in anticipation, as much as you hated to admit it. Then his thumbs dipped into the hem of his boxers, tugging the fabric down, and you looked up at him with wide eyes. He was bigger than you'd expected. He was thick and solid, veins danced along his length and the droplet of wetness on his tip was too mesmerizing you couldn't look away.

He wrapped a fist around his length, hissing in relief as he made his way towards you. "Now let's put that filthy mouth of yours to good use." He pressed the head of his cock against your lips, half-lidded eyes gazing down at you as he leaned forward. "Open."

The musky scent of him overwhelmed you as you breathed in and you involuntarily opened your mouth wide to accommodate his girth. The flat of your tongue pressed against the underside of his cock as he gave soft, shallow thrusts inside your warm mouth. His fingers held onto your face as he watched his length disappear inside you.

"God, look at you—" Spencer rasped, his voice sounding strained. "Good fucking girl."

Each roll of his hips has more of his thick cock slipping inside your mouth. His palm moved to the back of your head, holding you steady as he forced his length further down your throat, watching as your cheeks darkened and your eyes watered. Your hands moved up to push at his thighs as you struggled against his grip, the desire to breathe overwhelming as you tried to push him away.

You suddenly felt lightheaded from the lack of oxygen and you began to cough and splutter around him, your throat constricting as the sensation flowed directly through his cock. The sensation made him groan out in pleasure as he finally eased his grip on your head and leaned back, allowing you to breathe as you continued to splutter, drool dripping down your chin as you gulped for much-needed air.

Your head felt delirious. You were too focused on catching your breath when you unexpectedly felt something thick pushing into your cunt in one swift motion, knocking you over as you let out a scream.

"Hotch," Spencer laughed, tightening his grip on your hair while he positioned his cock back onto your lips again. "You shocked her."

Aaron merely grunted a reply as he held onto your hips and started to thrust his cock into you. His thickness sent a ripple of pain between your legs. He was definitely bigger than anyone you'd been with before, your breath coming out in soft, shallow pants as he drove more of himself inside your tightness. Your teeth bit down on your lower lip as a dull ache filled your body, trying to ignore the pain as he continued to stretch your tight heat.

There were no words after that, the room was hazy with desire as the heat built within the small space. The two men focused their attention on your body as you took them at the same time. It was filthy, depraved, and something you'd never done before. You never thought you would be in this position, nor did you think you'd actually enjoy being used like this.

Because you did, you really fucking did. Your entire body felt hot, a scorching fire flowing through your veins as you embraced the sensation, an indescribable pleasure taking over as Aaron's cock curved towards that delicious spot inside you with precision.

Your body was pressed against the table, sweaty and exhausted. It was torture, the way he was slamming his cock inside of you at the pace that left you breathless, it hurt and burned with pleasure at the same time. Each thrust had you hanging on the edge of release, unable to think straight as your mouth continued to mindlessly babble around Spencer's cock.

Every so often he'd hold the back of your head securely so you couldn't move away as he continued to bury himself in your throat. A pleased sound escaped his lips as you started to choke around his girth. It felt like you were starting to drown yourself as he shoved into you ruthlessly. Your lungs cried out for air as you began to feel woozy from the lack of oxygen, desperately trying to breathe through your nose.

"Fuck," he hissed, finally easing his hips back to give you relief. You spluttered as you gasped for air, a mixture of his arousal and your spit dribbled down your chin. "So fucking messy."

You tried to calm your breathing, but it didn't take long for your brain to turn into mush again because Aaron snapped his hips, pulling a moan from your lips as he started a harsh pace. Fingertips dug into your hips as he buried more of himself inside your tightness, your inner walls pulsing around him.

His thrusts were hard and you were certain you'd have marks on your skin from the way he was rutting against you, a dull ache panging inside your lower half. Your mouth fell open in a constant moan as you tried to hold your body up against the table. A throb coursed through you as you tried to hold onto the edge, your breath coming out in harsh pants. You were so desperate for your release, your body so close to coming undone.

"Fuck, Sweetheart, are you going to cum?"

You mumbled out a garbled reply as he continued thrusting into you relentlessly, your fingertips digging into the table as you felt his cock dragging against your inner walls. Aaron grunted at the sensation of you clenching around him. His eyes drifted down to where your bodies were connected and watched the way his cock slid in and out of your tight cunt.

He was on the edge of his release, you could tell by the way he thrust into you desperately. You prepared yourself for your own pleasure, your hips moving involuntarily, meeting his erratic movement, as you seek more friction from him. You whimpered, feeling his fingertips dig into your skin almost painfully and you felt the familiar sensation traveling along your body. Fuck. Fuck yes. You were finally going to—

A drawn-out whine left your lips when he pulled his cock out from your tight heat. The sudden emptiness had your body shaking violently. It wasn't until you felt a streak of wetness spluttering on your back that you realized he had reached his own high without letting you reach your own.

"Shit," he gasped, slapping your ass as he watched his own liquid seeping down the curve of your back. "That was incredible."

You groaned. Fucking selfish man.

"What was that?"

It then dawned on you that you actually mumbled those words out loud. You shook your head and he groaned at your lack of words. "That didn't sound like nothing."

And suddenly, as if you weighed nothing, he grabbed onto your body and turned you over, pushing you onto your back. You were too weak to even fight him as he shoved your pants off your feet before spreading your legs apart. You watched as he leaned down and a long string of clear liquid fell from his lips toward your cunt, letting it trickle down between your folds.

"Knew you were a slut," he hissed, before straightening himself and tucking his cock back in his pants. Your eyes drifted toward him. He was big, just as big as you felt him inside you. But it wasn't his sheer size that surprised you, it was Spencer standing by your feet that had your heart peaking up its pace. Aaron smirked as he stepped back and Spencer quickly took his place between your legs.

"Look at you still holding back," Aaron taunted, genuine curiosity lacing in his voice as he paced around the room. "You're worn out. You're filthy. Aren't you tired of playing this game?"

You looked over at him tiredly. Amidst the pulsing waves of pleasure coursing through your veins, you fought to maintain your focus. "Y- You haven't done anything m-much to earn—"

His laughter sent a chill through the room. "Oh, Sweetheart, you think you're winning, but you're not." He then locked his gaze on you. "Trust me, we already have you in the palm of our hands."

You tried retorting back but the once-sharp edges of your concentration began to blur when you felt Spencer's throbbing cock right between your pussy. Each pulse of pleasure sent tremors through your resolve as he eased his hips back to drag the thick, swollen head through your outer lips. His eyes focused on the way you spread for him as though inviting him inside.

"You're already fucked out," Spencer murmured, dragging the tip of his cock through your wetness, feeling it catch against your tight entrance. "Yet look at you swallowing me."

He let the underside of his cock split your folds open, resting it between them snugly as he let out a low groan at the heat radiating from your core. The sinful noise that left your lips had his cock throbbing painfully, the thick veins protruding from his length. He angled your body against him, pushing more of his thick girth inside your trembling body, feeling the way you squeezed around him as he stretched you out.

Spencer pressed his fingers into the curve of your hips as his gaze flickered between your face and his cock splitting you apart. You gasped, your breaths growing more erratic as he managed to push all of his length inside you. He ran his hand over your abdomen as he tried to feel his cock inside you, pressing against your pelvis as he pulsed at the sensation.

"Fuck, baby," he growled, "Taking me so well."

And then he slowly dragged his cock away from you, keeping just the tip in your entrance before plunging back inside in a harsh, jarring movement, jolting you in surprise. You arched your back and tipped your head back in pleasure, just to find Aaron towering above you, looking down at you with an eerie smile.

His fingers trailed down your shoulder blades before they hovered at the buttons on your shirt, slowly unbuttoning them. "I think it's time that you give us a name."

Your body writhed in response to the waves of sensation as you tried to ground yourself. But it was hard to keep thinking straight when he grabbed onto the underlayer of your bra and lifted it over your chest. The way your perky breasts spilled out from beneath the fabric made both men hum in satisfaction.

Calloused palms grabbed onto your breasts and your eyes rolled at the back of your head at the sensation. His thumb brushed against your soft nipple, watching as it began to rise to a stiff peak as he mimicked the action on your other breast, all the while as Spencer began thrusting into your cunt at a painfully slow pace.

"Come on, Sweetheart, don't you want to cum on his cock?"

"Fuck," Spencer grunted, feeling you clench around him. "Keep talking to her."

Aaron chuckled as he continued playing with your breasts. "It's torture, isn't it?" He closed his index finger and thumb around your nipples, pinching ever so gently. You let out a soft sigh and closed your eyes as arousal flushed through you. "Give us a name and we'll give you what you want."

And then you felt Spencer rocking his hips at a steady rhythm, burying himself deeper and deeper before he slowly began increasing his speed. Your body jerked wildly each time he pushed deep into you. Noticing this, his thumb moved to your clit as he pressed messy circles against the sensitive nub, twisting it beneath his calloused pad. It felt too good, so good that you could no longer hold back from moaning out loud.

Your cries of pleasure snapped him into action and his hands moved down to your ass, holding you up to him as he started pounding harder into you. Your head fell back, chest heaving up and down, and that was when you felt Aaron closing his lips around one of your nipples. You writhed, your body thrashing underneath both men. Your senses reeling, the warmth of multiple hands on your skin sent jolts of electricity down your spine, igniting a wildfire of pleasure within you.

Aaron pulled away from you and your eyes flickered open at the loss, only to be met with Spencer hovering above you. Your eyes swept over him, and you looked down where you were joined, watching how his hips moved in constant thrusts. He was enjoying this, you could tell by the way his fingers burned your skin and the occasional grunt escaping his lips.

At the sound of his voice, you looked up at his face, glistening with a sheen of sweat while his messy hair tousling over it. The moment your gazes met each other, something inside you snapped. The muscles in your core began to coil, tightening and constricting around him right as your climax slowly pushed through the fog inside your head. Spencer felt it too, and he suddenly slowed his pace, throwing you a cunning smile.

You felt your resistance starting to crumble. The intensity of your pleasure grew almost unbearable, and you could no longer deny it. Your eyes welled with tears at the overwhelming sensation, and the thought of having your orgasm ripped again from you seemed like another torture you didn't want to endure.

You were going to regret this. You definitely would. But you couldn't dwell on the consequences of your actions when desperation coursed through you like a fever, an all-consuming hunger that you couldn't deny. Your body ached for release and craved it with an intensity that was maddening. 

Your breath came in ragged gasps, and then your eyes, wide and filled with desperation, pleaded with him silently as you found yourself finally giving in, muttering a name you had tried to keep to yourself. A name involved in the crime these men had been pestering you for. A name that had Aaron smirking devilishly as he leaned over to you, brushing his knuckles on your cheek in a caress that was so foreign.

"Good girl," he mumbled, his voice lacing with satisfaction at the way you finally crumbled. He was right, you were already in the palms of their hands, it was simply a matter of time until you caved in. "Good fucking girl."

Once you surrendered, you couldn't stop the whine falling through your lips. Your desperate moan rang deeply in the room, snapping something primal inside Spencer, and he trusted his hips into you roughly. A gasp escaped your lips, legs falling open wider as he split you wider than you already were.

Your mind went absolutely numb with pleasure as he kept rutting up inside you, your body becoming nothing more than a mess, overtaken by a wave of sweat and erotic bliss. You felt yourself trembling, your breathing becoming more ragged as his thrusts became sloppier.

“Fucking hell,” he grunted, noticing the way your mouth fell open as pleasure engulfed you. "That's it, baby, let me fuck you dumb."

You cried out, babbling incoherent sentences as he thrust harder, grabbing your hips and tilting into you slightly, making him go even deeper as he moved with you.

"Go on, cum on my cock," he growled breathlessly through his rapid pounding. "Let me feel you."

“Fuck—” You cried out for him, your overstimulated body shaking beneath him. Wave after wave of pleasure came rushing through your body, erupting in the most intense way. He watched the way you convulsed beneath him in your release, watching the way a white, sticky liquid circled his cock every time his skin brushed your inner walls. His thumb was unrelenting against your clit and you tried to angle your body away from his touch, the pleasure too intense as your lower half throbbed around him.

You continued to clench around him between your bliss, your legs trembling from the position as he arched his back, focusing the power of his thrusts straight into your tightness. A shiver burst through you at the sensation. And with one final thrust, his whole body tensed. He pushed forward, burying his cock in your soft, warm cunt, spreading his warmth in much slower and shallow rolls of his hips.

You were breathing hard, trying to regain your composure, and a moan left your lips when he finally pulled out. Cringing at the fluid slowly leaking out of you, you tried to close your legs only to be stopped as he gripped the back of your thighs, spreading your legs apart to expose your body. You were so wonderfully disheveled, your cunt clenching around nothing, gleaming with your arousal and his own release.

“Look at the mess you made." Piercing eyes watched you as white liquid trickled down your ass. A feeble mewl left your lips as his thick fingers moved down to catch it, deliberately pressing against your folds as you wriggled in his grasp. A laugh left his lips as he dragged the string of wetness along your sex, pushing it back inside you.

"I think I ruined her."

Aaron's laughter filled the room, and just as you were about to push yourself off the table, you felt him grasping both of your hands, pushing them above your head. Your eyes widened in shock. "Wh-what are you doing?"

Then you felt it, the cool metal wrapped around your wrist, sinking into the flesh of your skin as you tried to move from his grip. An unexpected panic surged within you. "Sweetheart, we know you're involved in more than one crime." The soft click of the metal lock was loud in your ears. "You need to give us more names."

Your body, still tingling with the aftershocks of pleasure, now felt more exposed than ever. You looked up to find both men staring down at you, and at very moment, you realized, as you felt the handcuffs digging into your wrist, that you were going to be here for a very long time.

[melrodrigo]

Tardy - T.C.

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9 | part 10 | part 11

Tara Carpenter x Fem!Reader

Warnings: None??

Summary: You come late to a class one day, and an unexpected friendship, (and maybe more) blossoms.

Word Count: 1.5k

A/N: Woo! This was a long one to write, and i'm not sure if i added enough fluff in there, but if you guys want a part two, i'm happy to write more :)

You had been pining over this girl for six months. At first it was all fun and games, just some motivation to get up and into class each morning. But soon with every nice gesture and soft smile she sent your way, it turned into something more.

Tara Carpenter.

She was the prettiest girl you've ever laid your eyes on, with wide doe eyes and freckles littered everywhere across her face. You'd noticed her one particular day when you had realized you overslept, rushed into class, in nothing but your jamies and an oversize hoodie.

When you opened the doors, a little loud, okay maybe a lot loud, everyone's heads snapped to you. You stilled, acutely aware of everyone’s eyes on you.

A small giggle sounded through the room, and you locked eyes with a short-looking brunette.

Feeling embarrassed enough to last a lifetime, you quickly hurried over and sat next to the girl, a blush rising up your neck at everyone still staring.

"As I was saying..." The professor began, to which most people took their eyes off you and focused back on the lesson. You breathed out a sigh.

"That was quite an entrance, if I do say so myself." A voice sounded beside you.

When you turned your head to look at her, the comeback you had so cleverly thought up died in your throat.

"I- um, hi! Yeah, it was a crazy day, see- I just went to a party last night and I might've gotten crazy drunk and then forgot to set my alarm and woke up and realized we had a test today, so I really wasn't thinking about my outfit, but-" You stopped when you realized you'd been rambling, the blush rising to the tip of your ears now, though for a totally different reason.

The girl cocked an eyebrow up and gave a tiny smirk.

"Sorry, my name's YN. I'm not usually this stupid." You offered her a handshake, head turned down in embarrassment.

"A handshake?" She asked a little teasingly, but took your hand nevertheless.

Deciding you'd already embarrassed yourself enough for one day, you turned back to the teacher, determined not to act stupid in front of this pretty girl.

"Tara." She mumbled after a while, but loud enough for you to hear.

"I'm sorry?"

She turned to you and tilted her head a bit, like staring hard enough would allow her to read your mind.

"My name's Tara." She said, giving you another soft smile.

You felt your lips start to tug upwards at the ends, and a giddy feeling, like butterflies entered your stomach.

"Pleased to meet you, Tara."

_

The both of you never talked about the routine you got into, but ever since that first day, when you walked into class and scanned the room, you would always look for Tara first.

She would always leave a seat beside her for you, death glaring anyone that tried to sit in it.

It was a comfortable situation, and you were content in being in her company, even though it was only for a few hours.

You’d bring her and yourself some coffee, quickly remembering what her go-to order was.

Sometimes you guys would study together in the library, throwing flirty comments and looking at each other longer than friends should.

You couldn’t help but get distracted sometimes in class, what with such a gorgeous girl next to you, how could you not?

Unbeknownst to you, Tara would also sneak some peeks in, but she was a lot more discreet about it. You never caught her staring once.

-

But on one random Tuesday morning, she wasn't there. It was weird of Tara to not be there before you, since you were always late, but you shrugged it off and figured she might've gotten lost on the way to class. She would never miss a class in her life. You brushed the nagging feeling in your chest away.

Halfway through the lesson, the nagging feeling turned into outright worry. Tara would never miss a class without an important reason, and if she did, she would have at least texted you about it. The two of you had grown pretty close in the last semester.

y/n: Hey, are you okay?

She never answered.

As soon as the class ended, you sprinted outside and started running.

Finding the way to Tara's apartment was a bit challenging, seeing as though you'd never been there before. But Tara had given the address to you once, during a frat party you attended together.

You swayed on the heels of your feet anxiously, hoping Tara was home and not out somewhere dangerous. You had heard news of a new killer around, though you didn't pay it much attention. You certainly didn't want Tara to be one of his victims though.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

A girl you'd never seen before opens the door, expression clearly annoyed. She looked a bit like Tara, but her demeanor was all dark and gloomy, completely unlike Tara.

"Um...is Tara home?" You mumbled, starting to feel small under her intense gaze.

"And who the hell are you? " She asked, eyebrows furrowed, arms crossed in front of her chest.

"YN?" Came a voice from inside, and you immediately recognized it as Tara's.

The girl at the door was pushed aside gently, and you looked down to see Tara, a curious expression painting her face.

"Ohmygod i'm so glad your okay. I was so worried I thought that psycho killer might've gotten you." You mumbled as you pulled her in for a tight embrace, her face nuzzling in the side of your neck. A small giggle erupted from the girl, and she held you a little tighter.

You stayed like that for a while, until someone loudly cleared their throat beside you.

You pulled away quickly, forgetting that there were other people present, and straightened up, raising your hand to the girl who greeted you at the door.

“Sam? Is everything okay?” Came a male voice from inside the apartment.

“Yeah, we’re good Chad!” She shouted back, still eyeing you like you were scum on earth.

You took a breath and stepped forward, raising your hand and meeting her eye.

"Hi. I'm YN." She eyed your hand, arms still crossed and very much still looking furious.

"A handshake?" She shot Tara a look, expressing something like a "really? this is the one you pick?"

"Yeah i'm sorry if i'm intruding, I just wanted to make sure Tara was okay since she didn't come to class today." You explained.

The older girl was fast to snap back, "You are, and you've seen her, so you should leave now."

"Sam!" Tara exclaimed, taking a hold of your wrist to prevent you from leaving.

"It's okay Tara, I don't mind. As long as I know you’re okay, then I’m good." You whispered, making sure she looked you in the eye to express how serious you were.

Her eyes softened a little, before turning to Sam and speaking slowly.

"He must've saw her come up. We can't let her go. She might get attacked."

You furrowed your eyebrows, starting to get confused about what they were talking about.

Sam must've saw the look in Tara's eyes, because she rebuffed her immediately, glaring at you as she said, "Absolutely not. I know nothing about her, you know nothing about her. For all we know, she's the killer!"

At that you step in.

"Woah, woah woah. I just gotta defend myself here and say I don't know what you're talking about right now, but I am most definitely not a killer." You winked at the older girl, trying to keep the mood light.

Oh shit. That sounds exactly like something a killer would say.

"I mean-! I'm just Tara's friend, I wanted to make sure she was okay. She never misses class so I came to check on her." You hurried out, seeing the look of suspicion growing on Sam's face.

"Please, Sam. How many innocent people are you gonna let die? And if she is the killer, then we'll have her right here with us! We'll keep an eye on her." Tara pleaded, though her tone was more pressed than anything.

Sam let out a scoff, and walked away, further into their apartment.

You’re left standing in the hallway corridor, not really sure what just happened.

"I guess that's a yes." Tara sing-songed and smiled at you, pulling you in and closing the door and giving you a peck on the cheek.

Your eyes widened and you tried your best not to gulp, but by the way Tara's smile turned even bigger, you know you failed.

"Come on, let's go meet the others." She tugged on your wrist, which she was still keeping a death grip on. Effectively dragging you forward to the living room.

You snap out of your daze and start to follow her, but not before asking a question you should’ve asked about five minutes before.

"What's this about me being a killer again?"

[blue-slxt]

First Heat

🔞Minors Do Not Interact🔞

A/N: Something about a deep animalistic urge to mate just does it for me apparently. All characters are aged up. Hope you enjoy!

Pairing: Neteyam x Avatar!Fem!Reader

Warnings: Explicit smut, p in v, heat, creampie, praise kink

Word Count: 2.7k

Summary: It's your first heat cycle in your avatar body and you beg Neteyam for help.

It’s been about 5 months since you’ve decided to stay in your avatar permanently and live with the na’vi. At only 19 years old, you were the youngest person with an avatar and you took a bit of pride in that fact. Life on Pandora was a far cry from the life you knew on Earth, but in the absolute best way possible. The air was alive with this energy that you could feel at the bottom of your feet flowing through every living thing on the planet. You felt like you were starting to get the hang of how things worked; the customs, the traditions, the hunting, the healing, everything. You enjoyed life here much better.

You loved spending time with the Sully family. Since Jake was originally from Earth too, you enjoyed talking with him and telling his kids all about Earth and watching their ears perk up in amazement. In particular, Neteyam would always ask you questions wanting to know everything there was to know about your first home.

You enjoyed Neteyam’s company. He was a good listener, always very respectful, but he was also a bit of a jokester. You found him charming. Nothing like the men you knew on Earth.

You kept your hut pretty minimal for the most part. Although, there were a few Earth things you decided to keep, mostly a full body mirror. You loved admiring your avatar. They were able to customize it so that even though you had mostly the same build as the na’vi, you still had a lot of the same curves as your human body. It made you feel a little bit embarrassed sometimes wearing the na’vi clothing because it left you feeling extra exposed since it didn’t cover much. Nevertheless, you admired your long, slender legs all the same and strong arms. You sat on the floor of your hut weaving an armband with some beautiful beads that you had collected. Funny enough, the beads looked similar to the ones Neteyam would wear in his braids. And almost as if he had heard your thoughts, the flap to your hut flips open and he walks inside. You were surprised, but not unhappy to see him. Next to no one comes to your hut so you weren’t expecting company. “Hey Neteyam.”

“Hey, we missed you at dinner tonight” he said looking around at your strangely decorated home.

“Yea, sorry, I guess I got a little lost in my thoughts” you admit.

His eyes wander around looking at the Earth items littered through your hut, tail flicking back and forth with curiosity. His eyes finally land on the mirror and you can see the intrigue written all across his body language. He stares at himself moving this way and the other looking at his movements matched by his reflection. You wander up behind him and look in the mirror with him giggling to yourself a bit. “Pretty neat huh?”

He grins to himself clearly pleased with his appearance. “I have never seen myself so clearly. At most, I get a blurry glimpse in the water.”

It was fun to watch him watch himself. And you couldn’t help yourself from noticing him too. You became acutely aware of his slender muscles and the way his braids fell around his neck and the stripes along his body. He was a handsome man, there was no two ways about it. Your tail is brushing back and forth along the floor and your body lets out a soft purr. You feel your face flush deeply as Neteyam makes eye contact with you in the mirror. You cannot believe that the body you loved so much would betray you in such a way. “Sorry! I have no idea where that came from. I’ve never done that before. And you know I’m still kinda getting used to things and—” you try to explain away the sound and he turns around to actually face you. His head cocks to the side listening to your ramblings while a knowing smirk plays on his lips. God, his lips looked soft. Have they always looked so soft? And…inviting? ‘Stop it!’ what were you thinking? What has gotten into you? You have never acted this way before so why now?

You excuse yourself to go and sit cross-legged on your sleeping mat across the floor. Suddenly, it feels very hot in your hut. Strange, since it was getting late and it usually cools off around now, but you feel like you’re about to start sweating. Neteyam walks over to you and crouches in front of you. His big golden eyes scan your face. His stare is scorching, and you dip your head down to avoid his burning eyes, but his fingers find your chin and lift your face to look at him. He takes in a big breath, and you notice a flash of realization come across his face for a split second. If you blinked, you would’ve missed it. His eyes drop from your eyes to your lips and his thumb traces across your bottom lip, “Tell me, how much do you know about heat cycles?” his voice was low and for some reason it made you hot at your core.

“What is a heat cycle?” you question feeling like your body is burning up and your mind is going fuzzy. It’s all you can do just to focus on the conversation.

Neteyam chuckles to himself. He realized that this must be your first heat. When he came over to you, he could smell your pheromones radiating off you and clouding his senses. You smelled of fresh rainwater and exotic flora. It drove him mad with desire. He could notice your breathing speeding up and your eyes starting to cloud.

With how you look right now, it makes him want nothing more than to ravage you, but he was too much of a gentleman to take advantage of you in such a state. No matter how painfully hard he was right now looking at you.

