#the actual chapter is so much worse/aff

[kaysdenofchaos]

Battle Scars Prologue, Chapter 3: Speak No Evil

“Are we.. going home?” Don asks.

Casey stops speaking, and the van goes quiet. The moving car whistles in a low hum. A lump forms in Leo’s throat, settling nicely with the pain. Is there even a home left? He thinks for a second before slowly moving his hand over to Donnie’s. Expectedly, the boy quivers at the touch, but gradually, he relaxes his body, acknowledging its familiarity. With a gentle thumb, he rubs Don’s palm and grips it firmly. It’s a subtle gesture, but it speaks the words he cannot.

Yeah. He was going home.

Don takes a breath and grips Leo’s hand back.

All of them.

AU Masterpost

[definitelynotshouting]

xisuma being stressed keeping everything together, scar having to appear happy because no one else is there to cheat them up, tango being there and dealing with it and helping just because he loves Jimmy. sighhh I want to STRANGLE them all they’re sooooo /aff

Oh gods yeah Xisuma is having a time of it. Its not even with keeping everyone together-- technically, thats what Scar is trying to do. But Xisuma is handling the sudden stress of seeing a friend almost die in front of him, and knowing that even though it was a communal decision to kick him out of Hermitcraft, he was still the person who actually did it. That sticks with you. He's also trying to keep the server theyre currently in from collapsing, and recovering from toting five people including himself around in the in-between. Mans is going through it, his head is NOT in the best place even remotely right now

Scar is. My gods Scar is doing his best to keep things working, keep them together, keep everyone from falling apart. He's the glue binding them all right now, the one who organized this mission and got them on board in the first place, and now he's trying to take care of everyone while also taking care of Grian. Honestly shocking that he hasn't visibly cracked yet, but he's good at dissociating his emotions from the tasks he feels he needs to complete. Checklists, checking on people, keeping himself in check... He's reeling from one crisis to the next, and it doesn't help that Grian's unintentional feeding is heightening tensions.

As for Tango.... he's here because of Jimmy, yeah, but Grian was also his friend. He's missed him, and now that he's here, it's really concerning how bad Grian is doing. And Tango is kinda caught in a hard place with that, because this situation has left him floundering. What do you even say to someone you care so much about but whom has also hurt you so deeply??? Emotions are hard; fixing tangible stuff is much more easy. He's trying to keep everything organized like a well-oiled machine, and also keep himself from drowning, all while trying to update an increasingly worried Jimmy on the side. They are all going through it SO HARD right now, and these next few chapters are about to make it ten times worse<3

[estellamiraiauthor]

The Stars May Rise and Fall: The Annotated Re-read (Chapter 23)

Well this one was mostly about a really depressingly heavy conversation.

As always, spoilers under the cut!

So, the two-month jump in time here, from August to October. This was something that took me a long time to decide to do. I tried many times to start a chapter that would pick up right where the last left off, but it was just a situation where nothing much HAPPENED for a couple of in-universe months.

I could have added more fluff here, because the slow development of the relationship is really the only change that IS occurring, but again, I was trying to get a major publisher to buy this so I had to keep it under a certain word count and make sure the plot wasn’t TOO slow. So instead I went with a little domestic montage to show the comfortable little routine they have, and how Teru is taking care of things like cooking and washing wigs while Rei takes care of him by writing and producing the album. I also used this scene to show how Chizuru fits into that dynamic, doing laundry and taking care of Rei’s income from his more mainstream music.

We also get an argument between Rei and Chizuru. I sort of wish I’d gone into this more, but essentially I think she’s annoyed that Rei won’t take better care of himself and thereby sort of creates more work for her. It’s partly genuine concern for him but partly purely selfish—but not really in a bad way. As she’ll tell Teru later in the chapter, she’s ready to move on, but Rei makes it hard by refusing to move on or even accept his situation in a lot of ways. But Chizuru deserves to be able to move on, even if Rei can’t.

THAT SAID, she’s sort of going after the wrong thing here, and I wish I’d made that a little clearer. I think Chizuru sort of has this idea that, in general, DOING something is better than working with the status quo, and so if any new treatment or anything is suggested, she wishes Rei would try it… while I think Rei is both traumatized enough by hospitals that he doesn’t want to do anything unless it’s absolutely necessary or guaranteed to help, and also afraid that changing anything might actually result in things getting worse. (This is VERY much one of those areas where Rei is just like me… I really don’t like the idea of doing ANY elective medical procedure or taking medicine that’s not life-saving… like, I’ve never been on the Pill, and I won’t even consider something like LASIK because of the tiny, tiny risk, so obviously anything more serious like the options mentioned here would be an obvious HELL NO from me.)

