#but what is to be expected in an industry that cares less and less about the individual craft and more of a popularity contest!

[frankbelloriley]

Oscar Monday Twitter would be 4000% less annoying if EEAAO lost either the directing or writing categories, both of which it won over better nominees.

[pearlymel]

I don’t know if your request are open rn but I was wondering if you can do Boothill, Gallagher, and Argenti, and Aventurine with an Actor reader, considered the silver screen queen of Penacony and The Robin of “Film”.

If you need inspo, I was thinking the vibe and style of Judy Garland, Audrey Hepburn, and Marilyn Monroe. (No pressed)

Synopsis : you're the famous person they fell in love with.

Includes : Boothill, Argenti, Aventurine, and Gallagher.

Notes : afab!reader, no pronouns except being called "princess" in Aventurine's. Sfw, All fluff. My dear anon i hope this was what you requested (from what i understood.) Ty for the request, it was pretty creative. Quick reminder that my requests are closed for now!! This is just old requests im trying to finish. feel free to send in your thoughts or thirsts instead. ♡

↳ AVENTURINE.

You were in the acting industry, a known star across penacony that everyone would scream to have a picture with.

Fairly, you don't even know how you ended up with this gambler. Despite you having the money, he still spoils you rotten.

Aventurine is not surprised (or he acts to) that he managed to bag you with his charmness, even though internally he was just one of your die hard fans at heart.

To this day, he's still confused how you returned back his feelings.

Like many other times, Aventurine leads you out of a shopping mall. He’s carrying some bags, and he always makes sure to pick out the heaviest ones to show off how strong he was. He always liked to make a show of his wealth, especially with you.

“You bought so many things today,” he grins. “What’s the matter? Is your current wardrobe that empty?”

"Just things for my family, and you, of course." You grin back.

You didn't expect Aventurine to spoil you at some yacht this time, he puts an arm around you and guides you forwards. All formal butler's at your service, bowing down elegantly just right outside of it. It’s expensive—he wouldn’t dare to spend money on anything less perfect, after all.

He makes a habit of keeping his hand close to the small of your back. He likes to feel the warmth of your body, the way your clothes feel against his touch. He hums lowly from beside you. “I have a surprise for you,” he comments, his tone low and teasing.

"You're full of surprises today."

“Only the best for a diva like you,” he responds back. He can’t help the smirk on his face as he leads you towards the yacht. He’s certainly proud, because he knows how perfect it is. Every part of the exterior is luxurious to suit your taste.

Aventurine climbs on it and holds a hand out for you. “Careful while you board. You don’t want to trip and ruin your pretty face, don’t you?”

You roll your eyes playfully, taking his hand in a firm grip, "Oh don't be dramatic."

He guides you up the small set of steps and grins, his thumb running over your knuckles.

Aventurine leads you further into the cabin. It’s clean and spacious, a large bed on one side. There’s a door leading to a bathroom, and a large screen on one wall.

He sets the bags down and sits on the edge of the bed, patting the empty side of the bed while giving you a smile. “Come here, princess.”

You laugh, dashing towards him and jumping right on him, pushing both of you down on the bed and he grunts dramatically, but laughs along with you. His hands move to rest on your waist, pulling you closer to him.

He adjusts himself so he’s laying on the bed with you on top of him, and his eyes soften.

"I'm happy," you start, "It's not about this, how thankful i am to be experiencing this. But i love spending every moment with you, the good and bad."

Oh, stop giving him that expression. He's going to melt and giggle like a highschooler.

“And I love spoiling you,” he answers. “I love making you feel loved and appreciated because it’s what you deserve. Especially after dealing with me, princess.” he finishes it off softly, pressing a delicate kiss to your cheek.

"Sooo, you rented this yacht just for both of us to enjoy the view and eat good food?"

"Do you like it? Y'know what, scratch that. I'll buy the yacht if you love it. So we can come back here everytime."

↳ ARGENTI.

To you, You were just a normal dancer, following your love and passion for this field.

To Argenti, you were the most elegant, and beautiful human to ever have the pleasure of laying his eyes on.

He has been admiring you, at a distance, for a while. So when this gentleman approached you on his knee with a rose on his hand, you were pretty shocked and flustered.

"I apologise if I startled you," Argenti gently spoke as he offered the rose, his voice smooth and warm like velvet, his redish-green eyes locking onto yours. "But your beauty caught my eye while you were dancing. It is not often that I am rendered speechless, but your grace in every movement bewitched me."

You take the single rose from his hand with a wide smile, your thumb and forefinger toying with the stem and rolling it as you lift it and near it to your lips and nose to inhale it's fragrance.

"I love it," you whisper in awe.

Argenti's heart melted further as he observed your smile and the way you brought the flower up to your face. It was like a vision straight out of a dream for him, and it fuelled the desire within his heart even more.

"It brings me joy to see you like this," the knight replied, "Might I have the honour of knowing your name?"

And you utter your name out, the words leaving your tongue like it was made of silk.

A name as beautiful as the one bearing it, he thought to himself. "A name that reflects your grace and elegance," he responded, "As for myself, I am called Argenti. It is a pleasure to meet you."

"You may stand up, dear Argenti."

Argenti's heart fluttered at your endearing address towards him, and he immediately obliged to your request. He rose to stand up, his stature proud and imposing.

"As you command, my dear" he voiced, his gaze remaining on you. He made a subtle, respectful bow.

That day, you agreed to go on this little date with him, courting you was his next goal.

The sun finally settled beneath the horizon, casting the world into the soft, silver-tinted embrace of night. A gentle breeze gently ruffled his hair, the faint scent of the rose you held earlier wafting around.

"It appears our meeting is coming to an end, isn't it?" Argenti mused as he silently studied your delicate features, silently committing the image to memory. "Thank you for taking me out today, Argenti."

"It is my pleasure to have spent this time with you." He whispered back, ending it with a murmur of your name.

"This evening has been a moment of clarity for me. May I have the privilege of seeing you again sometime in the future?"

↳ GALLAGHER.

Gallagher was secretly your lover, despite his status as a bodyguard to you; the famous popstar singer.

You chuckle to yourself when you watch how he talked off some unwanted guests prying at your personal business, which was just drinking at some small coffee shop.

Gallagher sensed your amusement, catching your smile in his peripheral vision. He took a step closer to you, his hand resting discreetly on the small of your back. "Something funny, pretty?" He spoke first, his voice low enough for only you to hear.

"Just the scene of you handling the situation is amusing." You say before taking a long sip from your drink. He gave a subtle scoff, his lips forming a wry half-smile. He knew that he probably looked like a protective dog, "just doing my job," he replied in a lax tone.

"Because you're my bodyguard or because you're jealous?"

"Both," he muttered, his eyes flickering over the place, still scanning for potential threats. "I'm your bodyguard, so it's my job to keep others from getting too close. But I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a little...jealous."

You pat his shoulder, looking around before resting your chin on his shoulder, "I'm all yours, nothing to be jealous of." you whisper into his ear.

Gallagher's firm expression softened even further at your reassurance. Your words reassured him deeply, erasing any traces of jealousy from his features.

"You're damn right about that," his hand moving from your back to subtly wrap around your waist, as he drew your seat a little closer. "You're all mine, no one else's."

"And if they start being suspicious of our relationship?"

His grip on your waist tightened slightly, his expression growing a bit more serious as he considered your question. "They can speculate all they want," he shrugged, his eyes flickering over the quiet area before returning to you. "S’not like we're doing anything wrong. I'm your bodyguard, but I can't help how I feel about you. There's no harm in a little...physical closeness. No one's going to catch on as long as we keep it subtle."

And it was your turn for you to turn all soft, "you know.. i wouldn't care if they find out. I'll gladly show you off to the world."

↳ BOOTHILL.

"My love, this is too much."

"Too much? Nah."

But Boothill's demeanor changes as he senses your guilt, your guilt of recieving loads of expensive clothes and gifts just for you. His strong hands gently grip your shoulders, his gaze fixed on you. He hated whenever you tried to protest or object to his generous gestures.

Leaning in a little closer, he adds in a soft voice, "It's not too much if it's for you, darlin'. You deserve everythin' that money can buy. So don't you dare feel bad, alright?"

Everything he brought to you was to your taste, as a fashion designer. How did he even manage to get these majestic attires for you?

"It's my turn to spoil you, i will make sure to look pretty for you." You promise, and his heart skips a beat at your promise to make yourself look beautiful for him. He gives a low chuckle, "Darlin', you're already the most radiant sight a fella like me could ever want." He steps a little closer, his eyes roaming over you for a moment, taking in the sight of you.

"But I'll still be lookin' forward to seein' you all dolled up," he adds with a sly smile.

And you do, entering the bathroom to change then coming out and giving him a private show of you modelling the clothes he got you.

He lets out a low whistle, a smirk on his face as he takes in the sight of you. His eyes roam over your form, appreciating the curves and the elegance you exude.

Boothill's jaw practically hits the floor.

"My sweet darlin', you look like a vision straight from my wildest dreams."

"Mhmm, and you're the chosen man."

"And I've never been more grateful for that title in my life, darlin'. You look like a piece of heaven right here in my arms."

You roll your eyes at his words, your hands on his shoulders as you look down at his seating figure, "You're exaggerating."

Boothill lets out a hearty laugh, enjoying the banter between you. He playfully pulls you even closer, his hands roaming unabashedly over the curves of your body.

"Exaggerating? Sweetheart, I may have a flair for the dramatic, but in this case, I speak nothin' but the truth." His eyes roam over you once again, "You could be wearin' a potato sack, and you'd still be the most beautiful sight to my eyes."

You narrow your eyes at the idea, "i will wear that potato sack next time."

He grins, "and I'd still be achin' to get up close and personal, darlin'." he says, his voice low and sultry.

[dirtyvulture]

Envy and Venom - Part 3

Heiress!Natasha Romanoff x CEO!Beefy!Fem!Reader

18+ only, read at your own risk

Summary: You are the notorious playboy who just inherited one of the biggest tech companies in the world. Your first move? Sleeping with the heiress of your rival company.

Word count: 4990

AN: Y'all are getting fed with this one. Have fun. :)

Click here for Part 2!

Thanks to @mostlymarvelsstuff for helping with some Russian translations lol.

DAY 34

“Do you have everything ready? Your presentation, your notes?” your dad asks.

“Yes, yes,” you tell him for what feels like the thousandth time. 

“This is where the comeback starts,” your dad says, and sometimes you wish he would just claim back his title. You were sick and tired of his coaching, even if you needed it a little bit. But if Envy Industries had gotten into this mess because of you, then you were the only person who could get them out of it. “I know I can’t be there in person–”

“I know, I know,” you dismiss. You were well aware of his vacation plans to the Maldives with his new girlfriend. Besides Envy, it was the only thing he wanted to talk about nowadays. But you still didn’t even know her name, and were certain he’d find a new one before the end of his trip.

“Tony will be there with you, right? He’ll keep you on track,” your dad continues, inching into sensitive territory now. Even though he denied it every time you confronted him, you knew he was always worried about you stepping into the CEO role because you were a woman. Hearing the doubts from the public and the competition hardly bothered you, but from your own father, it was like a punch to the face. Especially when you were not exactly proving him wrong given how things had played out since your first day.

“Who cares if Tony is there or not?” you snap, losing your patience. “He’s not the one giving the presentation. He’ll just be standing behind the curtain, stealing all the free merch, and–”

“Okay, that’s enough,” your dad cuts you off. “I want you to call me again tomorrow. We’ll run over your presentation again–”

“I’ll think about it.” You slam the handset on the receiver, a satisfying motion that could not be accomplished with modern telephonic devices. You try not to give the upcoming presentation any more thought–it was already stressing you out enough. Maybe an hour in the gym would take your mind off things. 

Your decision made, you step away from your desk to your private walk-in closet, rifling through the selection of workout clothes hanging there. All of them were custom-cut to your exact body dimensions to ensure the best fit and look. Although you were no professional athlete, you treated yourself as if you were one (and you certainly looked the part). 

But right now, you couldn’t care less what you looked like or what you were wearing as you grabbed the first set of clothes you could reach, slipping them on and grabbing your Louis Vuitton gym bag, monogrammed with your initials. You lightly jog out of your office, moving fast enough that people will think you’re in a rush and not stop you. The gym is on the tenth floor of the building, and because it’s just after lunch, most people are back at their desks. But you set your own schedule, so you’re happy to find that it isn’t too crowded and you quickly get warmed up before you start lifting.

In between sets, you check your phone, a bad habit that doesn’t exist when you’re with your training coach, but he’s not around to scold you, so you can do as you please. In the tracking app, Natasha’s red dot blinks in the Upper West Side of Manhattan, hardly three miles away from your current location in Envy Industries. 

She was hanging out at Black Widow Corporation headquarters, just where you expected her to be. She had an unsurprisingly predictable schedule, splitting her time just between work and home, which you discovered was in an apartment just a few blocks down the street from yours. You wonder if she lived on her own or with her father, who was likely paying for her housing either way. 

Natasha was not quite the self-made woman that you were. Her work was significantly more behind the scenes, which was one reason why you had never heard of her before. Alexei Shostakov was the only name you associated with Black Widow Corp. But you had done your own digging on her and her family the past few days. There was frustratingly little about Natasha and you were ready to hire a private investigator due to your lack of results. 

All you had learned was that she had graduated magna cum laude from Virginia Tech with a degree in economics, where she also held a brief internship at the university’s infamous Gamma Lab before it was shut down after the sudden death of its lead researcher. You assumed she had gone immediately to work for Black Widow Corp after her graduation; there was no other work history for her anywhere. No social media, no public interviews. This woman fascinated you more and more. 

After a final set of deadlifts, you re-rack all the weights because you’re not that much of a heathen and check your phone again. Natasha is no longer at Black Widow Corp, her red dot moving steadily through 86th Street that cut through Central Park. Your heart rate jumps, and not because of your workout. You sit down on a bench to steady yourself, watching as the red dot continues through Central Park. When she turns right on Park Avenue, you know exactly where she’s heading.

Hopefully you could intercept her first.

***********************************************************************

“Where are you going?” 

Natasha curses under her breath as she turns around to see Yelena standing in the lobby, her arms crossed over her chest like a scorned mother catching her child sneaking out of the house.

“What?” Natasha rounds on her sister, annoyed that she’s been watching her like a hawk.

“The board of directors meeting starts in seven minutes,” Yelena says, and Natasha curses under her breath because she forgot all about that.

“Dad can handle it without me,” Natasha replies, eager to get the heat off of her as soon as she can.

“They’ll be talking about CES,” Yelena reminds her, referencing the important annual show where the biggest tech companies came together in Vegas to reveal their newest inventions and products.

“You’re not going to CES,” Natasha points out, surprised her sister even knows its proper name. Since the company was going to fall on her shoulders once their father stepped down, Natasha had spent almost the entirety of her adult life learning, training, and breathing business and technology. Yelena had been able to pursue her own hopes and dreams, starting in the private security field until she had enough experience (and enough of Dad’s money) to start her own company. She was happy and thriving, something Natasha was endlessly jealous of.

Yelena had never experienced the pressure of managing billions of dollars in and out the door. She didn’t know what it was like to fight off every insecure man who couldn’t bear to do a business deal with a woman. She hadn’t spent hundreds of hours trying to learn coding languages and complicated mathematics and equations on her own. Yelena didn’t understand what Natasha had spared her from, and Natasha was afraid she would never be grateful for it.

“Yes, but you’re going to CES,” Yelena says.

“You’re not my babysitter,” Natasha snaps, turning away and marching towards the door. 

“You’re going to see her again, aren’t you?”

“What?” Natasha stops. “Who the hell are you talking about?”

“That CEO you’re in love with.”

“Excuse me?” But Natasha’s face is flaming red as she struts over to confront her sister. “I am not in love with anyone. You know that.”

“You seem to be spending an awful lot of time with that CEO.”

“No, I’m not.”

Yelena smirks. “I own a private security company, sestra. You don’t think I know my own sister’s whereabouts and who she’s with?”

Natasha’s heart sinks, but she tries not to let it show. “Why can’t you ever just mind your own fucking business?” she growls, immediately regretting the harshness of her words when she sees her sister’s face fall. But she’s too proud to take it back.

“I don’t think it’s safe if you keep seeing her,” Yelena says. “And you don’t know what it could do for the company–”

“Why do you care about the company so much all of a sudden?” Natasha counters. “Dad’s not giving it to you when he steps down.”

“I don’t want it,” Yelena replies, although she looks hurt. “But to be quite honest, I don’t like what it’s turning you into.”

“Which is what?”

“This!” Yelena waves her arms at Natasha frantically. “It’s always ‘Black Widow this, Black Widow that.’ You don’t have any hobbies anymore. You never eat dinner with the rest of the family. You don’t go out unless it’s to see that CEO–”

Natasha interrupts her with a huff. “You wouldn’t understand, Yelena,” she says, trying a different approach and maintaining complete calm. “You can just stay holed up in your one-windowed office to spy on people and let the real adults go out in the real world and handle real shit.” With that, she spins on her heel and storms out of the building. 

***********************************************************************

“Why are you into shooting all of a sudden? Have you ever even held a gun before?” Tony asks, staring at you with a dropped jaw.

You shrug. “I need some new hobbies,” you lie.

“You’re not going to shoot someone with it, are you?” he half-jokes, his chuckle quickly dying up when you don’t laugh with him.

“No, of course not,” you mumble unconvincingly.

“Okay, well, when do you need the gun by?” he asks.

“How fast does Bucky work?”

Tony shrugs. “If I call him now, he can have one to me by the end of the day.”

“Okay.” The sooner the better, because it gave you less time to back out of your plan. “That works.”

“So, are we going big-game hunting in Africa this summer?” Tony asks, giving you a sharp nudge before starting his car.

“Maybe, maybe…” But you have a different target in mind.

The gun is surprisingly heavy, oily, and unfamiliar in your palm. Bucky had gone over the four “rules” of gun handling, which shocked you that he even knew:

Treat every gun like it was loaded

Don’t point it at something you aren’t willing to shoot.

Keep your finger off the trigger until you’re ready to shoot.

Be mindful of your target and what’s around it.

He had given you a full box of ammo for “good luck” too, before jumping back into his car and driving away faster than you could read his license plate.

Currently, you sit in the darkness of your apartment, weighing the gun in your hand. Your heart is beating so hard against your ribcage you swear you can hear it. 

You check your phone. Natasha’s just parked her car in the parking garage. It should only take her a few minutes to ride the elevator up. You hadn’t even bothered to change out of your workout clothes, worried that she would arrive at your apartment before you did, but you had just barely made it on time.

Her red dot blinks in place on your screen. She’s in the elevator.

Your eyes flit to the front door, the gun feeling even heavier in your hand. 

The seconds drag on. 

You hold your breath for as long as you can between inhalations, heart pounding, ears straining for any sound of movement outside your apartment door.

Beep, beep.

A key card–yours–registers at the door lock. The handle pushes down from the outside and you snap to attention. 

Don’t miss, you tell yourself.

The door parts open, almost hesitantly, like your uninvited intruder is suddenly unsure of themselves. In the darkness, you see a figure slip through the door and close it behind her. Her body shape gives her away immediately. The thick thighs in black jeans, the curve of her hips leading up to her narrow waist, the fullness of her bosom stretching out the tight shirt she’s wearing.

When Natasha steps into the light, she freezes when she sees you sitting at the kitchen table, gun cocked in her direction.