He drops his hand from your chin and pats the top of your head instead. “You still have so much to learn.” He sighs, “Your heat will come every month, it’s basically your body’s um…need to…seek out a mate” he did his best to explain, but truthfully he wasn’t very good at it since his mother or sister usually handled this kind of thing.

You managed to register the information he was giving you, but it did nothing to quell the feeling growing inside of you. There was this deep ravenous hunger you felt, but not in your stomach. It was growing so strong, it was getting painful. You sit up on your knees and crouch over holding yourself. Neteyam rubs his hand up and down your back and his fingers feel like fire on your spine. You jolt under his touch wanting to lean more into it. “I hear the Tsahik has certain herbs that you can take that can help ease you through the next few days.”

Days? You would have to endure this feeling for days? You weren’t sure you would last even through the night. Neteyam moves to go leave your hut and get the herbs, but the sudden loss of his touch leaves you feeling needy and without any thought behind it, you reach out and grab his wrist to stop him from leaving you. He looks back down at you in surprise. You can barely hold yourself up on the floor. “Please…please Neteyam…don’t leave me.” You couldn’t believe what you were saying. It was like your lips suddenly had free will apart from your brain. Neteyam couldn’t help but notice how desperate you looked. Despite his better judgement, he bent down and scooped you up into his arms bridal style. The gesture makes your heart skip several beats. You knew he was strong, but something in the way that he picked you up and held you as if you weighed nothing did something to you. You rested your head in the crook of his neck and you breathed in his scent. You’ve never noticed how good he smells. He smells Earthy. It makes you feel…feral.

Neteyam tries to ignore your breath on his neck and hold his composure while he carries you back over to your mat. He lays you down gently on your back and sits cross-legged beside you. He’s stopped touching you and that painful feeling comes back. Your thighs rub together desperate for some kind of friction to hopefully relieve the ache you feel. Your hands roam up and down your own body needing touch. You turn your head to look at Neteyam as he watches you clearly concerned at your current state and the fact that he doesn’t know how to help you. Your eyes catch movement down at his loincloth and it’s practically calling your name.

“Neteyam..n-need you t-to help me…please” you moan out with your hands resting underneath your top.

“I want to help, but I don’t know what you need”, he touches your shoulder eyes full of worry. You trail your eyes down to between his legs and look back up at him. It clicks. His face and ears blush a deep violet color. “Oh, I can’t do that, I shouldn’t be the one to do that. That should be something for your mate.”

“B-but I…don’t have one” the pain is getting worse and your vision is blurring. You’ve decided there’s no point in trying to fight it anymore and let yourself succumb to the lusty haze in your head. “Please ‘Teyam, I need you” you beg him. There was no denying that hearing his name dance across your tongue was enticing to him. Soon, Neteyam found himself wanting to give in too. Watching you writing in lustful agony in front of him was too much for him to bear. He ponders on it for a moment before letting himself give in to you. “Fine.”

You felt such relief wash over you once he agreed to help you. You untied the strings to your top and let it fall off to the side on the floor. Neteyam froze in the middle of untying his own loincloth at the sight of your breasts which were noticeably larger and more shapely than typical na’vi. You hurriedly shimmy out of your own cloth and flip over to your stomach. You hold your hips up into the air on your knees with your face still on the floor. You can feel something warm running down the length of your thigh and you surprise even yourself with how wet you are. Neteyam is stuck in awe seeing you like this. Without the loincloth in the way, he can smell your pheromones even more clearly and it makes him lick his lips in anticipation. Unable to wait one more second, your tail drags along Neteyam’s jaw and pulls him closer to you until you can feel the tip touching your opening. Your body purrs in waiting and that drives Neteyam mad. He slides in you inch by inch letting you get used to the stretch and every inch feels like a jolt of electricity throughout your body. By the time he’s all the way in, you swear you could cum right then and there. Your body can’t even wait for him to start moving so you start to throw your hips back into him giving your body the friction that you were craving. Neteyam holds on to your hips to steady himself and he squeezes his eyes closed trying to focus on not cumming inside of you so soon. Once he gets ahold of himself, he bucks his hips forward into you finally matching your movements. He opens his eyes and the sight of your ass falling back onto his dick over and over again makes him let out a low groan. He felt the need to have you completely. He wanted to be the only one to ever see you like this. The only one to ever touch you like this. The only one to make you feel like this.

All the pain is gone from your core leaving behind pure ecstasy. You’ve never felt need like this. You turn your face to the side so that you can look back at Neteyam hearing the constant smack of your hips against his. Neteyam looks down at your face and what a sight you were. Tongue hanging out while you moan and pant with every thrust, eyes nearly crossing unable to focus, a string of drool falling from the corner of you perfectly full lips, and your hair an absolute mess. “You’ve never looked more gorgeous than right now.”

His words of praise make your ears feel hot as his words dance around them. You needed that. “More. More please Neteyam.” You plead trying to focus your vision on his face, but it was no use. Your body wouldn’t listen to you.

Hearing you beg for more praise makes Neteyam feel this sense of pleasure that he didn’t know he could feel. He wanted to shower you with the sweetest of words like rain. “You feel so good.” His grip on your hips tightens. “Fuck, you make me want to give you everything.”

“Oh shit, Neteyam..I’m almost there!” you practically scream as you feel the pressure building in your body. Neteyam is close too, but he’s going to make sure that you get yours first. He grabs your wrists and holds them behind your back with one hand and he pulls you up so that your back meets his chest. The angle makes it so that he’s hitting exactly where your soft spot is. His free hand comes around the front of your body to grope one of your breasts. You catch a glimpse of the sight in the mirror across the room and it’s so lewd, but so…hot. It’s enough to get you to that sweet release you were chasing and you let it out all over Neteyam.

“Oh fuck, that is hot” he says admiring the mess you made on him. Between the sounds of your sweet moans and your walls still clenching around him from your orgasm, it’s exactly what he needs to get there. “I’m almost there. Should I take it out?” he asks you trying to be respectful, but the thought of him pulling out of you now damn near makes you panic. “No! Please don’t take it out!” You tell him. “B-but if I don’t then—” you cut him off. “I know, but I need it Neteyam. I need this” you practically have tears in your eyes at this point. Neteyam can’t hold it off any longer. ‘Fuck it’. He thrusts into you harder than before and releases inside of you. It feels thick and burning hot, but it satiates the aching hunger you felt earlier.

Neteyam releases his hold on you and you fall limp onto the floor. “Are you okay?” he asks making sure you’re not hurt. You squeak out a weak ‘mhm’ and lay there catching your breath. You feel him start to slide out of you slowly and your tail instinctively wraps around his thigh begging him to leave it in for a little while longer. You’re afraid that the pain will come again if he leaves you. He sighs and carefully lays down next to you being sure not to let himself come out of you yet wrapping one arm around your waist. He waits until you fall asleep before pulling out of you. Even in your sleep, your body can recognize the sudden emptiness and it makes you flinch. Your eyes flutter open to see his face studying yours. “Sorry ‘Teyam.” You say above a whisper feeling ashamed and embarrassed about what you asked of him. He brings one hand up to cup your face and lightly kisses your forehead, “Don’t be.”

“I do have to get home, though. If I stay here too long, your pheromones will drive me to do something crazy again.” He states.

You snake your tail around his waist holding him in place and you ask, “Would that be such a bad thing?” looking up into his eyes.

And you can feel him stiffen again at your suggestion. This was going to be a long couple of days.

[mytheoristavenue]

MHA Commoner!Eijiro Kirishima x Princess!Reader - So This is Love? - II

Summary: Kirishima accompanies you to the castle to make ready for the ball, and he can't help but drown in the cultural difference.

Warnings: Reverse harem, social class difference, fluff, slight angst, mentions of suggestive thoughts, love at first sight, princess x commoner trope

As promised, just as the sun got ready to settle, a carriage pulled up to the home and shop of the Kirishima family. It had arrived right on time, not that there was a chance Kirishima could miss it. He'd sat in the front room over his parent's shop since this morning, always with a perfect view of the window. He'd long since given up on his work for the day, there weren't any pressing jobs today anyway. All he could think about was the arrival of the carriage, and here it finally was.

"I-It's here!" he shouted anxiously to his parents, running to the back room to kiss his mother's cheek. "I have to go!" His parents wished him well as he scrambled out the door, stumbling over the threshold. To his delight, the footman was waiting at the end of the walk to let him inside. "Uhm," he waved nervously, slowing down a bit as he grew near. "Hello, sir..."

The glare the footman shot him made him uneasy. It reminded him of the social distance between himself and the opportunity he was presented with, and he presumed this one wouldn't be the last prejudicial stare he got by the end of the night. Nevertheless, he pressed on, letting the footman help him into the carriage.

His blood ran cold when he was met with a floor full of fine silk, ruffles, and cotton with intricate designs. Following the full skirt upwards, his eyes once again met yours as he paused, still on the carriage step. Just like before, your eyes held a mysterious beauty, barely visible thanks to the angle and the hand fan obscuring your painted lips.

"Y-You're majesty!" He gasped, scrambling into the carriage, and sitting across from you. He was suddenly acutely aware of the amount of space he took up as his knees grazed yours in the small space. "Forgive me, I hadn't expected to see you again until tonight." He admitted sheepishly.

"Quite alright," you answered, voice saccharine from beyond your fan. "I would be remiss if I didn't accompany you on your way, considering I invited you so last minute."

"Well, thank you..." he nodded timidly, hands folded in his lap. "If I may ask, why did you invite me?" He finally asked, the question having burned sores into his mind.

"All in due time," you answer cryptically, folding your fan to reveal a friendly smile that made him queasy when paired with your mystique. "All will be revealed soon, you have my word."

"Yes, my lady..." He relented with a small bow, still feeling microscopic in your presence.

-----

Arriving at the castle, the carriage halted, the footman coming around to open the door. Kirishima stepped out first, immediately turning back to the open door, extending you a hand. "Allow me, your grace." He said with a focused expression, though your could see the way the tips of his ears turned red when you gave him your hand.

"Why, thank you," you smiled, nodding to him as he helped you onto solid ground.

"Of course," he responded, holding your hand high as he always assumed a man should when escorting a lady. A bit of him was joyful when you didn't withdraw your hand, even though you had every opportunity, as it simply rested in his palm. You allowed him to help you up the castle stairs, stopping a few feet before the entrance. Giving the guards time to open the doors for you, you stepped forward, prompting him to do the same, still holding his hand as you stepped over the threshold. It almost made you giggle the way he kept sneaking glances, adjusting his posture to match yours. It was almost as if he was mimicking you to fit in.

Entering the castle, you halted, finally taking your hand back as the pair of you were swarmed by servants, dutifully directing you both up a grand staircase to the right. Once up several flights of stairs, you were ushered into a hallway where you were pulled into separate yet adjacent rooms. For you, this was nothing out of the ordinary. For Kirishima, this was strange and almost cult-like, the way people seemed to buzz around you, as if automated.

Now inside your personal chambers, you could relax, plopping down in a decorative armchair. "Best not to get too comfortable, my lady," your chambermaid, Tsu said, smoothing a white sheet into a wooden tub towards the center of the room. "Your bath will be ready soon."

"Come now, my lady," another maid smiled, kneeling in front of you to remove your shoes. When she was finished, she offered you her hands to help you up. "Can't be tired now when you've got the ball to look forward to." She chirped, bustling around you to begin the long process of removing your day dress.

"Of course," you nod half-heartedly, shivering as she reduces you to nudity before slipping a paper-thin linen gown over your head. "Ochako, I don't believe I'm prepared for tonight." You confess, approaching the tub just after Tsu has finished filling it.

"Why ever not, your grace?" The brunette asks, her chipper smile fading into a look of concern as she takes your hand, helping you into the tub.

"I fear this night will be a disaster," you lament as their hands begin to graze your skin, flannel washcloth dragging about.

-----

In the adjoined room, Kirishima sat similarly in a bathtub, a luxury he wasn't accustomed to. Not only that but he certainly wasn't accustomed to having someone bath him, let alone a young woman. His cheeks flushed as her fingers grazed his skin and occasionally, for a moment at a time, when he glanced at her hand, he'd see your manicured nails and blushed knuckles, smooth skin wet with his bathwater. Each time he caught his mind wandering off, he'd promptly call it back, never daring to tarnish your visage with such a lewd filter.

When the maid deemed him clean, she helped him out of the tub, unphased to see him naked as he tried to keep himself modest. It was as if she did this every day; like it was typical of her routine- and it probably was. After toweling him off, she stepped to a large armoire against the East wall, taking out what he assumed must have been the outfit you'd described.

Expertly, the maid helped him into a large linen shirt and cream-colored stockings that tucked into red breeches. Afterward, she slipped a matching waistcoat over his shoulders before circling back around him to fasten its gold buttons.

Once he was fully dressed, the maid quietly took her leave, but not before showering him with compliments that he couldn't tell the genuineness of. Stepping over to the full-length mirror, he studied himself in the mirror, remarking how different he looked. He was the cleanest he'd ever been and his hair was groomed and tied back with a gold ribbon. The suit he wore looked more expensive than the cottage that he and his family lived in, all crimson satin, embroidered with shiny gold threat into complicated patterns too small for him to fully appreciate. He hadn't ever worn clothes that felt so heavy, feeling weighed down by the thick coat he wore, yet still transfixed by the luxurious visage in the mirror. He definitely looked like royalty.

Just then out of a door he hadn't before noticed on the East wall, you appeared, and his breath was stolen away. You peered around the door shyly, face once again hidden by a hand fan, but not the same one as earlier. Seeing that he was decent, you strolled in, the corners of your eyes crinkling, indicating a sweet smile just behind an accordion of metal boning, embroidered silk, and ostrich feather.

"I thought it appropriate to have our outfits match..." It was obvious that your gown and his suit had been cut from the same cloth- literally. Your bodice and skirt were made up of the exact same crimson satin with identical stitching. The pair of you were a perfectly matching set, save for the long ruffled sleeves that spilled from your elbows, and the shape the fabric took on. Kirishima couldn't help but stare in awe at the way your corset hugged your ribcage and the way the crinoline under your skirt filled out your hips in a manner that tempted something primal within him.

"Y-Your majesty..." he breathed, air caught in his throat as his eyes wandered up over the curve of your uplifted breasts settling momentarily on the silk ribbon that hugged your throat, holding up what he assumed to be a ruby framed with pure gold. "You are a truly..." he paused for a moment, his eyes finally reaching yours, noticing your made-up face and complex updo, and how soft ringlets framed your cheekbones. "Breathtaking visage."

His words put an irrefutable glow in your cheeks as you inched closer, drinking him in as he had done to you. "And you, I must say, kind sir, look rather dashing this evening."

"Thank you, your highness." he nodded in appreciation, throat dry at the prospect of you finding him attractive.

"Aye," you nodded in return, pivoting on your heels to a small table to your left. "Before I forget," you say, opening a small decorative box that sat atop the table. Pulling two objects from it, you step back to him, pinning a small rose to his lapel. He stares at the gesture, heart swelling, taken by surprise when you hand him another one, this one in full bloom, along with a stick pin. Letting your eyes shut, your hands clasped behind your back as your back arched, offering your chest to him. With trembling fingers, Kirishima carefully pinned the blossom to your bodice, touch lingering a few seconds longer than needed. "Thank you, kind sir..." you said, batting your lashes.

"Y-You're welcome, my princess." he stammered, letting a beat of silence pass between the two of you.

"I'm afraid I haven't been entirely honest with you," you finally confessed, looking sheepish. It was the first time he'd seen you not entirely sure of yourself and it made him all the more nervous.

"Please, go on, my lady." he spoke calmly, concern written all over his face as he urged to to continue.

"You see..." you began, nipping at your lip. "The true reason I invited you tonight was-"

Suddenly, there was a stern knock at the door, frightening the both of you out of your skin. A servant then entered, eyes shifting towards your date with visible haughtiness before simply stating: "Your highness, the pair of you are expected in the grand hall immediately to be introduced."

[cupidb]

Guess who woke up from the dead… haha 😅

- The Intruder

Vampire!Yunho x Fem!Vampire!Reader

☆Genre: Fluff??/Smut (18+ content, MDNI!)

☆Summary: Yunho finds a badly wounded vampire in his territory and takes her home.

Enjoy!

Yunho was stalking the woodland. His domain was peaceful, and the moon was full. He rushed down the trails, his fangs protruding and his gaze acute in the dim light. He wasn't starving. He was simply bored.

He was the clan's area enforcer, and it was his responsibility to patrol at night, check recurring problem sites, and ensure that violators in their territory were apprehended and dealt with.

He would be regarded as gigantic inhuman proportions. In human terms, he was 6ft 2 tall. Others might conceal their fangs and stroll amongst humans in the dead of night. Yunho, not so. His skin was as white as the moon and glowed with the same ethereal radiance. His eyes were bronze in color. He could never stroll among others. He was far too beautiful.

He could smell something. It was an intruder. He moved lower to the ground. Moving on foot. Moving slowly. Unusual and risky. The intruder wouldn't be hard to find. Why would a rival vampire be in his territory, moving slowly on foot, unless something was wrong.

He could only detect one scent. A vampire who was alone was usually a vampire who was at risk. Vampires felt that there was safety in numbers. Yunho was the only one who preferred to walk by himself. He clenched his fists and braced himself for the fight. He sniffed the track once more before heading north through the woodland towards the lake.

He noticed it when he broke through the woods and entered the clearing. The trespasser. It was little, curled up, and smelled strongly of dread and hunger. Yunho was nearly certain he wouldn't have to fight tonight, but he kept his guard up nevertheless. Being careful paid off.

He approached it cautiously. As Yunho neared, it groaned and grabbed itself, its breath coming in short bursts and its eyes wide open. "I'm no intruder." It cried in pain. "Check with Hui. My maker was from this clan." That altered everything. Yunho became concerned at this point. He scooped up the small being. She weighed next to nothing.

"Why are you here?" Yunho asked quietly as he headed west to a safe place. The voice that came out was small and strained. "My maker. Did the wrong thing. They killed him. I had to escape." Yunho didn't want to know anymore. Vampires were unfortunately intrinsically tied to the actions and whims of their maker. She would have had no choice but to follow the maker's instructions. It must have been terrible for her to run and end up in this condition.

Yunho went swiftly through the night air, the darkness relaxing, his cold skin soothing the nearly lifeless creature in his arms. Vampires required very little to live. Vampires enjoy blood, darkness, and the company of other vampires. He had no choice but to keep her alive. Just five minutes more. He yanked her shirt buttons open and shoved the small vampire into his skin. Her breathing instantly slowed. Yunho exhaled a sigh of relief and continued walking.

"Mingi. Open up." He yelled as he pounded on the old farmhouse's door. When the human opened the door and saw the gigantic vampire clutching the tiny lifeless creature in his arms, his eyes widened in terror. "No time to explain." He shoved the human aside and marched into his living room, where he placed the vampire on the couch.

"Mingi. Come here." Yunho commanded. His bronze eyes burned with power as the human followed his instruction. He silently commanded the human, who was strong and bursting with vitality, to sit on the floor beside the couch.

She was almost gone. She was too weak to bite or suck. Yunho was well aware that he would have to feed her. He held Mingi's wrist tightly in his huge hand. As the vampire enforcer bit down and drank, filling his mouth with the delicious warm liquid, the human breathed deeply. He leaned over the dying vampire on the couch, pressing their lips firmly together. He opened his mouth and let the life fluid in his mouth run into the other's mouth. He held the reviving kiss for the fluids to transfer. It tasted fantastic. Mingi has recently been eating well.

He interrupted the kiss and wiped his lips with the back of his pale palm, leaving a red smear. "What happened to her?" When Yunho glared at him while disregarding his question, Mingi immediately regretted asking.

Mingi's veins were sucked again and transmitted to the little vampire. Yunho massaged their h/c hair and felt her revive as the second mouthful flowed into the other. She was going to live.

He drank another deep, rich swallow and passed it to the small vampire. The third bite was enough to wake her up. She groaned as Yunho peered over her as she recovered awareness and her sensation of pain.

"I need to see." Yunho said as he ripped her shirt open. Deep scrapes disfigured the flawless s/c chest and stomach, which were already exhibiting indications of infection. Yunho inhaled deeply at the sight before him. Inside his pants, his erection was already growing. He only fucked humans because he needed to be in power, and other vampires weren't typically willing to be completely dominated. But this one was a little different.

"Who are you?" Yunho inquired as the smaller one became lively. "My maker named me Moon. But he's gone now. "I'll go with Y/N."

"I can heal you Y/N." Yunho spoke into the vampire's ear, making her quiver at the feeling of his breath on her skin. He stroked the deep gashes on her chest with his hands. He stabbed his thumb with a fang and delicately wiped his blood into the cuts. Y/N writhed in pain as she let the massive vampire hovering over her perform his healing ritual.

Yunho sucked another mouthful of Mingi's blood and pressed his lips against Y/N's. Honestly, the small vampire was restored enough that she could bite and suck for herself, but Yunho was having too much fun with this.

His tongue followed the blood into Y/N's mouth this time, and the other welcomed it in. She pushed back with her own, and the taste of Mingi's blood lingered between them. Yunho licked her wounds as he lowered his mouth down her neck to her chest. His healing saliva instantly began to close the wounds and relieve Y/N's discomfort.

Y/N finally felt her head clear. The world came to a halt as life returned to her. Yunho's relief from her wounds was pleasant, and she relaxed as she began to appreciate the feel of Yunho's thick rough tongue on her body. She felt better every time a wound healed. Her writhing, groaning misery gradually turned to pleasure as she relished the sensation of the massive vampire looming over her.

"Let me thank you." The h/c vampire reached down and started unbuttoning Yunho's pants. Yunho quickly assessed the situation and determined that he would approve it. He had already become hard, so why not take advantage of it? As the other withdrew his erection from his pants and began to work it with her hand, he proceeded to lick at the small vampire's wounds.

Mingi muttered something about privacy and turned to walk away, but Yunho grabbed his wrist and stopped him. "We're not done with you yet." As the vampire underneath him pumped his erection faster, he muttered and sucked another mouthful from his wrist.

He leaned in and gave Y/N another mouthful of Mingi's blood, this time with his tongue, the thick red liquid coating their lips, teeth, and tongues.

As life surged back into Y/N's body, she felt herself resurrect. She had been so close to death when she was rescued by this huge imposing being whose eyes glowed with their fire.

"Can I drink from your human?" She asked quietly and politely as she continued to jerk him off. "If you say yes I'll let you fuck me." She added. Yunho smirked before nodding. She released her hold on his erection.

She grabbed Mingi roughly and went for his inner elbow, moaning as she bit down, her eyes closed as she sucked hard causing a low whimper to escape him. Just like his blood, she drank the sound up. She released the frightened human and gave him a flirty wink as she turned her attention back to Yunho, not catching the possessive glint in his eyes.

"He's delicious!" Y/N grinned. She was alive again.

"I know." Yunho smirked and barely noticed as the terrified but flustered human took off out of the room. "Now give me what you promised." He tore at the small vampire's muddy trousers and smirked again at the sight before him when they hit the floor.

With her painfully thin body and glittering e/c eyes, this petite yet powerful creature was truly beautiful. Yunho was bored with fucking Mingi. He sought the thrill of battling another creature as powerful and wild as he was.

He delighted in running his hands over the smaller's chest. He hadn't felt another vampire under him in a long time. It was unbelievably sensual. He crushed his lips on hers and forced his tongue inside. He rubbed it against Y/N's newly protruding fangs. He could tell she was excited as well.

Yunho ran his fangs lightly down the s/c flesh of Y/N's neck, causing her to moan beneath him. His manhood rubbed onto the small vampire's exposed skin. Y/N got the clue and started jerking him off again.

"Stop. Let me inside you." Yunho commanded and the smaller conceded. She knew she had to do what the other wanted. He was twice her size and could easily destroy her.

Y/N opened her legs and allowed Yunho to feel for her entrance. It was tight but she would enjoy the pain.

"Go straight in." Y/N had taken a drink from his human. She had requested a favor, and now it was her turn to repay him. He pulled her knees up and she winced when she felt Yunho’s erection push inside her. The pain was nearly as energizing as the blood.

But she felt alive once more. She hadn't felt anyone other than her maker inside her in a long time. Her maker had been selfish, possessive, and jealous, and now that he was gone, Y/N was enjoying the first act of her newfound freedom. "Ah- More" She whined as she clutched Yunho's back. She desired to feel him deep within.

Yunho was accustomed to the delicacy of humans. He had forgotten what it was like to sink himself deep within another vampire without hesitation or reservation. He yanked almost all the way out, snarled deep inside his chest, and pushed in deeply, causing her to softly whimper. As Yunho found a rhythm and began to pound against her, Y/N bucked beneath him, her hips rising to meet the violent thrusts.

He didn't dare say it out loud but he loved the size difference and how huge he looked compared to her. It made him feel even more powerful in the moment. Looking down at where their hips meet he increases his speed watching how well she takes him.

It felt good. Too good. His orgasm built quickly and he found himself trying to hold on. Her moans and whimpers weren't making it easy for him either. If it was a human he wouldn't care, he would just finish and pull out and leave. But another vampire deserves respect and pleasure at the least.

Y/N's body responded to the belly full of blood and her body full of the bigger vampire. She luxuriated in the hedonistic pleasures of delicious food and a good fucking. She knew she had made the right decision to come back to her maker's original territory. She wondered if all the vampires around here were so tall and beautiful. She thrust her hips up to meet Yunho’s driving down into her earning a low moan from him.