ANYWAY. Chizuru is concerned that Rei doesn’t really take his pain medication a lot of the time, but I think she’s partly being ignorant. I did a lot of research on chronic pain, and especially on traumatic brachial plexus injuries (which you can Google if you want the depressing details) and in a lot of cases medication doesn’t really work (which Teru sort of acknowledges internally here). And on top of not actually eliminating the pain, you can of course become addicted, and I also think Rei just prefers to have his mind completely clear, to not interfere with his creativity. So while SOME of the things he does are definitely more than a little self-destructive, not taking very strong prescription painkillers that don’t actually work all that well is not actually a terrible choice.

Anyway, Rei makes Chizuru carry their stuff “because she’s so worried about him”… their relationship is super interesting to me and I wish I’d need able to go into it in more detail! Feel free to explore in fanfic etc. ;)

The next important scene is during the break at rehearsal, when Teru invites Rei to have lunch with the band, but of course he refuses, so Teru goes to buy him something to eat and Seika, the only one who can see what’s going on here, tells him that he really does need to tell Minori, even though he shouldn’t have to come out on anyone’s timeline but his own, because his relationship IS affecting the band at this point.

Seika says “sleeping with”—which is the norm to HIM, an allosexual gay man. But Teru and Rei ARENT having sex, and I really wish I’d made the ace-spectrum stuff more clear because some reviewers have seemed to think that it’s because of Rei’s disability and I think it’s not? It’s self esteem, partly, which in Rei’s case stems from disability, but also just that… they’re fine at this point with not doing any more than what they are? Some people like to take it slow and that’s ok!

Still, the people who were kind of expecting a steamy romance novel probably collectively lose their shit here. I’m really sorry I called it romance….

Anyway! There’s a little more arguing over Saki’s song and then, after Rei goes to sleep, Teru gets a call from Chizuru. I think at this point, the argument in the morning has kind of reminded her that she is ready to stop being Rei’s platonic life partner or whatever… but she still worries about him living off “alcohol and painkillers and no dinner”. I think she just wants Teru to take over so she doesn’t HAVE to worry, because she does want to know that Rei’s ok. She just doesn’t want to be throne in charge of keeping him that way.

So she asks Teru to meet her, and basically dumps all of Rei’s medical records on him. There’s a lot going on in this scene, and a lot of it kind of hinges on the limitations of modern medicine, which of course harkens back to all of those ignorant “This horribly disfigured character had plastic surgery and now looks completely normal” fanfics. I knew that one of the questions my readers would have was why Rei wouldn’t at least have done as much as he could to try to restore his appearance, and the short answer, provided here by Chizuru, is that really anything less than perfect wouldn’t have been good enough for him. He still wouldn’t look “normal”, so to him there’s no point in being LESS disfigured, unless “less” is “not at all”. Chizuru understands this, I think, but she doesn’t agree with it.

She also offhandedly says that Rei could “hire a chauffeur if he wanted to”, which I think shows that she DOESN’T really understand all of the psychological damage that the accident did. It frustrates her that because SHE has been able to move on after also losing a boyfriend that night, she thinks that Rei should also be able to “get over” certain things… again, even though she probably understands academically at least that it’s not that easy.

The last thing she mentions here as something Rei could do but won’t is amputating his paralyzed arm. This is something that I actually considered for the last couple of chapters, when they meet again after four years apart, but the reason I decided against it is because, again, it isn’t really guaranteed to actually help anything. The pain from that particular injury is essentially phantom pain. The nerves have basically been completely severed, so the pain comes from signals being sent and nothing coming back, so the brain says HOLY FUCK SOMETHING’S REALLY WRONG. Amputating the limb wouldn’t fix those nerves or the phantom pain, so the best it could do is, as Chizuru says, maybe alleviate some neck pain by eliminating dead weight. But I don’t think Rei would see that as a good enough trade-off to losing his arm (and losing any hope of some miracle treatment down the line, which is extremely unlikely, but I do think he has that stubborn little bit of optimism about him as well).