“It’s about time you showed up,” you greet. “Building security didn’t question you when you used my key card to get in?”

“Clearly not,” Natasha says, her stance tense and wary.

“Come sit down. We should talk,” you invite, gesturing with the gun and breaking Bucky’s rule number one. Natasha stiffly walks towards you, her face an impassive shadow. You’ve never seen her genuinely scared before and it delights you that for once, you have the upper hand on her. You kick out a chair and she sits next to you. 

“Didn’t expect this, did you?” you ask. “Probably thought you could just waltz right in here and steal more of my shit?”

“Y/N–”

“Shut the fuck up.” You’re tired of listening to her excuses. You rest the gun on the table. “Is Black Widow going to CES?”

“Yes,” she says. “Like we do every year–”

“Well, there’s going to be some changes this year,” you interrupt. “Get your phone out. Call your dad. Black Widow Corp is going to be a no-show this year.”

Natasha balks. “That…That won’t be possible.”

You pick the gun back up and point it at her, breaking rule number two. “Then make it possible.”

“You won’t shoot me.”

“You don’t think this is real?” You point the gun at the table. Rule number three. You pull the trigger. Rule number four. The gun bucks in your hand, the blast reverberating around your apartment with enough power to rattle your teeth. Natasha flinches even though you hadn’t aimed anywhere near her. “No one can hear us,” you say with a chuckle. “I had the apartment soundproofed years ago to stop the neighbors from complaining.” 

She stares at the gun.

“Take your phone out now. And call your dad.” You hope you don’t have to ask again.

With shaking hands, she finally obeys, placing her phone on the table. “Put it on speakerphone,” you demand. Natasha presses a few buttons and you hear the dial-up tone.

“Privet, doch',” Alexei booms.

“English,” you hiss.

“Hi, Dad,” Natasha says, side-eyeing you uncertainly. “We, uh…We need to talk about CES.”

“Good, I just got out of the meeting with the board–”

“Black Widow can’t show up this year.”

Alexei’s surprise is palpable. “What, Natasha? What are you talking about?”

“We need to call off our appearance,” she says, her voice shaking. “Just for this year. We’ll go again next year like we normally do–”

“What’s wrong with this year?” Alexei asks.

Natasha looks at you, her eyes begging. You shake the gun to remind her you’re serious. “I…uh…I don’t think our tech is ready for the show,” she says. “You know how disastrous it can be if we unveil something that isn’t completely ready.”

“But we’ve been working on Project Transformer for months, Natasha. It’s plenty ready–”

“No. Dad, please.” She grits her teeth. “I was looking through the code last night with the engineers. There’s a bug in the programming. It’s going to take at least a few weeks to smooth out. We can’t debut right now, Dad.”

Alexei curses in Russian. “Shit. The board really liked our presentation.”

“I know.”

“I wish you would have told me earlier.”

“I know,” Natasha repeats. “But we only just discovered it this week.” 

There is more silence, punctuated by Russian grumblings from Alexei. “Okay, okay. I’ll make a few calls. Too bad we’ll be losing out on our reservation fee too.”

“It’s a small price to pay.” Natasha’s eyes dart to you again. “Sorry for all the trouble, Dad.”

“Where are you?” Alexei asks. “We missed you at the meeting.”

“I’m out.”

“Will you come to dinner tonight?”

“Yes.”

“Good, good. Proshchay, dorogaya.”

“Bye, Dad.” Alexei hangs up first.

You slowly clap your hands. “Good girl. Was that so hard?” Your chest swells with pride at your achievement. Maybe now she would have more respect for you. You know she only saw you as a piece of meat. But you were much, much more than that.

“Fuck you,” Natasha spits.

“Oh, are we still doing that?” You put the gun down on the table, this time facing it away from her. You part your legs slightly, inviting her between them. Natasha glares at you with emerald daggered eyes. “Don’t be shy, baby,” you say, your voice deepening. “I got what I wanted today. It’s only fair you don’t leave here empty-handed too.”

Natasha shoots up and marches over to you. For a second, you think she’s going to hit you, but instead she straddles your lap and kisses you so hard you’re sure she’s bruised your lips. The ferocity is both frightening and arousing as she tears off your workout shirt and shorts. She palms at your left breast roughly, sinking her nails into your abs and dragging them down to your belly button. You groan into her mouth when she bites your bottom lip. She’s never been this aggressive with you before, but you know she’s taking out her frustration on you.

And you absolutely love it.

“Now that I’m done fucking with your company, you want me to fuck you until you can’t walk?” you whisper, shoving your bare thigh between her legs. The friction from her jeans burns your skin, but you hardly register the pain. 

“You’ll have to carry me out,” Natasha says, trailing her fingers down the vein on your bicep.

“Deal.” You kiss her again, slipping your muscular arms under her thighs and standing up with her. You carry her to your bed, leaving her to undress while you grab your strap from its drawer and slip it over your legs. When you turn back, she’s shimmying off her lacy black panties and the feral urge to keep your promise overrides all your senses. 

You pick her back up and she hooks her legs around your waist, her arms circling your neck. She presses her naked chest against yours, both of you moaning in unison when your nipples brush together. You walk with her until Natasha’s back bumps into the wall, shifting her weight off your arms to the wall. You maneuver your right hand to grab onto your strap, lining it up with Natasha’s center. 

“Are you ready for me?” you ask, rubbing the tip of your cock over her soaking entrance. Natasha’s whines at your teasing, her fingers tangling in your hair and jerking at your roots painfully. 

“Fucking ruin me,” she begs.

You slam your hips forward, burying your entire cock in her in one move. Natasha screams, tearing her nails down your back. Your big hands grip onto her waist to hold her in place as you thrust into her tight heat, your abs flexing and tensing. Natasha’s body rolls with yours, her head falling back against the wall, exposing the perfect column of her neck to you. You lean forward to decorate it with your marks, so every time she undresses for the next week, she’ll be reminded of you.

The only item of “clothing” she still wears is a thin silver necklace with a rectangular charm hanging from the chain. It bounces in the hollow of her throat every time you thrust into her.

“Y/N, oh, Y/N,” Natasha chants, music to your ears as you keep your relentless pace. Your thighs, already spent from your gym session, are absolutely on fire now, so you need her to finish quickly before you drop her. You shift the angle of your hips, bumping the top of your cock against her clit with every stroke. Natasha squirms and moans, trying to find a rhythm with you, but she’s so close she can’t match you at all. 

“Tell me when you’re gonna cum, baby,” you pant. 

“Soon,” she moans. “Go harder. Don’t stop.”

You’re afraid you’re going to break her with how hard you’re thrusting into her. But finally, her body tenses in your hands and you know she’s finished all over your cock. You’re grateful to slow your thrusts as she comes down from her high, your entire body sweaty and buzzing with adrenaline. You slip your arms under her quivering thighs and stumble back to the bed, collapsing onto it with your legs hanging off the edge, Natasha panting on top of you. 

You’re not sure who’s more exhausted, you or her. You lay there unmoving, trying to catch your breath, which Natasha does before you. She sits up, slowly pulling your cock out of her and crawling up your body to kiss you messily. Her tongue slips into your mouth, but you’re too tired to return her fervor very much. 

“What’s wrong, sweetheart? Am I too much for you?” she teases, cupping your chest and pinching your nipples. 

“No, just give me a minute,” you grumble. It was rare to meet someone with stamina like hers. And as much as you prided yourself on yours, you feel like you may have met your match with Natasha Romanoff. Your arms and chest are covered in her scratch marks, and your back still stings a little. Natasha traces the scratches gently.

“Mine,” she murmurs.

“Hmm?” you grunt, not sure if you heard her correctly.

She props herself up on your chest to look at you. “I can give you a minute,” she purrs, her voice becoming husky and seductive. Natasha slides down your body, resting her knees on the floor and tugging the harness of your strap down your legs. You can hardly lift your hips high enough off the bed to help her, embarrassed by how tired you are. Natasha grabs your calves to lift your feet up one at a time to remove the harness and throw it to the side. She rubs her hand  across your defined abdomen, stoking the fire in your belly again.

“Don’t move, baby,” she says. “I’ll take care of you.”

“Huh?” You lift your head high enough to see Natasha’s head between your legs, her mouth lowering onto you. It’s like a lightning bolt of pleasure that shoots through your core and you moan loudly in appreciation. Natasha makes eye contact with you as she slips her tongue into you, smiling as you pant and squirm. 

“Oh, God. Fuck me,” you gasp, dropping your head back on the bed. Your hands claw at the sheets as her tongue explores your walls. Natasha pushes apart your muscular thighs to make more room for her, pushing so deep into you her nose bumps against you. Your chest heaves as you struggle to breathe evenly, arching your lower back off the bed in a silent plea for more. 

Natasha eats you out like she’d been starving for a week, her tongue alternating between swirling around your throbbing clit and pushing through your clenching walls.

You finally find the strength to lift your right leg, twisting it sideways at the knee and hooking it around the back of Natasha’s head, pressing your calf against her scalp and dragging her closer. You reach down with your hand to tangle it in Natasha’s flaming red hair, pushing her down so she isn’t tempted to pull away right when you reach the edge of release. 

“Nat,” you whine. “Please, baby. You’re gonna make me cum.”

Natasha hums against you, the vibrations finally causing you to lose control. Your entire body goes limp as Natasha cleans up all the slick between your legs, then climbs back up to rest on you like you’re her personal pillow.

“Gimme a kiss,” you mumble and Natasha presses her lips to yours obediently. She tucks her head in the crook of your collarbone and you stroke her hair absently. “If I fall asleep, are you gonna leave again before I wake up?” you ask, your voice sounding small. 

“Only if you want me to,” Natasha murmurs. 

“I know I’m supposed to hate you, but I don’t know if I can,” you admit.

“Then don’t,” Natasha says. “Because I was thinking about it too, and…I think we should go public.”

“Public? Like us being…” You can’t even finish your own sentence.

“Mhmm.” Natasha nods against your chest.

“You can’t be fucking serious,” you scoff.

“No, I’m fucking you.”

“And you’re done. Right?” Your eyebrows scrunch together at the dual meaning of your words. Natasha doesn’t say anything. “At the very least, you owe me fifteen-billion-dollars before we can go public about anything,” you say, referencing the amount your company lost in the last month when Black Widow Corp pulled the rug out from under your feet.  

“Done.” Natasha searches around your bed for her phone. “What’s your bank account number?” 

“What are you doing? Seriously.” You’re a little lost now. 

“Well, our dads spent all their time fighting each other,” she says.

“Not fucking?” you joke.

“I can’t confirm that,” she says with a smirk. “But I was thinking about it. And I know Envy hasn’t been doing so well lately–”

“Because you sabotaged our contracts and stole our ideas,” you remind her.

Again, Natasha does not confirm nor deny this fact. “But what if instead of competing, we…helped each other out?”

“Like a collaboration?” you ask. Your father had specifically warned you against any kind of “collaboration” work with another company. You weren’t running a YouTube channel. You had a multibillion-dollar business. It was your responsibility to look out for the well-being of your company and your company only, damn philanthropic endeavors, personal favors, and relationships.

“We can work something out,” Natasha insists.

“Did you go through all of this just to ask me that?” you ask.

“No.” Now, Natasha looks away from you. “I mean, at first, yes. I thought you would just be a hot one-night stand. And yes, you were–” You raise an eyebrow. “–But you’re also a lot more than that.” Validation burns through your veins to hear this. “You’re smart, you know the tech, and you know how to run a business. And you’re the hottest CEO in the country and the best person who’s ever taken me to bed,” Natasha says. You think you’re going to combust at the praise. “I can’t stop thinking about you. I can’t stop thinking about us. And what we could accomplish together.”

It takes a few seconds to let her words process. “I don’t know how this could work,” you say, the logical side of you taking over for once. “We’re not regular people, Nat. The future of this country is literally in our hands. The public watches our every move and criticizes every decision we make. People like us need whole PR teams to manage their relationships.”

“Fuck the PR teams,” Natasha says. “If we like each other, then why can’t we be together?”

It had been years since you had publicly been in a relationship with someone. After all, it was so much simpler to cycle through partners and not have to worry about commitment or any long-term decisions. But deep down, you were cripplingly lonely and terrified you wouldn’t be able to find someone who would settle with you. 

Because truth be told, your lifestyle was not for many. Most people couldn’t handle the pressure you were subjected to every day. The never-ending torrents of judgment. The borderline-criminal way you were stalked by reporters and paparazzi. The unreal expectations you were held to by people you’d never even met.

But out of all the people you had ever been with, Natasha Romanoff was the one with the best chance of understanding all that. She knew what she was getting herself into, because your life would be her reality the day her father passed on the company. Of course it wouldn’t hurt her to get some practice beforehand.

“I want you to be mine,” Natasha says suddenly. She reaches up to her neck, her fingers brushing the hickeys you left there, before unclipping the silver necklace. She puts it around yours, flipping the charm around so you can see that it reads “Natasha.”

“Baby…” You didn’t even care what your dad’s reaction to hearing the news would be. How would the public react? The consumers? The shareholders? At your level, it was unavoidable crossing the line between professional and personal interests. People would either cheer you on or vow to never use another Envy product again.

But Envy had been tanking ever since you took the helm. Maybe this was what you needed to bounce back…courtesy of the same woman who ruined you in the first place. The math seemed to add up–Natasha would cancel out herself, wouldn’t she?

Natasha interlaces her fingers with yours, distracting your thinking. “We could be the most powerful couple in the tech industry. In the world,” she says. “Isn’t that what you always wanted?”

“Yes,” you sigh, although that’s not really the truth. There was one thing you wanted more than power, money, and fame.

“Then don’t be afraid, sweetheart.” She squeezes your fingers. “With me, you’ll have everything you want and more.”

A rush of emotions suddenly overwhelms you–fear, annoyance, love, envy, and venom. You would kick yourself in the head if you missed out on the chance to be with Natasha, but you also weren’t entirely convinced this was the right move. 

“Y/N.” The way she says your voice is desperate and pleading, like she too can’t be without you.

“Okay.” You make up your mind in an instant. “Okay, baby. Let’s do it.”

Natasha beams, snuggling closer to you. The two of you say nothing further, and her steady breathing quickly lulls you to sleep. Natasha holds onto you even as she feels your body relax under her. She turns her head to look at the gun you left on the table, wondering what it would feel like in her hand, to hold against your head.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

AN: These two are for real going to be the death of me. 😩

Please like, reblog, and comment! Follow for more content. 🥰

[ivesambrose]

ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴛʀᴜᴇ ᴘᴀꜱꜱɪᴏɴꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ʜɪᴅᴅᴇɴ ᴛᴀʟᴇɴᴛꜱ

1. 2. 3.

╚══ ≪ °❈° ≫ ══╝°❈°╚══ ≪ °❈° ≫ ══╝

If you feel lost, aimless, overwhelmed or unsure in regards to yourself this has found it's way to you at the right time.

Personal Readings

Masterpost

Thank you for the tip! 🌹

Picture 1

A lot of you are burnt by your own ambitions and a need to prove something. You quietly wonder if you're even passionate about anything anymore or you are but do not what to do, where to start so you end up spacing out and procrastinating. Likely you were made to believe that if what gets you excited and happy doesn't automatically put you on the map and bring you money in traditional ways then it's practically useless.

You have in a way put yourself down consistently due to these external projections.

Of what I'm picking up on some of you are passionate about the following :

- Dancing

- Fitness

- Makeup

- Music

- The occult

- crafting something intricate such as designing jewellery or curating them

- A select few might be into taxidermy, herbology and even archeology

- A combination of the above, some of you have your own allure and might want to get into modelling, styling, dancing and design. You want to express yourself freely including your sensual as well as spiritual and esoteric side.

You want to be known but you want to stand out, with your accumulated power you want to guide others too, make them feel less alone and more understood and yet you want to be an enigma and mystery. You do have a strong potential to be a muse to many.

Your hidden talents:

- Something that is coming through significantly that it is something from your past/childhood/early teens that you had to sacrifice/were made to sacrifice even if you cared for it deeply and wanted to nurture it. It makes you bitter to this day because you were naturally good at it.

- Some of you should definitely consider working for animals especially birds. You have a gift to heal and develop empathy with them.

- Some of you can end up being excellent bakers and decorators.

A lot you can find success in the entertainment industry, media, running your own business and being your own boss, you have excellent leadership skills and determination it's just that you haven't gotten the chance to explore that side of yourself yet.

The advice here is to only look back at the past to pick up what you had left and walk ahead. Become your friend and ask your own subconscious to show the way, trust me you will be shown when you least expect it.

Picture 2

You simply love to learn and acquire knowledge. You could have specific subject(s) you're drawn to or you don't even like limiting yourself to that. You'd rather be an eternal student. I wouldn't be surprised if you were drawn to picture 1 or 3 as well. You have a thrist that sometimes almost feels insatiable.

You are rather intellectual and often give very sound advice. Mainly cuz you are highly self aware and very intuitive.

Regardless of anything else, you seek inspiration and adventure above all. You do tend to get bored with just one thing easily.

Of what I'm picking up on, some of you are passionate about the following:

- Learning, experimenting, teaching and innovating. Again this could be any topic or multiple. Could be something as literature and academics or physics or could even be cooking or carving wood. You could even be here educating people about Gothic architecture or the human anatomy. Or all of this. You're not meant to confine yourself.

- A lot of you seek travel and adventure. Even be passionate about extreme sports.

- Languages and culture.

- Some of you want to try and do everything, experience different things and don't want to niche yourself down. Your passion can simply be experiencing your life to the fullest so you have wisdom to give and stories to narrate and memories to look back on and trust me, that is more than enough.

Which quickly brings me to your hidden talents because you're supressing quite a few:

- Some of you can be excellent astrologers or even astronomers.

- A lot of you can read into symbolisms real. You can be a gifted psychic too if you aren't aware already.

- You can be really good at sports like archery, fencing, MMA etc

- Creative direction, photography is also coming through.

- You're very good with your words, whether it be in writing or speaking.

You are rather mutable and a very poised individual too, you can easily influence the people you come in touch with. Some of you can be good speakers, representatives or the face of a brand. Whatever you do, you end up being very good at it whether you like it or not.

The advice is to simply continue what you're doing, you're not as lost as you think you are. Keep making connections and continue being yourself instead of trying to make yourself small and fit in or follow trends or the algorithm.

Picture 3

You feel like a misfit and an outsider so much so that being passionate about anything worries you because you may end up looking a fool, not being good enough or not being disciplined enough.

You carry a lot of anguish in you mainly because you had to focus on things that were expected of you or because you had to survive so you might feel like you're good at many things but not great or could be great at something but you don't necessarily love it.

You're an interesting group here because you haven't even allowed yourself to feel excited about things.

What are you truly passionate about? I see nature, authenticism, a slower, softer life. The word passion itself feels too intense and deliberate for you.

You simply want to experience a life that doesn't feel like you running on a treadmill till your knees give out.

I do see there's an innate desire in you to help others, be it people or animals or even a dying plant. You want to find your peace and bring some of that peace in others lives too. Your energy feels like a walking into a warm cabin in the woods during winter with freshly made dinner waiting.

Hidden talents you have ample, a lot of them are based on learning and perfecting with practice :

- Cooking, experimenting with different herbs. I do see some of you have the potential to start a small business that involves food.

- Gardening and farming

- Painting

- Tattooing (this is coming through because it can be very therapeutic for a lot of you)

- Perfume making is also coming through as well as skincare.