She could see him clinging on, not wanting to be first, and was touched that the other vampire thought of her in that way. She wouldn't have to hold on for long. Yunho filled every inch of her body, and she was overdue for an orgasm. As she got closer, her insides twisted, and she came in hard, her fangs out in bliss, her nails and fangs dragging down Yunho's beautiful glowing skin.

Yunho noticed the small vampire beneath him arch and twist and ultimately moan in delight. Yunho's exposed skin was riddled with sharp nails and teeth. It was incredible. He allowed himself to climax, and his thrusts became more chaotic as he snarled deeper, beat harder, and eventually groaned. As his hips rode into the small body under him, he bit down hard on

Y/N's neck. Both catch their breath before helping the other stand up.

It wasn't until Yunho got off and they both started dressing that they noticed Mingi, horror on his face, motionless next to the couch. After what he had just witnessed, he was locked in a bizarre limbo halfway between shock and arousal.

"Still hungry?" Yunho questioned, ignoring the other male. Y/N raised her head. "No, thank you. I'm feeling great right now." He nodded at her response.

The moon was still full when they walked away from the house. "What are you going to do now?" Yunho inquired. "Not sure." She responded. "I'll have to go to Hui and ask for work and a place to stay."

Yunho couldn't believe what she was saying and scoffed, rolling his eyes. He smiled at her as he turned to face her. "You can stay with me."

"Really?" The small vampire looked up at the big one with big grateful eyes.

"Sure, why not? He'll probably assign you to me anyway. Everyone else is already partnered up, and you appear to be determined. I need someone to assist with the patrol."

Not waiting for an answer, Yunho began to sprint as the moon descended lower in the sky. He turned his head to see Y/N, who had fully recovered and was following him through the woodland. He smiled to himself and accelerated his pace, but Y/N kept up. His boredom could be coming to an end. Finally, someone was able to keep up with him.

since I'm alive again I will reopen my request box, yay! feel free to request!

[somebluemelodies]

SPIDERBIT WEEK hosted by @smallchaoscryptid !! day six: coffee | nautical IM FINALLY BACK !! i know mer au won my poll from a while back so this is kinda a double whammy? spiderbit week AND poll fic :D

For a while, Roier wonders if he’s ever gonna see the deepsea mer ever again. When he doesn’t see him the night after their initial meeting, he’s worried that the Feds may have gotten to the mer after all, and it pains him more than he cares to admit aloud.

But it’s not the last time. In fact, it happens multiple times, to the point where they have a weird schedule of sorts to meet every third day or so.

Communicating isn’t the easiest, with only Roier able to actually talk, but they make do, and he’s getting a real good hold of asking ‘yes or no’ questions or anything else that permits him to learn more about the deepsea mer.

Except for one thing. The mer’s name.

The mer can understand nearly everything Roier says, but he can’t write it. He can only write in his own strange mer-tongue, which is a series of characters that sends the pirate into a deeper confusion the more he tries to make sense of it.

For a little while, Roier contemplates giving the merman a name himself, but that feels a little unfair to the mer. He has a name, after all.

However, his mouth running faster than his mind produces a nickname, gatinho, as a result of staring at the mer for a little too long and getting lost in his eyes. Thankfully, though, the mer doesn’t seem to mind it, and Roier even swears it makes the creature blush. But that sounds like crazy talk, so he tries not to dwell on it.

Nevertheless, the nickname stays. If only because it’s… well… the truth.

(Mostly. He’s a mer, not a cat. Scales and no legs, not fur and four legs.)

(But God, if he isn’t the prettiest being Roier has ever seen.)

A couple weeks or so after their first initial meeting, Roier is sitting on the flattest rock closest to the water, the mer half out of the water in front of him with his arms resting on the rock. A routine, of sorts. Either here, or the cave.

“So, gatinho,” the pirate starts. “I need to figure out your name. We have to find some way. Because I can’t keep calling you gatinho forever.”

(But he’d certainly like to.)

The deepsea mer tilts his head slightly and shrugs, as if to say, “I don’t see anything wrong with that.”

“What? You like the name, huh?”

A pause, followed by a slow nod. Roier grins. “No mames, wey, this guy likes being called pretty. Like a cat. Are you sure you’re not a cat? I think you’re a cat in disguise.”

The mer looks borderline offended, trying to reach over and slap him. But the pirate pushes back, out of reach, smile growing with a laugh. “You’re swatting like a cat! Holy shit, man, I was right. I’m friends with a fucking cat. A catfish. No mames.”

There’s a growl of sorts from the merman, who definitely looks like he’s blushing now - focus, focus, focus, stop looking at him like that - and shoots up out of the water before Roier has a chance to properly react.

Next thing he knows, he’s flat on his back against the rock, and there’s a solid weight on top of him, two almost-glowing blue eyes staring him down.

(A small part of Roier wonders if he should be afraid right now. He’s seen the sharp teeth and fingers. This mer could theoretically kill him in a heartbeat. Right here, right now.)

(But he’s not afraid, God only knows why. No, he’s… no, no. Enough.)

Roier tries to mask the way his cheeks are rapidly warming up with an accomplished, shit-eating laugh. “Calma, gatinho, calma.”

The deepsea mer huffs, shaking his head before a small smile crosses his face despite himself. He leans down to really shove Roier’s shoulder, but makes no effort yet to get off.

(Not that Roier minds.)

More laughter, and then a lull, and their eyes meet again. Roier becomes acutely aware of just how close they actually are. The mer is staring at him in a way he can’t quite decipher, and it makes him increasingly nervous.

(A look of wonder. Awe.)

(The mer sees the same exact look in those dark eyes.)

The pirate tries to play it off, like his heart isn’t about to beat out of his chest and like his thoughts aren’t circling around the fact that if he sits up enough, their lips could brush. Connect. “See something you like, gatinho?”

The mer also seems to finally realize their current position, and with wide eyes, pushes himself off and all but dives back into the water. Roier kicks himself in the ass for mourning the loss of contact.

For a few moments, as the merman doesn’t surface, he wonders if he’s fled for the night, and starts to feel a little guilty for his teasing.

But then there’s movement, and he watches the deepsea mer breach the surface again, blowing out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding. He rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “Sorry, sorry. I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable or anything.”

The mer shakes his head. It’s okay.

(He did see something he liked.)

"Roier!"

The pirate's head whips around, seeing a silhouette in the far distance.

"Oh, shit-- that's Jaiden. I gotta go." He turns back to the mer. "Three days? And I will learn your name, gatinho."

The deepsea mer nods, and three things happen in succession.

One. The mer leaves him a piece of sea glass, a red one.

Two. He hesitates, then hoists himself onto the rock to press a kiss to Roier's cheek.

Three. He dives back into the water without looking back, disappearing in a fleeting glint of deep emerald and leaving Roier to touch his cheek in surprise.

"Roier!" Jaiden calls again, running over to him. "There you are! What're you doing out here?"

Roier clears his throat, willing his cheeks to cool down despite the darkness surrounding them. His best friend was eerily observant sometimes. "I was just... collecting sea glass. See? Look at this piece I found!" He picks up the piece, standing up to show her.

Jaiden looks at it before back to him, her brow quirking ever-so-slightly. "O...kay? Since when do you do that?"

"It's given me something to do recently."

She studies him another moment, trying to decipher the truth. If she doesn't believe him, she doesn't say it. Instead, she says, "fair. But I came to bring you back to the ship, c'mon."

They walk in a comfortable silence for a bit, until she speaks up again. "Y'know, I haven't seen much sea glass around here. You must have some awfully good luck; I see the little pile on the box beside your hammock."

Roier opens his hand, looking at the translucent red treasure as icy eyes infiltrate his mind, the ghost of lips warming his cheek. "Sí. Something like that."

[fairyniceyeah]

⌛🐿️ Tears in diamond

Title from Better (ATEEZ)

Summary: Hongjoong is sick, overwhelmed and in need of taking care of. Too bad that Award season was in the near future. Yet he doesn’t make it through, collapsing backstage.

CW: emeto, idol mistreatment, hospitals, CPR, critical medical conditions

Sickie: Hongjoong Caretaker: mainly Seonghwa (feat. Eden + Maddox)

03:48 o’clock in the morning. Hongjoong rubbed his eyes tiredly and placed his headphones on the desk next to his laptop. Resting his head in his hands he groaned. He just wanted to go home and sleep, his head was pounding in tune with every beat of the new song he was trying to produce. Emphasis on trying. Who would have thought that preparing for another Award show, a concert cycle and having interviews and photoshoots daily would mean that the only time for producing for the new album would only be at night? Certainly not the person who had planned all of this. Why had he agreed to the schedule again? Right, because he had no choice.

And no good new songs. But a headache, a lack of sleep and an annoying rasp in his throat. ‘Congratulations, Hongjoong, you won it all’, he thought bitterly to himself. He was very acutely aware that self-pity would not help him at the moment, thank you very much. But he thought he could at least give himself five minutes to miss a regular sleep cycle and his bed. Oh, his warm, cozy bed with Seonghwa softly snoring in the bed under him. He pushed the keyboard away and laid his head on the table. Five minutes, then he would go on.

⌛

He awoke to someone shaking him gently. “What?”, he groaned, shooting upright and nearly falling out of his swivel chair as a result. Apparently all the grace he possessed on stage he had forgotten there.

“Joongie”, Eden’s voice brought him out of his thoughts, “you promised you would go home last night.”

“I did?”, Hongjoong asked, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, coughing softly against the still annoying tickle in his throat.

“Yes”, Eden’s voice was sharp and gentle at the same time. Hongjoong didn’t know how he did it. Whenever he tried the same tone of voice with his members he always came off as sharp and angry. He always apologised to whoever was at the mercy of his poor ability to regulate his tone afterwards but couldn’t help but feel bad about it.

“We will talk about it later, young man”, Eden continued, oblivious to Hongjoong’s inner monologue, “your members are looking for you. You have English lessons in… uh…” He looked at his watch. “seven minutes ago.”

“Shit”, Hongjoong cursed, jumping up and again nearly falling as his head swam at his sudden height change. Damn his clumsiness. Only Eden’s hand on his arm prevented him from faceplanting in his studio. “Thank you. Sorry for the inconvenience. See you later, hyung.”

“Hongjoong, wait”, Eden called. He turned around, one hand reaching for the doorknob. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, hyung. Just tired, I really gotta go, bye.”

⌛

He made his way through the halls as fast as possible without running. His legs felt too much like lead for that, his breathing not quite as deep as he would wish. He had to stop to catch his breath as he rounded the corner to the hall which held the English class room. His throat felt raw as he had to cough, his lungs really hating early morning sports. There he was – a more or less famous K-Pop Idol – winded after rushing through the halls of his company building. Sad, really. He couldn’t stop to finish his self-depreciating thoughts though, he was already so late.

Cautiously trying to make himself look more put together and less like he was had just woken up with his forehead glued to his desk at the studio, he walked the last few steps and knocked on the door.

“Enter”, a voice called in English. The teacher sounded pissed. He pushed the door open nevertheless, ignoring the hot flush encompassing his whole body. On stage he loved having ATINY’s and other fans’ eyes on him but here in private about to be scolded? He hated it with every fibre of his being.

“Kim Hongjoong, you are nearly fifteen minutes late”, the teacher said. Hongjoong bowed deeply at a ninety degree angle, suppressing how his lungs didn’t like that as well as the second head rush when he lifted his head to apologise: “I’m very sorry, teacher-nim. I was at the studio. It … wo... won’t happen again.” He answered in English likewise, knowing he would only get scolded for speaking Korean. It was a terrible concept really, how should the members whose English was weaker learn to speak a different language if they never understood the teacher who refused to communicate in Korean or accept question from them? He had wanted to talk with the CEO or at least a manager about that issue but he never had had time for that, other things taking priority.

“You might be the best of your group in English, Mr. Kim, but that doesn’t mean you can just come and go as you please. Many other groups have native English-speakers, you all are seriously lacking. Don’t you think your precious ATINY will turn from you if you can’t communicate with them? How will you gain new fans?”, the teacher raged on. Out of the corner of his eyes he saw Seonghwa and Yunho wince, Seonghwa opening his mouth to probably defend him. Hongjoong unobtrusively shook his head.

“So you think you can just stay ignorant of other people’s language?”, the teacher had obviously seen the gesture and interpreted it wrong. Her voice was full of anger.

“No, of course not”, Hongjoong apologized, “I just … I …” Christ, he didn’t even know what to say in Korean. How should he answer in English? He settled on a horribly stuttering: “I apologize again for my lateness. It will not … I won’t be late again.”

“I sure hope so”, she said. “Now, get up. I told you before, bowing won’t help you in other countries. Sit down, don’t interrupt the lesson and stay back for fifteen minutes after, to catch up on what you missed.”

Hongjoong froze. They had fifteen minutes between the lesson and the next interview, which probably would take hours to film, to eat and rest. Now he would have to go without dinner, breakfast and lunch, having forgotten the first and missed the second meal.

“Yes, teacher-nim”, he said and quickly got up to go to his seat next to Yeosang. Again his head swam but he pushed past it, sinking down in the seat grateful to not having to stand on his feet anymore.

He was aware of the curious and worried glances his teammates threw him but he ignored them in favour of glancing at Yeosang’s open book. The teacher luckily didn’t comment on his own book that laid forgotten in the dorm, as he had planned to pick it up when he left the dorm this morning. Since he hadn’t actually been at the dorm today he also had no book. As the teacher turned her back to show something on the projector, Seonghwa slid his book onto his table, having brought it for him. Hongjoong gave him a thankful smile, opening the book on the right page. Speaking and reading comprehension, great.

He listened half-heartedly as the others read passage after passage in the book out loud, then get continuously grilled by the teacher about the content. Wooyoung looked close to tears but Hongjoong had no strength to fight another battle. He felt like the worst leader in K-Pop history for not helping him but he was so tired and achy and his head was still pounding. Worst of all, the coughing hadn’t seemed to be a result of a dry throat and a lack of water. No matter how much he sipped from his bottle, the tickle in his throat never went away. Instead it got worse, especially since Hongjoong refused to cough lest he be accused of disrupting the lesson again.

Then it was his turn. He stuttered badly over his words, his pronunciation and fluency worse than it had been in years. Half-way through the first paragraph he couldn’t hold back anymore and as he nearly choked on spit he started to cough softly, trying to clear his throat. The teachers looked on, unimpressed, while Yeosang pushed his water bottle close, Hongjoong’s own long empty.

He took a few sips, trying not to breath in the liquid. The members were watching him worriedly, a good motivation for him to continue reading out loud. He managed to get through all his assigned paragraph without any major issue, his voice hitching for a few times but not resulting in coughs again. The lesson ended shortly after, at least for the others.

“Teacher-nim”, Seonghwa started, having stayed busy packing his stuff as their dongsaengs rushed out as quickly as possibly. “We only have … short break. Then we have interview and …”

“This is not your concern, is it, Mr. Park? Go.” Seonghwa hesitated but at Hongjoong’s pleading gaze to not cause more drama left. The door fell shut behind him, leaving Hongjoong and the teacher alone. Dread ran though his body but he pushed it aside. He was the captain, he could do this.

“I want you to write an apology to me for being late, being disrespectful and disrupting the lesson on purpose with coughing. I want at least half a page, if you can’t finish it in 15 minutes that is on you. I will only accept a perfect text.”

Hongjoong nodded, ducked his head and started writing. He hated grovelling at other people’s feet and he knew the punishment was unfair and harsh. They couldn’t help their hectic schedules and it would have made no difference if it was his fault for being late or because something else ran long. If it had been anyone else from his team he would have fought for them at this point but he was too tired and exhausted to do it for himself.

He didn’t finish in time but not wanting to be late to the interview and embarrassing the group he wrote his name down and handed the paper in.

He never noticed he signed in Korean.

⌛

The drive to the interview took nearly half an hour, so Hongjoong was able to scarf down the sandwich Wooyoung had saved for him and try to wake up a bit from his down. He was still angry at himself and the teacher, never mind still feeling under the weather. He didn’t want to take a pill for his headache and get questioned for it, so he just downed his whole bottle of water which also might help his throat. He couldn’t help but wonder if he was running a fever – the others were wearing long-sleeved shirts but he was freezing in his hoodie and jacket. Well, nothing he could do for that.

When they arrived at the venue they were immediately swarmed by make-up and hairstylist hyungs and noonas. Right, he didn’t want to look like a hot mess on camera but the make-up irritated his eyes and he shivered in the T-shirt so much that the stylist-hyung gave him a jacket though it would cover the colourful sides of the shirt below.

They were ushered into the recording room, two sofas set up for them. Hongjoong ended up in the middle between Mingi on his sofa, and Jongho on the other sofa. The questions were blended in on the screen behind the camera, luckily in Korean, so he didn’t have to translate. He stayed quiet for most of the interview, only answering questions when they were directed at him or everybody had to answer. His members were very professional, doing their best to be funny and engaging. He felt bad for letting them do all the hard work but he couldn’t help it.

The cameras would keep rolling for the whole interview, so the editors could get the best cut. Which was, in Hongjoong’s opinion, very bad today. His throat constantly threatened to give up on him and force him to cough and secondly he had drank so much water to sooth his throat that his bladder would welcome an actual bathroom break. Just as he resigned himself to speak to ask for a break, already embarrassed before he opened his mouth, the screen went black and the production crew clapped. He hadn’t even realized the group had said their good-byes. Normally he would stay back to talk with the producer but desperate for a moment alone he slipped out the door, already coughing. He wanted to make his way to the bathroom but he had to lean against the wall as his lungs rebelled.

A manager-noona came to find him, looking worried. As he regained his breath, she offered him a bottle of water and a throat lozenge. “Thank you”, he whispered, slightly hoarse, and took a few greedy sips. The manager looked him up and down, then asked: “Are you alright, Hongjoongie? I could probably cancel dance practice for you if you need some rest. That cough sounds bad, I don’t want you to get worse before the Award show and the following concerts.”

“I’ll be fine, just a tickle in my throat”, he answered, giving her a smile that didn’t seem to convince her. “Thank you for checking up on me. I need to use the bathroom but after that I can talk with the producer and thank him.”

“Off you go then.”

They returned to the company building quickly, the producer taking Hongjoong’s apology for rushing off in stride. His eyes kept falling shut on the drive but he knew he needed the dance practice. He just wasn’t as talented in dancing as most of the others, he knew that. He also knew his talents really laid within rap but he still couldn’t help but feel jealous of the ease the others portrayed. Instead his body felt heavy, not wanting to move right and so he ended up making a lot more mistakes than acceptable for one week before Award show season. The other members were throwing him worried glances every time he fought to dance while still coughing or had to stop to catch his breath. He felt bad for making them stay longer than necessary, so after the water break at hour four he stopped them.

“Good job, everybody. You can go home now. Thank you, Yunho-yah, for the practice.”

“What about you, hyung?”, Jongho said, bottle lifted half-way to his mouth, “aren’t you coming home?”

“Uh, no”, Hongjoong said, scratching his head, “I still have to get this dance down, we don’t have much time before the shows and concerts.”

“I can stay with you, Hongjoong-hyung”, Yunho offered, but Hongjoong waved him off. They all deserved their rest.

⌛

Knowing it was futile to argue with him, the others left him to his devices and so he pushed himself to remember the dance for the next three hours. The cough didn’t get better and his head was aching so much he had trouble focusing, even the dimmed light in the studio blinding him. He definitely had a fever, he was shaking badly and still so cold. With a heavy heart he had to admit himself he would not get any better that night, so he wiped off the most off the sweat and made his way to the studio. After all he hadn’t finished the track last night and he was seriously behind.

In the studio he wrapped himself up in the thin blanket he always kept there for sleeping on the couch. He longed to lie down to get some actual rest but he knew he couldn’t. Instead he powered up his laptop, dimmed the brightness and continued working.

Half an hour later his eyes were burning and he couldn’t even see the screen right. Why even have glasses to correct his terrible vision if they didn’t help? He placed them on the desk and rubbed at his eyes to find them wet. Was he crying? Checking his reflection in his dark phone screen he saw that he was really crying, tear tracks running down his face. Huh, he supposed he was more exhausted than he had thought. But then again everything had gone wrong day from English lessons to the Interview. He didn’t even want to think about the dancing. He really was as much of a failure as the English teacher seemed to think.

With a groan, he resigned himself to pleading with the company executives to delay the next album as he would not finish the tracks in time if it continued like this. Knowing he wouldn’t get anything done tonight, he laid down on the sofa and was out like a light, blanket forgotten on the chair and tears still dripping down his lashes.

He woke up multiple times that night, not quite awake but never quite asleep either. It was a horrible kind of sleep, the one you only got when seriously sick and feverish. Nightmares of the English teacher and dark, faceless shapes morphing into his members terrorized his sleep, calling him weak and pathetic. It made his rest fitful and anything but restful. He shivered without the blanket but had no strength to get up and get it. He desperately wished for someone to comforting him and make the sensitivity of his skin against the leather go away.

⌛

Morning came faster than expected and slower than imagined and with it the disappointed eyes of Eden and Maddox who stared down at the Idol with thinly veiled thin patience. Both of them were wearing masks.

Hongjoong sat up, head spinning and chest aching, as he looked up at his mentors with a sheepish expression on his face. Nearly immediately after sitting up he had to cough. He knew he had fucked up, he should have programmed an alarm before the others were to arrive at least to wake up and look more presentable. Hopefully, he didn’t look like he had cried himself to sleep. Shivering, he longed to grab the abandoned jacket, cold and nauseous from tiredness but didn’t want to look even more pitiful than he probably already did.

“Hongjoong-ah”, Eden began, arms crossed in front of his chest. “Imagine my surprise when I told you to go home the day before yesterday, finding out you didn’t, scolding you for that and now finding you here asleep again.”

“I’m really sorry, hyung”, Hongjoong said, bowing his head. Why did it feel like all he did was apologizing? “I didn’t mean to. I just have to finish these tracks and over the daytime I never have time with all the preparations.”

He heard Maddox sigh and then he was wrapped in delicious warmth. The older man had grabbed the blanket and adjusted it over his shoulders. He gave a small nod of thanks, not ready to look up at his hyungs.

“You know that we only want the best for you and ATEEZ, don’t you, Joongie?”, Maddox asked. “That means we can’t have you burning out. You’re exhausted, sleeping here in the studio if you sleep at all. You’re obviously already sick, I can feel your fever from here and you’re bathed in sweat. When we arrived you were in the throes of a nightmare, calling for your members. You need to rest and let your body heal or you won’t be able to continue this lifestyle.”

“But there is so much to do”, Hongjoong said, partially embarrassed and wringing his hands in his lap, “Interviews, concerts, practices, producing new songs, the Award shows…”

“Let us help”, Eden said and Hongjoong looked up at him with wide eyes. The producer had his arms crossed in front of his chest but he looked concerned, “Buddy, Leez, Ollounder, Peperoni, HLB, Oliv and I can look over the songs. I know that ATINY loves seeing your credentials on the songs and they will be there, but ATINY also loves seeing you healthy and happy. You’re working towards burnout. Nobody wants to see you in month long hiatus because it was too much and you didn’t stop before you collapsed.”

“But I should be able to do it!”, Hongjoong burst out. He felt ashamed that it came out so emotional but it was the truth, “I’m the captain, the second oldest, the one the kids look up to, God knows why. If I can’t do this for the group, what kind of leader does that make me? Just look at the other groups, take Bang Chan-hyung. He’s the leader and a rapper and he produces all their songs. Every single one. If I can’t do that what do I bring to the group?”

“I’m going to attribute that to the fever you’re sporting”, Eden said, “that is nonsense and you know it. You bring so much to the group. You said it yourself, the kids look up to you. Seonghwa-yah looks up to you. In fact, we all do. You are an amazing rapper. You care so much about other people, about equality and your group and ATINY. Yes, Bang Chan-ssi does produce Stray Kids’ music, but he is part of 3Racha, all of them produce their music. You’ve got the others helping you sometimes and of course us, but you do most of the work alone. You’re doing so good, Joongie.”

Maddox nodded and added: “If there is something going on, you can come to us you know? You don’t have to stay holed up here alone.”

Hongjoong didn’t know how to reply to that. He took a deep breath to stop the wobbling of his lips and the unpleasant way his breathing started to hitch in anticipation for tears but he had to double over with a rough cough that pulled at his lungs enough that it hurt. A warm hand found its way to his back and then a bottle of water was held in his line of sight. Gratefully he took the water but was unable to open it due to trembling hands. Maddox gently took it from him, opened it and gave it back. Hongjoong sipped at the water, soothing his aching throat. He gave the bottle back, opened his mouth to thank the two and promptly burst into tears.

He valiantly tried to stop, after all how pathetic was it to be crying in his own studio while his mentors watched? A hand rubbed his back again and a soothing voice helped him calm down. He was glad neither of them tried to hug him, Hongjoong was sure he would have died of embarrassment right then and there.

“There you go”, Maddox whispered as Hongjoong regained his breath. “Sorry about that”, Hongjoong mumbled, frantically wiping at his aching eyes. Damn, crying again really hadn’t done his headache any favours. “It’s alright, you needed that, I think”, Maddox comforted, sounding less awkward than Hongjoong would have expected. “Eden-hyung stepped out to call your manager. Congratulations, you just won a one-way ticket to your bed. In the dorms.”

Hongjoong whirled around to look at him, embarrassment momentarily forgotten. “We’ve got dance practice, another interview and a photoshoot today. I can’t just go home.”