All of that is a very, very short passage in the book, but I thought it was really important to establish both that yes, there were things that Rei COULD do but simply chose not to, but also that there were reasons why, to him, those weren’t good options.

After this, Chizuru talks about her own past. She also lost a boyfriend, Aeternum’s bassist Taka, in the accident, and sort of ended up with Rei as a sort of antagonistic life partner because they were both the only survivors. In Chizuru’s case, she wasn’t even in the car, but went up to Sendai with Taka’s mother and ended up staying. She says that the four who died all had families who came for them, but that no one came for Rei. 

I didn’t really get to go into it at all, but I have a whole backstory for Rei’s family. He grew up in a farming family (which in Japan does NOT mean poor; if you own enough land to farm you’re local royalty), but was the youngest of MANY brothers and while I wouldn’t call Rei “effeminate” necessarily he was more into music and art than physical labor. Since his family had other heirs who were more aligned with what they thought a male child “should” be, he pretty much lost contact with them when he moved to Tokyo on his own at 16. He does HAVE living relatives, but no one who would’ve been contactable at the time.

I also mentioned specifically here that he would’ve been in the hospital for over a year, which I think is important to establish both his extreme dislike of hospitals and how long it’s taken him to re-adjust to “normal” life.

Japanese hospitals treat patients like prisoners and I wouldn’t wish them on anyone.

ANYWAY. There’s a lot packed into this scene I guess, and I’m not sure I did the best job of conveying it all to readers who might not already have the background. I’m really just reminded of how much I love Rei and how writing him is always one giant breath of catharsis.

[ov105]

Best friends, right?

Hello and Merry Christmas everyone! Just thought of something quick for you all after that long while of ironing out Karina.

Though as you’ve noticed, I’ll just continue upkeep of this account to crosspost my work between here in AFF, in hopes of reaching a wider audience.

4,487 words of Luda. 

In case I don't see you: Good afternoon, good evening, and good night! Merry Christmas, and may God bless you all.

Saturday day-off is a clause coated in cookie batter for the newly minted working man, dipped in sugar, and drizzled with honey. Driving up the spiral ramps at the mall parking lot with Luda on the passenger seat at 8:45 in the morning was pretty much an ideal way to catch up on an otherwise quick weekend. Going to the cinema this early was a bit odd, but then being the better man, I can only remain stubborn for so long and not go at all. 

“Wow, nobody here,” I said as I exited right on the top floor. The morning light gave a somewhat expansive view of the near-empty lot, knowing for myself that most of the time it’d have rows upon rows of cars any time of the day - but not this early, save for the few tenants that pulled up much earlier than us. Being a relative opportunist, I decided to forego the big yellow arrows to cut some rows of parking to get a sweet spot on the edge of the lot. 

“Wow, big brain, huh?” Luda said as I made a left turn and cut through diagonally through two rows of unoccupied parking. Before returning with a right turn and stopping at where I intended us to be. 

“Not like they’d care, even at uni, the guard doesn’t give a shit if I pulled this,” I replied, pulling the parking brake up. 

We can’t get out of the car either way, so I just left everything as is as I reclined, leaned forward, reached down to pull a cold lever, and pushed back my seat. Stretching and fishing my phone from my jacket as I laid down lazily. I had been unable to check my notifications as it pinged, again and again, earlier that day while I was eating, in the shower, and dressing up. Only to find out it was some things that I forgot to do and kept on bugging me. It was pretty much a bummer.

“How long do we have to wait?” Luda said, turning the knob and turning it down a notch. 

“Just turn it off,” I said, referring to the radio, “An hour I think? An hour and fifteen minutes to be sure,” I continued, answering her question.

After that, we spent ten or so minutes catching up on what we had missed. It’d only been a year since we graduated, but things always feel different when jumping to a new chapter. There’s that idea of feeling like not sticking in your new environment, but in reality, I probably just don’t know that I’m one of them already - the only catch is I’m still stuck in the past. My friends dearly reminded me of that past. 

It was a slow start, but later on, I was at the same pace we both shared when we talked with each other. It was reminiscent of the school cafeteria, just dropping everything and talking, joking, and talking again. Soon after that yellow brick road, we were back talking about our hobbies; Luda with her postcards and calligraphy, and I with my photography.