- pottery and sculpting, crocheting etc

- reiki, medicine, physical therapy etc

- divination

Think of a life that's a bit more laid back a career that makes you feel less on the edge.

You've already been running on the validation of people who think you're dispensable or your worth is tied to something outside of you that you can't even find meaning in.

The world needs more souls like you.

The only advice is to be more compassionate with yourself, you're not running a race even if people have constantly been reminding you of it, there's no finish line. The only truth that matters is the story you tell yourself, over and over again. It will come to pass. Continue being. Continue creating instead of wondering about the how. You've figured out many things in your life, let life sort this out for you.

[hairyjocktf]

Building a New Life

Justin was the star wrestler at his high school. He had won regional titles and the adoration of all the local families for years, and was ready to head to college to continue his streak. Senior year he was at his peak, winning matches left and right. All he had to do was wait for those recruitment offers to roll in. He waited and waited, still kicking ass in his wrestling, but while everyone around him was committing and getting accepted, there were no letters to him. To his dismay, one never came. His plans for the future were shattered, what was he supposed to do now? The wrestling scholarship was his only shot for college.

With the year ending and not many options, Justin started looking for entry level jobs that would take him. He lived in a fairly rural area so most of what he found was either farm work or construction, and the latter paid better. He called one of them up and they told him to swing by the site a few days later. He drove out to the construction site later that week and walked into the mobile office they had there. The manager came out to greet him. He was a rugged man in his late 40’s, with a stocky build and thick stubble. He’d clearly been in the business for years and it showed through his worn hands and gruff voice from yelling orders at his lackeys. The man looked Justin up and down.

“A little scrawny but I can work with it,” he said after a few seconds.

“I was a top wrestler in the region!” Justin protested. 

“Doesn’t matter in this industry,” the man said flatly. “Can you handle heavy loads and equipment? Can you deal with being outside most of the day in rough weather?”

Justin was caught off guard, usually people were much nicer to him. “Of course I can! I can handle whatever you throw at me,” he assured.

“Well alright, If you think you can handle it let’s see how you do here,” the manager said, handing a pile of clothes to Justin. “Here’s your safety and HiVis gear, make sure it fits and then we’ll get you set up outside.”

Justin took his uniform to the bathroom to try it on real quick. It included a hard hat that was adjustable, which he fit to his head, a bright orange and yellow HiVis vest, and a couple other things. He put it all on and stepped back into the office. 

“Alright follow me, Justin was it?” the manager gestured towards the door.

“Yes sir,” Justin responded uncharacteristically.

“Name’s Blaine, the manager revealed, “Around here we usually work on residential projects, we’re currently assisting on a development outside of town.” He led them away from the office around the immediate site, which currently seemed to be mostly used as storage for equipment and materials. “Since you’ve got no experience you’ll start by shadowing some of our guys for a few weeks and handling more basic tasks til you’re ready for more,” he continued. “You can head back to the office and they'll take care of the nitty gritty for ya. I’m expecting great things from you, wrestler,” Blaine laughed as he left Justin and headed out towards the development. Justin heard his gruff voice booming in the distance as he barked orders to the workers.

Justin was unsure about all of this, but he didn’t really have a better option at the moment. He felt out of place in his new safety gear, and he was younger than nearly everyone he saw working. He took care of the paperwork and headed home for the day; they'd hired him on the spot to start the next morning. With considerable unease, he went to bed, closing one chapter of his life for the next. 

As the weeks went by Justin began acclimating to this new job fairly well. He got to know the guys he worked with, learned how to use the equipment, and began to feel comfortable on the site. He even felt like he had put on some mass to better handle all the physical work he was doing. His rock solid abs were a little less visible than they had been but for some reason that didn’t bother him. He was already starting to forget the sting of not being recruited for wrestling. Every day he came into work those past dreams seemed to fade a little more, replaced by his new life. His coworkers had made fun of him for having such a baby face at the beginning, but now he was starting to sport a little bit of stubble. Justin was slowly starting to blend in more with his new crowd.

The months continued to pass, with Justin becoming more and more entrenched in his new construction life. It was getting colder outside, and his body began to adjust without him even noticing. His stubble grew out into a real beard, short and dense. He began packing on more body fat as he spent less and less time at the gym and more and more working and drinking with his new bros. His voice began to sound a little deeper and rougher, matching those around him. The hard hat really suited him now with his more rugged looks. He had never been a good student in school but he seemed to really be taking to this new job, completely forgetting about his old goals. The occassional approving nod from Blaine was driving him forward. He was thriving in this new position, but the job wasn’t done with him yet.

Unbeknownst to Justin, under his thick winter clothes things were changing. His previously toned body, while still fairly muscular, was steadily becoming thicker with fat. Not only that, but he’d always been near perfectly smooth and that too was slowly changing. It had started with his chest, where on the previously bare skin thin wispy hairs had started to poke out. That didn’t last long though, as they were quickly overrun with thicker, darker hairs that began sprouting in between his pecs. They grew curly as they spread out, covering his entire chest in hair, spreading up across his collarbone and down across his slowly growing stomach. The new hairy coat was just another part of his insulation against the harsh winter weather. But the hairs didn’t stop there either. His pits erupted with thick wiry hairs, coating his underarms in curly hairs that trapped both heat and sweat. The hairs pushed out, tangling together as they formed a thick tuft of hair under each arm, even spreading out to connect with the rug on his chest. After each day of hard work he’d come home stinking like the other men he worked with, and over time he started to enjoy the musk he produced.

Of course he wasn’t done filling out his uniform quite yet. His formerly modest bush began growing with no end in sight, engulfing his groin in thick, wiry brown hairs that radiated out from his lengthening cock. Sometimes while on the site Justin would instinctively reach down in his pants to itch the growing bush, the feeling and texture of it driving him wild. With pubes erupting day and night his musk only grew stronger, as Justin began to truly have a manly aura around him that he’d never had before. It seemed to help him bond with the other guys more, as they welcomed him into their groups and invited him out more and more frequently. Underneath his work pants his legs bulked up considerably from carrying all sorts of materials around, followed closely by the same dark fur. It raced down his legs and coated them with curly hairs that rubbed against the inside of his increasingly tight jeans as he walked around, an almost arousing feeling. Within the first year of working Justin had gone up four sizes in his work boots, as his feet grew and widened to match the rest of him. The massive steel-toed boots hid how hairy his feet had gotten, with dark hairs covering the tops and toes.

The next year was largely the same. Justin continued slowly changing to better fit his new job. He was really beginning to excel at it, and he’d attained a close friendship with many of the men he worked with. It almost seemed as if he’d aged ten years over the last one, he certainly looked it at this point. His fur coat only thickened, growing even denser across his chest and stomach to the point you could barely see the skin beneath the hairs. Hair had also spread up and onto his shoulders before enveloping his massive back. The hairs gushed out across his shoulder blades before shooting down his spine and spreading out wide. The heavy coating slowly grew thicker and spread out further as time went on, reaching down to his ass. It too became covered with thick, dark hairs as it inflated to a truly massive size. During the warmer months sometimes he just wore his vest and hard hat, his incredibly thick hair covering the rest of him and sticking through his vest.

Justin earned the nickname ‘Grizzly’ from his coworkers after they saw how hairy he’d gotten, and his body had put on the size to match. Gone was the small but toned body of a wrestler, replaced by a thick, hairy, and sturdy body of a weathered construction worker. He oozed masculinity from not only his stained and dirty work clothes, but from the thick chest hair that he left his shirt open to show off. His entire body was now coated with a dense coat of hair and he liked to make that known, as long as he wasn’t caught against safety regulations at least. He never questioned why he’d changed so much in such a short span, it never even occurred to him, and honestly he liked his new life. He was just one of the guys working on the site now. The hair felt as natural to him as anything else, and the other guys seemed to like it even if they made fun of him once in a while. Occasionally when they went out drinking some of the guys would have too many beers and start rubbing their hands through his thick fur, but he didn’t mind at all. It felt good to be masculine, and to be appreciated for it by other guys. Months continued to pass though no one could really remember how long Justin had been working there at this point, but they were all glad he was there. He was the best construction worker on their team.

[chanranghaeys]

🥛 just like a tattoo

Waking up was always something you looked forward to, especially if the first sight in the morning is Vernon and his hidden little secrets, and maybe his cute chocolate milk carton.

pairing: idol!tattooed!vernon x gn!reader, reader is identified to be female word count: 1.3k tags: slice of life, fluff first thing in the morning, vernon has multiple tattoos (in my head) listed in detail warnings: slight sexual overtones, pg-13 at most 😇

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ masterlist . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

The light burns through your eyes, waking you from a dreamless slumber. Looking around, you find the source of the almost blinding glare: the patch of sun bleeding through the curtains of the already-lightened room. You glance at the clock hanging from the wall across you. It was 8 am on a Sunday—a perfect reason to sleep in.

You slowly move around the bed and find that you are already wearing a slightly loose shirt and panties. Memories of last night flood your mind and you close your eyes again almost as if in bliss. It’s been a good two weeks since you two spent the night together, and while you both maybe kinda slightly expected it, both of you were still surprised at how deep the need was for one another, as evidenced by the slight ache in your thighs and back while you moved. Nothing you couldn’t manage, but definitely more reason to just stay in bed.

When you turn again, you see his slim figure leaning against the door frame and you wonder how long he’d been watching you toss and turn. He had no shirt on because you realized that you had his shirt on your back, and his boxers were slung dangerously low as if haphazardly thrown on. And while you’ve marveled at this sight too many times than you can count, you still can’t help but look at his body in awe.

People could say he had a sleeper bod, and you agreed, but it wasn’t something he cared for. If he was healthy and able to move about, he was content with that. But with all the activity his job demanded, his body followed suit. He wasn’t all muscle or all skin, but he was built sturdily and toned in the places that got the most use—that is to say, his arms, thighs, and core. His naturally light skin tone almost looked sallow in the places that didn’t get much sun, but it only enhanced what he permitted only your, and very few other, eyes to see.

Strokes of black both thick and thin were scattered across his torso in a most curated manner. They weren’t a lot, but you knew that his tattoos were his most well-kept secret from the K-pop industry, and you knew it was the deepest privilege to be able to even have a glimpse of one, much less all that can be hidden behind a shirt. You’ve memorized all of them at this point.

On his right chest near his lower rib was a simple line of text in all caps inspired by a line from “The Matrix”: SEE IT FOR YOURSELF. Another text tattoo lined the left side of his torso, this time a vertical stack of letters spelling out MELODY—once a temporary tattoo for a concert, now permanent to forever honor his mother.

There was one tattoo that he knew people were aware of and didn’t mind much, and that was the small star tattoo at the back of his right ear’s helix, but little did people know that it was only one of a series, with the rest of the small stardust sparkles smattering his back near his right shoulder blade. Specifically, there were five of them, one representing each member of his tight-knit family, including Jazzy and Leo Chwe.

Amidst the minimalist tattoos was one that stood out as more realistic than others—a medium-sized sunflower head on his left hip, its petals you could see right now peeking from the top band of his boxers. People knew of his sister Sofia’s own sunflower tattoo down her left thigh, but fewer people knew that when she was 17 and he was 23, they both talked about how they’d get matching sibling tattoos and their discussion landed on sunflowers. While Vernon wished he could place it in a more prominent spot, he knew better than to do such a thing.

“Did you sleep well, baby?” His deep morning voice broke your reverie as you finally settled on his eyes, his gaze forever the most piercing one you never could break. You gave him a lazy, mischief-laden smile.

“The best sleep I’ve had in weeks. I guess I have someone to thank for making sure I was knocked out last night.”

He let out a light-hearted scoff and drank from his chocolate milk carton. “You know that I was just following your lead, right? I asked you what you wanted, I just gave it to you.”

“I know.” You rolled your eyes, recalling how you were practically begging him with tears in your eyes—the utter hold he had on you was intoxicating. It was those clear brown eyes, you swore so. “I hate you.”

“I love you, too.” At that, he gave you the softest smile and his gaze eventually followed suit.

“I love you more.”

“No, you don’t.”

“I hate you.”

He laughed again and shifted his weight off the door frame and moved toward you. You sat up to meet him in an embrace, your head resting on his warm chest as he kissed your head.

“Can we stay in, Nonie? Please? Pleaseeeeeee?” You look up at his raised eyebrow and pursed lips, swearing you will never get tired of his expressions that said exactly what he was thinking. Right now it obviously said, “Are you kidding me right now?”

“What if…” You trailed off mid-sentence as you lowered your hands to the waistband of his boxers, brushing your thumb over the sunflower’s petals suggestively. At that, he drew in a sharp breath and stepped away. He knew what you were capable of, so he had to stop it right there.

“Easy, young lady. You know we won’t get anywhere with that attitude of yours. We’ll be late if you keep that up.” The scene was comical, his serious expression and pointed finger at you in warning just did not suit the fact that his other hand held an unfinished milk carton.

You grab the carton from his hand and take a generous sip, grateful for the cool and sweet liquid down your parched throat. “Fine. But could you at least make me coffee? Or something that will wake me up more than this chocolate milk of yours?”

“It’s in the kitchen. I also made French toast!” His smile as he said this was so bright, it was the gummy smile you so loved from him. But it was what he said that made you stop mid-sip of milk.

“You what?”

“I made French toast. And bacon and eggs because it was the easiest after the French toast, which was not as easy as it looked when I did it with you.”

“And you made coffee?”

He shrugged. “I knew you were gonna wake up late,” finishing with a smirk. “Now come on. And give me back my milk carton before you finish it all.” He took back his drink and did not leave your side until you finally stood your lazy ass up. “There’s my good girl,” he says, followed by him slapping said ass teasingly, then walking out of the room with a final grin.

When he faced his back to you, you saw the most recent tattoo he got: a minimalist rendition of a rock with googly eyes on the small corner of its lower left. You remember watching “Everything, Everywhere, All at Once” in the cinema with him, the last full show of the day, and he would not shut up about it. You got it though, you truly did, and you’d both talk for hours on end about the film. So it was decided: it was the first matching tattoo you got together.

Could love really be this easy? You thought to yourself, as you smiled and got ready for payback.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

a/n: frickin’ vernon and his damn hip tattoo living rent-free in my headcanons. i blame my friends for planting this idea in my head and as a result, this came to be. i shall now leave you all with this mental image so i do not suffer alone HEHE

[reasonsforhope]

"When politicians unveil a new national park or wilderness area, it’s often accompanied by debates about what effect it will have on the livelihoods of people living nearby. In some places, it can be welcomed as a boon, attracting tourists and their dollars. In others, it’s booed as a job killer, squelching the chance for new mining, grazing, logging or other industries.

As nations promise to nearly double the amount of protected land on the planet, from 17% to 30% of the Earth’s surface, these debates are likely to happen more often. Now there is new evidence that it’s possible to have both land protections and a growing economy. But it’s not guaranteed. “Achieving both aims is more common than we previously expected,” said Binbin Li, an environmental scientist at Duke Kunshan University, a Chinese institution affiliated with Duke University. “But that balance depends on socioeconomic conditions near a protected area.”

It can be hard to tease out causal links between two things as complex as the changing condition of a landscape and the economy of a nearby city. Did a town flourish because of a nearby national park, or because an increase in remote work enabled people to move there? Did another town collapse because a forest reserve contributed to the demise of a sawmill, or was it part of a bigger downturn in the timber industry?

To try to clarify the effects, Li and colleagues at Duke University and Shandong University in China compared the fates of “twin” towns and cities, as well as comparable patches of land. They identified more than 10,000 protected areas in countries around the globe, then examined how economic activity changed in nearby settlements between 2013 and 2020, compared to similar settlements more than 20 kilometers from any protected land. They also matched the protected area to similar nearby unprotected areas, to see if they fared differently.

The scientists used satellite images to track changes on the landscape, such as forest turning to farmland. They also tracked changes in the amount of nighttime artificial light as a surrogate for economic activity.

The satellite images revealed that in many cases, more trees and grasslands stayed standing and the lights shown more brightly at the same time. In about half the protected areas, there was simultaneous progress in both conservation and economic development, the scientists reported on June 20 in Current Biology.

Land protection was broadly successful at reducing the loss of forest and grasslands – more than 90% of the protected areas either lost no natural land cover, or less than their unprotected twins, the researchers found. At the same time, 60% of neighboring communities had as much or more of an increase in nightlights than places further from protected land...

Land protection and economic growth went hand in hand most easily in wealthier countries, around smaller protected areas, and in places with some of the infrastructure critical for economic development, such as roads. In places without these features the ecological fate of the land and the economic fortune of nearby towns was more likely to diverge or decline together the researchers found.

“Conservation does not happen in a silo,” said co-author Stuart Pimm, a Duke University ecologist. “We must consider local development alongside biodiversity conservation to know where and how to protect areas to benefit both the environment and humans.” ...

The results underscore the ways in which poverty and environmental degradation can be bound together. If poverty isn’t dealt with, creating protected areas could set the stage for both loss of biodiversity and economic development, the researchers warned. The flip side is that with careful planning, conservation could help set nearby towns on a path out of poverty. As an example, the scientists pointed to Costa Rica’s Corcovado National Park, which has become a hub for ecotourism on the country’s Pacific coast.

“We need to get to a win-win outcome more often, especially in the most biodiverse regions that can ill-afford losing out on economic development or biodiversity,” said Li. “We cannot address biodiversity loss without addressing local development issues.”

-via Anthropocene Magazine, June 26, 2024

[roanofarcc]

PINKY PROMISE

pairing. javi rivera x reader

summary. trapped in a car as a horrifying 'fire-nado' rages towards you sends you into a panic and a fit of memories from the accident 5 years prior.

warnings. inaccurate movie scene. PTSD, mentions of injuries & characters' deaths. hurt/comfort. that fire-nado was crazy crazy.

word count. 1.4k || masterlist

Fear was something you had tried, time and time again, to swallow down and bury deep in hopes of getting rid of it all together. That was why you joined Storm Par under the impression that facing your fears was the only way to get over them; it had started to work too. Each time you faced down a tornado, you felt a little bit braver, and the tight knot of fear loosened just slightly. 

It had been a long time since you felt the overwhelming, all-consuming, kind of fear you had that day underneath the overpass. The day your friends slipped from your grasp, even after you promised not to let them go. It used to come back in nightmares, but they had faded as the years passed. For the first time in a long time, you felt like you had a handle on it all. 

A part of you worried that Kate being back would dredge up your fears and guilt, but it turned out to be more comforting than anything. And even though she was pissed at the less-than-ideal methods of Storm Par as a company, to which you didn’t fully know the ins and outs of, having her back felt like another step in the right direction. 

Javi started Storm Par because of his own guilt, a desperate claw at a fresh start. You joined him on a whim, partly because your love for storms never left you despite the accident and partly because you missed him more than you cared to admit. 

The two of you were on the verge of a relationship when the accident happened, two kids starry-eyed and full of love. Nothing happened afterward, the ties cut rather harshly as you, him, and Kate all tried to grieve on your own. But eventually, Javi found you again, and you didn’t plan on letting him go. You had to build back up to where you were, leading you back to the verge of a relationship but yet to fall into it, yet. But it was okay because you had plenty of time.

At least, you thought you did. 

“Holy shit!” Javi gasped, wide-eyed as he gripped the steering wheel white-knuckled. Your heart beat against your chest, watching the tornado rage through an industrial site, getting swirled up in smoke and flames. You’d encountered a lot of storms, but never have you seen one catch ablaze like that one. The sky was a terrible wall of gray and orange, and even though you were inside the truck, it was hard to breathe. 