“Yes, you can”, the manager-noona from the day before said as she stepped into the studio. “I cancelled all your schedules today in agreement with your lead manager. Lucky for you I was already on the way to the studios when Eden-oppa called me. Anyways you need to do a Covid-test and stay away from the company till it is proven that you are negative.” She held out a mask to him.

“But…”, Hongjoong tried but faltered. His warm, cozy bed sounded fantastic right now. Under three burning gazes he nodded, and with the help of the manager he quickly gathered all his stuff, slipping his headphones into the bag next to his laptop as she had turned her back. With a sigh he put on the mask.

They arrived quickly at the dorm. For once it was empty. It was strange, Hongjoong never saw it that void of occupants and the accompanying sounds and chaos, never really having been home alone. “Do you still have some medication or do you need me to pick something up?”, the manager asked, pulling him out of his thoughts. “I think we got everything, I will text you if we don’t. Thank you for driving me.”

“Of course, feel better soon, Hongjoongie, and don’t worry about the schedule. Take your temperature, please, and let me know about it and the test results.”

⌛

With the words the manager-noona left him to his own devices and he traipsed into the bathroom to check the cabinets for fever reducers and painkillers. If he wasn’t allowed to work he could at least get comfortable while he didn’t work on his music.

He did indeed find the medication, quickly swallowing the pills dry and drinking straight from the tap to help his throat. He quickly prepared a Covid-test, not having missed putting a stick up his nose. A necessary evil. He started coughing again but ignoring how much he wanted to just curl up in bed, he instead stripped out of his clothes and turned the shower on hot. Finally he wasn’t freezing anymore. He quickly washed the sweat off his body and hair, then just stood there enjoying how the heat cleared his sinuses, reducing the pressure in his chest. It caused him to cough though and he started to get dizzy, so he turned the water off and wrapped his body in towels. He should have brought his pyjamas with him.

He walked through the cold halls, bare feet freezing, before he pushed the door to the room he shared with Seonghwa open. He changed into pyjamas and stole one of his Yunho’s comfy hoodies which was more of a dress on him because the outside of the shower was so cold. He quickly grabbed his bag from where he had left it in the hall, made himself some tea and got another water bottle. Remembering his manager-noonas words he fished out the thermometer from under the sink and texted her a number that was well below the ”38.6°C” blaring and beeping at him.  Whatever, he was probably just overly warm from the shower and with the medication it would go away. He hoped. The test proved to be negative as well.

Finding their shared humidifier on Jongho’s night table, he plugged it in in their room and stared at the steps up to his bed. Then he decided that climbing up to his bunk was too much and instead curled up under Seonghwa’s covers, breathing in the familiar smell of laundry detergent and lotion.

He took a few seconds to just bathe in the familiarity, then unpacked his laptop, coughing softly. Hongjoong slipped his headphones on his ears and tried to focus on the screen. Sleep was pulling at him, but he refused. He had work to do.

He did take a quick nap in the afternoon, but his alarm woke him up an hour later and he continued his work. His cough was getting worse not better though, sort of wet and deep. He really couldn’t risk getting sicker but he had no choice but to work, pop pills and hope for the best. In the late evening he heard the sounds of his members returning even through the front door, just as he came back from the bathroom. He sprinted across the hall, slipped into the room and closed the door just as the sounds got louder as his members entered. He carefully but quickly put his laptop on the desk and slipped back under Seonghwa’s covers, pretending to sleep.

Hongjoong must have fallen asleep by accident, as he woke up to Seonghwa gently shaking his shoulders, waking him up for dinner. The older man didn’t seem surprised at all to see him asleep in his bed. “How are you feeling?”, he asked as he scrutinized Hongjoong. “Better”, Hongjoong lied. “I’ll come back to work tomorrow. I already missed too much today.” Just then he started to cough, quickly covering his mouth. As he pulled his elbow away he saw the stain of mucus on his elbow. Seonghwa looked a bit disgusted but handed him a tissue to wipe it away. “That cough doesn’t sound good.”

“It will be fine. Dinner?”

Truthfully Hongjoong wasn’t hungry at all but he didn’t want his members to fuss at him. Seonghwa nodded and took his hand, leading him to the kitchen. The kids were already gathered there, some still clad in their outside clothes (Wooyoung, San and Mingi) while some were already showered and wearing pyjamas (Yeosang, Jongho and Yunho). They sat down at the counter between Yeosang and Mingi. The younger members looked worried but they didn’t pry. Instead they chose to coo at the oversized hoodie he was wearing (Yunho looked way too smug in Hongjoong’s opinion but nobody asked him) but were quickly distracted as Wooyoung brought over the pots full of delicious smelling food. Under his watchful eyes Hongjoong took more soup as he originally would have of his own accord but it felt so good on his throat he didn’t mind so much that it felt a bit too heavy in his stomach. He swallowed some painkillers and fever reducers with the tea Wooyoung had made for him with ‘extra honey for your throat, hyung’.

“I’m sorry I let you down today, on such short notice even more so”, Hongjoong apologized, cradling the mug close to his chest and inhaling the steam, “tell me what I missed, please.”

“You didn’t let us down, hyung”, San protested quickly, “we got on just fine!”

“Yeah!”, Yunho agreed, “we’re glad you got to rest. Nothing special happened, really. Well, Wooyoungie fell over that one teddy bear prop at the shooting so often that the photographer decided that we didn’t really need it. The pics were hilarious though.”

“Hey!”, Wooyoung protested, trying to tackle Yunho which he should have known with their height difference would be a stupid attempt.

“Hold on, I photographed his camera when he showed us”, Jongho cackled and screamed as he ran away from Wooyoung’s wrath, chasing around the table.

Hongjoong couldn’t help but grin at their antics. On one hand he still felt so damn guilty that he hadn’t been there but he still was glad that they had fun. He just hoped that everything else went well and they didn’t decide to not mention an issue to not stress him out.

“Well, I think it’s time for bed”, Seonghwa declared, breaking up the pretend-fight, as he stood up to clean the table.

“Hyung, it’s only nine”, Yeosang whined.

“Yeah but we have to be at dance practice at six in the morning tomorrow.”

Groans all around the table. Oh, the normality.

⌛

No matter how much he wanted to be fine the next day Hongjoong wasn’t. The headache hadn’t gone anywhere, neither did his cough. His fever was lower at least but he had gained congestion in his whole face, making his head feel stuffy.

Waking up at 05:00 in the morning was already a chore when well but it felt like torture. He hadn’t slept much, most of the night tossing and turning in Seonghwa’s bed, body switching between feeling too hot and too cold every few minutes. His hyung had taken one look at him, the ladder up to his bunk and the already tangled sheets on his own bed from Hongjoong’s earlier naps and had decided they would switch beds for the meantime.

After tossing and turning for most of the night, stifling coughs into the pillow, Hongjoong had fallen asleep somewhere around 03:00 o’clock he thought but it had neither been restorative or long. Still, he had a job to do. So when the alarm rang he got up without any complaints.

Seonghwa, bless his heart, had taken it onto himself to make breakfast and wake the younger members which left Hongjoong with the time to take another hot shower. He didn’t think it was possible but he felt disgustingly sweaty already all while still freezing.

The drive to the company didn’t take that long but it ended with Hongjoong falling asleep on Yeosang’s shoulder nevertheless. He stumbled into the practice room and let the other members set up the sound system while he rested for a few moments. Stretching to warm up normally was just a needed evil but with how much his muscles were aching and how stiff he felt it was torture. He was partnered up with Wooyoung, as they always worked with the members close their height – Mingi and Yunho, Seonghwa and Jongho, Yeosang and San, Wooyoung and Hongjoong – and the younger man seemed to take pity on his hyung. While he normally was loud and chaotic, doing his best to annoy Hongjoong without being disruptive, he was quiet and gently helped Hongjoong and let him slack off when he just couldn’t reach his foot with his hand that morning as his back and chest didn’t let him.

They started off easy but Hongjoong already was falling behind. Every step hurt and he couldn’t for the life of him rap without breaking out in painful coughs. After the third time listening to his coughing and him thus not able to keep up Jongho told him to rest his voice. Hongjoong just nodded, defeated. They all knew that Hongjoong needed to rest but with the Award shows so close he couldn’t miss anymore practice as it would affect the whole group to dance with one member less.

Even though he felt like he would collapse any minute Hongjoong managed to hold out until hour three of practice. He didn’t quite know how it happened but he ended up dizzy and stumbling into San, the taller man only just able to keep both of them from face-planting. After that Hongjoong was graduated to watching by Seonghwa (“I’m still your hyung, Hongjoongie, and you need rest.”) and Yunho (“As dance leader I can decide who dances and who doesn’t, hyung, and you get to sit out. Enjoy it while it lasts.”)

He did manage to nap a bit on the ground, head on his towel and when he woke up everybody’s jackets covered him. He managed a grateful smile and even had gotten some energy back despite sleeping on the hard ground.

⌛

After another shower they stopped for lunch, Wooyoung and San pushing hot soup at him as they claimed the booth at the window, the only table big enough for all of them. Hongjoong wasn’t sure if he could have swallowed something more solid, his throat hurting from the coughing and the rapping. Once he had eaten about two thirds of the soup he pushed the bowl away and close his eyes. While he wanted to pretend he was feeling good he just didn’t feel good. He couldn’t muster the energy to plaster a fake smile on his face or act like he normally did. In fact, he craved his members’ comfort, his bed and something to help ease the various aches in his body. If he was truly honest, he longed for his eomma’s hugs. So he found himself cuddling closer to Mingi, the other man immediately wrapping an arm around his shoulders.

“Do you want to go home, hyung? Or to the doctor’s?”, he asked, looking down. Hongjoong shook his head, fighting the urge to cough. He was comfortable like that, Mingi like a furnace warming his frozen body. He didn’t want his body to move away from the comfort.

“I can’t, we need to prepare”, he mutter hoarsely, voice nearly gone. So he just closed his eyes and dozed again.

⌛

“Joongie, wake up”, somebody said and he opened his eyes to find their lead-manager kneel in front of him. “What’s going on?”, he asked sleepily.

“I’d like you to get checked out by a medic before your English lessons”, the manager said. Hongjoong looked around to find that his members were gone while he was still asleep on the bench in the cantina.

“Where are the others?”, he questioned, confused. “Seonghwa-yah, Mingi-yah and Jongho-yah went to record something for Eden; Wooyoungie, Sannie and Yunho-yah wanted to work on new choreographies and Yeosang is recording for ‘The Show’.”

“Right. What time’s it?”, he asked next. “13:40”, the manager answered.

“Well, I have English lesson in five minutes, so I have to get going”, Hongjoong mumbled, nausea from lunch and at the thought of the unfriendly teacher curling in his stomach. He hadn’t dreaded anything more than the lessons in a long time.

“Nuh-uh, you’re not getting out of the medic’s clutches, young man”, the lead-manager said sternly but fondly, “your health is more important than your English right now. You’re already really fluent and have you heard yourself? You sound like you swallowed glass.”

Truthfully Hongjoong felt like it too but he really didn’t want to get in the teachers bad graces, well, more than he already was. “Can’t I go later?” he asked.

“You have that photoshoot later, after you missed it yesterday.” Shit. Right. Hongjoong had totally forgotten about that. “Now, drink your water and we’ll go to the medics.”

⌛

Half an hour later Hongjoong was standing in front of the door to the English lesson room. He was half an hour late, so he seriously considered running and ditching the lesson altogether. At least he couldn’t get scolded if he wasn’t there. To make things worse, while he had gotten a slip from the medic for complete vocal rest he knew it was useless. The teacher wouldn’t let it slide despite not talking was doctors orders. He desperately wished the manager had come with him but his hyung had to answer some mails or something.

Hesitantly he raised his hand and knocked. His hand shook as he pushed down the handle and entered. The teacher was already glaring at him, the members behind her looking scared for their leader.

“Ah, Mr. Kim have you finally decided to grace us mere mortals with your presence?”, she sneered. Hongjoong fell into a deep bow, again. “I’m sorry, teacher-nim, but…”, he rasped, voice nearly gone. Still she didn’t care and stepped closer to him till she was standing directly before him. It was moments like this that Hongjoong really cursed his height. He normally didn’t mind being the shortest member but even the teacher was taller than him. “I don’t want to hear your excuses. You already disrespected me too much. I thought you had learned after last time but you can’t do anything right, can you? Not even write your own name in English when I specifically ask for a text in the language? Is that so hard?” Hongjoong tried to remember what she meant but his tired mind didn’t know what she was referring to. So he just settled for trying to apologize for whatever he did wrong.

“I’m …”

“Yes, yes, I’m sure you are very sorry. You can show it to me by staying back and writing a proper apology after class. Or does his highness have a more important schedule?”

Hongjoong swallowed down frustrated tears. He knew he had to leave directly, technically even a bit early, to be on time for the photoshoot but he couldn’t talk back to her. He didn’t have the energy and the courage. He hated himself for it. He shook his head.

“Sit down then and don’t disrupt the lesson again.” He nodded and walked to his seat, head bowed down so he didn’t have to face his members and they didn’t have to see their cowardly leader. He ignored the hand Seonghwa placed on his arm in a comforting gesture as he slipped past him and sunk down on his own chair, despite desperately wanting to sit on Yeosang’s empty one closer to the others. He didn’t think the teacher would appreciate that.

He managed to keep a low profile during the lesson even keeping quiet when the teacher started berating poor Mingi for a minor mistake. It was like he was paralyzed by fear and he didn’t want to get targeted again. Him being her victim was miles better than his Mingi but no matter how much he willed himself to speak up, stand up, do something – his body wouldn’t move. He didn’t dare look at his younger brother, able to hear the tears in his voice. He would speak to the lead manager he promised himself.

Finally the lesson was over and he stayed back, body taunt from apprehension. “You’re a lucky one, Mr. Kim”, the teacher said, standing in front of his table. He didn’t look up, the tone of her voice obvious that she didn’t mean it in the slightest. She continued undisturbed. “I have an appointment right now but don’t think that means you’re getting off easy. I expect you to write another apology letter to me till tomorrow. Five pages, perfect English. For every mistake you make you will stay behind one minute tomorrow. Understood?”

Hongjoong nodded.

“You will talk to me if I speak to you”, she said, smacking her hand on the table.

“Yes, teacher-nim. I’m sorry, teacher-nim”, Hongjoong mumbled.

Without another word she left, switching off the light and slamming the door behind her. Hongjoong was left alone in the sudden darkness and he couldn’t help the tears bubbling over. He laid his head on the table and sobbed.

⌛

The lead manager didn’t look happy when Hongjoong arrived nearly twenty minutes late at their meeting point in the lobby. He had washed his face, trying to look like he hadn’t cried but when he had seen himself in the mirror he had burst into sobs again. The sobbing and the coughing, combined with the left over nausea from lunch and his nerves had tipped over the edge, leaving him clutching the toilet seat for quite some time before he found the strength to get up, the last nutrition in his body having splattered into the toilet water below him.

“Hongjoongie, you are late. I was worried”, the manager said. “What happened?”

For a moment there was nothing Hongjoong wanted more than to fall into his hyungs chest and cry, telling him about the teacher and how bad he felt. But he couldn’t. “I’m sorry, hyung”, he whispered, throat constricting and he doubled over, coughing. God, his chest hurt.

“Ah, Hongjoongie, don’t talk”, the manager admonished, “we need to get going to the photoshoot, they are surely already waiting for us. Come on.” He wrapped and arm around Hongjoong’s waist and led him to the car.

Hongjoong let the photoshoot pass by him without contributing much. The manager had smoothly excused their tardiness with bad traffic – not unlikely at the time of day in Seoul. The photoshoot staff were very nice people, they knew he was sick and they didn’t mind having the manager talk for him. They had incredible patience when they had to take frequent breaks as Hongjoong had to cough and they saw that the light from the lamps directly next and in front of him bothered him so they turned them off in breaks. A make-up noonas was always there to wipe the sweat from his face and reapply the make-up; she already had been careful to apply nothing to close to his hurting eyes. Somebody handed him water bottles to sooth his throat and at one point he even received some hot tea. Hongjoong was so grateful to all of them that he nearly cried when he couldn’t even properly thank them, the manager talking for him.

⌛

When he arrived back at the dorms it was already evening and he longed for nothing more than his bed. Yeosang was back from his shooting and the members were all gathered at the dinner table, when he unlocked the front door. Hongjoong let himself be moved to the kitchen table, barely able to swallow the stew Wooyoung and Seonghwa had made specially for him. Mingi pushed some pills at him, Jongho sticking close to Hongjoong’s side and letting him use his phone to communicate with them. Yunho moved him to the bathroom and he took a hot shower before collapsing on his bed.

He looked up at a knock on the door, not wanting to deal with whatever was going on but San just smiled widely at him and showed him the hair dryer he held in his hands. “You shouldn’t sleep with wet hair, hyung”, he said, “considering you’re already sick.” Hongjoong nodded and reached out for the appliance but San just made him lay on his stomach, and dried his hair, asking every few minutes if it was too hot. Hongjoong let him do as he pleased, nearly boneless for exhaustion. His eyes fell shut and he didn’t even notice San rearranging the covers on top of him.

⌛

Hongjoong woke up hours later, soaked in sweat and panting from the nightmare he didn’t remember upon waking. He coughed, the sound wet and disgusting, and he stumbled out of the room only focused on not waking Seonghwa. The older man needed his sleep. Once his breathing had calmed down he walked to the kitchen to get himself some water. The oven clock showed him that it was rather early, just past two o’clock. He had plenty of time to get some more rest before practice and English lessons tomorrow.

Shit. He had completely forgotten about the English lesson. He still had to write that apology letter. He stumbled into the living room to grab a notebook and a pen and sunk down on a kitchen chair to get it over with. Writing on a laptop would be much faster but he knew the teacher wanted them to practice more natural writing in the foreign alphabet. He stared at the blank page, nervously fiddling with the pen. He had no idea how he was going to write five pages on something that wasn’t even technically his fault. He hadn’t chosen to be sick at this time but that didn’t matter to the teacher. With a sigh that triggered another cough he started to write.

Twenty minutes late he had managed to formulate four sentences. Four. This was not going well.

His head was swimming from pain and without his glasses he was barely able to read what he had written. He didn’t dare get them from his room, not wanting to accidentally wake Seonghwa. Resting his head on one hand, he tried to focus but the only thing he could focus on was the pain in his chest, and head and the sweat running down his back even though he was freezing.

Another ten minutes later he was startled from light dozing by footsteps. When he turned around he was faced with a sleep-tousled Seonghwa who despite looking only half-awake was looking better than Hongjoong had ever felt.

“Joongie, sweetheart, what are you doing? No, don’t talk, just write”, Seonghwa asked, wiping at his eyes.

I still have to write five pages of an apology to our English teacher. Hongjoong scribbled onto a free page in the book, too tired to lie and seeing no point in it. Did I wake you?

“Nah, I was awake. I thought you maybe got yourself tea or something but when you didn’t return I got worried. Why are you writing now?”

Hongjoong ran his hand over his face. Damn Seonghwa asking the real questions.

She wants it tomorrow. I have no time to do it other than now. I didn’t mean to fall asleep so early.

“Jesus Christ, that woman!”, Seonghwa whisper-yelled, “I can’t believe it. Joongie, this whole apology is stupid, you know that. She is only using you for her amusement or some shit. You didn’t do anything to warrant an apology. If you don’t complain to the manager about her tomorrow morning, I will. The way she treats us, that isn’t right. You’re sick, you can’t help it and a doctor’s appointment is more important than English. Poor Mingi was even crying because she was so rude about a spelling mistake – hell, we checked it later and realized it was technically right just British English instead of American.”

“I’m sorry”, Hongjoong burst out, suddenly emotional and unable to keep quiet. He should have done better, he should have stepped up to his duties earlier. “I’m sorry. I should have talked to the manager before the kids got hurt. I didn’t think she would focus on them instead of me. I’m such a terrible leader, I was so tired but I should have taken steps to protect you all. I should have stood up for Mingi, for all of you and I didn’t. I’m sorry.” Suddenly he was crying into Seonghwa’s chest, the taller man wrapping him in a tight embrace.

“Sssh, sweetheart, calm down”, Seonghwa whispered, “it’s not what I meant at all, you know that. You are tired, over-worked and sick. All of us could have talked to the manager before but we didn’t because we too are stressed and sometimes enduring is easier. Please, calm down, Joongie, I am not blaming you. Nobody is blaming you. Mingi isn’t blaming you. He knows that she was in the wrong, he didn’t get hurt. Just take a deep breath and don’t speak.”

Hongjoong tried to follow Seonghwa’s steady breathing and clutched him tighter, fists curling into the back of his best friend’s sleep clothes. He managed to calm down, hiccupping and coughing on occasion. Seonghwa ran a gentle hand through his hair, till Hongjoong pulled away, not wanting to get more snot and tears on his sleep shirt.

He was given a tissue and a cup of water, then Seonghwa rested his hand on Hongjoong’s forehead. It was deliciously cool, his head the only thing warm in his body, and he sunk into the touch. “Joongie, I’m going to get the thermometer again, you are red-hot.”

He freed himself from Hongjoong’s grip on his shirt and returned a few moments later with the forehead thermometer they had gotten during quarantine.

“No wonder you don’t feel good”, Seonghwa said emphatically and showed him the reading. “39.3°C is way too high. I’m going to call manager-hyung in the morning, this is way above the 38.2°C were allowed to work with. For now you can take more fever reducers, pain pills, and then sleep, I’ll take care of that English teacher.”

Thank you, Hwa. Hongjoong wrote, feeling so deeply thankful for his hyung yet he couldn’t put it in other, more profound words. “Let’s get you back to bed, I’ll bring you the pills.” To Hongjoong’s surprise he was lifted into the air. He thought about protesting but he didn’t feel like walking and being held tightly against Seonghwa’s chest made him feel safe and cared for – which he craved more than anything right now. So he let himself be carried all the way to the bedroom and laid on Seonghwa’s bed.

“Your sheets are soaked with sweat, I’ll get new ones.”

Hongjoong felt his eyes flutter close, barely waking up again to swallow the pills. He didn’t stay awake long enough to notice Seonghwa covering him with fresh blankets.

⌛

The next morning he was woken up by the sun shining in his face. That seemed wrong. He didn’t hear anything from inside the apartment, so he jumped from the bed, obviously having overslept. Why had nobody woken him? Wanting to get ready as fast as possible he slid into the kitchen, nearly falling as a cough and a headrush made him lose his balance for a second.

He found the lead manager chilling on their sofa, reading something on his phone. “Hyung?”, Hongjoong asked confused, voice raspy.

“Ah, Hongjoong-ah”, the manager said and turned around. “You’re awake. Don’t talk. I know you probably are confused. You’re schedules except dance practice are cancelled. You need to rest your body and your voice. If you didn’t have to be at Award shows in three days I would ban you from dance practice too. Now, please take your pills and rest either here on the couch or back in your bed.”

Defeated, Hongjoong nodded.

He let the manager-hyung bring him pills, oatmeal and tea and after he had taken the medicine, he curled up on the couch with his head in the manager’s lap. The manager rubbed a warm hand over his shoulder as they switched through TV programs and held him as coughs shook his body. Soon enough he drifted off to sleep again.

⌛

He dozed on and off all day, his manager only waking him for drinks, food and medication. By evening he felt a bit better, though he was still running a fever and was incredibly restless. He was sitting up on the couch, kicking his legs at nothing just to keep himself occupied, when Seonghwa and the kids entered the apartment, followed by…

“Maddox-hyung? Eden-hyung?”, Hongjoong burst out, forgetting momentarily that he was on vocal rest. The manager shushed him and handed him the notepad they had used all day to communicate as his mentors sat down on either side of him.

“How are you feeling, Hongjoong-ah?”, Eden asked. Hongjoong shrugged and wrote his answer on the paper with a slightly shaking hand. I’m okay. Throat and head hurt and still got a fever but I’m getting there. What are you doing here?

“We wanted to check on our favourite dongsaeng”, Maddox said, squeezing Hongjoong’s hand. Hongjoong felt himself flush. He really did love the attention he was getting from his hyungs most of the time and today it felt like balm on his soul. He normally only allowed himself to act more like himself instead of an older, responsible version of himself when he was around them. He was the maknae in his family and in his previous friend groups, taking on the role of hyung had been very unnatural to him at first. He had liked it though and not wanting to let his team down he had never acted on his more carefree instincts. But as he grew closer to his Maddox-hyung and Edenary-hyungs he let himself act more cute and younger, craving the attention he normally only gave not received (except sometimes from Seonghwa and the managers).

Thank you both so much. I’m sure I’ll be fine for the Awards.

“You know it’s okay if you’re not okay, right, Hongjoong-ah?”, Maddox asked, turning to look at him with worry in his eyes. “You don’t always have to be the strong leader. We wanted to give you the opportunity to come to us with your problems but I guess we should have made that clearer.”

Oh. Hongjoong didn’t know how to react. Sure, Maddox and Eden often checked in on him in his studio but he never realized they wanted him to come to them with his problems. He had never even entertained the thoughts of going to them with his struggles.

Eden gave him a tight smile. “I thought something was going on, next to you being stressed about the Awards shows and your whole schedule itself. Well, Seonghwa threw a fit this morning when he saw your English teacher in the halls this morning, Jongho was barely able to keep him from punching her. Seonghwa then told us how she treated all of you. That’s why you were crying in your studio that night, right?”

Oh. Oh.