"So, when are you going to be my portrait model?” I asked, “You know, I've been looking for someone to practice my shooting skill on,” rubbing my hands around, a bit nervous,  “You can be a nice model, you know."

"I don't know,” Luda said, averting her eyes down, “You know I'm not really that pretty to be a model, nor do I have a supermodel body," she continued.

"Hey, you've always been a cutie. It’d be great to see your eyes smile in my camera roll."

Luda gave a glance, then scoffed at the compliment.

"Fine, as for the body part,” I said, taking a glance to her chest, “I guess you're somewhat right.” 

"Hey! It’s not like you’re big anyway," she replied, coming at her defense.

"Well, I can say yours is true, but there's no way you can tell it for me," I replied, cackling as I enjoy my victory in our little argument.

At least that’s what I thought. Then, a bolt of lightning.

"You sure about that?" Luda said as her arm darted out and ducked between my shorts, quickly grabbing, and worse, squeezing my member with her fingers. Surprised, I swatted her hand away, closing my thighs on instinct.

“Yah!” Missing her hand as she reeled it back. 

“Ah, so I was right after all,” she said.

“Ha?!” I replied with an eyebrow raised and sounding agitated. However, my brain was sifting through whether or not I was to be pissed off, surprised, or aroused.

“I guess we’re equal now, you are not that big either..,” Luda said, as she looked at me with a mischievous face while pinching her finger.

Then the thunder struck.

“But it seems like it is getting bigger.., are you actually having a boner for your best friend?”

Luda's face was as blank as a statue before erupting into awkward laughter.

“Ha! I guess all men are the same!” Luda said.

“Bullshit!” I scoffed, “Well, this is the natural reaction! I can’t control it, plus, you touched where you shouldn’t be touching!” I replied, now growing even more confused by the situation, unsure whether I should get angry or just get over it.

Then lightning struck, the thunder of primal instinct along with it. 

“You know… I’ve always wondered how it’s gonna be like. Can I touch it again?” Luda looked at me with her puppy eyes.

What? That’s all I have in my mind - What did she just say?

“If you’re shy, you can just let me have a look,” Luda kept her gaze at me with a naughty expression as she spoke.

“I’m not shy, but this is a public area,” I stressed as I looked around, “Plus, you sure this is what best friends do?” I replied. 

“I’m not sure that is what best friends should do, but I’m sure,” she said, “I want to touch it again. Please?” Luda asked again, and no, it’s not what friends typically do. 

It is those eyes again, I swear. Those puppy eyes just make me put my guard down.

“Just once,” I said, holding a finger up, “And you’re not going to do this again,” I finally gave in to her unusual request.

“Just relax. I know we’ll both keep quiet,” Luda said, leaning close. I was expecting to have to spend more than I should today, or that maybe we’d go home a while after the mall closes in the evening. I wasn’t expecting to get head from one of my best friends.

Luda's small palm hovered over the slight bulge on my shorts before her long, spindly fingers grabbed my bulge and squeezed me again. Going tighter as my blood slowly tensed my muscles on her grip. Her hands then slid up and unbuttoned me. 

“Ya!?” I asked her, though not acting on her hand this time. She just giggled a bit. 

“I only said touch, not see,” I said

"I just wanted to have some extra fun," Luda replied as she giggled again.

"That's not how friends have fun, and you know we are still in a public area, right?" I said as I held onto her hand.

"Yeah, in between 2 empty cars in a far corner of an unopened mall, what could go wrong, right?" Luda said, a bit sarcastically, as she freed her hand away from mine.

“Fine, fine, I’m not supposed to let you have it, but I guess this is the benefit of being a friend for a decade, just a peek, I’m not expecting you to do anything more stupid than this,” and there I gave in again, for whatever reason that is.

“You know I never expected to see my best friend’s dick, but this feels really fun,” Luda replied as she’s giggling and unzipping my pants like a happy little child that is unwrapping her Christmas present.

“I can’t believe I’m letting you do this too,” I sighed as I’m still in a state of disbelief, looking at my best friend that is now trying to dig my member out of my pants.

And the thunder struck again, like one that came off a grade 5 hurricane.

"Do you remember that you said we might end up together if no one wants us? At this rate, both of us nerds are gonna be single forever," She said as she started to lean closer and closer.

“Why not just let me practice what is bound to happen to us anyway? Luda replied as she stared at me from below.

Feeling uneasy as I feel like she’s gonna do something worse or better, I just stared blankly at her and sighed.