With a shaky hand, you tapped on Javi’s shoulder, feeling that knot tighten as the wind picked up around you, beating like fists against the truck. “Get us out of here!” you shouted above the roar of blood in your ears. 

He tried, he really did, but Mother Nature had other plans for you, Javi, and Scott. Before you could take off or even escape the confines of the truck, the entire thing flipped on its side. 

A scream tore from your lips as you closed your eyes tightly, knocking your head against the door. Pain bloomed across the side of your head but what was more painful was the memories that forced their way to the front of your mind. All you could do was think about the accident, holding tight and teary-eyed. You felt your body shaking with sobs, but you felt disconnected. You felt back in college, thinking you were going to die. 

Something brushed against your wrist, clumsily. In the distance, you heard someone call your name. At first, it sounded like Praveen, low and carried by the wind. His hand had reached out for yours as you all ran for the overpass. His fingers brushed your wrist before he was violently pulled away, along with a scream from your throat. But that time, the touch on your wrist didn’t leave. It stayed, frantically searching for your hand. 

You forced your eyes open, half expecting to be back there, but you were still inside the truck with Javi’s arm twisted behind him from the driver’s seat to hold your hand. 

“It’s o-okay,” he said, his voice shaky. 

Scott’s labored breathing was the only noise he made for a long moment as the tornado, burning, raced too close. “We gotta…w-we-” he cut himself off as the noise grew impossibly loud. 

You squeezed Javi’s hand tighter, tears blurring your vision, and braced for the worst. But somehow, the worst never came. The wind pushed on the truck, but it hit it just right, rolling it for a horrible moment before it was pushed back upright. Something mixed between a sob and a sigh left your lips as Javi dropped your hand and booked the dented and damaged truck the hell out of the way of the storm. He drove in the tense silence of the truck for a good while, until the coast was clear. 

Pulling off to the side of the road, the three of you sat with nothing to say. It seemed like you all were fairly unscathed, but the knot inside of your gut was pulled so tightly that you felt like you were going to get sick. 

Scott fumbled around in his pocket for his phone, muttering about calling the rest of their team. You hardly heard the words exchanged between him and Javi before you shoved open the door and stumbled out into the road, trying to get fresh air to reenter your lungs and calm you down. 

A hand grazed your shoulder, and you flinched, spinning around to face Javi. Your body refused to stop shaking. 

“Hey,” he said, softly. “Are you hurt?” You shook your head. You didn’t think you had hurt anything, but the awful feeling running through your veins was the only thing you could feel. 

“That was close,” you whispered, not trusting your voice beyond that. 

“Too close,” he sighed, rubbing his forehead.  

You wiped your cheeks and tried to regain some composure, but when you glanced at your wrist, you caught sight of the bracelet you hadn’t taken off since your first day of college when a bright and smiling Addy appeared in your doorway with a bundle of friendship bracelet she was passing out to other students on the floor. Normally, it filled you with a sweet remembrance of the blonde, even after she died it brought you a strange sense of peace. But looking at it at that moment filled you with something else. The bone-breaking guilt and terror from that day lingered in the back of your mind like an unstable bomb, going off at the slight disturbance. 

It brought more tears to your eyes against your will, causing you to bury your face in your hands. 

Javi was quick, wrapping you in his arms and holding you close. You cried into his shoulder, wetting the fabric of his uniform. The two of you stayed like that for a while, until your sobs subsided and the knot in your chest allowed you to breathe more steadily. When you pulled back, he loosened his grip around you but didn’t let you go. One arm stayed hooked around your waist as he used the other to wipe the tears tracked down your cheeks. 

“I’m sorry,” you said, a little embarrassed at your tense emotions. But Javi was quick to shake his head. 

“None of that,” he said, brushing this thumb across the zigzagged scar that decorated your forehead, gained from the accident. 

You raised your hand with the bracelet on it, a frown on your lips. “All I could think of was them.” Maybe you weren’t as healed as you thought you were.

Javi closed his eyes for a brief moment, lost in his own pool of memories for a moment before he looked back at you. “Me too,” he admitted before something flickered in his gaze, like he was trying to snap back into his current self and not the version from five years ago. “But we’re okay.” He raised his pinky finger up, a small smile playing on his lips. “And we still have each other.” 

You hooked your pinky around his, your own little handshake/promise to each other. “Promise?”

He leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead, where your scar was, and said, “Promise.”

[thedensworld]

Even When We're Drown, We're Still Breathing | K.Mg

Pairing: Husband!Mingyu x Wife!Reader

Genre: angst, established relationship, fluff

Words Count: 1k

Summary: Mingyu was missing the spotlight he used to have, so he decided to accept the offer to shoot a reality show about marriage life and parenting. However, his wife was in a different situation.

Mingyu was bursting with excitement when the first episode of the reality show you had shot finally aired. He was thoroughly satisfied with the outcome. The editing and the host's reactions had met his expectations. Mingyu couldn't help but replay the scene when the twins were introduced to the public for the first time. You and he had covered their faces on your social media, doing your utmost to safeguard their privacy. However, like any ordinary parents would, Mingyu wanted to know the viewers' reactions to his kids. He scrolled through the comments section on the video showcasing Hana and Hoon, along with the flawless editing that portrayed Hana as calm and shy, and Hoon as boisterous with puppy-like behavior. He couldn't contain his laughter when they compared his kids to his fellow members, Wonwoo and Hoshi.

"When will mom be home?" Hana inquired while Mingyu finished watching the video and was about to prepare dinner.

These days, you've been occupied with promoting your new movie release. When you and Mingyu decided to tie the knot, you were at the pinnacle of your career. After a four-year hiatus, you had just made a comeback with an action-packed film, and Mingyu was exceptionally supportive. You had met Mingyu through his fellow member, Wonwoo, who happened to be your co-star in your early movie. At that time, Mingyu had just completed his military service and found you intriguing, so he asked Wonwoo to introduce you two.

Mingyu is still actively involved in his band, even though their last album was released a year and a half ago. Each member is swamped with their individual schedules; some have even started their own families, like Mingyu, making it harder to have consistent comebacks.

Lately, Mingyu has been occupied with his clothing line business and various modeling sessions. He strives to be less tied up so he can take care of the kids while you're at work. Prior to your promotional schedule, you were jet-setting abroad every week for your new movie shoots. Mingyu was elated to have the kids all to himself.

"She said she'll be home at 6," Mingyu grinned as he replied to his daughter.

When he pitched the idea of joining the reality show to you, he mentioned that he missed the spotlight he used to bask in. He still had it, albeit to a much lesser extent. People recognized him everywhere, even the staff at the daycare his kids attended used to be his fans. It was the interaction he missed the most. The feedback, the compliments, the expectations that used to ignite his passions - he longed for them.

"It might be tough for the kids; we've never exposed them to this industry," you remarked when he asked for your opinion.

That was true. Hana and Hoon knew who their parents were and what they did. They enjoyed Mingyu's band's songs and loved watching your old dramas. They understood that their parents worked in the entertainment industry, but they didn't grasp the intricacies of it. Mingyu had pondered this. If he accepted the offer, how would it impact his kids? Privacy would unquestionably be at the forefront of concerns.

"If you truly want to do it, let's do it. We'll work on the rest together," your words reassured him, leading him to accept the offer.

Mingyu let out a sigh at the sight of what his kids had done to the living room. Hoon, the mischief-maker, darted towards his room to fetch more things to scatter. Meanwhile, Hana was engrossed in her Lego, but even her creations couldn't evade finding their way under Mingyu's foot.

In a moment of urgency, Mingyu grabbed his phone and called you for help. He'd never felt this way when you were away for days, but knowing you'd be home in an hour made his patience wear thin.

"Hello..." Your voice filled the room as he put the call on speaker, immediately drawing the attention of your kids, who started shouting "mom."

Without a word, he let out another heavy sigh. You couldn't help but chuckle upon hearing it.

"I'm sorry, I won't be home until 10. We're having a team dinner after this," you explained.

"Really? Hana, mom won't be home until 10," he said, his disappointment evident as he relayed the news to his daughter.

Mingyu's smile returned when he saw Hana pout, her expression mirroring yours when she's upset. "Hana wants to speak," he said, passing the phone to her.

"Mom, fighting!" Mingyu burst into laughter at his daughter's choice of words. "Have fun, I'm going to cook dinner," he said to you before ending the call.

"Mom won't be joining the dinner?" Hoon inquired, and Mingyu nodded.

"Isn't it fun having a meal with dad?" he asked them. Hoon promptly shook his head, declaring, "No! Eating with mom is more fun, right Hana?" while Hana simply ignored them.

Maybe what the editor said about his children was right. Hoon did resemble Hoshi, and Hana bore a striking resemblance to Wonwoo.

*

During the photoshoot for the promotion of your new movie release, they handed you and your fellow actor, Choi Woosung, a script containing questions that would be asked during the recording.

"You've shot a reality show?" Woosung inquired, and you nodded in confirmation. You explained that the reality show focused on Mingyu's life as your husband and parent.

"How's the reaction?" He asked, echoing one of the questions from the list.

You chuckled, slipping into the role as if it were a real interview. "The reaction is very good. The fourth episode has been released. It felt great to share a glimpse of our life with the public."

On your way home, you couldn't shake off the question from earlier.

'How's the reaction to your reality show?'

You hadn't really kept up with it. Mingyu was usually the one to inform you about updates. You'd only appeared for less than 20 minutes in total. While you were excited about the show, your schedule had kept you too occupied to check on it, let alone gauge the reaction.

As you headed towards your home, you opened your phone, typed in the name of your reality show, and checked the comments section. You were delighted by the rush of dopamine every time you came across comments praising the twins for being so cute and clever. There were even some compliments about the parenting you and Mingyu showcased on the show. Reading them made you grasp the feeling your husband had been missing - this surge of happiness.

'It's so weird that the wife is never home.'

'Why is it always Kim Mingyu who does the work at home? Is it because of his busy wife?'

'Mingyu housewife agenda is still going strong kekekeke..'

'Even after marriage, Mingyu still takes care of everyone. Poor Mingyu lol'

You entered your quiet house as the clock struck ten at night. Your day had been packed, starting at ten in the morning with back-to-back shoots. Quickly, you changed into your sleeping clothes, meeting Mingyu as he emerged from your children's room. One of the things people praised was your effort in training the twins to sleep on their own.

"Hana's finally asleep," Mingyu whispered, placing his arm around your shoulder as you both made your way to the kitchen, the farthest point from the twins' room.

"What did she ask this time?" You inquired, already stifling a laugh as Mingyu began with a sigh.

He perched on the counter while you opened the fridge, searching for a beer to accompany tonight's conversation with your husband.

"She asked if she could make green coffee from green beans because coffee is made from coffee beans," he reported, burying his head in his arms, which rested on the counter.

You chuckled. "That's clever," you remarked, handing him a can of beer.

"Hoon wanted to use your glass, but he accidentally dropped it. He's preparing his apology for tomorrow morning," he shared, introducing another amusing incident.

You shook your head. "Did he mention it was an accident?" Mingyu nodded, "He didn't want me to break the news to you because he wanted to tell you himself."

Your heart warmed at hearing this. The glass wasn't a big deal to you—it was just a way to encourage them to drink water by using their favorite glass.

"That's sweet," you said, smiling at him. "Yeah, I thought so. They're growing up a little too quickly," Mingyu mumbled, and you agreed.

"How was your day with them? I saw the video you sent me," you asked, referring to the video he took of Hoon and Hana squabbling over petting a puppy at the park.

Mingyu chuckled. "On our way home, they suddenly wanted to take a walk in the park. I think it must be something they learned or heard at daycare. It was just so random. Some people recognized them, which upset Hana. Hoon loved it," he recounted, and you couldn't help but laugh at the tale.

"They met a little Samoyed, and I think it was their first time seeing one," you agreed. "Hoon suddenly got petty when Hana joined him in petting the puppy. He said Hana kept imitating him, and Hana didn't like dogs."

You were also tickled by the fact that Hana was petting a dog. She was never fond of them, in fact, she preferred stuffed animals over real ones, which was the opposite of Hoon, who wished for a puppy or kitten on every birthday.

"Let's sleep," Mingyu murmured as the beer was finished, and you two couldn't contain your laughter from the twin's escapade. Waking them up was the last thing you both wanted.

"What time is your schedule tomorrow?" Mingyu asked as you both lay down on the bed, his arm pulling you closer.

"I have a salon appointment at 11, and the shoot might end by 2. Why?" you inquired.

"My mom and my sister are in Seoul tomorrow. Mom said she wants to meet you."

You raised an eyebrow. "Should we go out for dinner tomorrow? Your mom liked the Japanese restaurant we visited last month."

Mingyu nodded and closed his eyes. "Okay, I'll book a table for tomorrow." His arm tightened around you, and you mumbled that it was too warm, but he pretended to be asleep.

*

The drive home after dinner was quiet. The kids had fallen asleep, leaving you and Mingyu in a solemn atmosphere. Not a word was exchanged since you bid goodbye to his mom and sister, parting ways as they headed back to Anyang. Mingyu stole glances at you multiple times but hesitated to say a word, treading carefully after what had happened at the restaurant.

Mingyu's mom had always adored you. He'd known that from the moment he introduced you to her. She looked at you with a love he'd never seen in her eyes when she interacted with him or his sister. It was as if you were her own, even his sister acknowledged this. She never spoke ill of you or to you; she held you in the same respect a mother-in-law should have for their child's partner. So, when she said those unexpected words in the restaurant, it took Mingyu aback.

"I noticed you never take care of the house on the show," she had remarked, to which Mingyu immediately interjected, "She was busy."

"Still, a wife should be taking care of her husband and kids."

"Mom..." Mingyu tried to halt the conversation, but his sister promptly changed the subject, showcasing how Hoon was eagerly eating his sushi.

Seeing you silenced by this exchange hurt Mingyu deeply. He despised the discomfort that settled between you both as you moved around the house in silence. You didn't even glance his way.

As you passed him, he gently took your arm, leading you to the couch and squatting in front of you. Your eyes were level, but you avoided meeting his gaze.

"I'm sorry about earlier," Mingyu began. "I know it hurt. I'm not happy with what mom said either."

"It's not your fault," you mumbled, your eyes still averted.

Mingyu bit his lip, his voice thick. "Babe, please look at me," he whispered, cupping your cheeks.

"If I look at you, I'll start to cry," you admitted in a near-whisper.

Mingyu's heart broke, and he immediately pulled you into an embrace. He sat beside you, his fingers gently running through your hair, whispering soothing words as you sobbed against his chest.

When you pulled away, you confessed, "I'm just disappointed. I thought your mom knew me better." Mingyu nodded, indicating that he was all ears.

"I thought she knew me better than what she saw on the show. We've been married for a long time," you began. "She used to see me preparing your meals. She even praised how tidy our home was when she visited while you were on tour. She was so proud when we decided not to have a sitter for the twins. Why... Why did she suddenly say that?"

Mingyu closed his eyes, feeling tears welling up. He held you tighter, as if afraid that if he let go, he might lose you.

"I'm fine when people judge me based on what they see. I'm totally fine with that. But, she's my mother-in-law. She's my mom."

That night, Mingyu realized something he hadn't considered when agreeing to the show. He hadn't thought about you; he'd been thoughtless. He remembered the backlash you both faced when you decided to publicly date. Even years after your marriage, there were mixed reactions, with some saying Mingyu was hindering the group's activities and others believing you were sacrificing your career too soon.

Mingyu had never been one to care about public opinion, but you were different. He believed you were making continuous progress, but he knew it was hard for you to accept comments, especially those that weren't true. You detested people's expectations and how they burdened you. It was something Mingyu couldn't entirely comprehend. He thrived on expectations, needing that pressure to stay motivated. These differences had occasionally caused friction in your relationship.

Your pregnancy with the twins had been unexpected. You were in the midst of shooting an action movie, involving a lot of stunts, when you found out you were two weeks pregnant after collapsing on set. Mingyu was upset that you had to continue shooting after almost losing the baby. He couldn't understand why you kept getting action roles and constantly put yourself in danger with all the stunts.

"Remember my movie with Wonwoo? I don't like how people expect us to fall in love after the project. Action movies give me less pressure compared to romance and melodrama. I hope you understand."

This was followed by your reluctance to attend promotions and your refusal to appear on variety shows because of the burden it placed on you.

Now, Mingyu finally understood why it weighed on you. He could see the pieces falling into place.

He gently kissed your forehead as you fell asleep on his lap after the emotional conversation you'd had earlier. He picked you up effortlessly and carried you to the bedroom, determined that things would change for the better from this point forward.

*

Mingyu's smile stretched wide as he set up blankets for the viewing spot. Today marked the last episode of your reality show, and it was the first time he'd be watching it with you and the kids. You chuckled when you saw Mingyu pat a spot next to him with a beaming smile and a look of adoration – an expression his fellow members often teasingly referred to as a "cheap stare."

"Why are you smiling? It hasn't even started yet," you remarked, picking up Hana and settling her on your lap. She immediately clung to you like a koala on a tree.

"I want a hug too," Hoon chimed in, and you opened your arms for him to join Hana.

Mingyu sighed, resting his head on the couch while gazing at the three of you. "They never treat me like this," he mumbled.

The show began with the familiar scenes of your house and the kids' activities. However, you were taken aback when there were a few scenes of you that hadn't been included in previous episodes. It showed you preparing breakfast, doing a quick load of laundry, tidying the kids' room, and tending to the plants. The scenes were accompanied by the sub-title, 'special for mom.' You glanced at Mingyu, who was fully engrossed in the screen.

"Mom, you're so pretty!" Hoon exclaimed upon seeing a scene from one of your movies. You smiled and planted a kiss on his cheek.

"Do I really look like that in the morning? That's not a good look for broadcast," you muttered, watching yourself on screen without any makeup.

Mingyu scoffed, "Are you underestimating my taste in girls?" His words earned a grateful laugh from you.

'My wife, Y/n, she's such an interesting person. She's the second shyest person in this house after Hana. They're basically like mother and daughter,' you heard Mingyu say on the show.

'She's so talented and amazing. But she's not a very confident person. I don't know why, but that's just how she humbles herself,' he continued, drawing a chuckle from you.

'Mom is a hero. She makes me my favorite food and runs with me at the park,' Hoon's voice filled the room.

'Mom? She's awesome. She reads me a book every day. I love it,' Hana chimed in.

'There's a lot about her that hasn't been shown much. She gave birth to my children. She sacrificed her body, her career, her life to marry me and start a family with me. There were times when she was alone with the kids while I was on tour. I believe it was tough raising the kids – twins at that – alone, especially for a new parent,' Mingyu shared, his voice filled with genuine admiration and respect.

The entire episode was a tribute to you. Tears welled up in your eyes as Mingyu spoke so highly of you, acknowledging the challenges and sacrifices that come with being a wife and mother.

The show concluded with a montage of pictures, capturing precious moments of your family when the twins were born, when you video called Mingyu on tour with the babies just months old, when you cooked while Mingyu looked after the twins, and even when you did home workouts with the twins imitating you.

"Kim Mingyu!" You playfully scolded him as soon as the show ended.

Mingyu laughed at your reaction, your eyes slightly swollen from crying throughout the show. Meanwhile, the twins, showing a clear preference for their mom, eagerly joined you in your playful reprimand.

Mingyu grabbed his phone, capturing a picture of your post-crying face and one of the three of you engrossed in the show from earlier. He planned to post them on his social media later.