“Well, you should definitely talk with your members about the situation at some point but we wanted to let you know that you could come to us too, if you didn’t want to talk to them. It’s hard being a hyung sometimes, isn’t it?”, Maddox mumbled, running a hand through Hongjoong’s hair which he was sure was disgustingly sweaty.

Hongjoong nodded, biting his lip. It sure was difficult being a hyung and a leader, responsible for people who were practically your own age. Sometimes it felt ridiculous to Hongjoong how everybody expected the older members of groups to be the most responsible ones. He was barely older than Yunho and he had a totally different role than him in the group, no matter his leader status. And Jongho most certainly could have been the responsible leader of ATEEZ if he was older and he had started training at KQ earlier. It was weird how they were treated so differently, having seen so many different friendship relationships on international TV which dynamics were more natural to the personalities of the people and not their age.

“Joongie, you in there?”, Maddox asked, shaking his shoulder. Hongjoong blinked, realising he must have spaced out. He nodded.

Thank you both, I appreciate your words so much. I promise I will be better.

Hongjoong sighed, not really wanting to keep thinking about all of what he was told and decided to switch the theme of their conversation.

Are you staying for dinner?

Luckily, both his hyungs let the sentimentalities drop.

Since the space in the kitchen was rather limited, they all gathered in the living room. Some spread over the furniture, some sitting on pillows on the floor. Only Seonghwa seemed a bit bothered by it all, probably scared for the couch cushions if anybody made a mess. It was a nice, relaxed affair. Hongjoong stayed on the couch next to Eden and Maddox, letting his hyungs feed him some rice which still didn’t feel great on his throat but was manageable.

The managers had send them to bed soon after they were finished eating. He was asked to switch beds with Mingi so that he kept his germs to himself and so that Seonghwa could sleep that night. He knew that they were worried, hell everybody was worried and that included himself, but they all needed to be at top condition for these shows. Since Hongjoong was already obviously lacking, they couldn’t risk Seonghwa being sleep-deprived. It was a fucked up mentality but such was the reality of being a K-Pop Idol, he guessed.

Two days to the first Award show, he would be fine.

⌛

“It’s the last Award show, I will be fine, it’s just one more day”, Hongjoong mumbled to himself as stared into his reflection in the bathroom at the venue they were at. Sadly, he had seriously underestimated his illness. While he had been fine to perform at the first Award show, being fever-free that morning, he had been burning up again after the performance. The past two days full of shows had been the same – first he was fine then afterwards or during the end of it he was barely holding on. He just needed to make it through today and then he was free to rest for a whole week, promised by the CEO personally.

Luckily, he was alone in the bathroom so he was free to cough up his lungs – at least it felt like that. He was exhausted to the bone from show after show, and his cough had gotten so much worse again. He barely slept at night, the cough and a dull pain in his chest keeping him awake.

He splashed some water in his face and turned around to walk back to their dressing room, hoping that the make-up noonas could make him look more alive. Pale face and red spots of fever on his cheeks with dry lips and glossy eyes weren’t the style their concept was going for.

⌛

“You good, hyung?”, Yunho asked as he pushed open the door. He nodded and sank down on the couch to wait with him for their turns in the make-up chair. At the moment it was Jongho’s and Yeosang’s turns while San and Seonghwa were already done. Hongjoong and Yunho would be next, while Mingi and Wooyoung got their hair and clothes fixed. He closed his eyes and rested his head against the hard backrest.

“Joongie”, Seonghwa whispered and shook him, “it’s your turn.” Hongjoong opened his eyes to see he had slipped to lean against Yunho in his sleep while Seonghwa was crouched in front of them. “Drink something.” Yunho held out a bottle and Hongjoong, desperate to get his throat to cooperate for at least two stages, please just two or three more stages, took a big sip.

Big sip, big mistake. Just as he was about to swallow his body surprised him with a cough and he half-swallowed the water and half-spat it out on his lap. Then the cough wouldn’t stop. He wheezed, leaning forward as he was robbed of precious oxygen and his lungs felt like they were tearing apart. Seonghwa was saying something and Yunho handed him a towel, which Hongjoong pressed against his mouth to muffle the loudness and violence of his body’s torture. It was bad enough that his members heard him coughing this badly but he was sure some of the hyungs and noonas were watching on – in worry probably but still.

Suddenly, without much warning, his stomach muscles contracted from the force of it all and he felt the water he had swallowed burn in his throat. Retching harshly, he spat out the water and bile and whatever else he had in his stomach into the towel. He gagged from the taste and disgustingness of the oatmeal-like substance (his stomach turned at the thought) in the towel, which triggered actual vomiting. Luckily Seonghwa had caught on quickly and grabbed the trash bin that had stood next to the sofa, holding it under Hongjoong’s chin. Hongjoong dropped the dirty towel in the bin, it really was beyond saving, and tried to regulate his breathing while he helplessly hung his head over the bucket as his stomach spilled from his lips. There wasn’t much coming up, he barely had any appetite obvious as Wooyoung had even tried and failed to bribe him into eating something with sweets this morning. It was a vicious circle: The coughing caused vomiting, the vomiting caused more coughing and it just wouldn’t stop. He was already seeing black spots in his vision, gasping from precious air which his body so cruelly denied him.

It took a few minutes but slowly his body got itself under control and he was able to take in deep breaths. He slowly became aware of a hand rubbing his back and loud, angry voices. He squeezed his eyes shut, scared of what he would see. He didn’t want to let down his members but he already had.

“It’s okay, hyung, just breathe”, Yeosang mumbled. When had he come over? Wasn’t he just getting his make-up done? Hongjoong dared to look up to find himself sandwiched between Jongho and Yeosang, San taking the bucket of disgustingness from his hands. Yunho, Seonghwa and some managers were talking, gesturing wildly and in obvious disagreement. Wooyoung and Mingi were nowhere to be seen.

“Okay?”, Jongho asked, taking Hongjoong’s hand and handing him a tissue. He was confused for a moment but then he realized his vision was blurry from tears. His throat was aching badly, feeling like it was torn open from all the coughing, and combined with the vomiting his eyes had teared up involuntarily.

Belatedly realizing he had forgotten to answer the maknae’s question, he nodded, not willing to speak and hurt his throat more. He looked up as he saw Seonghwa throw his arms in the air in frustration and walk out of the room, clearly trying to calm down without lashing out at anyone. Hongjoong couldn’t help but feel terrible about it, after all he was the reason why everything was not going like planned.

Instead Yunho, who looked tight-lipped and undecided, and a manager-hyung came over. “Hey, feeling better Hongjoong-ah?”, the manager asked. Hongjoong nodded and whispered: “Sorry ‘bout that.”

“Do you think you can get through the stages today?”, the manager asked, sounding apologetic, “I know you feel terrible but you need to be on stage in less than an hour and the members don’t have time to re-learn the choreography as seven, especially since you have a lot of middle parts, and we need your rap. I’m sorry that you performing with them or nobody doing it are the only two options.”

Hongjoong felt a shiver run down his spine. He couldn’t make the others, his best friends, loose out on such an opportunity to promote themselves and maybe even win an Award just because he was sick. They had worked so hard for this, he couldn’t be the reason why they never even had a chance. And they couldn’t let down ATINY. He wasn’t sure if he could make it but he would have to.

“I’ll be fine.”

“Hyung, you’re not fine”, Yunho protested, but sounding unsure, “I know we always say ‘8 makes 1 team’ but maybe it’s best if you rest for now. You’ve been sick for close to two weeks, you keep coughing badly and you just threw up.”

“I’ll be fine. You said it: ‘8 makes 1 team’ and I’ll be dead before I let a cold take that away from us, from you”, Hongjoong insisted, “Also I didn’t throw up.”

San looked decidedly unimpressed, having just returned to hear the last part. “I beg your pardon? I just disposed of your stomach contents, are you seriously arguing if you threw up?”

“The coughing triggered it, I wasn’t nauseous or anything”, Hongjoong explained trying to stay patient. He couldn’t let his team down further than he already had.

“And I suppose that makes it better?”, Yunho asked, clearly not wanting Hongjoong to answer.

He still did because he was an idiot. “Yes?”

⌛

He was saved by Seonghwa returning, a medic in tow. Hongjoong raised his eyebrow at his hyung but didn’t protest. He would lose anyways. It felt strangely heartwarming that Seonghwa knew that he would insist on performing and instead of futile arguing got somebody to check him out beforehand.

“Hello Hongjoong-ssi”, the medic greeted him and knelt down in front of him. Hongjoong returned the greeting, glad when Yeosang’s hand found his, as he leaned against Jongho tiredly. Sitting up was already so exhausting, he dreaded standing, dancing and singing. Seonghwa had rounded the sofa and ran his fingers through Hongjoong’s hair in a comforting manner. “Seonghwa-ssi said you’re not feeling so well?” Reluctantly Hongjoong nodded.

“I’d like to perform an exam and ask you a few questions, if that is alright with you?”, the woman said and Hongjoong nodded again.

As she asked about his symptoms over the past weeks, the managers made Jongho and Yeosang get up to get dressed, while Yunho had to get his make-up done. San sat down next to him, letting Hongjoong cuddle up and leech of some warmth. The medic made Hongjoong take his shirt off, listening to his lungs and looking very much not pleased. When she was done, San helped him get dressed again and pulled Hongjoong to lie on his lap, while Hongjoong interlocked his hand with Seonghwa’s who still stood behind the sofa. Lying down, well moving itself, hurt especially in his whole chest area.

“To be honest, I wouldn’t recommend that you perform at all, Hongjoong-ssi.” At his panicked look she continued: “However, I have worked with a lot of idols, so I already know you won’t listen to me. I’d like to give you a steroid shot, it will make you feel more awake and energetic and it should help the inflammation.”

Hongjoong nodded in agreement, desperate to feel better even if it was just for a performance. The medic made him lay down on his side and prepared his upper arm for injection. Hongjoong tried to watch, normally feeling better when he saw the needle but right now the sight of the metal entering his skin made him queasy. The injection hurt but it was bearable and then he was ushered into a make-up chair and people started fussing around him.

⌛

He hadn’t thought it was possible but he felt great on stage. The lights were blinding, the music too loud and the dancing making him dizzy but he was so energetic and euphoric for the two stages he nearly forgot he was sick. The other members watched him closely, he knew that, but he shot them reassuring glances. The steroid and the adrenaline were working miracles. Strangely enough he barely remembered the performance once they were done, time flying fast. He held his ending pose, after all he knew he was going to be the ending fairy, trying to look like he wasn’t about to cough. They finally walked off stage, Hongjoong holding his mic away from himself and as soon as he was out of sight from cameras he doubled over, coughing.

A tentative hand appeared on his upper arm, warm and comforting, holding him steady. Seonghwa. He gave a smile as he straightened up and waved of the concern but letting Seonghwa slip his hand into his and lead him to the waiting room. Yet when he was able to sit down on the sofa his energy seemed to vanish at once. His chest started to hurt badly again, especially his left side, and the fever seemed to tease him, making him uncomfortable.

He shifted to lie down, resting his head on someone’s lap. He was too tired to figure out whose it was. Time flew by quick as an airplane, as slow as chewing gum and he was just so uncomfortable. He didn’t have the energy to open his eyes or even ask for a pill for his pain, chest and head feeling like they were about to explode. He was aware of someone holding his hand, squeezing it as he softly coughed barely having enough energy to even do so. He drifted.

⌛

A hand shook his shoulder and he opened his dry eyes to find Yunho looking down at him. “Hyung”, he whispered, “we need to get on stage in ten minutes for the Award presentation. You can just stay here if you want to.” ‘If you can’t get up again’ was left unsaid. Hongjoong shook his head and carefully lifting himself up from Jongho’s lap, as he now recognized. He ignored how his body burned and a sharp pain spread down his left arm. He probably had slept on it.

“Are you sure?”, Jongho asked, voice sounding muffled and far away. Hongjoong nodded and pushed himself up. He swayed nearly immediately, threatening to fall back onto the sofa. Jongho and Yunho grabbed his arms, holding him up. The pain in his chest and arm was nearly blinding.  

“I’m …”. Fine, is what he wanted to say. Suddenly an overwhelming wave of nausea washed over him and he fought off gags. “I’m going to throw up”, he whispered. Then everything went black.

⌛

Seonghwa paced through the waiting room, nothing unusual. He always did when worried, but his worry was not about winning an Award this time but about his captain who was dozing on their maknae’s lap looking pained. The other members hadn’t approached their oldest hyung, neither had the managers. He didn’t want them to. Wooyoung and Mingi were sitting on the ground in a corner. (Damn Award shows not caring enough about hoobae groups to even give them goddamn chairs.) Yunho was sitting on the ground next to the sofa, holding the captain’s hand, while Jongho ran his hand through his hair. San and Yeosang were staring at the screen, trying to distract themselves with other groups’ performances but clearly not at all paying attention, cuddling close.

“Twenty minutes until stage”, a manager called and chaos broke out. Hyungs and noonas swarmed them to touch up make-up and clothes. Seonghwa let them do as they pleased, asking them to leave Yunho, Jongho and Hongjoong alone. They did, worried about Hongjoong themselves. Slowly the staff filtered out until it was only the members left, even the managers switching to a different waiting area. Seonghwa didn’t quite understand why the venue required that, but not caring about it more than necessary, he watch how Yunho tried and failed to gently wake Hongjoong. Only when he touched his shoulder, shaking him carefully, did the captain open his eyes. He seemed sluggish, clearly completely spent and Seonghwa heard Yunho offering one last out. Of course Hongjoong didn’t take it and pushed himself up.

“I’m going to throw up”, had Seonghwa on edge, turning around to search for the trash bin. Then his heart gave a jolt as loud screams were heard. He whirled back around to see Jongho and Yunho lower an unconscious Hongjoong onto the floor. He rushed over, ignoring how his knees stung as he fell.

“Joongie, wake up”, he whispered, patting the captain’s shoulder, practically begging him to wake up. “Get a manager, Wooyoungie”, Yunho ordered. Jongho had his hand on Hongjoong’s throat, trying to feel how bad his pulse was. Suddenly his eyes went wide and he pushed Seonghwa away to hover his head over Hongjoong’s head, watching his chest – which wasn’t moving.

When he uttered his next words, Seonghwa felt his world break and his head got dizzy. “He isn’t breathing.” Yunho looked as shocked as Seonghwa felt and he muttered: “Don’t be ridiculous, Jongho-yah, he’s just got the flu. Nothing more.” He leaned over to check for himself and after a few seconds he paled drastically as he seemed to come to the same conclusion as their maknae.

Jongho looked grim, determined and ordered: “Yunho, breath for him, I’ll do chest compressions. Mingi, find a defibrillator. There was one in the hall, I think. Yeosang, call an ambulance.”

In his hurry to get the words out, Jongho slipped into familiar speech, not caring about formalities. Yunho nodded and tilted Hongjoong’s head back exactly as they had learned in the first aid course they had done a few weeks back. Jongho had already started to pound on Hongjoong’s chest, counting steadily. Yeosang and Mingi ran away, the former to the table where their phones were stored and the latter out the door.

Seonghwa shook his head wildly. This was wrong, Jongho doing he same motions as they had done on that creepy plastic puppet on Hongjoong. Hongjoong was just sick, a stubborn flu. Nothing more. Certainly not de … not in need of reviving.

In a fit of hot anger (why were they doing this when Hongjoong just needed to wake up?) he pushed Jongho away, the maknae tumbling to the side, not having expected being attacked. Seonghwa forcefully shook Hongjoong’s shoulder, willing him to just wake up and laugh at their worried expressions. Telling them they were exaggerating.

“Joongie, wake up, wake up!”, he yelled, fear gripping his chest as the smaller man just lifelessly lolled in his grip. Suddenly strong arms wrapped around his chest as he was pulled backwards. He thrashed in the hold, not caring if he hurt the person pulling him away from his captain.

“Seonghwa-hyung, stop”, San ordered at his ear, voice firm but somehow simultaneously shaky. “Let them work. Hongjoong-hyung needs help and you’re in no state to help him.” Feeling like all his strings were cut, Seonghwa fell backwards against him, not able to hold himself up.

“He can’t be dead”, Seonghwa whispered brokenly as he watched his dongsaengs push life into their captain. San silently jerked behind him but pulled Seonghwa closer. Suddenly not able to stomach the sight anymore, Seonghwa turned around to bury his face in San’s chest.

⌛

Later he would feel so incredibly proud of how his dongsaengs had handled the situation and ashamed how he hadn’t handled the situation but for now he could only look away as his best friend laid lifeless on the ground.

Seonghwa jumped at the loud bang as the door was shoved open and looked up to see Mingi, holding the defibrillator in his hands, bursting inside, followed by Wooyoung and two managers, all of them frantic. They all fell down on their knees next to them, the managers taking over for the members to pump life into the small body on the ground, seeing how Yunho and Jongho must be exhausted from the show already. Mingi and Wooyoung started fiddling with the defibrillator. Numb to the core, Seonghwa watched how they tore open Hongjoong’s stage outfit, exposing his chest which wasn’t rising or falling, his heart not beating inside. Wooyoung quickly shaved Hongjoong’s chest for good measure, and Mingi placed the electrodes on his bare skin while Jongho told him how according to the explanation. The voice of a woman gave instructions, coming automatically from the instrument.

He wasn’t able to tell how often the circle between electric shocks and continued life-saving measures were taken until finally there was a gasp and Hongjoong, though unconscious, coughed. There were cries and fast words and they turned Hongjoong on his side.

Paramedics burst in, lead by Yeosang who Seonghwa hadn’t even noticed had left to lead them to the room. He blinked and Hongjoong was laid on the stretcher, a breathing mask on his face, as they wheeled him out. A manager followed them and then Wooyoung ran up to him, clutching the managers hand and begging. Soon after they ran after the paramedics.

⌛

Seonghwa turned his attention to the other members, seeing them like there was a veil distancing him from them. San was still clutching Seonghwa, body jerking with what he now recognized as sobs. Yeosang stood in the middle of the room, looking lost. Mingi sat on the ground gasping for breath, hyperventilating, a manager holding him and rubbing his back. Yunho sat pale, staring at nothing, one hand faintly touching his lips that were just breathing life into his hyung and his whole body shaking. Jongho had slumped over, staring blankly at the door where their hyung had disappeared, holding Yunho’s other hand.

For a moment nothing happened, they all still and trying to process what happened. The spell was broken as Jongho jumped up, nearly loosing his balance and falling, then running over to the side of the room where he doubled over and threw up, the shock of the events getting to him.

The manager patted Mingi’s shoulder and got up to check on the maknae. Seonghwa blinked again and the room was crowded by their other managers and staff, all looking pale. Yunho was still shaking from head to toe, looking so unlike himself it hurt. Mingi was still hyperventilating and a manager-noona trying to get him to calm down. Instead the giant man slumped into himself, passed out from his panic. Seonghwa watched he was laid down, his position resembling Hongjoong so much that Seonghwa had to swallow and turn his gaze away. San was still crying; a stylist-noona offering Jongho a bottle of water and a towel; the first manager now trying to get a completely dissociated Yeosang to react.

“Can we go to the hospital?”, Seonghwa rasped, surprising even himself. The manager-noona looked up and nodded. Slowly they got up and like magnets were drawn to each other. San and Yeosang clutched each other, Mingi and Yunho were holding hands. A manager had wrapped an arm around Jongho’s shoulder. Seonghwa’s hand felt strangely empty. They filtered out of the room, one after another. The hallways were full of people, though Seonghwa couldn’t recognize them in his daze and not caring to do so. At one point he thought someone spoke to him but he had no strength to check who. They reached the van and entered. Seonghwa ended up on one the lone seats; Yeosang, San and Jongho cuddled up in the back, Yunho and Mingi over the aisle from Seonghwa. Two manager-noonas filled the empty seats belonging to Hongjoong and Wooyoung.

⌛

A tense silence filled the normally so full of life van. Seonghwa remembered the drive to the show, all of them laughing and happy, joking about Hongjoong who was snoring loudly on Mingi’s shoulder. The journey seemed to take forever – street lights, houses, other cars passing by in an endless circle.

The managers brought them into the hospital via a secret entrance once they arrived. Seonghwa didn’t know where to look. Everything was so white and sterile, stainless steel glaring at them, ceiling lights too harsh on the eyes. They were ushered into a small waiting room, where Wooyoung and the manager-hyung were waiting for them. Wooyoung immediately ran to San and Yeosang, sobbing into their three-way embrace. The others slowly sat down, eyes flickering from side to side. Yunho, who had contained his shaking to his hands was walking around, touching them, trying to be close but often enough drifting towards Mingi who was cuddled up to a manager. Jongho still looked incredibly pale, a plastic bag clutched in his hands.

“I don’t understand”, the maknae finally whispered, “hyung only had the flu. Why would he …?” He broke off, not needing to say the words. Why would he die?

The manager-hyung who had gone to the hospital with Hongjoong and Wooyoung sighed and replied: “The paramedics suspect that due to overwork while he was already sick he developed myocarditis – an inflammation in his heart. His heartbeat was still very bad when he last saw him – he was having a lot of irregular beats. They think that caused the sudden cardiac death.”

It was then that Seonghwa broke. He was sobbing and crying, heart aching so badly he thought it would tear in two. Hongjoong, his best friend, his captain, had been dead. Had suffered from freaking cardiac death. He tried to get in a breath but he couldn’t. It was like he was suffocating himself. Voices washed over him, hands touching him. He panicked further – he couldn’t be touched – wildly thrashing around.

⌛

When he finally regained his senses he was lying on a couch somewhere – someone holding his hand. “Seonghwa-yah?”, a female voice whispered and he turned to find a manager-noona kneeling next to him. “Are you with me?”

He nodded shakily, head aching. “What happened?”

“You had a very bad panic attack – the doctors had to sedate you to keep you from hurting yourself and the others in your panic. You were asleep for quiet some time.”

“Oh. I don’t remember … what happened to trigger it? I mean, I normally, I don’t…”, he stuttered out, still a bit hazy.

The manager-noona looked away, unable to meet his eyes. Seonghwa felt his chest constrict in panic again but he pushed the feeling down in favour of asking her again.

“Hongjoongie collapsed during the Award show, do you remember that?”, the manager-noona asked.

Seonghwa swore his heart skipped a beat. The memories assaulted his brain, nauseating him. He felt himself start to shake and grasped her hand.

“Joongie … is he alright?”, he gasped.

The manager swallowed. “He’s … alive, so much we know. His parents are on the way. I’m sure we will learn more about his condition soon. Right now, nobody is allowed with him.”

Seonghwa nodded. Hongjoong was alive – it wasn’t the best he had hoped for but it was good enough for now.

“The kids?”, he asked.

“They refused to leave”, the manager said with a tiny smile, obviously fond of them, “Sannie and Mingi-yah were here with you for the past hour but I made them get some air and snacks. Your manager-hyung texted me earlier, the others are okay too. Shaken up but calm. Jongho-yah threw up again and Yunho is still really frazzled but they are taken good care of. Maddox and Eden-oppa came to check on them too.”

“That’s good. Can I see them?”

“Of course.”

⌛

She led him back through white hallways into a slightly familiar room. Gasps all around were heard and suddenly Seonghwa had his arm full of Jongho. “Hey, baby”, he greeted the younger man, relishing in the hold as much as his dongsaeng obviously did.

“Hyung”, Jongho whispered, fisting the back of Seonghwa’s outfit. When he looked around over Jongho’s shoulder as he rocked him from side to side he saw that all of them were still in full stage make-up and costumes. Yeosang, San and Wooyoung were sitting so close together on the couch in the corner that it seemed like they tried to become one person, their make-up destroyed by tears running down their cheeks. Yunho was sleeping in Mingi’s lap, the other man on the phone with maybe his mother. They all looked up at Seonghwa when he entered though, except for Yunho of course. Mingi ended the conversation quickly and put his phone in his pocket.

For a moment Seonghwa wondered where Eden and Maddox were, considering the manager said they had come to check on them, but maybe there was a misunderstanding.

“Hyung, how are you feeling?”, Yeosang asked, voice small. With a pang in his chest Seonghwa realized that the poor man suddenly had been the oldest in the room and sort of in charge with Seonghwa and Yunho asleep and Hongjoong…

“I’m okay, just exhausted. I’m sorry I left you alone”, he apologized. “Don’t”, Jongho whispered, “Hongjoong-hyung is your best friend, of course you couldn’t keep it together. It’s okay.”

“Thank you, Jongho”, Seonghwa whispered back. “How are you all holding up?”

He took Jongho’s hand, as the maknae seemed reluctant to let go of him and let both of them to the chairs across from Mingi and Yunho, in a ninety degree angle to WooSanSang.

He wanted to know how the others were feeling so he could at least from now on act like a hyung and the first step was knowing where the members heads were at. He nodded at Jongho to begin, the maknae being so unlike himself.

“I don’t think I have ever been so scared in my life”, Jongho admitted. “I keep asking myself why we didn’t notice that something was wrong earlier. ”

“You couldn’t have known”, a manager said, listening in to keep track of his charges emotions and to calm them down. It helped Seonghwa immensely that he wasn’t solely responsible for the lot right now. “Don’t blame yourself.”

Seonghwa nodded in encouragement and pulled Jongho even closer.

“I don’t think I’ll ever forget the fear when I first realized he wasn’t breathing. I literally mimicked being his heart. I … I don’t … I’m scared to close my eyes and see it again.”

“Thank you for sharing that with us, baby”, San said and squeezed the maknae’s arm. “You did really well. I’m so proud of you, we’re all so proud of you. You were really brave.”