“Are you trying to do what I think you’re going to do?” I said as I got more and more intrigued by the situation.

“I guess best friends think alike?” Luda looked at me and slightly adjusted her specs as if she’s giving out a hint.

“Fine. I wasn’t expecting this, but fine, just do whatever you want to do, at least make a good job out of it,” I spoke my mind. All but a human still with the warmth of her fingers over me, waving my white flag up. 

“Wasn’t expecting to do this on a movie day, but don’t you worry, I’ll help you fix your boner issue,” Luda said with a slightly naughty expression as she took her hands out, pulled down my shorts, and swatted it off as it hung on my shoes. 

Her spindly fingers grabbed my cock again through my boxers, then rubbing the cloth with her palm. Glancing at her, one that caught her eye as she bit her lip. I could feel she was ready to back out, but it was too far for either of us even then. I don’t know why I got hard faster than I thought I would’ve as Luda rubbed her fingers on where my tip was. 

Thinking it was a bit uncomfortable for her to be leaning over from her side just to suck me off, I told her to stop as I pushed my seat the furthest it could go. 

“Get over here. We only have 45 minutes,” I beckoned her. Luda looked around a bit as she moved to my side of the car, giving one last look at her cute face before she’d defile the sight of it forever as she knelt before me. Her hands continued to rub me over my underwear, her fingertips pressing slightly harder as she traced my shaft and closing together as she rubbed my tip. I guess being a calligrapher helped how she hadn’t choked me yet. I was surprised to feel her grabbing my balls and squeezing them a bit. She did her homework, I guess. 

She giggled again, covering her mouth with her hands before she let out what was, by now, the obvious.

“Ah, this is so dirty!” 

I mean, if you’ve been friends for ten years, since the wee days of just starting in high school. After all that time, we’ve seen each other grow as individuals. Add to that, after an ex-boyfriend. It really would be dirty for her to be in front of me and just one pull away from seeing my cock. 

“Fuck it.”

Luda just said, darting her hands into the hem of my boxers and pulled it down. My cock sprung, half-hard, as she grabbed it. Luda quickly began stroking it with a hand as the other crept up on my thigh. It took her wrists a while to get it right, leading me from there, with a girl’s pale white fingers pressing against the brown foreskin, trapping it in with her soft palm as she went along with her hand job. Her thumb kept on sliding up the underside of my tip, which only helped my veins hoist my shaft up with her stroking. 

I could slowly feel my brain turn to mush as Luda's soft hand made quick work of me, making it worse as she switched from her right to left palm. Being a leftie, she instantly ended up being much more in control; her touch felt beautiful. Slowing down as she moved her palm out of the way, keeping her fingers around my cock as she opened her mouth, her tongue emerging between her teeth. 

Luda then stopped stroking, pulled my cock close to her tongue, and licked it, not just once, but twice. Stroking back again as she glanced up, giggling as she looked down, and giving another glance as she stuck her tongue and licked the whole way upward. When my ex would do this, I’d already let out at least a whimper by this time. It was still odd with my best friend giving it to me, but as she repeated the touch of her tongue on my shaft, she was showering that away. 

Twitching once the first time her tongue licked around my tip, she just gave me a look of “I told you so” before throwing back as if to insult me for what my body was telling her.  

“I told you, all men are the same.” 

Luda said as she wrapped her lips around the tip, rounding her tongue around it a few times before a wet smooch followed as she pulled back. It was a sight straight out of an adult video.

“Where did you learn that?” I asked. 

“Ex,” She replied, stroking me a few times. Her tongue was licking upwards. It was clear she was trying to woo me over. Hearing a few giggles here and there as she knew this sudden change of plans was neither on our mental checklists for today. 

“Relax, just relax,” Luda cooed at me as she wrapped her lips around the tip before pushing forward and taking me into her mouth. It was warmth. It was bliss as her tongue slid under, her small lips parted open as an inch-and-a-half was inside her mouth. She slid her fingers through her dark brown hair and kept them down her left side as she went down another inch. 

Luda looked up at me and still had her large specs on, her small mouth enclosed around my cock, and her tongue playing around. When I met her years ago, I couldn’t tell myself that I would’ve wanted this to happen. 