After putting the kids to bed, Mingyu pulled you into his arms and whispered, "Love you, always."

You smiled and held him closer. "Thanks for everything. I love you more."

"You deserve it, baby. You deserve it."

*

Mingyu muttered, "I honestly don't think our kid resembles them," as he pettily showed a video of Hoon and Hana alongside Hoshi and Wonwoo.

He paused, then continued, "I mean, they're our child. They're supposed to resemble us, and they do. People just fail to see that." He mumbled, then turned his attention back to you, who were busy chopping chicken breast before putting it into the blender.

You decided to ignore him, focusing on your pre-workout meal preparations.

[genericpuff]

no stop this article is too funny

this is from 2020 and while it talks about webtoons in general as a platform and medium, there's an excerpt from Rachel that's ironically and hilariously telling on herself when it comes to her priorities as a creator and how her work has aged incredibly poorly in the past 4 years:

She may as well just be saying, "I like Webtoon because they don't have any quality control" and "the trad publishing market had standards that I couldn't live up to, so instead of actually trying to live up to them, I went with a platform that has zero standards and was willing to make me into the standard regardless of my own qualifications and lack thereof."

Like y'all, take this as advice from someone who's had their fair share of rejection letters... the print industry dumping your unsolicited portfolio in the bin isn't gatekeeping, it's the nature of the business. The way Rachel describes it here - albeit I'm sure it's simplified for the sake of being an interview answer, but still - makes it sound like she was just expecting to walk right into the trad publishing market without an agent, without a completed manuscript or pitch, without any professional representation, and just slam her portfolio of mid-2000's art on the desk expecting them to hire her on the spot.

Don't get me wrong, there are a lot of barriers that prevent people from getting into the trad market, hurdles that can often be outright unfair (lacking the funds, lacking the connections, etc.) but... there's also a reason many of those barriers are there in practice.

First of all, fun fact: the reason why many publishers don't take unsolicited manuscripts isn't just to help them filter out the spam and low-effort submissions and prevent an overload of submissions (because if they took submissions from anyone and everyone, the overviewing system would break entirely), but it's also for legal purposes so that they don't get sued. Because if Joe Chucklefuck sends in an unsolicited manuscript that just so happens to include a plot point about the multiverse, and then a new book series or movie comes out that is about the multiverse, Joe Chucklefuck might get the sense they're being stolen from and attempt to sue them for plagiarism. This is why it's stressed so much by publishers that any unsolicited manuscripts will not just go unread, but will be thrown straight into the bin.

But second, many publishers simply don't want to take the financial risks on random start-up creators whose only experience is running their own personal projects on Tumblr, much less personal projects like Rachel's, half of which are fetish-content and all of which are unfinished. Of course they weren't gonna take Rachel seriously back then, she hadn't done anything to build up her presence in the industry.

In that sense, yes, self-publishing or pursuing a platform gig like Webtoons probably was Rachel's next best option which would be perfectly acceptable on its own, but it's just so, so telling that she thinks it's a "perk" for Webtoons to lack so much in the way of quality control, and we would ironically see the glaring evidence of that "perk" 3-4 years later in LO's final season when every single element of it as a "professional" piece of work turned to shit. It's no wonder she liked Webtoons in 2020 for letting her do anything she wanted, because what she wanted absolutely would not fly with an actual editor and publishing agency that cared about putting out a polished piece of work. The only way she was able to get "in" with a professional publisher was through Del Rey after Webtoons brokered a deal for her to have LO put into print, and even that level of prestige can't hide the fact that LO sucks ass in print. It's almost like under normal circumstances and without Webtoons carrying her on their shoulders above every other creator on the platform - many of whom actually do have experience in both tradpub and self-publishing - Del Rey wouldn't have paid her any attention. Without Webtoons, no one would take her seriously because she doesn't take what she does seriously, and it shows in her priorities as a creator who simply wants to just do whatever she wants without any sort of reasonable oversight like research or editing which are, again, necessary expectations within the tradpub industry, because it's not just about being a free-thinking self-expressive artist anymore in that industry - it's a business.

Of course, Rachel is probably now laughing from her soapbox over the fact that she now technically helps run an imprint, so haha "poo on the meanie trad market", but considering that imprint has still not launched and has been put on the same "coming soon" track that the LO television show has been on for the past 4+ years on a loop, I'm not holding my breath that it's actually going to amount to anything substantial.

(gotta love how they asked if Rachel was gonna create any more stories and her answer was RSP, which will help other creators bring their stories to life. so at best she didn't answer the question which is nothing new for her, at worst she gave away the fact that she's gonna be acting as some kind of producer who will be given all the credit and praise for other creator's works and efforts lmao no thankssss)

And god knows what the quality control of this imprint is gonna be like if Rachel's attitude toward the trad market overall is, "Nooo they won't let me do what I wantttt :((((" when she admittedly never even broke into the trad market to begin with and had zero experience working within that industry prior to LO.

And even then, Webtoons still doesn't give her as much freedom of choice as she claims to have. I mean ffs, this is the same person whose moderators stated that the Swarovski crystal dress from the finale was done as a "fuck you" to Webtoons for not letting her draw Persephone nude all the time.

She's obviously still being prevented from doing what she wants to do, when a lot of what she wants to do is better off not passing the vibe check and making it into the comic.

Quality control exists for a reason, Rachel. And "letting you do what you want" isn't necessarily a "flex" that Webtoons can claim over trad publishing when that "flex" is forgoing the traditional barriers that would usually prevent someone like you from failing upwards into manufactured fame the way that you have.

And that's my big bag of cents on that.

[spitdrunken]

i keep thinking about essentially being like. velvette's 'charity case' model and how your relationship develops from there.

notes: fem!reader, velvette calls you ugly LMAO, beyond that... no warnings, really. surprisingly the most healthy vee relationship ive written yet!

velvette's typical models all look similar, reminiscent of the modeling industry back when you were alive. tall, skinny and, more important than anything else, human-looking. most of them could pass for humans in a costume.

you… do not. you just didn't get quite that lucky with your demon form! really, you can say that the vast majority of people drew the short end of the stick, at least by the kind of standards that people like velvette set. maybe you're a bat, with a snout you've deemed as pig-like taking up most of your face. or a sheep, your single-slitted, dead eyes making even you uncomfortable. perhaps you're more formed after an object than what you would consider a person, or plant-like in nature! in any regards, due to the way lucifer chose to have you reborn you firmly do not fall within hell's beauty standards.

all of that means you were absolutely not expecting to be accepted when you went ahead and applied to a job with someone as famous and perfectionistic as velvette. it had started as a joke, really. you'd posted a purposefully horrible picture of yourself on vitter, with a stupid caption like; "do u think that :skull::heart: would kill me for submitting to open casting looking like this lmaooooo" (you have to use emojis to talk about the vees, as the socials owned by them are notorious for taking anything remotely negative down.)

and unexpectedly, your post randomly did some pretty big numbers, with people egging you on and some practically begging to tell you what kind of insults she would sling at your head. you saw some people copying your original as well.

so you're like! whatever!!! you don't think that you'd even get through the application process, much less velvette herself. nothing will end up happening, so, who cares? but then, somehow, despite everyone and their mom wanting to model for velvette, you get… through? and you even get an interview scheduled with velvette herself?

she takes one look at you as you walk in, and just goes: oh my god. this really is grim. and you're hardly seated, before she continues. look, i don't have the time for niceties, and introductions are entirely unnecessary. i'm sure you already know this, but you're not here because of your looks.

yeah. you figured that. …i guessed so. but i'm still sitting here. so, why?

instead of getting a real answer, you're shuffled off into a shoot, different outfits flashing on top of your body, faster than you blink, velvette's face settled into a scowl, till it suddenly lights up. it doesn't go… super well, you've never really done this and, if you had, velvette's attitude surely wouldn't help. you never really get clarity as to why you're being hired, when a contract is shoved in front of you.

(the reality of the situation is that velvette had seen you trending, not trending-trending, but still a noticable. she realised the demand for someone like you, a 'relatable' every-demon being thrust into this new world, and documenting it online. her company can claim they accept 'all kinds of demons', and some poor suckers will feel less excluded when looking at her fashion, buying it more quickly. win-win-win!)

she tells you to you're face that you're the ultimate challenge. if she can fix someone like you up to in a half-decent model, it just shows that she really is a fucking goddess. maybe you're not as pretty or as used to everything as the rest of the models, but that doesn't mean you don't put in any effort now that you're there. the other girls won't associate with you whatsoever, but you do listen in on their conversations, pretending to mess around on your phone, coming to know the kind of make-up velvette likes. you tirelessly browse online, mostly on vikvok and vitter, figuring out the current trends. and after a while, velvette takes a look at an outfit you picked, and actually says…

this is pretty decent. it won't look good on you, but i can use this. maybe, somewhere along the way, you become more of an assistant or outfit suggestor for velvette, only occasionally stopping in for shoots. velvette never accepted anyone in a similar position to you, even though vox tried her to get an assistant for ages, and she wouldn't have accepted you either if you'd obviously being vying for the position. but you weren't, and your position just kind of naturally developed that way.

your shtick as a 'charity case' has somewhat been abandoned, though velvette still dumps clothes in your arms sometimes and tells you to try them on. maybe you're one of the few people who gets her to laugh, and the only one who she freely bitches to about all of her models. (she does this to vox and valentino too, but it's not the same. they don't care as much, nor do they really know who she's talking about.) she lets you sort through some of the open casting applications and help pick out the theme for a shoot.

of course, absolutely everything you do has to go through velvette first, and she still criticizes you aplenty, but you can't help but feel she has grown… fond of you, in a sense? sometimes, you swear you see her wearing outfits you'd picked out for another model… and while she shittalks everything that moves, you just happened to listen in on her giving a model a tonguelashing for talking bad about you. either way, you've certainly come to like her a lot more. you're now even mutuals on vitter and vikvok! much to the delight of the tiny following you'd grown on there. she even posted a picture of the two of you on there! …that means you've really made it.

maybe at some point, when her company has hit a new milestone and, in a rare slip-up (or perhaps valentino gave her a super strong drink on purpose, thinking its funny) she gets pretty drunk. you end up sitting opposite of each other in a bar, with her having decided on the spot to put some make-up on you, leaning in close to check her work, fingers gliding slowly over your skin. a situation that feels entirely too intimate for this setting, not helped by the half-lidded look in your eyes. …i have changed my mind. she mumbles, slurring her words are little. you can look pretty, after all.

you sputter out a oh really, and you only realised that now?! in order to break the heaviness of the air, the unspoken tension that makes your heart skip a beat, and velvette laughs.

(maybe there's hope for the two of you yet.)

[koiir]

꒰͡ ⠀ ׂ YOU CLING TO YOUR PAPERS AND PENS, WAIT UNTIL YOU LIKE ME AGAIN ׂ ⠀ ͡꒱

Synopsis; After the end of another winning game, sae itoshi takes notice of who is interviewing his opposing team. The person who he broke the heart of when in Spain, so why is he growing jealous when he sees you with another man in spite of his rejection?

sae itoshi x fem!reader

Notes. Reader is a sports journalist . angst to fluff/comfort . Asshole Sae? . Reader wears a dress . Aged up characters . Jealous sae . Classic bad itoshi communication . 3.6wc

Itoshi sae doesn’t halt when it comes to his career, unlike many he isn’t easily tempted nor willing to take time for himself. Football being the core of his life, so when he’s in Spain with a three month break, his mind is lost.

“Seriously, stop working sae. You’re good enough as is.”

Lukewarm, his mind repeats. His determination grows more as he sees another football league near, his mind curious as he jogs over to the area keeping a mindful distance.

Some continue playing, some rest, and some…are being interviewed?

His eyes run through the person who writes down in a notepad, eyes focused as you gaze into the player as he speaks. Sae takes in your appearance, it’s casual for the most part. Though still professional enough to make you seem accountable.

It’s over before he knows it, and he feels like a stalker since you’re now walking back to your car before you spot him. Your eyes meet his, and you immediately know who he is.

“Sae itoshi?”

The tone of your tongue has him in a chokehold, it’s idiotic. He clicks his tongue, not saying anything before nodding.

“…I’m assuming you must be on a break after that successful season right?”

“Yeah, though I’m still continuing my training.”

You nod, you didn’t expect anything less from the workaholic the itoshi has been known for. The atmosphere in warms due to the geography, though there lingers another feel that you can’t exactly capture. He feels it too.

“Well, work hard and don’t over do it! I just might interview you one day!”

Sae nods, he takes into notice the bag of yours that sags down. Most likely to all of the work material held in it. He sees you shuffle, starting to turn around before he calls out to you.

“What’s your name?”

Your head looks back, chirping out an answer.

“Y/N L/N.”

He’s heard your name before, from others in the industry. As you wave goodbye, sae ends his workout for the day and heads back to his apartment.

He ends up reading through most of your works to fill in his gap of time.

The last thing Sae expects is seeing you again, will all of his teammates present this time.

When he was told of the email sent by his manager, Sae for the most part did not care. Not until the mention of a journalist was brought up.

He tells himself he is not getting nervous, it’s just the adrenaline in him for seeing his teammates again. Thus, he is not nervous.

When greetings are done and explanations are given, Sae feels a shift in his mind. But he doesn’t know what to think of it. He can’t be nervous, can he?

When his turn is up, his fist bawl together as you approach him.

“Seems like it’s fate.”

“Fate?”

“Yeah! Remember? When I said I would interview you some day.”

He very much remembers, Sae doesn’t know why he keeps thinking about the interaction you two had. It was three weeks ago, almost four now. Silently, and still not knowing it, but the itoshi is glad you could interview him.

To your surprise, you pull out a generous amount of information from Sae. The player usually is known for his little if at all, acknowledgment to journalists. But seems you hit the jackpot with this one.

His teammates and even assistant are astounded by his willingness to talk and answer your questions with full truth. They tease the man for his change of heart.

It’s short spent time, the interview being wrapped up and his teammates are all huddled together. But sae keeps his distance, his figure itching to move. To you. You’re about to leave with your manager before once again, you’re halted by Sae Itoshi.

“Can you give me your number?”

The blunt truth is given, and your face reveals your shock by the said action. Saw blinks, but this overwhelming feeling overcomes him again as he stares at you.

When he reaches his apartment, he now has a new number in his contacts.

The weather in Spain is unbearable, that’s what Sae hears your mouth ramble about almost nonstop when he’s with you.

How many months has it been? It feels short, though 6 months have passed since the friendship between you and the player arose. It was slow for the itoshi to warm up to you, but no matter what he kept close.

The highlights for him that have changed him are many, in your friendship he means. He’s not one to keep close ties with many, solace one he wishes to keep.

Three months into this newfound bond, Sae thinks as though his mind has been altered when he saw you tending to a stray. The cat hungry and meowing nonstop, until it was graced by the food you had.

Usually he himself wouldn’t pay mind to a stray, most likely not even noticing, but he doesn’t tell you how that small action has changed him. Now when he sees a stray, he lets a scrap of food fall towards the animal.

It’s as if he subconsciously chooses to, having a slice of hope that it might pull your closer to him.

When a week of straight work was jammed into your schedule, you couldn’t talk much with the itoshi. His eyes darting to his home screen seeing no reply from you, an irk appears on his forehead.

You invite him to a cafe. Telling him that he doesn’t have to come, since you most likely won’t chat with him as you work away.

“Then why bother asking?”

“I don’t know, I just feel bad that you’re waiting for me to reply or be done.”

For once, Sae hears from another about how impatient he is, but you don’t say those exact words. Just sparking at the implication.

Contrast to his words, the day of he walks into the cafe eyeing the table you sit at. You’re working as diligently as ever, it’s almost a direct copy of himself when he’s immersed in a match or practice.

His cup is being destroyed, his hands gripping the poor cup as his foot taps the ground. He really is inpatient. He’s never noticed up until now, or has but just doesn’t dare to admit it. Especially since you’re the one getting the rise out of him.

You haven’t said much, as he expected. But he wishes to hear your voice maybe, but that wish will only lead him to disappointment. He’s at least somewhat satisfied, your presence being a bonus he thinks.

Sae grows curious, more so about and how his mind works whenever he’s basked in your presence. It’s unsettling, new for him.

So his mind wonders the possibility of his whirlwind of emotions, he thinks. Very deeply. But nothing pops up.

Maybe soon he’ll understand.

“So, what’s up with you?”

The irritation in Sae only grows more as he hears the voice of shidou, his palms clenching around his products that are daring to spill out if he continues.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He’s been off, more so than usual. Just two weeks ago it’s been no contact, and he hasn’t been the best since. His plays are still good, that much hasn’t been affected. Though everything else screams different about Sae.

Those three words tick in his brain.

“I like you.”

He made you repeat them, the logic in his mind being gone in a flash as he deals with a situation that he can’t control.

He’s too quick witted for his own good, he did the worst thing he possibly could.

“Why would I feel the same?”

“You’re only going to get in my way.”

“Why would I waste my time on you?”

Yeah, Sae itoshi is only a mouthful of daunting words. But he’s not all that bad, he knows the worth in his words. And he they have broken your heart. He knows that this is on him, because why say such words if his heart opposes?

It’s a sea of void and uncertainty, waves crash and a storm can be made by a simple act. Somehow Sae feels as though he was the storm that caused the crash. It collapsed so fast and quick, can he even repair such a thing?

An emotion of love is wicked, it’s a whirlwind that surges through the person and Sae doesn’t like it. He doesn’t accept it. Involving yourself into a relationship only weakens the rest of you, so why risk it when he’s gotten to the golden age of his career?

He can be selfish, but this need is different. As if he desires it more than he thinks.

“God dammit.”

“Woahhhh someone’s mad.”

“I fucked up.”

The night of, Sae lets the newfound realization pull him deep. Though he can’t find it in himself to act on it, Sae itoshi can’t pursue this.

It takes months until he actually grows the courage to admit himself to the truth and be honest.

“You’re too sweet you know?”

“Oh, stop it.”

The uproar of the crowd is still raging strong, his thoughts and heart race only intensify as he glares at the opponent he faced.

It’s not like he lost against the other male, by game terms no. He was victorious this match, but that mindset shattered the minute he saw him getting interviewed by you.

He noticed you at the beginning of the match, and the deep voice in him told him to not look at you, to keep his eyes off of you and focus.

The adrenaline and rush in him must be due to the game, the thought of crushing the opposing team. Although his heart tells him otherwise. The thought of you watching him overwhelms him in a way that makes him score three goals.

Why must you impose such a huge impact on him?

It’s sickening, it’s pure torture to not walk up to you as if everything is normal. Or how the past once was.

You must be avoiding him, because multiple others are dying to report him but his answers are little to none. They aren’t the ones who can spew answers out of him, you are.

“Why’d you tell me such so much when you usually make comments so vague?”

“Because you’re not like the rest.”

“Huh?”

“Whatever.”

He watches your every move, and sae knows the player is getting every chance to butter you up. A flirt alright, and you play back with charm. It’s natural for at most, in order to show a genuine connection. Though to Sae, it has his mind in a fury as he’s a bystander watching the interaction.

“Stop glaring at your ex like that.”

He’s slapped on the shoulder by Aiku, the irk on his forehead grows as he mumbles out an insult to the male and shifts away from him.

It’s almost a relief, the mention of you being his “ex.” Because no, you aren’t. All that it was is you liked you, and he rejected that.