Jongho bit his lip. “It doesn’t feel like it.”

“It never does, I think”, Yeosang added.

“Can we … can we focus on somebody else for now? I think I need to not be focused on myself for the time being”, Jongho said.

“I keep seeing him collapse in my mind”, San said immediately, voice quiet, “I heard him say that he was feeling sick and I turned to check on him.” He hesitated, swallowing. They let him gather himself before he kept speaking. “I don’t want that to be his last words.”

For a moment Seonghwa couldn’t breathe. He vividly remembered a sleepless night shortly after they had debuted. He and Hongjoong had been curled up on Seonghwa’s bed together, sharing secrets and deep talks. At one point they had talked about what they wanted to be their last words. While Seonghwa had to think about it, Hongjoong had an answer ready: ‘8 makes 1 team’.

“They won’t be, they got him back, you all got him back”, the manager interjected. “He’s alive, we just need to wait how he will recover.”

If he recovers. Seonghwa was no medical expert but he knew well enough that Hongjoong’s brain hadn’t gotten enough oxygen while he wasn’t breathing on his own. There could be lasting damages from that. Never mind the inflammation of his heart or his flu itself. They all knew that.

They all kept quiet for a moment before Yeosang spoke. “I keep hearing him talk to Yunho fighting to perform. He said: ‘8 makes 1 team’ and I’ll be dead before I let a cold take that away from us, from you.’ And ...”

He couldn’t finish his sentence, instead Yeosang started sobbing. Wooyoung pulled him in an embrace, San reaching over him to rub Yeosang’s back.

None of the others continued to speak till he had calmed down a bit, occupied with their own thoughts. Yeosang shook his head at Seonghwa’s questioning glance – there was nothing more he wanted to share.

“My anxiety is really bad”, Mingi said in a trembling voice, keeping his hands occupied with running them through Yunho’s hair, “I already spoke to my therapist, we will speak daily for some time. I can always call her if I need it. I’m really worried about Yunho – he’s in a bad mental state.”

“Don’t hesitate to take a break if you need it”, Seonghwa said and Mingi nodded. They both were aware that Mingi wouldn’t take up the offer, needing closeness to the group for now. He added: “Yunho-yah is asleep for now, it’s probably best for him. We’ll see how he is doing when he wakes up. It was a really traumatic experience for him, for all of us. I’m confident we can support each other through it all.” The others nodded in agreement, quiet whispers of reassurance being exchanged.

“I’m angry at myself”, Wooyoung rasped, voice gone from crying. “I just want Hongjoong-hyung to yell at me at least one more time for being too loud. I wish I had been a better dongsaeng, not always making his life harder.”

“Nonsense, Wooyoungie”, Eden interjected. They all turned around to see him, Maddox and two stylist-noonas enter the room, all carrying coffee and food containers. So that’s where they had been. “Hongjoongie, while sometimes exasperated, loves how you can brighten up every room and you most certainly aren’t a bad dongsaeng.”

Wooyoung shrugged, not looking quite convinced but it was something they could work on later, maybe even with a professional.

None of the members were really hungry but they all needed to eat. They hadn’t eaten before the show so their last meal had been an early lunch, now over twelve hours ago. Seonghwa helped distribute the sandwiches and what he realized now was hot chocolate to the members, making a point of eating himself so they would take him as an example. It tasted like nothing in his mouth but he forced himself to swallow.

Mingi was nibbling on his sandwich while still holding onto Yunho, none of them having the heart to make Yunho face reality, so they let him sleep. WooSanSang were eating too, slowly but steadily. Only Jongho wasn’t eating the sandwich Seonghwa had given him.

“Jjong-ah, you need to eat”, Maddox admonished before Seonghwa could, his voice gentle. Thank God for their hyungs. While Eden and Maddox looked as haunted as Seonghwa felt, they were a good help right now.

“I think I’m going to throw up again if I eat anything”, Jongho mumbled, looking decidedly queasy. Seonghwa couldn’t blame him, the sandwich heavy in his stomach.

“Can you at least drink something for us?”, a noona bargained, holding out a water bottle. “You need something in your body.”

Jongho shrugged and accepted the bottle, taking a few cautious sips.

“Joongie’s parents are on their way but it might take them another few hours”, Eden said at one point. “I talked with them briefly, they were on vacation, they try to be as fast as possible.”

⌛

It was morning when they finally got news on Hongjoong. A doctor entered the waiting room, finding only a manager, Seonghwa and Eden awake. The rest of them had succumbed to their exhaustion during the night. Mingi had his head leaning back against the wall, probably meaning that his neck would be stiff when he woke and Yunho was curled up on his lap still. Wooyoung, San and Yeosang were still a pile of human, nobody sure where one ended and the next began. Jongho was asleep on Seonghwa’s lap and Maddox had fallen asleep on Eden’s shoulder.

“How is he?”, Seonghwa whispered.

“I can’t say much for now. He didn’t have another cardiac arrest which is very good. Right now he is in a coma but we don’t know if or when he will wake up.”

“Can we see him?”, Eden asked.

“One of you can come with me”, the doctor said.

“I’ll go”, Seonghwa said and nobody protested. He carefully switched positions with the manager, trying and succeeding in keeping Jongho from waking.

⌛

Seonghwa followed the doctor through the maze of hallways till they arrived in front of a glass door, which was covered by a curtain from the inside. “Don’t be scared”, the doctor said, “he still is hooked up to various machines. You have half an hour, then a nurse will accompany you back.”

Seonghwa nodded and slipped inside, closing the door behind himself. He took a second to just stay with his back to Hongjoong, not ready to see what he would. He turned and just for a moment he forgot to breathe. There Hongjoong was, laying on the hospital bed, his pale face nearly the same colour as the sheets. Carefully Seonghwa stepped closer, afraid to disturb Hongjoong in any way even though it wasn’t really possible. He sucked in a relieved breath when he saw the captain’s chest - though taped with electrodes - rising and falling. He sank down on the chair provided, scared his legs would give way under him if he didn’t sit the next moment. Hongjoong was alive and breathing. He gently grasped Hongjoong’s hand, holding it in his bigger ones and then feeling for a pulse on his wrist. Hongjoong’s heart was beating.

⌛

The next days passed in a blur. Later Seonghwa wasn’t able what happened when.

Hongjoong woke up the evening of the next day though he couldn’t stay awake for more than a few minutes the first days. His parents were there constantly, taking care of their son and also of his friends.

KQ had published an announcement, not telling the fans about Hongjoong’s condition in detail but explaining that he collapsed at the Award show and would be on hiatus for an undetermined time from then on.

The Award show, as Seonghwa learned later, had been stopped – the organizers not wanting people to accuse them of heartlessness if something about an Idol dying backstage and them just continuing as if nothing happened came out. Maddox told him how he nearly had a heart infarction when he they announced that an Idol was taken to hospital and the next second his phone had rang with a panicked CEO telling him that it had been his Hongjoongie.

Seonghwa’s phone blew up after the announcements, many worried Idols checking in on them especially those who had been at the show. Lee Know told him how he had known something terrible must have happened, he had never seen the whole of ATEEZ so out of it when they had passed Stray Kids in the hallway. Soobin explained that he had tried to get Seonghwa to talk to him, worried about what was happening, but how Seonghwa had been completely spaced out. Apparently the whole venue had been in a state of shock after they had heard that an Idol was taken to the hospital by ambulance and that is was severe.

They were contacted later, being told that ATEEZ had automatically won the Award but none of them felt like it was right that they should receive it in a perverse way of receiving an award for working their Idols to the ground.

⌛

Recovery was slow. Hongjoong was released from hospital three weeks after extensive therapy. The doctors said he was lucky, he didn’t suffer from too incapacitating side effects even though his brain had not received enough oxygen for some time. It could have been much worse. In a fit of anger Hongjoong later screamed at his mother who told him the same thing over and over again, then broke down crying. Yes, it could have been worse but the aftereffects were very obvious to everybody who knew him.

The rest of ATEEZ slowly started their schedules again, all of them profiting greatly from the therapy the company had organized for them. Their next album was to be released when Hongjoong was with them again or if it took longer than expected a year after the original release date. Their concerts were all cancelled, none of them really ready to go on stage as seven and they were lucky how understanding ATINY was. Their company took great care to call out any sasaengs who were rude about the whole groups concert hiatus.

During the first three months Hongjoong stayed with his parents but getting constant visits from his members, colleagues and idol friends. He was tired all the time and frustrated with his suddenly terrible short term memory. It got less severe over time but at the beginning Hongjoong was barely able to keep up with conversations, forgetting nearly immediately what he was told. It got better but he still sometimes found himself unable to recall events that happened after … the incident. Yet at some point Hongjoong started to refuse the visits, embarrassed by his inability to keep up though everybody reassured them they didn’t mind repeating things for him.

Then there were the problems with his speech – aphasia, the doctors called it. Hongjoong could think perfectly fine but had trouble translating his thoughts into words. He hated it, afraid he would never be able to talk. He at first tried to occupy himself during boring times with song writing but it wasn’t as easy for him as before. Seonghwa still remembered the heart-crushing phone call he had received late at night with Hongjoong sobbing on the other end of the phone, scared he would never be able to sing or perform again. Funnily enough he had no trouble with his words when singing and rapping when Seonghwa urged him to try but during actual talking or composing his brain failed him.

Hongjoong wanted back his old normal not the new normal people kept talking about. He wanted to compose, he wanted to talk, he wanted to be ATEEZ leader. Seonghwa had unofficially taken over the title while he was out of commission. But the build up frustration of not being able to function like he was used to had Hongjoong tumbled down into the clasps of depressive episodes out of which nobody was able to talk him. He didn’t really see a point in his life if he wasn’t with ATEEZ.

After many tears and conversations, Hongjoong returned to live in the dorm where the members took great care of him, careful to always have a member or at least a manager stay with him. He was then allowed to return to practice and Eden and Maddox let him stay in the studio, composing melodies and later texts (with one of the producers always there to check he wasn’t getting to worked up if he didn’t find the words he was looking for). At first though he was only allowed to work up to two hours a day.

He longed to leave with the rest of his team to go to some concerts in Seoul, longing to be on stage again but afraid to be in the spotlight.

⌛

Slowly, over time, he was able to return to his previous schedules full-time though always closely watched by somebody. Still he struggled, scared of the public’s opinions. At some point his therapist suggested he try to do V-lives with the members, explain his condition to ATINY and get the support from them everybody except him knew he would get.

It took some convincing but six months after the incident they gathered in their dorm and Hongjoong made his first appearance since the Award show. As expected, ATINY showed nothing but support, worried but understanding. Slowly Hongjoong stuttered through an explanation of what had happened, taking care to highlight the dangers of doing sports when sick. When his words failed him, Seonghwa and the younger members didn’t rush him but helped him if he was stuck.

It was hard on Hongjoong, everybody had seen it and he fell asleep against Wooyoung at the end of the live, the excitement taking much out of him. ATINY continued to spam the chats with love-messages, thanking him for his trust in them and wishing him all the best.

When Hongjoong woke up long after the live had ended his eyes shone and he whispered: “It feels like I just conquered the world.”

⌛

Eight months later:

“How do you feel?”, Seonghwa asked, clasping Hongjoong’s hand. The two of them were standing in the tech both above the stadium from where they could see the stage and the seats that were slowly filling up with ATINY. It would be Hongjoong’s first concert since the Award show and Seonghwa wasn’t sure who of them was more nervous.

“Worried. Scared. What if I forget the lyrics?”, Hongjoong whispered, “what if something happens? What if…”

“You worked so hard, sweetheart”, Seonghwa said tenderly, stopping him from working himself up, “you won’t forget. And even if you do, nobody will blame you. Don’t be scared. You’ve come so far and I am so incredibly proud of you.”

Hongjoong squeezed his hand tightly but kept quiet, staring down at the fans.

“They really missed me, hm?”, Hongjoong whispered, a bit choked up. Below them were so so many signs with his name on them. ‘Hongjoong-oppa, we missed you’, ‘Hongjoong, forever you are our star’, ‘Hongjoong, we love you!’, ‘8 makes 1 team’.

“They did, we all did miss you”, Seonghwa responded, reading the signs himself. “It was strange without you on the stage with us.”

“Twenty minutes until stage”, they were told through the in-ears they were already wearing.

“Come on, sweetheart, let’s conquer one more stage together.”

Hongjoong smiled and turned around to the stairs down with one last glance back at ATINY.

“I really missed this.”

Notes: reposted from ao3

Symptoms predating sudden cardiac death might include pain in the chest, radiating to the left arm not unlike a heart attack, and nausea. It is caused by arrhythmia (unregular heart beats in Hongjoong’s case due to the inflammation in the heart).

“Cursive sentences are spoken in English.”

Everything bold is what Hongjoong writes.

Masterlist links: Fairy's Full Masterlist Fairy's Masterlist - ATEEZ

[thedemonofcat]

Jaskier finds himself isolated at Kaer Morhen, which is painful for him. However, he recognizes that the others are like a family, while he remains an outsider.

Jaskier and Yennefer have developed a more amicable relationship. When dining with others, Jaskier opted to sit beside Yennefer. However, Yennefer's attention is mostly devoted to Ciri, whom she trains in the ways of magic while also attempting to assume a motherly role for her.

Ciri is a pleasant individual, and Jaskier engages in conversation with her, even if the topics are trivial. The bard thoroughly enjoys conversing with Ciri. However, due to her tumultuous experiences, Ciri finds it difficult to trust others easily, leaving her uncertain about her feelings towards Jaskier.

Geralt is pleased that Jaskier is residing in Kaer Morhen, as it ensures the bard's safety. Nevertheless, things have been uncomfortable between them since the incident on the mountain. As a result of Geralt's poor communication skills (which Jaskier excelled in), he attempts to provide Jaskier with space while simultaneously engaging in thoughtful acts to please him, such as showing him the library in Kaer Morhen or discreetly leaving additional furs in his room.

The other witcher is acutely aware that any harm befalling Jaskier would have dire consequences. In the event of the bard's injury, Geralt would either succumb to a melancholic state for the entirety of winter or, worse yet, potentially engage in retribution against all parties involved. Therefore, for the sake of everyone's well-being and mental stability, they have collectively agreed to refrain from interacting with the bard as much as possible.

Jaskier tries to avoid being consumed by the overpowering sensation of loneliness. However, the burden becomes too much for him to bear, prompting him to pack his meagre belongings and depart Kaer Morhen to initiate his descent down the mountain.

After learning of Jaskier's departure, Geralt promptly gives chase. He intends to reason with the bard and persuade him to return to Kaer Morhen of his own volition. However, should his efforts prove futile, Geralt contemplates physically carrying Jaskier back to the keep like a sack of potatoes.

[perhaps-in-anotherdream]

[CN] Victor’s R&S: Unknown Return Date (Eng Translation)

After all, in a world devoid of time, he wasn’t even allowed ‘death’.”

⌚ This post contains detailed spoilers for a R&S, 无所归期, that is yet to be released on the global server. ⌚

[Note]: The R&S covers the events from S2 CH 44 - CH 49, and contains crucial details inlaid with knives that set the premise for CH 49, so the R&S needs to be read before the chapter itself~ (⁠｡⁠ﾉ⁠ω⁠＼⁠｡⁠)❤️‍🩹

•─────⋅◍♡◍⋅─────•  

[Subbed Video: Fully Voiced]

──────────

Victor’s dialogue’s will be in bold and italics, and the others’ dialogues will be only in bold.

【Chapter 1】

As the curtain of evening hung low, the colorful lanterns adorning the eaves illuminated the entire lantern festival with brilliance. 

Victor’s gaze swept to the end of the sea of people, where the girl’s form had just disappeared. He gazed in that direction for a long time, as if afraid that he would forget something. Eventually, he simply released a heavy sigh, and his breath transformed into a delicate white mist, veiling the barely perceptible hesitation in the corner of his eyes. 

The time he had bought for himself by reaching an agreement with Zero is nearly up. 

Throughout these two months, he did everything he could possibly think of, mapped out a long-term strategic plan for LFG, entrusted Souvenir to Mr. Mills... everything seemed to be perfectly arranged, except for her. 

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈ 

Victor lowered his gaze to his wristwatch, where the hands quietly advanced to the next scale, wordlessly announcing the imminent moment. He hesitated for a moment before taking a tentative half-step forward, only to come to a standstill amidst the surging tide of people. 

She had no inkling of what was to happen, and for now, it might not be a bad thing after all. 

Sure enough, the black vortex appeared on time, and the sensation of space-time distortion enveloped him instantaneously. He turned sideways and stood there, watching quietly, with the vortex signifying the path he was soon to confront. When it came to the unknown, no one could remain entirely unshaken, but Victor displayed no hesitation and even leaned into it before the magnetic force set in. 

He must ensure not to leave any room for error – this was a pledge he had made to himself in the deepest recesses of his heart. 

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈ 

When Victor opened his eyes again, an endless white desert sprawled across his vision, commandeering every color under the sky. 

“Now you’re finally being well-behaved.” 

The fiery sun was beating down upon the crest of the sand dunes, where an oddly dressed little boy stood, gazing down at him from the height. Victor knitted his brows and turned his gaze to the boy who was waving at him. He felt as if he had met this little boy somewhere before. 

“How about you just stick around here for now? You’ve got loads of time anyway.” 

Without leaving Victor any chance to inquire, in the blink of an eye, the white sand dunes stood utterly empty. 

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈ 

Victor glanced at the billowing sand and dust in the distance, and he fell into a brief moment of contemplation. The information obtained from the other party was far less than he had anticipated. But he didn’t remain paused in place for too long, turning around and heading toward the tallest nearby sand dune. 

Climbing to the highest peaks in the world often serves as a fast track to gain a comprehensive understanding of the entire picture, a feeling he had known from experience countless times before.  Even though, in his heart, he knew full well that there might not be any such thing as an “exit,” just like no one would leave the key to their shackles inside the cage. 

Nevertheless, Victor knew he must return, not only for his sake but also to honor the promise he had made to her. 

He was acutely aware of the girl’s nature, and Victor didn’t want himself to be the reason for her venturing into danger. 

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈ 

Victor lifted his foot and stepped beneath the sand dune, and the soft sand instantly swallowed his lower leg. Yet he merely paused for a moment before his other foot stepped onto the sand dune in the same fashion, only this time he was a bit more careful. 

As he stands now, he didn’t have the capacity to concern himself with these inconsequential matters. The sand dune at the top of his sightline was his singular focus right now. 

And by the time this goal was achieved, Victor’s palms had long been ravaged by the swirling wind and stand. Nonetheless, he unconsciously furrowed his brows, as his bright pupils seemed to mirror some kind of non-committal fact—— 

The farthest end of the horizon still held an endless expanse of white. 

—

•─────⋅◍♡◍⋅─────•  

—

【Chapter 2】

In the desert, there are several things that you’re prone to lose effortlessly: hydration, the perception to gauge distance, and the concept of time. 

Victor was well aware of this fact, especially when he found himself in a barren desert. Losing the sense of time could plunge a person into a quagmire of emptiness, much like having one’s soul being trapped in the quicksand. 

He could only silently engrave the feeling of time passing in his mind, and this was his way of combating this thing otherwise known as “deathly silence.” Yet, even so, his consciousness instinctively began to blur, and “time” gradually became a noun distant enough to be elusive. 

The blistering gravel imprinted searing scars on his body, and the bone-crushing pain began to become numb, but Victor never once considered giving up. After all, in a world devoid of time, he wasn’t even allowed “death.” 

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈ 

This place was akin to an infinite cage, imprisoning him relentlessly within its bounds. After enduring this repetitive cycle for who knows how long, Victor drew two obvious conclusions. One of which was, this world wasn’t just composed of sand; it also held various peculiar objects. 

There were vintage radios, sharp swords, casually discarded water cups... they lay quietly buried amidst the gravel, as if they were abandoned garbage left here by someone. 

He glanced down at his own feet trapped in the sand. In this space, the way he was being treated was no different to theirs. 

A fierce sandstorm blew in from afar, streaking pale traces of blood on his lips that had long been cracked. 

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈ 

Victor cast a sidelong glance at the vortex behind him, and this was his second discovery. He wasn’t sure when it had materialized or what it symbolized. However, his intuition told him that he must not allow this vortex to catch up to him; otherwise, it could trigger events he was unable to predict. 

The blazing sun shone on Victor’s face, and the dripping sweat had already soaked his clothes countless times. His toes forcefully lifted from the scalding sand, only to plunge heavily into even deeper gravel. Even though every step demanded his entire strength, Victor continued pressing on relentlessly, heading toward the next sand dune in search of a way out. 

At this moment, he had lost all scales of time, and no matter how deep his footprints sunk, their trails would eventually be obliterated without a trace beneath the veil of shifting wind and sand. 

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈ 

The scorching sun continued to burn, and his pace gradually became sluggish. Beads of sweat constantly dripping from his forehead blurred his vision. Layer upon layer of memories projected before him like a kaleidoscope, occasionally flashing dribs and drabs of moments spent with the girl, only to disappear in the blink of an eye. He relied on the physical pain to remind himself that everything before him was merely a prolonged tug-of-war. 

Yet another sand dune, and he climbed to its summit once again. 

The distant landscape showed no signs of change, and it was still an endless expanse of white. He silently gazed up at the sky, feeling as though his body had been frozen in place by some force. A sentence floated to his mind, “Eternity is the greatest adversary of plans, not fleeting moments.” 

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈ 

But this “long-term failure” was also destined to be solved by long-term means. 

Victor felt the willpower he had been holding onto for so long quietly slipping away beyond his control, accompanied by sweat blurring his vision. He drew a deep breath, planning to take a short break and trying to regain some physical strength. 

This was the first time he had stopped in his footsteps, and he came to regret it soon enough. 

When he woke up again, what greeted him was the scenery of Loveland City projected in the sky, the sights that he couldn’t be more familiar with. 

His throat quivered slightly, and the sensation of being torn apart coursing throughout his body rendered him unable to move. He was left with no choice but to silently gaze at the sky. 

–  

[Tidbits]: Taking a break b/c I just want to commend Li Zeyan’s writers for such microscopic attention to detail. The long-term failure, though there’s no need to explain it but I love how it’s a clever call back to the exact phrase (长远的失败) from S2 CH 31, when we first saw the “oblivion” taking effect! (T⌓T)

–  

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈ 

Even though Victor clearly knew the difference between reality and illusion, even though he was aware it was a fleeting glimmer of light not worthy of clinging to, he still couldn’t help but pause, even if it was for only a moment. Victor couldn’t help but self-derisively smile at himself— that he would actually be distracted by such a thing. 

Nevertheless, the scenery before his eyes etched an indelible mark in his heart, and at the end of that crevice was her image. Within an instant, the moments of the past gradually faded from his mind, reminiscent of sand dunes drying out in the wind. 

The girl’s silhouette kept appearing in his mind, and it was both vivid and hazy. At the same time, another question occupied his thoughts. 

She... who was she? 

—

•─────⋅◍♡◍⋅─────•  

—

【Chapter 3】

He gave a reflexive nod when the girl offered to purchase some things for him while they were taking a break. 

He couldn’t fathom where this natural acceptance had come from, as if everything was inherently meant to be this way. 

The girl had also given him a name, “Vic-Vic.” Even though he was somewhat reluctant to accept it, compared to that peculiar name “Mr. Benevolent Enigma,” “Vic-Vic” always sounded nicer to hear. 

And what’s more, this name evoked an indescribable sense of familiarity within him. 

Until now, he never felt a need for anything. After all, in his memory, the concept of “possession” had never appeared. 

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈ 

But as he thought back to how that tireless girl joyfully gave him nicknames and passionately introduced the city, he didn’t find it displeasing. On the contrary, it was the girl’s occasional daring and imaginative actions that made him irresistibly pay more attention to this person who had suddenly appeared before him. 

He shook his head, catching a glimpse of the girl’s busy figure through the store window. Toothbrushes, pajamas, even socks and razors... she didn’t leave anything out, stuffing her shopping basket to the brim. 

The corners of his lips formed a subtle curve. It seemed that just by looking at her, an entirely novel emotion surged up in the depths of his heart, something he’d never known before. 

Even he himself couldn’t put a finger on the reason; this girl always seemed so magical–– miraculously, she brought him out of that place, and miraculously, he was allowed to embrace “life” once more.  

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈ 

He turned his head, taking in his surroundings. Mottled branches were sprouting tender, jade-green buds, and the area was crowded with people in a rush. 

Thump– thump–– 

Suddenly, the crisp sound of a soccer ball drew his attention. 

It was a very young boy, appearing to be at the age of having started elementary school recently. 

The boy was exerting himself to swing the soccer ball under his feet, but his amateurish footwork denoted that he was still relatively unaccustomed to instep control. 

If he keeps up with this level of force, the next kick will probably send the ball flying out— Victor subconsciously made this assessment to himself. 

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈ 

Sure enough, as the boy’s toe tapped the soccer ball, an overly vigorous pull at that instant caused his body to lose its natural balance. The ball, previously under control, drew a distant arc through the air following his touch, flying directly toward the middle of the road. 

“Ah, my ball!” 

As the soccer ball soared toward the center of the road, the boy could only stand there with his mouth agape, helplessly watching it move farther away from him. 

“Stopping a ball like this might not be that hard for you.” 

As this thought suddenly crossed his mind, Victor’s body reacted as if by reflex. 

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈ 

He nimbly chested the ball in front of him, and then his thighs moved up and down in fluid and graceful movements as he steadily controlled the soccer ball at his feet. 