Now he knows how much of a fool he was, he rejected the idea. Not you. To many, that ideal is a stupid one. But in the moment, it was a valid point that made his decision come about.

He’s really an idiot, because he should have at least asked to stay in contact. But maybe his ego got to him, making him believe he was in the right. All those months without you just proved him wrong.

He watches you, and sees a man come closer to you. His attire is casual but formal, similar to yours in all black as he calls out to you. You beam a smile at him and sae feels his nerve break.

It’s in the way he laughs with you that makes Sae’s body turn cold.

He can tell the two of you are close, body language clearly showing a sense of ease and clarity for trust in the other. He feels the need to pull you away, Sae feels the grow of something in his throat, a grimace overtakes him.

The fixation on you keeps him unclear from the way you notice his stare, your eyes meet his and the gleam in them disappear in an instant.

He looks away, keeping his distance from anything and everything as a way to collect himself, he still has to deal with the after party for the game.

He wonders if you will be there.

It’s a ruckus, something Sae doesn’t wish to deal with today. The day has seemed long enough as is, though a ting of curiosity was infiltrated in his brain. It eats him alive, it’s only a couple hours of his night gone to drinks and a nuisance of people.

Besides, shidou does a perfectly well job enough keeping him entertained.

“Ooo, you might wanna see who came.”

Sae takes in the way shidou’s tone is one of tease and playfulness, it gets under his skin but he has an idea of what he could mean. Or who he meant.

The lighting doesn’t seem to work on you, cause Sae can still see the glow you carry as you enter in. He’s in a trance, because for the first time he’s seeing you all done up rather than in casual attire which still looked good on you. Clothes only being an accessory that showcased your true beauty.

He sees you wore a black velvet strapless gown that held a slit, it’s clear that it will draw some eyes. And his are one of them.

His desire for you grows strong, and now he allows himself to comprehend that need. No longer trying to sugarcoat the problem that has set him in a trance.

It shatters though when he sees who walks in with you, the same guy from the game who whisked you away. Most likely a coworker, but why does he stare at you with so much adoration?

“Woah chill, you look like you’re about to explode.”

The remark has him lift his fist, showing shidou the growing angry in him if he doesn’t keep quiet. Sae knows that now, he’s doomed for an unrelenting amount of jealousy.

It’s tempting, to say something unforgettable to the male at your side. Though he doesn’t wish to sour his reputation even more with you, he already broke your heart.

What place does he have to interfere?

It’s not as though you’re paying him any mind.

Despite the thought, it doesn’t last long the minute he sees the contact of his hand on your back. Keeping you at bay from all the commotion inside. The filter on his will breaks, his body uncontrollably stands to his feet as he turns a heel.

But a force of fault keeps him still, it’s as though his heart is keeping him from moving. From you. It’s seconds of contemplating as he watches, the itch in his body beings to grow as he sees you leave.

His fear of this potentially being the last time he sees you sets in. Who knows when you two will even be in the same proximity again.

“What are you doing sae!!! Go get her!!”

“Keep your mouth shut.”

Still, by contrast Sae has his figure swing by others in order to meet yours, it’s a distance worth the call outs that he ignores. Their voices cancel out to the point he has to reach.

His presence hits hard, the male at your side turning his attention to sae that waste no time in grabbing your hand. Your yelp one of surprise before your mouth trembles.

“Sae?”

☆⌒.*･

The task to drag you outside was one he expected with bickering, though you kept quiet as his hand was holding yours. The contact enough to make his ears red.

“Are you going to explain this?”

He hears your voice come out In a tone that reminds him too much of himself. And he immediately thinks there’s a big chance you’ll leave without him saying anything.

He’s quick to open open his mouth, preparing to speak, until he notices how close your face is to his. It’s cliche, the concept of “took my breath away” when referring to someone. Maybe he can understand it now.

Your lips are placed into a thin line, making him wonder if that smile of yours earlier was just in his head. But still, the patter of his heart, the warmth spreading through him, it tells him the truth about your smile.

“Who is he?”

“That’s your first question?”

Yes, because that’s all that has been occupied in Sae’s brain. Consuming his every nerve and eating away at his heart. This is the first thing he has to know.

A line caresses your forehead as your hands ball into a fist. You’re getting worked up. He knows it, because why you must wonder “why is he doing this?”

“He’s a coworker along side me. Joshua.”

“Well he seems like he has an eye for you.”

The words are blunt and enough to set you off, it makes you wonder just why does he wish to know so much? You two aren’t friends.

Does he not recall that day? The day his words were a statement of, “I don’t want you.” The words spilling out until you told him, “I get it.”

Because he truly had no reason to tell you every reason on his list why he would ever think about dating you. A simple rejection would have done the trick, not nights of tears and insecurities growing.

“And why is this your concern? We’re not friends.”

It stings, a sharp ache growing in him makes his eye widen. He doesn’t know why that caught him off guard so much. The cold tone? The words reminding him of his from then? The reality sinking in? It’s a shame on your end, that you haven’t left yet. He doesn’t know why you even stay, but he knows he still has time.

“I’m an idiot yeah?”

The self proclaimed question raises your brow, a smile comes to your face before it falls.

“Yes? Why do you need me to state it for you?”

“Because I’m just now realizing how stupid I was for being in denial.”

His sentence is vague, he doesn’t have it in him to say the rest. You take a moment to think, but the only situation he can be referring to is the rejection of yours. Were the words said in spite of his denial?

“Seems I don’t understand, you tell me since you started this.”

He wants to fight back, but he knows it would only be a matter of time before you can handle his attitude towards this. Admitting his wrongs, being truthful to what he wants.

“I don’t mean the words I said.”

If anything, I wanted you more than anything.

“Then why did you have so much to say? You told me to my face that I would only drag you down.”

He halts, because the words were nasty and harsh. He basically lashed out on you, his rebuttal to this has to prove it. That he reciprocates and is wanting to fix what he has damaged.

“I don’t know how to deal with my feelings, and I’m career driven. The idea of a relationship screams disaster to me and I was just in the mindset of, why change something already good?”

The aspect of your friendship with him was a change, though it doesn’t compare to that of a relationship. The idea of having you hanging, having days or weeks without seeing you, he didn’t see the need to hurt you because he thought that would be the outcome.

He never considered that it could be a beautiful change for the better, even with the challenges facing it. He copes with the fact that you’re going to be disappointed, but he might as well try.

“So you thought that pushing me away was for the best? Not even telling me about your feelings truthfully and just lashing out?”

He nods, his mind blank for a way to justify himself. But he can’t. He starts to feel desperate, and for once his mind is coming to terms with the idea of his loss.

“I’ve never bothered to speak of my feelings, in regards with things such as this. Because I don’t know how to or what I can do.

“Well, if you can’t figure out a way to prove yourself, I’m just going to leave.”

Your words are a challenge, because Sae knows you will make your leave if he doesn’t let his heart speak for itself. The act of words will be repeated, and he’s going to mess up what he truly means if he keeps this up.

His hand moves voluntarily to your wrist, pulling your closer with an arm wrapping around your waist. The hitch in your breath comes out, before your lips are sealed away by his.

It’s soft, the idea that Sae can be soft is one that seems fake. Far from reach, but it’s being presented to you right now as he deepens the kiss with a tinge of fear that you might leave.

You can’t, and you won’t leave. Your heart wins the battle of sorrow as you think that you understand what he means. His act of choice telling you enough, that he wants this.

“Please, l can wait for your love, all I need is a chance.”

His face remains almost stoic, but with how close he is, you see the soften in his eyes as his cheeks tint pink.

“Don’t be an idiot and try. Change.”

He knows what you mean by change, not change himself completely, but change his behavior to this new feeling. He can do that, with time. It’ll be worth it, if he can experience the sensation of this love his heart has.

“Promise.”

A kiss sealed, and the event forgotten. For once he sees the good in coming to this one.

a/n; we can’t be friends, but I’d like to just pre tend, you cling to your paperss and penss wait until you likeee mee again

[mossyvil]

Bestie you are SO right about vil and him being a caring bf. And I'm not being biased as a vil yume or anything, even when I first got introduced to him and his character during book 5, I saw literally nothing wrong with the advice Nad critique he gave to epel and everyone else— he's always very reasonable and makes a point, blunt and without sugarcoating sure, but sometimes people need to have that sort of bluntness to realize that something is lacking or that they have potential that they're wasting!!

Vil is attentive but he's also able to be understanding! He never imposed a lifestyle on anyone unless they truly needed it or unless it would help with something that requires it (eg: during the VDC when he made a more healthy diet plan when they camped in Ramshackle. Petty teenage resistance aside, they did need less sugar and such so that they wouldn't be lethargic or even exhausted because of too much blood sugar!!)

And goodness dare I say he would be very delighted and amused if his lover returns the favor? Doting on him as well, making his favorite meals, memorizing what he likes and doesn't like when it came to food or skincare or media or anything, having the same attention being directed at him, basically. I just think that it would be very reassuring for him to know that his partner appreciated his doting as much as he cared about giving it. Vil my beloved......

i absolutely agree with u bestie!! vil is blunt but i think he just doesn’t know how else to phrase what he’s thinking tbh. like i doubt anyone in the film or beauty industry was being very conscious of his feelings growing up so it’s all he knows but it really does come from a place of genuine care!! and he never says anything he knows can’t be changed easily, he never wants to hurt anyone he just wants to help them better themselves.

he isn’t too worried about accidentally upsetting his partner with his words, he really does think through what he says before he says it and he also expects you to be comfortable telling him if it bothers you (whether you actually are comfortable doing that is another thing), but he does feel reassured when you do the same for him. he’s had managers and people to look out for him before, but it’s not out of actual care for him like it is with you. it warms his heart knowing that you show your care for him in a way he really understands. soft vil is everything to me

[raivenantcravings]

Round 6 Reaction/Analysis

SDFFSDHFLSDHF ROUND 6 FSDHKFDSH ROUND 6 FSDKFSDHFDS ROUND 6

I woke up to twitter analysis saying that Till never even looked at Ivan until his final moments. And I made pre round 6 fanart titled "look at me." Couldn't manifest it. He never looked at him in the end,,,

broo dont look so happy. oh my god you lovesick fool.

reaction and analysis under the cut

First detail I noticed was that are the mics clear because both Ivan and Till are being vulnerable? They have nothing to hide anymore, so they'll show the world their whole being.

Anyways, to my main point,,

My interpretation of the ending was that Ivan was really trying to "cure" Till.

Till opens up with wanting to feel pain, to feel hurt.

"Please, leave me scars"

"Please, hurt me so that not a single drop of me remains"

Which, I realize he's talking to Mizi, but it's a cry for "help" either way.

Ivan's part goes:

"Notice my pain and mend me right now"

Again, he's talking about himself, but I think it could apply to what he does to Till.

So they kiss.

And, I've seen a lot of other people already say this, but I also do feel the kiss was not only meant to be for Ivan to selfishly show his love for Till.

Like bro don't go nonconsensually kissing your crush, what are you doing!?

When the scores came out, Ivan was much lower than Till than I expected. I thought it'd be a Mizi-Sua situation where the scores were close, but Mizi barely edged it out.

But Till almost had 20 points over Ivan.

And I know it's because Till is a rising star. And his new image change would really garner the attention of everyone. But it's not like Ivan is a nobody either. I didn't expect the scores to be so different.

I do think its because Ivan kissed Till. As a final nail in the coffin that guarantees his loss.

Alien Stage is commentary on the idol industry. One of the most prevalent issues in the idol industry is the romantic lives of the idols. Idols are not supposed to be in relationships, at least not outwardly. Their whole image is for the fans. Nothing they do should ruin that public image as an idol.

Much less in a in a queer relationship.

Now I don't believe the universe of Alien Stage cares about LGBTQ+ issues because there's bigger issues surrounding their human pets. But I think that it is an issue that Vivinos is trying to address because they certainly never shy away from queer issues in their other works.

And I feel the idea that idols/pets should not be swayed by their romantic emotions is still prevalent in their society.

So for the audience to see Ivan kiss Till, in one of the most outrageous and public displays possible, further pushes the votes in Till's favor.

And yeah, I also do believe that he kissed Till for him to finally look at him, but I also feel that it was a self-sacrifice too.

And then Ivan violently chokes Till.

Possibly, as another way to give Till votes. Since when Mizi started punching Luka, the audience was outraged at her actions.

Violence is definitely frowned upon on the stage.

More on the choking scene,,

I also saw some people saying that it's because Ivan wanted Till to die with him, which may be part of it. I don't think everything Ivan did was completely selfless.

But

Till accepts it. Earlier when he is at the bar (party? venue? the private show either way), he fights the alien who tries to punch him.

He did show him Mizi's missing image, so he is enraged in this moment, but he does have fight left in him even then.

He doesn't resist when Ivan chokes him just closes his eyes and awaits death. Perhaps if Mizi was already dead, he can just join her in the afterlife since he had no way of knowing she was still alive.

In this way, Ivan is his savior. The one who is finally freeing him from all this pain he felt after losing Mizi. This is his "cure."

And for Ivan, he sorta wants to be a savior to Till. He has freed him on multiple accounts from his shackles. Even helping him run away with him, so they can experience freedom together.

They both get what they want, but,,

Ivan lets go of Till and Till, with an expression that feels like shock, finally looks at Ivan.

Killing him would not give him the freedom that Till needs

that Ivan wants Till to have.

So, like the countless times Till has been chained around his neck, Ivan gives him his chains:

hurting him like he desires.

A scar around his neck.

(Where the scar from his name is)

And mending him,

by taking away the final chain that Ivan could release from Till.

His "cure."

It felt like his final desire was to get Till to snap out of it, to realize that he needs to find true freedom, to not get apathetic at the situation, to keep on going and to live.

He really, truly loves Till even if Till does and never will understand it.

Also final thoughts, is it not strange that Ivan is able to release Till's bindings so easily?

No one else is shown releasing the bindings, so maybe it is just as easy as a press of the button. Yet, I don't feel like it's just poorly designed if that's the case. Because you literally have a person like Ivan releasing a dangerous human like Till. Shouldn't a cautious society like the world of Alien Stage made sure it wouldn't be super easy to get out of.

If there is more to it, I wonder if that'll be a plot point later on. With Ivan leaving behind the secret to getting out of the bindings for Till. So, when a character maybe Till or even Hyuna or Mizi have been captured, they're able to escape since they know how to remove them.

Maybe, I'm just being delulu

And final final thoughts, the kiss was great and definitely made me almost scream. But the way Ivan nuzzled Till has got me acting up.

Like, it's just so soft and sweet and not a big show of it like when Ivan kisses Till on stage.

It feels so intimate, so personal, so full of love.

I just, I just can't. They'll be the death of me.

[le-trash-prince]

BenzGarfield's height difference is something I particularly enjoy about their roles as partners because it's a big enough difference for Benz to be noticeably shorter (on top of being smaller than Garfield in general) but small enough for that difference to be played around with onscreen, and I'm so fascinated by what This Love Doesn't Have Long Beans has done in regards to their blocking and their costumes as MethasJJ.

Because Perth Nakhun has said that the Thai film industry traditionally prefers to cast taller actors to play the top in a pairing, regardless of other details, and will do the same for male/female actor pairs as well, to the point where he lost out on a role bc of being shorter than the actress, and for My Engineer they had him wear really thick shoe lifts bc he was shorter than Lay.

So I wondered if they were going to try and pass Benz off as being taller than Garfield, bc Methas certainly looks taller than JJ in episode one. Based off BTS pics, I knew that they had Benz in thick heels, but their feet are purposefully covered in this shot in a way that disguises this for the audience and just makes Methas look naturally taller.

But then in episode three we DO get a purposeful shot of his shoes. Frankly I love that they put him in platforms instead of using just shoelifts in regular mens dress shoes, bc it turns his boosted height into a character detail rather than a ~movie magic~ thing (i.e. putting RDJ on a stool for closeups in Iron Man).

Methas has specifically dressed himself in a way that makes him appear taller than he is. It speaks loads to his insecurity and the way he feels he has to make himself appear to the world.

I think part of this must have been a practical decision bc it gives the team more flexibility with wide shots like this, where Methas is completely barefoot during his physical therapy scenes. When neither of them are wearing shoes, he's obviously shorter than JJ, and they don't have to bother with cutting away from this shot in order to disguise that he's standing on something. I'm a big fan of this, since I think it just makes things more believable.

Then there are scenes where their heights are equal to each other.

And scenes where JJ is taller even when Methas is wearing his platforms.

If Methas wasn't shorter than JJ, it would be less visually impactful when JJ lowers himself to take care of him.

It would be less impactful when Methas towers over him because Methas would be towering over him the whole show anyways.

Blocking like this would have less meaning too.

There's also the way their relative positions shift even when they're horizontal.

This is just something I really enjoy seeing, and I'd love to sit down and analyze this after the show is done. Personally I'm a short tops supporter and I don't care for the traditional notion that taller ppl should always top and women can't date men shorter than them, etc.

Frankly, it has been disheartening to see the reaction (mostly on twitter) that a lot of ppl had to the idea of Benz playing a top, since I don't think actors should have their roles limited by their physique. It reminds me a lot of the response to Pavel playing a bottom, so I'm just glad to see that Change2561 is continuing to cast non-traditional dynamics regardless of whether the audience thinks someone like Garfield can be a bottom.

Also means we get to see delightful role reversals like this:

Where one party is fully clothed, while the other is in only a towel, but the context and tone of the scenes are very different. Subvert those audience expectations!

Anyways, this is just something I've been paying attention to, since their positions on camera are constantly switching and it is so fascinating to watch.

[softandsourcream]

Stop, you’re losing me~ - one

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Summary: The last time you saw Yoongi wasn't one of your fondest memories. And actually, you thought that after ten years you no longer had any more tears to shed for that memory, for that situation, for him.

What was the problem with meeting him again at his brother's wedding, right?

Right?

pairing: idol! yoongi x vet!f reader.

Words: 9k

genre(s): angst, hurt- comfort, slow burn, fluff, smut (+18) (not this one tho)

au(s): childhood friends - to lovers, idol yoongi, normal vet reader, entertainment industry, denial and resentment.

warnings: curse words, family drama, grief, loss of loved ones, panic/anxiety attacks, damaged mental health, a LOT of struggling. Yoongi is here to help tho♡.

author’s note: just wanna let you all now that I’m so exited that this is out now! Hope you enjoy it and if you have any suggestion just let me know! I don’t bite 🐇. Also, English it’s not my fist language, so please be patient with this dumbass

~

IMPORTANT: this fic contains a lot of sensitive topics touched upon explicitly. Please, if any of the tags trigger something in you, stop reading. You’re more important, and there is much more content you can consume here. Take care please! ♡

enjoy!

—————————•。・゜ one゜・__________________

main masterlist

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“Where are you?”

“Outside.” In fact, he had gotten out of the car a second ago, and he wasn't going to answer, but he didn't know where they were either; the place was exaggeratedly large.

“Get in here then, you're late.”

“I’m at the entrance... where are you?” His voice breathless, he ran a lot in less than 20 minutes.

“Your brother is about to faint, so you’re going to see us easily. The first row.”

Yoongi hung up the phone, and sure enough, it wasn't difficult for him to find his family right at the end of the place. His brother looked around restlessly, probably looking for him or his fiancée, because he knew he was late, but he didn't seem to have started yet either.

His father, on the other hand, observed his brother's concern with the empty gaze he had always had from his seat, blinking slowly without saying much. He smiled a little at the scene (also a little relieved to finally be there) and started walking quickly, straight there, without looking at anyone else.

He greeted some of his aunts from afar, bowed to others he didn't know but greeted him, and ended up meeting his brother's eyes, almost finishing his journey. The concern on his face changed to one of anger, and he approached him as if suddenly he wasn't about to get married and be responsible for a family. His posture was the same as when they played as children, and his mother had to separate them for a toy.

It gave him chills.

“Hel-“

“Where the fuck were you.”

Yoongi frowned exaggeratedly at the bad word, looking at his father, who was watching everything in the same exact spot with the exact same cold and calm eyes.

“You’re not going to say anything to him?”

He didn’t respond, and Yoongi chuckled when his brother insulted him again.

“Calm down, if mom hears you, she-“

“You’re half an hour late, Min.” Finally, his father, mad. He can tell just by his voice. Yoongi shrank from the scolding and grimaced, looking at his brother.

“I’m sorry.” One. Sooner than he expected “They didn’t let me go sooner.” Greum-Jae didn't even seem interested in hearing an excuse; Yoongi had never seen him so angry before. But he still dared to continue speaking. “I get you’re mad, and I’m sorry, but don’t be mad with me right now. This is your day, we can fight later, and I’m here. I’m really sorry, for real, it wasn't my intention to ruin this for you.”

“Now it’s my job to be calm?” Jae fled from his touch. “To ignore your mistakes? You literally have one job.”

“I know I- I don’t have any other excuse, okay? I’m really sorry.”

Two.

It was subtle, but after a moment, his gaze softened, and so did his body, which was the most noticeable. Jae hugged him, and Yoongi smiled sadly, because he did feel bad, but, of course, it wasn’t the time to show it.

“You’re lucky she’s late too, and that I’m in a good mood right now.” He knows. “Missed you…”

“Me too.” His smell, his hugs, his voice. His home. He missed. “You are in a good mood, though? You look like you're about to throw up.”

He hit his shoulder, breaking the hug and getting closer to his father. Yoongi says hi to him without receiving a response, of course. He looked older and tired, which made him think about how long he had not set foot in that city. He squeezed his fist, unsettled. “I’m nervous; of course I look like that.”

Yoongi was going to ask why, genuinely interested, because he didn't understand why he should be nervous. He wasn't supposed to do anything more than 'yes, I do' and be with the person he loves most for the rest of his life. He also understood that, from the context, Yoongi would never understand it, and he didn't feel like doing it either. Also, he shouldn't be that direct, so he swallowed his question and leaned with both hands on the empty chair next to his father, placing all his weight on his arms.

He wanted to ignore the fact that he felt watched. There were a lot of people there. He hadn't taken a look to see how much he knew and how much he didn't, that was an activity he would leave for when they were dancing and there was less light. Right now he knew that everyone was looking at him, and he didn't like it because, although it was a family and private event, he couldn't completely ignore it. Photos of him would still come to light. It was, in fact, one of the discussions he had with the company days before.

“Your brother doesn't want to hear you, but I do. What is more important than your brother’s wedding now?”

Shit.

Jae was now talking to someone who came to tell him news about Eun, and he had walked away. He could only hear the echo of people talking, laughing, and happiness. Yoongi didn't want to have that conversation right now.

“It wasn’t my fault.”

“That wasn’t my question.”

“You’re being unfair right now.”

The man sighed.

“I’m just asking, Yoongi." And his voice sounds different too, so Yoongi didn’t like it. “If I’m not right, why don’t you tell me? You know I know when you're right, and I'm not. I'm not stubborn, you're locking yourself in."

Yoongi wrinkled his nose because he was right in a way, and he hated that it was like that. It was true; he didn't know why he felt so cornered all of a sudden. Stretching his arms and looking at the ground, he became a little dizzy. His whole body suddenly hurt; maybe all the fatigue of those months came upon him.

“Working.” He was honest even so, knowing what was coming. His father didn’t move in any sense. “I was working, but it wasn't'more important than this’. They wouldn't let me go, for real.”

“You didn’t take a day off?”

“I can’t. I’m on tour right now, and I asked permission, but you know that they’re not flexible with the times.

“Just like your mother's birthday. Or every Christmas.” He sounds sad now, almost disappointed. Mad, but really sad. “We invite you, but you never come. Your brother was shaking yesterday. He really wanted to see you.”

There was silence. A big one, where you could still hear the murmurs of the people, the echo of the grandeur of the place, the clicking of heels, and the shy laughter. He gave them both time to realize where they were, that they were in suits, and that, after all, he hadn't seen that man in a long, long time.

Yoongi's apology stuck in his throat—another genuine apology.

 

A third.

 

“I'm sorry, son.” His father says instead. Yoongi had heard it a few times in his 30s. “I understand. We understand, but... we always do. Me, your mother, and your brother today. He has all the right to be mad; we all are, but you’re doing your best, and we’re getting old too.” This time he looked at him, smiling a little. Yoongi does too, but his was a sad one. “Just don’t forget about your family. I just hope I make it to your wedding too.”

“Pff.” They laughed, and the son nodded, his nose still wrinkled just thinking about it. “I can only do the first one, sorry. That’s why Jae did it first. Maybe I don't invite you to a wedding, but you have been sitting more than once watching me in a stadium with more people than here.” He looked at his brother with his eyes. He continued talking to that woman, nodding, biting his lip, having an awful time, and if it wasn't bad, then something questionable. Yoongi could swear his palms were sweating. “I honestly don't feel like... being that worried.”

His father looked nothing in the front, with a smirk on his face. Yoongi realized how old he turned again.

“You just haven't found the right person to be like this for.”

That doesn’t sound like his father. At all.

He looked at him again and couldn't say anything when his brother was already in front of them, smiling and wiping the sweat from his hands.

He knew it.

“She’s about to arrive, take your seat.”

Yoongi left the back of the chair where there was supposed to be another person there who wasn't there, and frowning, he looked around the room without really doing it, realizing that he was missing someone to greet.

“Where’s mom?”

And as if he hadn't been listening to laughter, murmurs, and voices of people for ten minutes that filled his ears non-stop, right after that question, a specific laugh seemed to answer his doubt, reversing his pressure and causing a strong shiver to run down the back of his neck.

He turned quickly, perhaps even a little disbelievingly, and then, he saw you.

Not his mother, though. Or yes, her too, but his eyes fell on you first because it was always like that, because that was your laugh, and because it was impossible not to.

Far away. The possibility of having heard your laughter was quite unlikely, even impossible. Seven or eight rows back. Of course, you were wearing baby blue, delicate, and tight. The fabric didn’t shine like your gloves do, and you had your long hair loose, tied up from the top just a little. You laughed heartily, teeth on display, his mother being the cause of your smile and your bright eyes. Such honest and grateful happiness, because why not, you both looked exaggeratedly happy to be in front of each other again. Her mother held your hands tightly, moving them up and down in time with her words, and you just nodded and responded briefly.

His heart stopped. He could swear he had even forgotten to breathe.

Yoongi didn't enjoy eye contact.

He usually runs away from it. He feels stupid, and he gets embarrassed quickly. It's a tense situation for him, but he was wishing with all his might that you two had it at that moment. That his eyes were heavy enough for you to turn to look at him and take a good look at you because your eyes had always been big and expressive, and he needed to confirm that he wasn't hallucinating.

At least that's what they were like the last time he saw them, so many years ago that he couldn't count them, and from what he saw from there, many things had changed.

You look breathtaking. You've always looked this pretty, but right now… 

He didn't know if it was because he hadn't seen you in person for many years, up close, but unpleasant things were happening to him. His legs trembled when you finally looked back. Big eyes, make-up on, pretty color, and they opened, your moves frozen, and somehow, you two had an extremely uncomfortable visual conversation, as if you were face to face, and you didn't know what to say.

To his surprise, your gaze quickly changes to a more confident, almost cold look, and you bow with extreme lightness to say hello without intending to break contact. However, his mother did, hugging goodbye to you as soon as everyone started tidying up, music started playing, and Yoongi was forced to sit down, trembling, sweating, and unfocused, remembering how you looked.

He was there again, in real life, in Daegu, where he was born and grew up, where it was hot and dangerous to go out at night, where they used to live, and where he used to get lost when he could.

He had arrived that morning, but his brother, his parents, and you brought him back home.

“Shit.”

Not in a comfy, lullaby way. More like a cold water falling from the sky directly on the ground/ type of way.

He was there. You were there, feeling better than him, of course, but you don’t know. You had the whole month to mentally prepare for that reunion. Obviously you had a better handle on it, but you were also shaking, and you had to take a couple of breaths before you were ready for the wedding.

“Good?”

 

Seun was next to Greum when everything happened, in a way waiting as a spectator. Both in silence, from afar. Now he was waiting for you to respond, so he could start the recording in case you said something compromising. Both of you were in your assigned seats, with Jae at the altar.

“If it’s better than him, then yes, I’m great.” He laughed and checked at the entrance in case Eun was peeking out. He wanted to see her dress. You shake your shoulders, trying not to look in his direction again, releasing tension.

“Well, I don’t judge him. Jae didn’t tell him you were here.”

You scoff, “He didn’t? We're some show to you two or something?” putting your brother's arm away (with more force than necessary. It bothers you that he didn't take seriously how you felt. More now that you were especially sensitive) so you can record properly. The music began to overwhelm you a bit.

Now. Suddenly they were all in order, therefore quieter, so you two had to continue the conversation in whispers. Jae was waiting for his future wife; the doors of the place were open, but nothing was happening yet.

“He told me months ago that he wasn’t sure if he would arrive. The invitation was made, but he hasn't seen him for almost a year. When-“ he stops, unlocking his phone that had turned off for not pressing record yet, making you smile. Your older brother reminded you a lot of your father sometimes, and you rarely saw him so excited and well groomed at the same time. Your dress color and his suit matched too. His idea. “When Yoongi confirmed he was coming, Jae didn’t have the time to tell him. So yeah,” you looked at him when he did, blinking. “I know he’s feeling a lot of things right now.”

Well, that was weird.

That doesn’t sound like Yoongi, Yoongi loves his brother, his family, at least the one you know.

The type of relationship you had now (null) didn't allow you to say that out loud, and, strictly speaking, you didn't understand his reaction either. He looked genuinely surprised; it shouldn't affect him if he was the one who broke everything in the first place. You assumed it had just been the surprise, and it would take you a good stretch of the night to be able to let go of the fact that they were there, so close but so far, to let go of the possibilities of talking, hugging him, and telling him how much you had missed him, know about him, how he handled things. Just as before. Because it didn't help you to think like that, and because how pretty and beautiful your best friend looked right now, happy, in white, and excited, couldn't be placed on anything else.

You hoped you could breathe in peace for the rest of the night. Although at some point you thought you could do it without problems, because once you wiped away the tears that came out of you when you saw Eun enter and the ceremony took place, between your brother talking to you, you were laughing at him because he had also cried halfway through. On the way, the rest of your family arrived, and an inexplicable happiness that ran through you as you were surrounded by so many people that you knew and hadn't seen in years consumed you, your head stayed busy. A lot, and you still had it in mind, but you were not alone, and that made you feel good, safe, and a little calmer.

It was easy for you not to give him your night. At least the first part of it.

Apparently, after the ceremony, the party, and celebration would take place in the same place. You weren't really surprised, in fact, it moved you even more because the place was gigantic, very tall, and beautiful, almost like a theater, and there were many, many people, enough to fill the place. Not in a suffocating way, but enough to get lost. It was mostly of age, older people, maybe grandparents you hadn't managed to meet before, and then there were people directly younger, but you knew those, Seun was a people butterfly. Friends of theirs, you assumed. Actually, Seun stopped explaining who the boy was sitting next to one of her good friends when a man, tall and good-looking, started to talk on a microphone.

“Now, now, and congratulating the bride and groom once again, we would like to call the loved ones of both to say a few words before the fun part starts.

Everyone laughed, and Seun looked at you. You forgot about that part.

“Let’s start with the parents…”

“I can go for you instead.”

“It’s okay.” You smile. You knew that he was doing his best to be able to contain you, and give you the best company, despite the fact that it was not easy for him. “I’m not made of glass.” You joke, listening to Eun’s mother speak already.

And well, for him, you were. At least right now, but he didn’t say it, scoffing to hide his thoughts. “I’m trying to be good. Dad it’s watching now, I have to be an example.”

“For what.”

“Shut up, don’t be disrespectful.”

You try not to laugh. He was nervous now. You never understood why it was so difficult for him to admit that he cared for others. Not even with Jae he dared to do it, or at least that's what you thought. You didn't know how he would tell the truth in his speech.

You were the last one. You knew this because when you arrived, Jae told you. Eun wasn't supposed to know you were there. Of course, she had invited you, but she didn't know if you would finally attend because you hadn't been able to communicate with anyone these last few months. You met once, when she came to see you at your house, but you couldn't talk about much. You were on another planet, it was like your head was disconnected from your body most of the time, and she assumed you wouldn't go. 

You wanted to think that she hadn't seen you when she passed, but you doubted it. With the amount of people there, and with how focused she was on Jae, it was impossible.

Still, you were nervous. When you accepted, you didn't think you would be in front of so many people. Your heart was beating.

“Is that Yoongi?” Nara, your sister, asked your mother just behind you when he got position and greeted everyone.

“Yeah. Why he wouldn't?” Your mom responded a bit confused. You could hear her smile.

“I think you all were joking when you told me he was on BTS, for real. It doesn’t look at all like the Yoongi I knew.” You hear a laugh, a gentile one, and then your other brother making fun of her behind. Your dad scolds them.

Now, you take advantage of the moment to take a better look at him.

You wanted to blame it on the fact that your sister was only nine when she met Yoongi, and every time he appeared on TV or in videos she was told it was him, she just couldn't believe it. You just hoped those were her blurry memories of him, because you couldn't see him too differently from how you remembered it.

Maybe his hair was longer, he was paler, taller, his back had grown considerably, and he had that special glow that any celebrity would have. He looked like an entire adult now, too. He wore expensive clothes and good shoes, although he didn't seem to have put any effort into his hair, or his appearance in general, he looked incredibly unreal, so much that it makes you angry.

If you thought about it enough, and if you didn't know it was him, you would’ve struggled to recognize him too. You often saw him in magazines, posters, on buildings in Busan, on train pamphlets, on your cell phone and even in medicine, but seeing him in person was overwhelming. It was like seeing a stranger you already knew, but better yet, he was there, but at the same time he wasn't.

You take a deep breath when you realize that, despite all those things, his features were still just as soft and delicate, just like his mother's.

His knuckles still turned red without much effort, and he smiled the same way, making that slight pout with his lips before crying, trying to contain it, and he wiped the tears carelessly. You found your Yoongi in the one you were looking at right now, with little things, with gestures, with details that you used to admire more than necessary, they were still there.

and it made you feel nauseous.

You blinked a few times, snapping out of your trance as everyone applauded, and realized you hadn't heard a single word. He had even cried, and you didn't know why. You saw Jae stand up as he was called to take position on the small stage, and a much louder round of applause made you jump lightly. They came from behind, just that young section that assumed they were friends of both. There were a lot of people, and it didn't surprise you that Seun was already fooling around on his way to the small stage there.

“How are you feeling, blossom?"

Your father asked, taking advantage of the fact that you turned around to look at the crowd and that your brother was not there. They were both looking at you, and the rest of your brothers were talking among themselves.

“I'm okay.” It wasn't necessarily a lie. You felt just as bad as you do every day. Besides, you knew that they were referring to something more specific (Min Yoongi) than to your general emotional state, so you smiled slightly, closed, and placed your hand on your mother's, who was on your arm. “I’m good; don’t worry.”

As you predicted, Seun's speech was so unserious and absurd that it's not worth dwelling on. For some reason, everyone was laughing with him, he had livened up the atmosphere and unintentionally infected everyone with joy.

He soon returned to his seat and sat still with applause in the background. You couldn't believe it.

“I don’t get why he’s still your friend.”

“We’re in love, sister.” He asure. “This wedding is for three people. They will never get rid of me.”

“Shut up.”

“Now.” The good-looking man says “Briefly before eating and doing fun things, we have one more person who wants to wish you both the best, of course.”

You can see Eun’s confused look at her husband now, and he quickly grabs her hand. Your heart was ricing, you felt your mother's hand on your shoulder.

“Park ___, please."

Eun almost jumped from her seat, looking around, looking for you. You also saw someone else look for you in the crowd when you were getting up a little stiff because of your dress. You say sorry to an old woman right in front of you, who you accidentally hit softly because Seun didn’t move at the right moment.

“Oh my god.”

You didn't have time to get halfway down the hall to the front when a large white dress ran towards you to hug you. You smiled at the impact because you were a little taken aback by how strong it came and how big her dress was. You smiled when you already had her in your arms.

“You have been here all this time?”

“Of carouse.”

“Oh my god, thank you…” she softly says, hugging you even harder.

“I wouldn’t miss the happiest moment of your life.”

Because it had cost you, but you had arrived. Was she crying? Thank goodness people were still clapping because of the moving nature of the situation, and they couldn't hear you. You were trying so hard not to cry too.

If you did it, you wouldn't stop.

“I know you-“

“It’s okay.” You stopped her. “I’m okay.”

You squeezed her waist as a signal for you to start moving, and she moved away from you to caress your face lovingly and look at you like... most people have looked at you lately with pity and kissed your forehead.

Pity.

 

She took your hand, and the entire way, you could feel Yoongi's gaze on you. From the moment she hugged you until she kissed you and started leading you forward, like an exhibition, heavy, right next to you. He made you feel small, it was silly.

“Now stop crying; I haven't said anything yet.” You start, with the microphone in your hands, making everybody laugh, the couple too, Jae helping her with the tears. The place was in silence, the lights, the eyes, and the attention were just on you. So you take a deep breath and unfold the paper you’ve got prepared. “I- uh~” a sigh. “I don’t know how people do this without crying, I- okay.” You were nervous, but the place laughed again, so it gave you time to breathe.

“I still remember you both being taller than me, smarter than me, and older than me. I know that deep down all of you were so done of me, right behind there too,” all those people scream from behind, and you laugh. “because I used to talk a lot, and I carry my toys everywhere, so I can show it to all of you, and I made too many questions for people who are starting to be teenagers and want to look cool, but I wasn’t. I didn’t even care, I remember that. I was the pain in the ass that comes with Seun. Just a plus because Seun it’s a bother himself.” The aforementioned rolled his eyes, and you waited for there to be silence so you could continue. “I understand that now, and I just came here to apologize.” 

The atmosphere after the laughter was now a little solemn, and in contrast to your brother, you were capable of poisoning the things you touched, and those who knew you knew that. You could see the newlyweds were a little worried, but you kept smiling, giving them confidence that nothing bad was going to happen. At least that wasn't your intention.

“Sorry for being the impediment for you to go out late at night or for having to return early from wherever we were... I- was with you.” Uh. You try to keep the smile. Shit, “sorry for being so annoying, and sorry for the fact that I didn't care. Because as much as I didn't like being with you sometimes, the best part of my day was watching you eat at my table, or Mrs. Min organizing my birthdays, and everyone coming with gifts that I genuinely liked because you all heard what I was saying even if I was giving you a headache.”

Unintentionally, you met those eyes again from afar, just when you were trying to control that lump in your throat because the worst part was coming, and you didn't know if you were ready. You said the following while still looking at Yoongi, not at you, surprisingly. “I miss it. I really do, and I’m so grateful that I carry all that with me.”