“Here you go.” 

He gently passed the ball back. 

But the young boy simply froze in place after he caught the ball. 

“Whoa! I actually kicked a ball that had a curve! That’s so cool! I have to show everyone!” 

The young boy excitedly ran off while hugging the ball in his arms. But Victor simply remained rooted in place, gazing in the direction the little boy dashed. 

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈ 

It was a small park. There were swings, seesaws, a slide, and a sandbox teeming with children. Tiny little figures huddled in the sandbox, crafting a multitude of unique sand formations using their shovels and imagination. 

He found himself taking steps toward the sandbox. He couldn’t explain why; he just felt like he was following some sort of subconscious judgment. He squatted down and scooped up a handful of fine sand from the sandbox. The solid, fine grains slowly trickled through his fingers, creating a tiny cascade of sand in the air. 

He kept his eyes downcast and watched in silence like this— until the reflection of fine sand in his eyes unexpectedly rendered him somewhat lost in thought. 

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈ 

In a certain sense, his world had once been nothing but a boundless expanse of sand and illusory goals. He had grown accustomed to silence, accustomed to facing the future with action, and had never once considered stopping. But now, for the first time, he felt the urge to pause, as if the surging tide of time had unexpectedly encountered a minute moment of stillness. 

Suddenly, the girl’s shout reached him from a distance, akin to a gently turned gear, propelling his time forward with force. 

Everything felt so strangely familiar, as if he had already lived through all this before. But he knew for sure that he had never been through any of this in the past. Even so, in this moment, this sweeping sensation, reminiscent of a tidal wave, bestowed upon him something he had never had before. 

“Memories.” 

—

•─────⋅◍♡◍⋅─────•  

—

【Chapter 4】

Countless shimmering starlight danced on the floor, and underneath the gigantic clock face, two small chairs were placed. It left one wondering whether it was a courtesy to welcome guests or the setting for some sort of interrogation. 

This is the place the man named Zero brought him to. 

“Victor, I think it’s been a while since we’ve had a chat like this.” 

...Victor. 

He silently repeated this name to himself, which felt unfamiliar yet familiar at the same time, and sunk into a sudden contemplation. 

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈ 

Even though there was no indication that he had found the answers to his questions, it didn’t matter at the moment; the clues were already laid out before him. 

Seemingly picking up on the wariness in Victor’s eyes, Zero attempted to change the topic. 

“You seem to be much more cautious than the last time we met.” 

“Is that so?” 

“However, apart from caution, I also see something else in your eyes.” 

“Unknown.” 

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈ 

The stifling air reverberated in the space as the two locked eyes, each seemingly filled with an element of probing. 

Zero carried on with his line of words, as if he didn’t intend to give Victor too much time to ponder. 

“I hope this doesn’t affect the deal between us.” 

Faced with Zero’s words, Victor had no plans to hide anything. He slightly straightened his posture, and his gaze held no sign of evasion. 

“You should know very well that currently, I have no idea what the deal you’re talking about is.” 

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈ 

In Zero’s probing and evaluative gaze, Victor gleaned certainty and confirmed his conjecture. 

During the brief, tense silence, Zero lifted his gaze, but his eyes were sharper than they had been moments ago. 

“But that won’t have any impact.” 

He paused, 

“For the Space-Time Bureau, the existence of ‘Victor’ in and of itself is enough.” 

“Since you can use your Evol, it won’t hinder the normal progress of the plan.” 

Victor never broke his eye contact with Zero. He was well aware that what the other party had revealed was merely the information he wanted Victor to know, and what he was purposely holding back was the crucial point. 

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈ 

In any case, he had to find a breakthrough in the conversation. Suddenly, something flashed in his memory: the girl’s astonished expression the moment she saw Zero. Did she also know this person? He firmly held onto this seemingly inconspicuous lead, and a notion sprang to his mind. 

It’s highly likely that his existence is connected to Loveland City. 

Victor pondered for a moment, and his mind had already formulated the next strategy. 

“Tell me about the deal you mentioned.” 

“You have to use your ability to bridge the gaps in time.” 

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈ 

“You have my word.” 

Victor’s sudden lightning-speed response caught Zero off guard. 

“However, I too have my own conditions.” 

Victor straightened his posture and cast his gaze toward the doorway. He was taking a gamble, betting that Zero wouldn’t dare to let him walk out of here, betting on his own importance in this deal. And he won the gamble. 

It seemed as if Victor had Zero’s lifeline firmly in his hands, and Zero’s expression gradually began to sink: 

“What do you want to know?” 

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈ 

“The execution of the deal will depend on what you’re willing to offer in exchange.” 

Victor cast a sidelong glance at Zero, then sat back down in the seat opposite Zero and lifted his head. 

“I want to know everything about myself.” 

—

•─────⋅◍♡◍⋅─────•  

—

【Chapter 5】

The corridor was silent, and it was so spacious that it felt like observing the infinite expanse of deep space with the naked eye. 

Aside from the darkness of the faraway cosmos, nothing else could be seen. The clear and crisp footsteps echoed from afar, reminiscent of a tiny speck of light descending from the distant starry sky. 

Victor came to a halt at the entrance of the Space-Time Bureau, and the doors behind him silently opened. 

“Remember, do not try to use your ability to probe time.” 

“After all, your existence itself is already wrongly placed. At least, that’s what it appears for now.” 

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈ 

Victor lowered his gaze in acquiescence, while his feet had already taken a step forward. He had already been delayed here for too long. 

Although during this time at the Space-Time Bureau, he had finally managed to find some leads in his quest for finding himself, it was far from enough. He had never forgotten everything that happened in the disordered space, and that voice still echoed in his mind. 

Move forward, and then go find her. 

The girl’s visage appeared before him once again. He wasn’t sure if it was a hint of some sort or simply a lingering imprint of his own thoughts. Nonetheless, he had already firmly decided on his next destination: Loveland City. 

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈ 

When Victor returned to Loveland City again, he found himself standing on a bustling street teeming with vehicles and pedestrians. 

The hurrying crowd brushed past him. Just like before, everyone was oblivious to his existence. He took a step forward and blended into the stream of people, heading in the direction he had planned. It was all thanks to the girl’s incessant chatter back then, which had left him with enough clues. 

“Next stop: Loveland City Center.” 

Victor remained silently in place, not letting a single passing figure escape his gaze. The days continued to follow the nights, but the girl still hadn’t shown up. He brushed off his shoulders, dampened by the drizzle, and proceeded toward his next destination. Loveland City wasn’t that big, at least not as vast as the desert he had walked through. 

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈ 

In the garden of the central hospital, the setting sun beneath the distant overpass... and in the park where the stars adorned the sky time and time again. 

These were all the places mentioned by the girl, but Victor still hadn’t found a trace of her. 

Victor always kept thinking back to the girl’s chirping, her excited manner as she introduced these places to him, and how she would insistently clamor to have him experience them fully – and the way her eyes overflowed with sparkles when she spoke. 

Victor couldn’t help but lift the corners of his lips. He had etched these seemingly insignificant memories into his mind without missing a single detail, and it was through them that he had solidified his next goal. 

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈ 

A lofty building stood in the distance. 

“Loveland Financial Group (LFG).” 

He quietly murmured the signage in front of him, recalling what the girl had previously mentioned about her connection to this company. 

What appeared to be a vague hint now held a substantial hint.  “If you go there, you should be able to see her.” 

With this thought, Victor took a step forward, leaving the bustling crowd behind him. 

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈ 

Clack, clack, clack. 

His ears caught the hurried rhythm of footsteps, contrasting with the composed demeanor of the other people in the hall. Victor instinctively lifted his head, and in a trance, he caught sight of that familiar figure. 

His time, which had been suspended, resumed its flow forward in this very moment. 

──────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────

[Translation Update Notice]

—

[cryoux]

Wanderer x reader - Soul Invasion

(Part two to Dream Invasion)

The Wanderer had honestly forgotten you were there for a moment, too absorbed in his own racing thoughts. When he returned from his mental journey, the lengths of which he didn't care to admit, he was acutely aware of you. Your eyes, staring at him, seeing him for who he really was. Though right now, that would be a liar and a creep, he assumed.

"I can't be that nice to look at," he said dryly, in an effort to get your uncomfortably nice gaze occupied with something other than staring into his soul.

You huffed a laugh, shaking your head before looking back up at him. "You know you are, jerk." You pointed out, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

The Wanderer couldn't hide his shock at the statement. It seemed you quickly realized your mistake, though, when you coughed awkwardly and averted your gaze.

"I mean, from an objective standing." You said quickly, but the damage had already been done. If the Wanderer had a heart, he was sure it would be pounding in his chest right about now. But he didn't, so it wasn't, and therefore he shouldn't logically be feeling this. He couldn't logically be feeling this. Yet your eyes dragged up to meet his, and he was reeling again.

The long silence was getting more awkward by the second. The Wanderer almost possibly felt bad for you, so he rolled his eyes and remedied the situation the best way he knew how.

"Shut up."

You fixed him with an unimpressed look, but it appeared that his clever words had given you the gift of conversation again.

"Glad to see my near-death experience hasn't shaken you up at all," you shot back. The Wanderer almost laughed - your near-death experience had shaken him beyond repair, had damaged him so much that he was now having these feelings. It was all your fault, wasn't it? It was your fault he was feeling this, your fault he couldn't get the stupid feeling of your lips on his out of his stupid head.

He only scoffed. "Why would I be? It wasn't our near-death experience." Except it was probably the closest he had ever gotten to a heart attack, the Wanderer thought.

Now you rolled your eyes at him, yet that smile played on your lips: the very same lips that he currently struggled to get out of his thoughts.

And then he was hit again by the stabbing, aching, pounding reality that you had kissed him in that dream. That you were the one who supposedly couldn't hold yourself back. That you liked him. He didn't feel worthy of such pure, happy feelings. The only things that most folks associated him with were fear, snark, and general rudeness, so why did you feel differently? It stumped him so much that he may as well have written it down as his thesis for that damned Akademiya project Nahida told him to do.

What was it these scholars did after their hypothesis? Experiment? Research? Seethe in a pool of horrible rage and frustration? Nevertheless, the Wanderer found no real issues with his particular question, so he launched it forward into the heavy air.

"Why do you stick around?" He asked, sounding as nonchalant as he could, even though he felt sick with anticipation.

You seemed surprised by that question. He had taken you off guard, yet for once, he didn't feel like gloating about it. Instead he made tense, unwavering eye contact, staring at you even as you looked away.

"Because you're not that bad." You responded with a shrug. Not that bad? Well, it was already a huge improvement from conniving, evil, and loathsome.

Plus, apparently 'not that bad' equated to a kiss, even if it wasn't strictly real. A kiss that, by all means, should not have happened. Yet here he was. Here you were.

You really had a way of defying his expectations, in a way that almost seemed personal sometimes. It was almost like you were created specifically to challenge everything he thought, to argue with every mindset he'd gained over his life.

The Wanderer may have invaded your dreams, but even there, you managed to invade his thoughts. His feelings, his emotions, whatever garbage melded together to constitute a heart. Perhaps it was his soul; his soul you had invaded, made a home in, and stubbornly refused to vacate.

"Is everything okay?" Your voice cut through his internalized crisis, bringing him back to harsh, confusing reality. You were confused, and for good reason. He had just been scowling at your face as he ventured his mindscape.

So, oh powerful Balladeer, oh divine creation, how would he respond? Was being honest even an option?

Would you even still like him if he was vulnerable?

Something about your eyes, the way you looked at him quizzically, but not harshly, told him you just might.

So he let out a massive sigh and allowed the words to leave his tongue. "What is it you see in me?"

How dare you look at him that way, with fondness buried in your gaze. He hated it. Or maybe he hated himself.

"You…" your voice trailed off, and it was a horrifying moment of anticipation. "You're mean. You can be cruel. Sometimes I want to yell at you, other times I just want to understand you." Another pause as you gathered your thoughts.

"But… you have good in you. Something tells me you weren't born this way, but life forced you to become something else. I actually like being around you. You make me laugh, you protect me without even realizing it sometimes. And hey, you brought me here, so you saved my life." You explained, looking around at the little village hut the two of you were in.

The Wanderer tried to find a lie in your words, but there wasn't any. Everything was true, distressingly true. Even if he didn't want to, even if it didn't make sense, he cared about you. And somehow, you cared about him.

He couldn't meet your eyes as he processed it all. You looked at him so comfortably, it was despicable. It was its own kind of cruelty.

"You're an idiot." The Wanderer scoffed, glaring at the bed you lay on. He should have prevented your injury, he thought, proving all of your words right. "You're an idiot for liking me."

You sputtered for a response, and the word 'cute' crossed his mind, and he couldn't tell who he hated more in this moment: You, or his own mind.

"I- Okay, I didn't say I liked you, just that I… I've grown a little fond of you, alright? I know you don't feel the same, so it doesn't matter anyway." You spoke quickly, trying to sound convincing, but your attempted indifference was futile. He knew the truth. And maybe he just couldn't resist the chance to tease you with it.

He smirked at you, in the way that had always made you a bit shy, and now he could pinpoint the reason.

You liked him.

"Really? That's not the message I was getting earlier…" he snickered, leaning closer to you. He was always so in control on the outside, but truthfully, he was on the verge of breaking down for good.

You frowned at him. Wait, he didn't know, right? How could he? There was no possible way, he was sure you were thinking. Just like how there was no possible way for him to develop feelings for you. And yet…

The Wanderer sighed. Oh, he really didn't want to explain this to you. Or to anyone, for that matter. It was terribly complicated -seeing that he'd erased his existence from the world- to explain anything from his past, so he had just decided not to.

But something in him said you deserved an explanation, and he wanted to punch that something in the throat.

"What are you talking about?" You blurted out after an admirably long thought process. Or, that's what he assumed. Maybe it was just a jumbled mess like his was.

A sigh preceded his words, a common occurrence. "Not too long ago, I was… exposed to a great deal of divine power. It granted me extra abilities, and appearing in dreams and visions was one of them. You…" The Wanderer paused. Did he really want you knowing that he was worried about you, when he saw you in that nightmare? …maybe not. That was not something anybody needed to know.

"I wanted to check on your condition." He concluded, leaning back in his chair, crossing his arms. The way you were looking at him, so adorably confused, made him wish he had a heart so he could tear it right out of his chest and be rid of this turmoil.

"Wait, so you were actually in my dream?" You asked nervously, and the Wanderer only nodded.

Your face turned bright red as you processed the information, then stumbled over some form of response.

"Oh shi- I'm so sorry, I didn't know- I mean not that I wouldn't have- I mean I would, and I did, but only because I thought you weren't actually there, and that was probably really weird for you but also it's kind of weird that you were even in my dream in the first place, not that I particularly mind but it's just a strange thought and-"

…silence.

The first thought the Wanderer had, that broke through the quiet reverie, was something along the lines of: your lips were lovely.

He couldn't care less if you had chapped or perfectly soft lips. All he knew was that he'd never felt this alive before. You were warm, you were breathing, you were shaking, you were imperfect, but at that moment he couldn't think of anything more attractive.

Heh. What a curse you were.

[kyrieren]

Yashiro and/ versus Kageyama: The singularity of humanhood

Warning: Wall of text (about 1500 words) (ʘ‿ʘ) (ʘ‿ʘ) (ʘ‿ʘ)

"People ... are full of contradictions. They’re lonely. And then they’re not. They’re missed. And then they are not."

This monologue of Yashiro reveals the reasons why Kageyama and he are unable to forge a romantic relationship. The ways they deal with the outer world and themselves contradict each other, rendering them incompatible. Their respective mental burdens billow whenever they are together during high school. Yashiro confronts his homosexuality head-on, embracing it aloud, while Kageyama conceals it, even from his own awareness. It's a tragic paradox, where two individuals grappling with the same matter yet employing starkly contrasting coping mechanisms, making their interactions all the more painful to witness. However, no one is really at fault. People are just different, living in different universes, which entails the ultimate singularity of humanhood.

Yashiro has always been that observant and astute kind of person, perceptive enough to discern much about others, yet conversely, is taken into account and understood too little by other characters. Seeking for torture, aware of the world's inherent cruelty, Yashiro adopts increasingly questionable behaviors, inviting insults and even physical assaults, and hopefully Kageyama's notice too. This self-destructive persona becomes his armor against past trauma, a role he convinces himself to fully embody, albeit at a cost that may appear excessive to others, leading Kageyama to perceive him as self-centered. Despite the fabrication of his persona, Yashiro is candid about one aspect of himself: his attraction to men, a truth that challenges Kageyama's own understanding of himself.

On the contrary, Kageyama's obtuseness isn't inherent but rather a chosen path in life. Ignorance and conformity are his chosen coping mechanism. He follows the footsteps of his parents by enrolling in med school and becoming a doctor; dodges the “danger” of not being straight by finding a woman whenever somebody forces him to confront his true sexuality. Kageyama is that typical type of person who meticulously adheres to social norms, blending in with his family and the heteronormative world around him. However, this self-protective mechanism also endangers Yashiro whose deepest fear lies in rejection and emotional pain.

In this analysis, I’m going to consolidate Yashiro and Kageyama’s dynamic in two symbolism systems: the perceptions (lens vs glasses) and the defense (umbrellas, 2 vs 1).

1. The perceptions (lens vs glasses)

Lens

Lens is typically associated with observation, perception, and worldview. Yashiro’s act of stealing Kageyama’s lens case manifests his desperate yearning to be "seen" by his crush. Through various actions, Yashiro strives to show Kageyama who he is as a person and his aspirations for their relationship: he attends Kageyama’s father’s funeral, shares deeply personal information with Kageyama, and even sexually assaults his classmate to provoke a reaction from Kageyama.

As Yashiro takes the lens case, his inner monologue speaks, “But if he ever rejects me, it’ll probably hurt me. This is… obviously not… something I’m used to feeling.” Yashiro is acutely aware of the potential emotional toll of pursuing this unfamiliar feeling. Despite the risks of rejection and mental anguish, he still bravely proceeds for the desire to escape his perpetual solitude. All he truly seeks is someone who cares about him. Actually, he is asking for just a tiny meager.

Nevertheless, Yashiro's intense persona, shaped by childhood trauma, becomes too much for Kageyama to handle. Consequently, Kageyama consistently avoids and evades the possibility of being gay, which Yashiro persistently presents to him. In fact (or figuratively), Kageyama has given his answer before Yashiro even mentions about the matter.

This rainy scene involving Kageyama, his girl, and Yashiro conveys a profound message about Kageyama's stance. Though the simple dialogue is about Kageyama losing his lens, the underlying theme is about him losing his ability to truly "see" because he chooses not to. He deliberately avoids "seeing" Yashiro to avoid confronting the uncomfortable truth about himself and his sexuality. The girl's remark, "What a waste," goes beyond the monetary value of his loss; it hints at the greater losses Kageyama can imagine at that moment. He loses the world in its true form and his true, authentic self - which navigates us humans throughout life. He reserves himself by never letting that self interact and be reflected from people, leading to a gradual decline in his ability to empathize and grow emotionally. Ironically, his attempt to protect the self eventually ends up destroying it. That's why he grows into such a dense and apathetic bloke.

Glasses

I believe the glasses on his face are meant to be sarcastic. His eyes are not presented in the above panel, instead only his glasses. Glasses are typically a tool for better vision, yet in this particular case, become a symbol of his self-imposed blindness. As Kageyama can’t “see” the world with his own eyes, he chooses to rely on external aids – the social norms, to filter the world for him. A man with glasses is actually a blind man.

2. The defenses (umbrellas and 2 vs 1)

The visual storytelling in these panels is masterful, capturing the intricate dynamics and stark contrasts between the characters and their internal struggles. Here we have black vs transparent umbrella, being accompanied vs alone under the rain. Let’s not forget about the rain – the befallen suffering, and in this particular scene, it could be interpreted as the looming threat they pose to each other or the mental barriers they avoid confronting. Yashiro doesn’t want to be rejected and get hurt, while Kageyama is reluctant to acknowledge his homosexuality, given the societal stigmas.

The umbrellas

I once wrote an analysis including my interpretation of the transparent umbrella Yashiro gives Aoi, if you’re interested, please scroll to the end of this post to read. To summarize that part, that umbrella represents Yashiro’s deep empathy and the wish to end the suffering of somebody who experiences the same trauma he endures. Transparency stands for “being seen”, or at least, in this scene, the wish to be. With all normal to absurd acts, despite the risks, Yashiro is trying to make Kageyama realize who he is as a person (yet of course, acting out on his façade simultaneously). On the contrary to Yashiro, Kageyama’s black umbrella symbolizes his coping mechanism, blocking any outcast that possibly derails him from the safe uniformity. Yashiro, the friend behind him, becomes the epitome of the abject, representing Kageyama's own fear of straying from social norms.

2 vs 1

Additionally, the contrast between Kageyama being accompanied and Yashiro walking alone adds more weight to the scene.

Kageyama's aversion to be odd out drives him to seek validation through external factors, such as his relationship with women, to anchor himself firmly within social norms, which also echoes in “Don’t stay gold”. By being with someone, Kageyama subconsciously affirms his belongingness and shields himself from ostracization.

On the other hand, Yashiro, though broken and “twisted beyond repair”, is risking facing his utmost terror of being emotionally damaged. Walking alone signifies the will to keep himself survive without the buffer of external relationships or societal validation. It must have taken him aggrandizing bravery to reach that point of vulnerability, risking facing his utmost terror of being emotionally damaged.

As Yashiro persists, Kageyama withdraws further. Ultimately, Kageyama’s avoidance calls for Yashiro’s ultimate fear of rejection. The risk becomes too overwhelming for Yashiro to endure, prompting him to halt his pursuit. Eventually, they both settle into a common medium of ceasefire, which is friendship. While Kageyama maintains a superficial, pitying and somewhat indebted concern for Yashiro, Yashiro secretly harbors his unrequited love that spans a painfully long period, nearly two decades.

3. The singularity of humanhood

The oneshot closes with the scene where Yashiro cries at the balcony while clenching Kageyama’s lens case.

“People are… full of contradictions. They’re lonely. And then they’re not. They’re missed. And then they are not.”

Yashiro and Kageyama’s encounter invites an opportunity for a break from their homeostasis of solitude, yet eventually, it plunges them deeper into their initial mental state. Despite being friends and their shared attraction to men, they are universes apart, operating on different systems. They can't find solace from each other. They’re both lonely and yet they’re also not. They both exist, yet they also don't.

Yashiro has always been alone. However, he resembles a stray cat. A stray cat only becomes pathetic if adopted, petted, loved and then abandoned. If Yashiro is never rejected, he is never pathetic or truly lonely. He may be abjected, have nothing or nobody, but he retains the one constant: himself, the only ally that can accompany, protect and keep him survive.

On the very contrary, Kageyama, in conforming to societal expectations for safety, sacrifices his authenticity and inner connection. He may be with others, but he can’t be with himself. Kageyama is so empty inside. Living a life without an authentic self can be just as tragically lonely as physical solitude.

Now who really is the lonely one? Who will be missed and who will not? Yashiro the ever outcast with an overwhelming persona but nobody is taking him into account? Or Kageyama the self-deprived, while conforming to social expectations, lacks a genuine identity?

Read my other analysis including the transparent umbrella of Aoi here:

[inevitablysomber-dark]

Ladybug (Chapter 3)

Intensely Dark! Rafe Cameron x Acutely Aware! Reader

WARNING: Non-Consent, Manipulation, Kidnapping, Stalking, forced interactions, Causing trauma, unhinged obsession. MATURE AUDIENCES ONLY. MINORS DNI

Summary: After a fresh breakup with her ex, Kyle, a chance encounter leads to an entanglement between Ladybug and her friend, Sarahs, volatile brother, Rafe, who had long standing conflicts with her friends. However, what began as an accidental hookup, quickly spirals into a troubling situation as Rafe's infatuation takes a darker turn. His fixation becomes a source of distress, as his persistent harassment disrupts Ladybugs Peace.

Series Masterlist

The encounter with Rafe left an unsettling feeling lingering within you. As you retraced your steps back to John B's residence, a persistent unease had you glancing over your shoulder, an instinctual response to the sense of being watched.

Nevertheless, you successfully navigate your way, unscathed by any further incidents. Entering the Chateau, you found yourself contemplating the path forward. Surveying John's modest dwelling, you acknowledged that a prolonged stay there wasn't a realistic option. Your financial resources, built from your mother's contributions, neighborhood odd jobs, and modest online ventures, weren't bottomless.

Your attention shifted to the Lazy Boy chair, a long-standing fixture with a conspicuous stain. A sigh escaped you as you rose from your seat, conducting a visual sweep of the living space, intentionally avoiding John B's room. To your relief, you stumbled upon a small closet stocked with untouched cleaning supplies.

Without hesitation, you embarked on a cleaning mission. Recognizing that merely dousing the couch with Febreze wouldn't suffice for the questionable air quality in John B.'s living room, you aimed for a more comprehensive solution. Organizing scattered paperwork into a neat box discovered beneath the dining room table, you proceeded to dust, sweep, and mop the living area. Taking it a step further, you wrestled the Lazy Boy outside, subjecting it to a thorough wash. While not achieving pristine cleanliness, the prominent stain was significantly diminished.

As you finished your cleaning spree, you couldn't help but feel a sense of accomplishment. The Chateau, once filled with the typical disarray of a bunch of friends sharing a space, now had a renewed freshness. The air felt lighter, and you hoped the environment would contribute positively to your own healing process.