You look at the paper, change the page, and breathe. So you try once “I-“ and twice. “I- um…” a shaking breath sounds everywhere, reading the words, but you just can’t. “Sorry~” you're softly trying to laugh as you cry start, and you feel so stupid for breaking in front of a lot of people. No because it was bad, everybody there cried before you, but not because of the same thing.

“I love you!” You didn’t know who it was, but you smiled and responded with a really quiet and shaking'me too', giving you time to breathe as everybody laughed, and the atmosphere eased.

“Okay.” You say more to yourself, but you have a mic on your mouth, of course. “I didn’t write this part alone. Kija he… he is my twin, so of course he was with me in all of this story, but when he got sick and we were writing this months ago, he told me that I didn’t mention him in all this because it was going to be about me, not him… he’s kinda dumb.” 

You laugh, trying not to tear up. You were holding the next tears, but like, fighting demons and everything to not cry. You, for real, didn’t want to cry in front of all those people. Your voice was obviously trapped in your chest, and it was shaking, but you couldn't do anything but breathe. You just have to be quick. 

“But he told me that he wanted to tell you both that he and I were very proud to have seen you grow together, hate each other together, and deny that you liked each other together and today, for me, seeing you two married means a lot. I adore you two with all my heart. Congratulations, and I know you’re going to do a great job. I'm sure Kija would have done a better job telling him in person, but I'm here for him, so you know. He would- have loved to come, I have no doubt. Be happy, please, and no babies yet; I’m not ready.”

You didn’t remember anything after that, which means two things:

One, you need to calm down because two, you weren’t fine.

You remember the hug, and a few words both of them told you, and all the looks people gave you just after that, full of sadness and compassion (which was the first thing that made you want to run away). And at the party, you dance because you enjoy it, and you feel a little better, but people stop you all the time to give you their condolences because “they didn’t know”.

The cake was cut, the presentation was done, and you could only come back to the moment when you had your first drink of whiskey, and your body told you that it wasn’t a good idea. Your heart was fast in your chest, that would only make it worse with alcohol.

You need to breathe.

 

“Sorry, what?!”

 

You scream behind the music. Some girl named Hwan stopped you. (It came right at the beginning, when Seun was next to you, and you were pretending to listen to how she had recently graduated. Poor girl, honestly, she looks kind and lovely.) with two glasses of tequila and some salt in her hand. 

“My friend!” She said. “I lost him, so take this!”

 And then:

“Hurry! I have to go for more before they run out!” You were too agitated for this. This is a bad idea ___. “c’mon c’mon honey!”

Your hands were tingling, your breathing was short, and you were afraid. You had tried to go to the bathroom, but it was full, and it was even more claustrophobic than all those people. Right next to it, there were some stairs that you assumed went up to the balconies that surrounded the place. You were very grateful that it was high, enough to encapsulate the music on the floor below, and you heard it as if you were listening from a glass.

Or was it you? 

You leaned on the railing and began to sweat. You closed your eyes, trying to calm down little by little, to look for things to think about, to feel something other than fear and anguish at the same time, but it was impossible, completely, and that made you even more desperate. You were breathing as if you had just run for two hours non-stop, and there came a point where your legs couldn't support your body. You couldn't feel your hands, cried a lot, trying to catch air, moaned in terror.

“please please please… stop just-“

You were trying not to faint, you were on the edge of a high place, and it was now dark for those below. It was when you felt like you really couldn't do anything. That you tried to stand back in case your body gave way forward, and it wasn't more dangerous when you felt hands on your stomach directly and the warmth of a body behind you.

A warm feeling that felt like burning on a straight fire

“Easy~ here,” you heard, far away from you, just like the music in a glass. The only thing that told you that he was literally glued to you was his touch. “Can you feel my hand?” You didn't respond, trying to run away. You didn’t want to be touched. “Hey, it’s okay, you’re safe. If you want to feel better, you have to answer me, okay?”

“Hmm” a moan full of pain, was not even an answer.

“Okay?” They asked again. This time you nodded and felt the hand move on your stomach, the fingers more than anything, like playing a piano. Soft, but rough at the same time. “Can you feel it?” Your two hands were placed on his in an attempt to find support; you couldn't feel your legs, and after giving him an affirmative answer with your head, you complained again, your head was about to explode. “Move my hand with your stomach as you breathe.” And you did. Erratic and desperate “That’s good, but try it slower. Focus on moving it, not on breathing.”

“I- I ca-“

"Yes, you can. You do it every day; come on.”

You know, you just didn’t want to be there.

You try your best to move his hand. It was hard because you were sobbing, and trying your best to not think too much. So you closed your eyes, exhausted, and concentrated on the warmth that the stranger was giving you and the hold that, while at first it felt overwhelming and suffocating, now it helped. You felt stronger, even though you were about to faint.

So you moved the hand, and it worked.

“Good~ breathe.”

The air filled your lungs little by little, your head began to quiet, and the music entered your ears at a decent volume considering how far you were from the ground. Your hands were cold, they were shaking, but you could move them, and you still couldn't feel your legs, but you could hear the trembling of your breathing and how your nervous system was trying to regulate itself, blocking your crying in your chest.

You were exhausted, god, you would sleep there if you could.

“Better?”

And then you realize.

 

You know that voice.

 

It was soft, deep, and in your ear. So close that if you turned to see him, both of you would collide. His hands were bigger than they used to be and softer to the touch, pale on your baby blue dress, no scrapes like you used to heal, he’s no longer biting his nails.

‘Shit’

“Don’t touch me.” You said. He tense.

“If I let you go, you will fall. You're not even holding yourself up.”

He was right. And you hate it.

“What are you doing here.”

Your voice sounded agitated, almost like a whisper. You still didn't dare open your eyes; your eyelids were heavy, and the fear of facing him so close made you delirious. Even though you had your back turned to him, you felt him snort.

“God. You’re welcome?” You clung tighter to his hand. It's just that you got dizzy, and he held you when he felt you give way to the left. “I should ask that. You almost passed out on the railing, idiot, that's… fucked up.”

He calls you an idiot? You were too weak to call him something worse.

So you only say "sorry." Instead, letting him go finally, and you tried to stand up by yourself, but you wobbled

“Okay, okay, please don’t. I’m gonna…” His hands took place on your hips to guide you to some chairs in the corner, which you didn't see at first, of course. You weren't sure if his touch hurt more now that you were more conscious or before, when you were overstimulated. Felt the same, honestly. “Be careful, they look old.” You walked as he commanded, and once you sat down, you heard him say something you couldn't decipher. You finally opened your eyes to ask, but there was no sign of anyone.

Sighing, you rested your head in your hands and closed your eyes again. You didn't know if you were still dizzy and weak or if you felt that way because you were already drunk. They both make sense to you.

You heard noise after a few seconds and looked up. Finally, Yoongi's silhouette appeared in the hallway, he had things in his hands, and he was looking at the glass of water, concentrating so that nothing would fall on the floor.

“I’m definitely too drunk for this.”

This can't be happening to you. Could not.

“I put ice on it, so you can chew. It will help.”

His voice sounded unfriendly to what he was saying. Not angry or indifferent, but rather nervous and tense, as if he were speaking by opening his mouth a little, trying to make you believe that it was no a big deal, as always, but his nervousness didn't allow him to fool you. You raised your eyes to look at his, and he turned them away once you brought them together. You tried to hide a smile as you received the glass. Of course, he couldn't look you in the eyes. He cleared his throat, finally watching you receive the water, trembling in your hold. He tries to hold it from below in case you drop it.

You took a sip.

“Your makeup is smudged.”

Of course. You must have been looking stupid.

“What is that?"

He was offering you something, like toilet paper, but softer on a package. You couldn't see very well, it was just white.

“I’m not really sure.” He confesses. “I take them from the bathroom. They’re damp.”

You touch it with two of your fingers, just to not be rude, honestly.

“Thanks, but I can’t really see myself here.” There was no mirror, and if there was, it was dark. The only lights there were those on the dance floor, which were colored and did not shine directly on the place you two were having this... moment. “I don’t really care though, I’m living soon anyway”

He didn't insist, putting the package in his pocket. You maintained a silence that would have been more awkward if the music downstairs wasn't on, and if you didn't have anything to chew at that moment. Neither of you dared to look at each other, or start a conversation because it wasn't even enough for something cordial. You didn't have the strength to get up and run away, but just when you were going to tell him that you were okay, and he could leave, he took something out of his pocket.

Now you are invested.

“You mind if I smoke?”

You looked at him from there, taking time to process the information. You shook your head slightly, maybe even confused, but there was no point in being.

“Can you even smoke here?”

The place was big but closed, you didn't know if it was allowed.

“I doubt it.”

“Since when do you smoke?” You dared to ask.

“I don’t.”

No, because he hates the smell. His mother has smoked since ever. Yoongi hates that the smell gets stuck in everything and everywhere. No matter how much his mother smoked outside the house, he always ended up with his school clothes smelling like cigarettes. It was inevitable. He always complained.

There you were watching him right now, right in profile, blowing smoke from his cigarette as if he did it every day, even though he said he doesn't. Arms resting on the railing, well-dressed, looking anywhere but at you.

You wanted to stop assuming that this Yoongi was the same one who had left years ago. Because you didn't know, you were both two completely new people, total strangers who knew nothing about each other, yet, you wanted to think that, if that were the case, he would have already left. He usually walks away from what he doesn't care about or doesn't like, that's what he did with you when he left, because that's how you felt. It was nice to believe that he was now there himself because he wanted to be, but it didn't help you to think about it, not now. Just because he was there didn't mean he was back in your life, and as silly as it sounded, your brain didn't understand that. It was your job to stop him from believing something like that.

You chew ice.

“I don’t want to ruin the party for you. Go ahead.” Your voice is still dumb. He was watching the people dancing from there, now he was looking at you, smoking the cigarette between his fingers without understanding what you meant. “I’m feeling better, you can go.”

“Okay.” He directed his body directly towards you. Unintentionally intimidating. “Do you want me to go?”

His presence made you anxious.

“Yes. But if I’m honest, I don’t really want to be alone right now.” He hums. “But I have seven siblings, and all of them are downstairs right now. I can call any of them.”

“They will scold you for not saying anything and me for not seeking help.”

“I know.” He looked at you, quietly. “I just don’t want to... keep you here. Have some fun.”

He shook his head, looking away.

“It’s okay. I was here first, drinking. Then you came. You scared me.”

You blink a few times. “You’ve spent all the night in here?”

“Most of it.” You followed his eyes down on the first floor, full of people. You could see everything from there. If you focused on one person, you could easily track them. “Enough to watch you dance and get drunk.”

“Creep.” He smiles a little.

“That’s why I wasn’t sure it was you. I went to get my whiskey, and I swear I saw you two minutes before taking a shot of tequila. I thought you were just drunk.”

You frowned, settling into the couch. You felt genuinely bad.

“Now I’m scared. For real.”

“Not intentional. I can literally watch my brother kiss Eun from here every five minutes, even if I don’t want to.” Yoongi plays with his ice, then drinks the rest in one go.

You gulped.

Thinking about it more was counterproductive for your mental health, you knew it, you understood it, it was practically self-sabotage, but right now, you gave yourself perhaps ten seconds to admire the beauty that Min Yoongi carried all by himself.

He looked so different, and everything that had changed elevated his beauty to places... god. You had met at a very young age too, in years, you could also say that you had changed enough to be mentioned at some point by a family member who hadn't seen you in a while, for example. You are an adult now, but it was impressive.

To think that you stopped seeing Yoongi right when he was being built into an idol says a lot. Everything about him looked expensive and well cared for, his soft hair, smooth skin, long eyelashes, immaculate hands, as if they were not obliged to do anything that would harm them. How his throat moved as the drink passed into his system, the lack of reaction of his features despite being strong, and having drunk almost half of the short glass.

The feeling that rose to your stomach made you come back, and from well-being, it turned into discomfort in your chest. He was there, he looked so attractive, and you couldn't do anything.

You couldn’t hug him, tell him how much you missed him and hit him nonstop because even when you’re still so into him, you were hurt too, and this situation was so out of your hands.

“I’d liked your speech. It was good.”

You wanted to tell him that you hadn't done it alone, but why would you do that? You didn't answer.

“You’re still writing?”

This time, you denied it almost instinctively. The truth is, you didn't want to give additional information to, in a way, a stranger, but you had already screwed up. “No. A long time ago I-“ stopped when you left, but of course you kept quiet.

When it was about Yoongi and whether you thought about the young you who loved that person in front of you so much and how dependent you were on someone who didn't care how you felt, it made you feel so stupid. And it didn't really make sense because you were young and inexperienced, and you had an important bond, so of course you will be hurt, you had more compassion than resentment. But still,

“-just don’t do it anymore.”

You didn't want to feel that weak again. He nodded.

“Why haven't you left if you don't want to be here?” You changed the topic. You weren't looking at him, but you felt his attention return to you, and he responded with his silence, then you looked up, and he avoided you again. “You're still not a party guy?” He didn't respond again, knowing that you knew the answer, so you smiled. “Yeah, you weren't either back then.” You say that just for yourself.

“I want to, though. Hyung it’s happy, and I haven't seen my family in a long time. My dad told me he was waiting for my wedding too. I stayed so maybe the event convinced me.”

“Your dad?” He nodded in disbelief as well. “That doesn’t sound like your dad. And also, the event?” A snort left your mouth as he looked at you, nodding. “ I don’t think it’s just about the event, you know?”

“Yeah. He told me that too.”

You laughed this time. You like that men.

“That doesn’t sound like him either.”

“I know.”

You missed Yoongi’s parents. They were so different from yours.

“You were, I remember.”

“What.”

“A party person. I always went with you and watched you dance because I didn't like it. Then we would leave late and buy ice cream at the convenience store downtown because you always craved some.” You nodded, trying to manage the pain that the memory caused you. “I've never seen you cry in one before.”

You played with the ice that was left, because the question was not directly a question, it was more of a mention, perhaps so as not to ignore what just happened. He knew you wouldn't answer and that you shouldn't either. You wrinkled your nose, uncomfortable.

“Where do you learn all of it?”

 

Containment, you meant.

 

“Hm.” He took a second. “These ten years have been interesting.” A laugh, and you try your best again. “I saw a member of our staff do it to Jungkook once, the first time. We were very young, but I’ve never forgotten it in case it happened again. It happened a couple of times after that, so I… know.”

And it's as if the anguish you had come back to you once you touched where his hands were for the first time in 10 years, and you had to close your eyes just because you felt upset. You didn't want to be there, you remembered. Not only because you didn't want to see him, but because you didn't feel well, and you put him over your emotions again.

Fucking hell.

“Your brother it’s looking for you.” You nodded, opening your eyes slightly.

“Of course he is…” you murmured, overwhelmed, trying to stand up. But you were feeling bad again, so you waited a little.

“Do you want me to-“

“No.”

You didn't know why you were so angry all of a sudden. Your heart was beating again, you started to feel warm even though the place was quite cold because of how big it was, and you were actually grateful that they cared about you, but you had spent all those months feeling like a burden to others.

You tried not to cause too many problems, you didn't want that kind of attention, especially after having been living alone, away from your family for so long, to live with them again. You went from making your own food to your mother having to sit next to you so you could eat something. From leaving early to work to not even knowing what time it was. From calling them to tell them good things, to having to pretend to sleep so as not to receive questions you didn't want to answer. You couldn't take care of yourself, it was something that you were having a hard time facing, because you wanted to do it, to be well so as not to be the burden of your family, but the pain you had was still just as big, and heavy, and it enveloped your entire chest. Squeezing. It didn't let you swallow, speak, cry, or breathe.

You were crying again. This time in silence, you didn't care that Yoongi was watching you in silence too, not knowing what to do.

"Where's the… dump thing you bought.”

He reacted a little slowly but quickly, searching for it, taking it out of his jacket pocket. You nodded.

“Can you clean my face, please? I don’t want to look like this when he finds me, and he will if I go to the bathroom right now.”

That one seemed to get him out of somewhere, because it did take him longer to process the information. He was standing with the towels in his hand and blinking, almost like a cat, a confused one. He didn't say anything, and you didn't think you had said anything wrong, so you got scared, and you wondered if maybe you, in fact, said something wrong.

“I can try, though. You don’t-“

“I’ll do it.”

He sits on the coffee table in front of you. You can smell his strong and manly cologne, and if you raised your eyes to his face enough, you could see him up close, closer than you had for many years again. Older, smelling that way, his marked features but you didn't. Of course not.

You close your eyes.

The two of you were silent, and it took you a few minutes to begin to feel the softness with which he ran over your face, the left side of your cheek, extremely light, almost afraid to touch you. You opened your eyes, and he wasn't looking where he was supposed to clean.

He looked at your face, carefully, perhaps making sure it was really you who was in front of him. He stopped his hand when your eyes connected, and it lasted only a few seconds, but you felt so much tension that you even doubted if it was wrong for you to pretend as if you didn't have things to talk about, before having any kind of contact. Whatever it was.

After that, he looked at you with pity.

The last one that night, you decide.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

You were stronger than him when it came to holding a gaze. He has always been the first to escape, which is why your gaze was very intense, heavy, and powerful. You could do it because you felt it was the most honest way to know if someone could handle you.

“Sorry.”

Yoongi had never been able to look at you for more than five seconds.

He resumed his work with the same smoothness. The music returned to your ears, and you returned to your place, to your life, to the now and to how your body was screaming to get out of there. You closed your eyes, chest tight and hands tense, trying to control their shaking.

You have bigger things to cry about right now than this. You had done it for a long time now; you had no more tears to cry for Min Yoongi, no reason to be nervous anymore, and no reason why you couldn't live in peace anymore.

“I’m sorry about Kija.” His voice was smooth, almost lullaby. He sounds nervous too, and just because of that, your response was also automatic. If it had been genuine, you would have had another panic attack right there.

 

“It’s okay.”

 

‘You are grieving. Don't expect anything better. Let us help you’

 

They were all grieving too.

 

“And I’m sorry I wasn’t- I didn’t know.”

There. Was there when you wanted to scream and punch him so hard enough to make him feel guilty.

“What do you mean.” To be honest, it doesn't even surprise you. You sensed it, but you had the small hope that he saw it… at least. “I texted you. Jae- he give me your number. I was waiting for you at his funeral.”

“Y/N…”

“It’s okay.”

 

You said instead. Yoongi looked terrified.

 

“I-“ he cut himself. “…was-“

You take his hand softly, stopping him. “It’s okay, Yoongi.”

“Wait.” One of his hands is on your wrist, preventing you from getting up. You didn't feel good, but you would do anything to get out of there. Still, you sat back down because you didn’t expect it.

“I’m sorry.”

 

Three.

 

The only thing you could hear was your heart beating; everything went quiet, and the words went away, an echo.

“It’s” You were far enough away to miss his scent or to see his new appearance. It was as if he disappeared into the darkness. “okay.”

And it was okay, not because that was exactly how it was, but because it didn't matter. It was okay because it didn't matter if he responded or not, he didn't have to. You were the one who was doing wrong by continuing to trust someone who had already failed you many times, and now you were choosing not to fall for anything sure.

It was okay, because there was no important bond that bonded you two, and allowed you to do bad things where there was nothing good to destroy.

And it was okay, because you simply didn't want to continue having him in front of you, talking about one of the most important people in your life, and seeing how he looked at you with pity. So it was okay.

 

But Yoongi had said sorry three times that day, and he hadn't been able to genuinely fix any of them.

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teaser masterlist two

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