John B. and JJ walked in, seemingly surprised by the transformation. "Wow, did you hire a cleaning crew or something?" JJ asked.

You chuckled, "No, just needed to do something productive."

John B.nodded in appreciation, "Well, thanks. It looks great in here."

You nod “No Problem, and by the way I’ll be making dinner soon, if you’re interested”

“I definitely am” JJ responds 

“Totally just let us know when it’s ready.” John B. nods before he and JJ head outside to do god knows what. Engaging in your newfound routine, you migrated to the kitchen, initiating the task of preparing dinner—Mac and Cheese with cut-up hot dogs. Anticipating the possible arrival of the other pogues, you opted for two boxes to accommodate everyone. While orchestrating the meal, your gaze swept across the kitchen, prompting a realization that it could be your next cleaning endeavor. Contemplating the prospect of future projects—perhaps extending to the porches and the yard—you found solace in having something to occupy your time, a purpose emerging from the mundane tasks.

And  It turned out your anticipation was accurate, as the other pogues eventually made their way to John B's place. While John and JJ were outdoors, Sarah arrived and opted to stay inside, providing you with some company.

Pope arrived with his peculiarly defined girlfriend, Dragonfly. Their relationship was enigmatic; despite her denial of them dating, their actions spoke otherwise. Occasional hugs and kisses added layers of confusion. She was amiable enough, but their dynamic left you puzzled.

As Pope prepared to join the boys outside, Dragonfly chose to remain behind, accepting a kiss on the cheek before Pope's departure. You exchanged a glance with Sarah.

"There's Mac and Cheese with cut-up hot dogs if you want any," you offered.

"Maybe later," Pope responded before heading out.

"I'll have some," Dragonfly sighed, heading into the kitchen to fix herself a plate.

Meanwhile, Sarah stayed, engrossed in her phone.

"Can you believe Topper is still sending me 'I miss you' messages?" Sarah asked.

"Isn't he dating that girl... um?" Dragonfly began, struggling to recall Topper's current girlfriend's name.

"Butterfly," you supplied.

"You're not responding, are you?" you inquired.

She looked at you for a moment before responding, "No, I think it's gross."

Though you weren't entirely satisfied with her answer, you had no reason to doubt Sarah's honesty. She didn’t know about Kyle, since you’ve had yet to let her know, but  you had also kept her in the dark about what had happened with Rafe, since even you weren’t so sure what went on that night.

"Anyways," she shifted her attention back to her phone, "Rose and my Dad are going out next week and said I could have a little get-together. You guys in?" she asked.

"Sure," Dragonfly agreed.

"You know I'm up for it," you replied before adding, "Rafe's not going to be there, is he?"

"No, I'll make sure of it," Sarah assured, raising her eyebrows.

Sarah got up and said, "Alright, I'll go let the boys know," leaving you with Dragonfly.

"The macaroni is good," Dragonfly remarked between forkfuls.

"Thank you," you sighed.

Thinking about your next endeavor within the Chateu.

That was when Kie had shown herself, “Wow, it’s so clean here.” she said

***

The get-together Sarah had planned started out small and simple, just the pogues playing games, enjoying each other's company, and sharing stories. Everything was going well until Rafe walked in with his own group of friends.

Glancing over at you, he then turned to Sarah and explained that it was his house as well, and he had the right to host his own "get-together." An argument ensued for about 15 minutes, with Sarah insisting that she and her friends weren't leaving. Rafe shrugged and said he didn't care, proceeding with his friends toward the kitchen. Despite the rapid beating of your heart, you hoped that would be the end of it.

However, within an hour, what was meant to be a small gathering had transformed into a full-blown house party, with the pogues scattered in various directions. Pope and Dragonfly stayed on the couch cuddling, while you assumed Sarah was with John B. Kie and JJ were nowhere to be found.

Standing in the kitchen with a red solo cup of water in hand, you contemplated whether you should just go home. Your gaze swept across the island, and into the living room and you noticed a pair of bright blue eyes staring back at you from the living room.

Your heart began to race. Since Rafe had shown up, you had implemented a strategy to replace his presence wherever he went, aiming to avoid direct interaction. If you saw him come inside, you would go outside; if he moved from the living room, you would move to the living room, and so on. The hope was that he wouldn't return to a place he previously occupied.

He smirked before advancing toward you, prompting you to abandon your strategy and rush outside. The goose chase began, and for a while, you managed to elude Rafe's grasp, navigating through the sweaty bodies of individuals under the influence. However, a crucial mistake led you upstairs instead of heading home.

You knew it was only a matter of seconds before Rafe found you, and though part of you wanted to confront him and tell him to back off, you recognized that you weren't in the right headspace for such an encounter. Seeking refuge, you locked yourself in the bathroom.

Soon, you heard footsteps, assumed to be Rafe's, wandering around the second floor and opening different doors. One door opened, followed by a scream, and then Rafe's disappointed "really?" You figured he had caught someone engaged in extracurricular activities before closing the door again. His footsteps faded away, disappearing altogether, and for a brief moment, you believed you were in the clear. However, uncertainty lingered, so you decided to stay in the bathroom for another 45 minutes to ensure he wasn't lingering in the hall. The quiet, tense minutes passed before you finally sighed in relief, rushing out with a plan to head straight home.

Unfortunately, the plan fell to pieces to moment you ran into Rafe. You look up to find him smirking as if he'd won your little game.

"Where you been?"

He quickly grabs you lifting you from your feet and forcing you into his bedroom. You screech as you struggle to get away but, he slaps his hand against your mouth. He manages to get you in and your stomach drops when you hear the door shut. 

He drops you to the ground, before you hear him locking the door, cementing your fate.

You struggle to back away as Rafe gives you his full attention. Another struggle ensues as he lifts you from the floor and drags you along the bed.

“I’m gonna need you to be a good girl, and take care of me again,” he says, you feel prickles form along your neck at his statement. “Rafe, I’m scared, I wanna go home,” your body trembled as you tried to move away, but Rafe was bigger and heavier than you. “You can go home when I’m done,” he states, before pushing his lips against your own. 

You take the opportunity to bite him as hard as you can, and in that moment decidedly push him off of you. Unfortunately you didn’t have enough force to get him off, so you were stuck as he grabbed you by the neck, choking you out before slapping your face. The pain of the slap, and lack of air you were unable to take in, forced you into a panic attack. Tears forming in your eyes, as Rafe gets really close, his own nose touching your own. “We can make this easy or hard, I'm getting my way regardless.” he growls.

You frantically nod, as your vision starts to blur and darken, willing to give him anything as long as he doesn't kill you. Rafe waits a beat letting you stew, in what you assumed he thought was a punishment, before letting go. Your vision starts coming back, as coughs erupted from your lungs as your body struggled to breathe. 

Not allowing you a moment of calm, Rafe lays on top of you trying again to place his lips over yours. This time there was no fighting back, you stayed still as you allowed him to do as he pleased, tasting the blood from the bite wound on his lip. “Kiss me back,” at first you ignore him, keeping still as you grapple with the fact that Rafe managed to get his hands on you again. Then you felt the tickle of his fingers against your neck. “I said to fucking kiss me back,”. Your lips begin moving against his own, charged by fear and the possibility of how this could end. 

You feel him everywhere, all over your body and eventually all under your clothes. Before you know it, he’s nestled between your legs pushing his member inside you as he latches his mouth over your nipple. 

His movements were careful, as if he didn’t want to break you, but it was too late for that wasn’t it. The true horror came when pleasure started building in your lower abdomen, your legs tightening around him as his movement became more erratic. “Fuck,” he gasps before looking down at you. 

You’re sure he’s facing your weeping visage, but the bright smile shining on his face, made it seem like you too were enjoying what was being done to you, it didn’t help that your body tensed with pleasure and a chuckle resonates from his throat as he feels you tighten around him. 

He presses his mouth to yours with a final thrust, and you can feel as his seed spills into your body. 

His sweaty body collapses on top of you, and you feel his breath against the side of your face. You can’t help the next words that come out of your mouth. “Is that what you did last time,” He looks at you, and just laughs.

Tags: @applelovesposts

[covid-safer-hotties]

Impact of COVID-19 on myalgic encephalomyelitis/chronic fatigue syndrome-like illness prevalence: A cross-sectional survey - Published Sept 18, 2024

Abstract Background Myalgic encephalomyelitis/chronic fatigue syndrome (ME/CFS) can be triggered by infectious agents including severe acute respiratory syndrome coronavirus 2 (SARS-CoV-2). However, the impact of the coronavirus disease 2019 (COVID-19) pandemic on ME/CFS prevalence is not well characterized.

Methods In this population-based cross-sectional study, we enrolled a stratified random sample of 9,825 adult participants in the Kaiser Permanente Northern California (KPNC) integrated health system from July to October 2022 to assess overall ME/CFS-like illness prevalence and the proportion that were identified following COVID-19 illness. We used medical record and survey data to estimate the prevalence of ME/CFS-like illness based on self-reported symptoms congruent with the 2015 Institute of Medicine ME/CFS criteria. History of COVID-19 was based on a positive SARS-CoV-2 nucleic acid amplification test or ICD-10 diagnosis code in the medical record, or self-report of prior COVID-19 on a survey.

Results Of 2,745,374 adults in the eligible population, an estimated 45,892 (95% confidence interval [CI]: 32,869, 58,914) or 1.67% (CI 1.20%, 2.15%) had ME/CFS-like illness. Among those with ME/CFS-like illness, an estimated 14.12% (CI 3.64%, 24.6%) developed the illness after COVID-19. Among persons who had COVID-19, those with ME/CFS-like illness after COVID-19 were more likely to be unvaccinated and to have had COVID-19 before June 1, 2021. All persons with ME/CFS-like illness had significant impairment in physical, mental, emotional, social, and occupational functioning compared to persons without ME/CFS-like illness.

Conclusions In a large, integrated health system, 1.67% of adults had ME/CFS-like illness and 14.12% of all persons with ME/CFS-like illness developed it after COVID-19. Though COVID-19 did not substantially increase ME/CFS-like illness in the KPNC population during the study time period, ME/CFS-like illness nevertheless affects a notable portion of this population and is consistent with estimates of ME/CFS prevalence in other populations. Additional attention is needed to improve awareness, diagnosis, and treatment of ME/CFS.

[notmoreflippingelves]

saemi-the-dreamer asked:

OTP ask 😉 ! Krisnix: 10, 14, 30, 39, 42 ; Estelanor: 2, 5, 18, 30, 51 please?

Splitting these up into two posts again as I rambled on for way too long. And this way, I can post at least part of it sooner <3. This one is the krisnix one.

Krisnix

10. Describe their first date

They have like three "first dates" lol. The first would be the first time Kristoph invites Phoenix to join him for dinner at the Borscht after Phoenix finishes his shift there (or in-between shifts). Kristoph offers to pick up the check (he will do this on all their subsequent dates as well, and Phoenix doesn't resist in the least). Phoenix *technically* gets an employee discount when he dines at the Borscht but he never uses it with Kristoph--both because he enjoys making Kristoph spend more--and because he knows that Kristoph himself is enough of a snob that he'd hate feeling like a "cheap date" who couldn't afford to pay the proper bill.

Neither of them really expects this to turn into a regular thing. They just happen to be there (either Kristoph was working on a case in the area or purposely sought Phoenix out following the Bar Association's ruling) and be hungry at the same time. So they figure that they might as well eat together and talk through the conversation. And again, both of them are pretty surprised at how agreeable they find each other's company.

Phoenix is much more intelligent and well-read than his unpolished "every man" exterior would suggest--largely due to his time as an arts major. And Kristoph is surprised at how much they have to talk about. He may not be as cultured as Kristoph by a long shot, but he's surprisingly interesting and insightful, nevertheless. And the conversations end up being a lot more stimulating (in more ways than one) and engrossing than Kristoph ever expected.

Meanwhile even though Kristoph Gavin comes across as the coldest, most remote and pretentious person that you've ever met at first (and to be fair, there is a good bit of that in him still), Phoenix is amazed at how full-of-life-and-light Kristoph can be when you catch him on the right topic. He positively gushes about dogs and tells the funniest, warmest stories about Klavier-as-a-small-child. It's rather adorable and super unexpected. He's also surprisingly funny. His wit is much drier than Phoenix's own, and a bit more biting. But still, it's there and it's sometimes irrestitable. Plus, Kristoph is also funny in unintentional ways, given how stiff and formal and seemingly stoic he often is. So much so that Phoenix can't help but look at him and laugh--simultaneously with derision (i.e. "can you fucking believe this guy?") and with genuine affection (i.e.. "it's fucking cute how ridiculous he is without meaning to be.")

Their second "first date" would be the first time that they do something together in a place other than the Borscht Bowl. Neither of them come even close to acknowledging it as a date. This is simply an" outing that we will do together since I enjoy your company and we are sort of 'friends' now." It probably comes about rather organically. Kristoph mentions a different restaurant that he recently tried with Klavier and wonders if Phoenix has ever tried it. (Of course, he hasn't. The entrees cost more than he makes in a given night at the Borscht). Which then naturally extends to Kristoph saying that it's a pity Phoenix hasn't had a chance to go yet, and perhaps, he and Kristoph might go together some evening as friends.

Their third "first date" would be much the same as one of the ones that came before. But with a crucial difference. They are still nowhere near identifying this particular outing as a "date." But since their last "first date," their "friendship" has since extended to include physical intimacy of some kind. Maybe they've had a drunken kiss or two--or maybe they've actually done teh sex. Nevertheless, they are both acutely aware that things are DIFFERENT between them from then on, while also stubbornly refusing to admit to each other that things are different. They know this is a date. They know that they are much more than friends--even ones "with benefits"--but you will never get them to acknowledge this fact. This is just a shared social experience between two men who enjoy each other's company and lips and there is nothing more to it than that. (There is a great deal more to it than that).

Sadly, they never got to the point of a fourth "first date" (i.e. one that they openly acknowledge as a date) in canon, but they still can in my heart.

14. How do their personalities compliment each other? How do they clash?

Both Phoenix and Kristoph are artistically-minded, driven, and very intelligent (albeit in different ways.) As I mentioned in the previous point, Phoenix is somewhat more "cultured" than one would imagine and Kristoph is not *quite* as much of a humorless stick-in-the-mud than he appears. So they actually find that they have a great deal to talk about and can enjoy each other's company. Due to the circumstances that brought them together, there is inevitably a little bit of a facade to their "friendship" but not nearly as much of one as you might think.

In terms of their differences counterbalancing each other, Kristoph's cautious and reserved nature helps reign in some of Phoenix's unhinged impulsiveness. Meanwhile, Phoenix's sense of humor and spontaneity can sometimes force Kristoph to stop taking everything (especially himself) so damn seriously and to open himself up to life outside professional success.

However, it isn't all smooth sailing for them. These same differences can cause friction between them just as often as they smooth it. Moreover, the fact that both men are extremely stubborn also leads to clashes.

As a workaholic and supremely ambitious person in his own right, Kristoph also finds himself frequently frustrated by Phoenix Wright's perceived laziness and lack of ambition. They both know that Phoenix is capable of being more than dubiously sober piano bum and illegal poker player at a mediocre dive bar. So why isn't Phoenix "trying" harder to find something better for himself?

Meanwhile, Kristoph is also trying very hard not to acknowledge that Phoenix's current state is very much Kristoph's own fault. He tries to convince Phoenix to lift himself out of his sorry state, at least in part to ease Kristoph's own conscience.

Kristoph is also very unaware that much of Phoenix's perceived lazy, aimlessness is an act--one carefully tailored to lull Kristoph into a false sense of security so that Phoenix can make his move.

Naturally, the biggest barrier between them is the one that they can never directly acknowledge. Kristoph's role in orchestrating Phoenix's disbarment and Phoenix's complete awareness of this fact. On the rare occasion that the topic comes up indirectly in conversation (ex: any mention of Phoenix's former legal career, Kristoph's Bar Association duties, Trucy's life before Phoenix, media coverage of the so-called "Dark Age of Law,"etc.) things between Kristoph and Phoenix become decidedly more tense than usual. Lots of sarcastic remarks, comments that can be taken in more than one way, and little arguments over matters that would normally not have provoked such a response. Again, they can't ever discuss the real state of things openly so they have their little proxy spats and then quickly try to change the subject.

30. Your OTP gets to pick out each other’s outfits; what is each wearing?

Phoenix loves to make Kristoph dress more casually--both because it's cute but also because he thinks it's mentally/psychologically "good" for Kristoph. He will be more relaxed when he wears clothing that is softer, looser, and/or more comfortable. I think Kristoph probably has a Gavinners-branded hoodie or sweatshirt that is leftover merch from Klavier, and Phoenix is constantly trying to persuade him into wearing it--ideally with jeans instead of Kristoph's normal dress pants. He eventually gives in, partly because Phoenix Wright is unbelievably stubborn but also partially because damn it, the sweatshirt (though far too casual for professional use) is very soft and very warm--and Kristoph has always been the sort of person who gets cold easily. And there is something very relaxing and soothing about letting himself dress for warmth and physical comfort instead of trying to impress people. Also he feels much freer to cuddle with Vongole (which is also psychologically very good for him) when he's less concerned about getting dog hair on his nice work clothes.

Kristoph, conversely, likes to dress Phoenix up. Underneath that dreadful hat and sweatshirt, Phoenix Wright is a rather handsome man with nice broad-shoulders, a pleasingly strong jaw, and bright, twinkling eyes. He really should show off his handsome features and physique. And yet, he hides himself in this loose, plebian garb and two days worth of stubble. (Kristoph is in deep denial about how much he likes Phoenix's stubble. Phoenix is completely aware of the effect he has on the other man).

So Kristoph is always looking for excuses to put Phoenix in a suit or even just a button-down shirt with a tie. And sometimes, Phoenix is willing to indulge him, even if it still feels weird to put on his "trial suit" to go anywhere other than courtroom. But he does like reminding Kristoph (and himself) just how nicely he can clean up when he wants to.

(Kristoph is so lucky that he never got to see three-piece suit dilfnix and his waistcoat of sexyness. He would've died of lust on the spot, and all Phoenix would've done was laugh.)

Another "compromise" is that Kristoph is able to talk Phoenix into a bit more often is a short-sleeve polo shirt. A little more dressy than his normal hoodie but still not properly formal.

(Of course, Kristoph never quite thinks through the ramifications of this. He is Victorian level of repressed-yet-horny. And so the instant, Phoenix's bare forearms enter the chat, kristoph.exe promptly stops working.)

39. Who would rescue an injured animal and nurse it back to health? What would the other think?

Honestly, I think its fairly plausible that either would do this. But honestly, it's much more interesting to think about Kristoph being the one to do it so that's where I'm gonna focus.

This could be a possible backstory for Vongole acquisition. Kristoph's job led him to find the most Beautiful Dog in the World™ left abandoned (and possibly wounded) after her owner died or went to prison. At first, he intends to take Vongole in for a short while until he can find a new home for her. (She's a purebred and a very good girl so Kristoph isn't ready to just dump her in an animal shelter's care and hope for the best). But it's not long until he finds himself just completely enraptured by her and unable to imagine his life without her.

Phoenix, meanwhile, has enjoyed watching this unfold from a bit of a distance. He doesn't meet Vongole officially for awhile, but he notices how quickly Kristoph is completely "puppy-whipped" for her. Kristoph can't stop talking about this "foster" dog he's looking after. He talks about more even than he talks about work--which is saying something. His eyes light up behind his glasses and he can't stop smiling when he's chattering about how SMART and cultured Vongole is, because she sits and listens and wags her tail whenever Kristoph is practicing his violin. And she's so got the most refined palette too. She likes only the best dog food made from the finest ingredients.

It's adorable seeing Kristoph like this, so happy and relaxed and at peace with himself. Even with all the baggage between himself and Kristoph, Phoenix genuinely likes seeing his frenemy in this light and is happy for him.

After a few months worth of Kristoph "fostering" Vongole, he finally announces that he's decided to keep her permanently and Phoenix is all ...

(Phoenix saw this coming about a week after Vongole came into Kristoph's life).

I am also struck by another possible "Kristoph-rescues-a-wounded-animal scenario" as well and would like to discuss it. In this case, I think Kristoph should find and take care of a wounded bird (preferably a baby). I think the most narratively satisfying (i.e. metaphorically resonant) would involve Kristoph having accidentally caused the bird's injury in the first place. Maybe he accidentally hit a passing bird with his car or caused the bird to fall out of its nest and injure itself, while Kristoph was tending to his garden. Kristoph would therefore have to take accountability for having hurt something so beautiful and delicate and would see his nursing the bird back to health as an atonement for his past missteps.

Phoenix, meanwhile, would have very mixed reactions to seeing Kristoph's diligent care for this particular bird. He can't help but feel a little envious seeing Kristoph take responsibility for his harmful actions in this respect, while Kristoph has utterly failed to do the same where Phoenix is concerned. The significance of this being a bird--and Phoenix's own name being a (mythical) bird is not at all lost on him either. But on the other hand, he sees Kristoph being so patient and caring and gentle with this little wounded bird, and Phoenix can't help but love him for it. Can't help but wonder if--if only circumstances were just a little different and if he and/or Kristoph were able to swallow their pride for long enough--maybe Kristoph would have been able to do the same thing with Phoenix after all. But of course, they are doomed by themselves, their anger, and the narrative so this would never happen.

If the bird is unable to be safely released back into the wild after all--or Kristoph is simply unwilling to let the bird go-- it's also possible that the caged blue bird in Kristoph's cell is in fact this very same bird. Which adds some additional metaphorical resonance to the obvious Phoenix-bird parallels. Either Kristoph has already damaged the bird (and Phoenix) so severely and irrevocably that even his most ardent attempts at atonement/undoing the harm are not nearly enough. Or Kristoph has become so mentally and emotionally attached to the bird (and Phoenix) that he refuses to let it fly away from him--especially while Kristoph himself is wasting away in prison.

42. What’s their favorite type of weather to enjoy together? (getting snowed in together, watching thunderstorms, etc.)

Phoenix most enjoys bright, warm sunny days (especially in the summertime). This is more in general than relating to Kristoph specifically. There is so much more to do when the weather is nice--including a few particular things that he enjoys doing with Trucy and often with Kristoph as well. They've gone berry-picking a few times (on Kristoph's dime), something that neither Kristoph nor Trucy had ever done before and something that they are both pleasantly surprised by. They will go for picnics at the park and talk Kristoph into taking Vongole with them. (Trucy enjoys playing several rounds of fetch with her afterwards). Sometimes, when they have a day at the pool, Kristoph will wear a big, floppy hat to keep the sun off his face, and Phoenix can't help but find it rather endearing.

Kristoph, meanwhile, enjoys the rain. Or more specifically, a steady, lightning-less medium downpour that is heavy enough to keep everyone indoors (and prevent Phoenix from leaving too soon) and water the grass, while still being nowhere near heavy enough for there to be any danger of flooding.

He enjoys taking Vongole for walks after the rain and breathing in the fresh, clean scent of the air. He particularly enjoys it when he is able to rope Phoenix (and sometimes Trucy and/or Klavier) into joining him. Especially on the very memorable occasion that they saw a full rainbow just as the sun was starting to set.

[imaginedreamwrite]

Brothers Andy and Frank with reader. Reader has a baby. Both are furiously devoted to reader and child as soon as they see her looking lost in a new town. They will do ANYTHING it takes to protect them from her ex. Thank you 💗

It wasn’t the first time he had seen you around town nevertheless it was the first time he had seen you in his office, sitting across his desk. There had been a few times he’d watched you in the cute little cafe & bookstore, pushing your baby in a secondhand stroller looking exhausted and stressed.

Now Andy knew why.

It wasn’t a leisurely visit to his office, it wasn’t anything beyond a simple consultation to see if he could even help you. Though it hadn’t taken long for Andy to assess your situation with your ex, his intuition and skills as a seasoned lawyer to determine how dire your case was.

It wasn’t his astute instincts that led him to believe you were in trouble, it was Frank’s as well. The two brothers, Andy a year and a half older, had been acutely aware of your recent arrival in this small town and both had become invested in your story.

Even if you hadn’t known it yet.

“Pro Bono,” Andy had slid the document across the desk after listening to your story, coming upon a decision to wave any fees, “I’ll take your case for you.”

“I can’t ask you to do that, I can’t-” cut off by your baby’s crying, you directed your attention to your child whilst Andy signed his name on the document.

You tended to your baby, grabbing their soother and rocking them gently in the stroller. You have them your all, devoting everything you had to them, and that had steeled Andy’s continuing adoration for you.

“Y/N, we want to help you.” Andy had reassured you, the statement releasing some of the tension in your shoulders. “Take the offer, take the help.”

Your relief was quick, it was embraced and short lived before your shoulders sank again and your hands clutched the handle of your child’s stroller.

“You wouldn’t happen to know anyone who can do some house repairs for cheap?” You appeared to be on the verge of tears, nearing the state of a breakdown.

“My brother, Frank, he’s good with his hands. He can come by your place and see what has to be done.” Andy had offered another reassurance, another extension of hope that settled you.

“Thank you,” your exhale was wavering, your shoulders still afflicted with stress and anxiety, though it has lessened, “Mr. Barber-”

“Andy, sweetheart.” He let it slip, crooning as he had. “Just call me Andy. And Frank…we’re going to help you anyway we can.”

It wasn’t just a statement, it was a vow. Andy and Frank, the two of them together, they were going to keep you and your child safe from every possible thing they could.