She closed her eyes, then pulled back just to the tip before pushing down, taking an inch or two in as she bobbed around for a bit. She took me off from her mouth as she made herself a ponytail, leaning in and playing around with my tip using her lips as she did. As soon as her hands were off her hair, she quickly dived down, not stopping until I felt my head knock the back of her mouth. Luda furrowed her eyebrows a bit, hearing a gag as her mouth contracted around it. Before pulling back with a gasp, saliva all over her lips as she licked them, a few falling down the side before she caught me by the tip again. 

Making sure I felt at home as she kept her gaze at me, lips sucking around my tip and making me twitch a bit as that electrifying feeling ran through my nerves. Though now, her gaze was very much different. It was less unsure and more seductive. Showing me how she has gained her footing as her tongue licked into my slit, making my jaw drop and my cock throb slightly in her lips. Hearing her giggle before she pushed down again.

Watching as Luda knelt, bobbing her head on my cock, seeing my shaft glisten while listening to her small moans as she became more daring. Always a few inches in, but never taking it deep down her throat. She tried earlier, though now she wanted to prove herself well to her friend - and she was doing it excellently. 

By now, my cock was turning from an ordinary pink to a darker pink shade, aside from how it glistened with her saliva on it. It reflected what I couldn’t tell my best friend; that she was making me feel good. 

Luda moaned as she kept her pace halfway down on my cock. I thought it would be appropriate to return at least half of the pleasure she’s giving now, sitting up a bit with my hand sliding down her collar, fingers searching for the garter of her bra, following it down and sliding my hand into her bra, grabbing hold of one of her soft tits. They were small, but they were still soft. She whimpered a bit as I squeezed it, taking me deeper inside her in return. The feeling of getting sucked deeper made me bite my lip and groan; it just felt too good.

Luda's cheeks and small mouth didn’t struggle too much. Judging from how good and warm she’s making me feel, getting an involuntary throb from my cock a few times. Though now she wanted a bit more as she started getting louder, my nerves feeling the seal of her lips wrap tighter around my base, and even more so around my tip. This forced her to lean forward, and in turn, upward. I was lying down as she made a slight list, still allowing me to reach for her bra. 

Now that the light was able to shine on how Luda's pink tongue made circles, then her lips kissed, took in, and then dived on my cock. A loud slurp followed as she rounded off at the tip of me, hearing a giggle as my legs shook a bit. Flashing that eye smile as she slowly took in all the inches I could give as I slid atop her palate to the back of her mouth. The tension throughout just had my toes curled as she did it again and again, and when she saw how my neck was beginning to sweat bullets because of it, that’s how she carried on. 

“If you’re gonna keep playing around like that, just deepthroat me already,” I told her. 

“As you wish then.”

Luda went up top, her tongue flashing a bit as she rounded my tip, before her lips wrapped around the head as tight as she could and went down to the base. Hearing her gag as it hit and went past the back of her mouth, that feeling of her mouth contracting as the pink tip of my cock went the deepest it could go. Her cute face scrunched up as her throat got tighter and another gag before she reeled back, a huge gasp following as my cock sprung out of her little mouth.

Fuck, Luda mouthed. 

Before the first drip touched my crotch, Luda's lips wrapped around my head and went back down to the base in what was an unpredictable move. She rose back up halfway and pushed herself down again, with a gakt! as her throat gagged, her eyes and nose scrunching too as she got to grips with me being this deep. I thought the worst of it and her making a mess of us before our day has even started. 

Luda then looked up to me as she pulled back; Give it to me. 

Closing her eyes as a series of gags filled the air, each gritter than the last before she stopped and gasped just as I watched her tongue swipe left to right, before leaning in and licking my tip as I throbbed. 

I thought about going harsh on her, living a wild fantasy I only had seen before in porn. As she put her lips around my cock again, my hands got to the back of her head and pushed her down, and for the first time, I thrust my hips up into her throat. A loud gag from Luda followed as her fingers dug into my thighs. I looked down to see my friend; saliva dripping down the sides of her lips, her dark hair looked like a mess, her eyes only said one thing; get on with it.

Putting my fingers where I could get a good grip on Luda's head, I pushed her back against my crotch again. Groaning weakly as I began to fuck her throat. Her hands held onto my thighs as I relished in the feeling of pushing down against the depth she could go, while I was beginning to reach cloud nine as I kept hitting the back of her throat. The struggle being heard in her gags slowly turned from her coping with my tip spearing down her throat, her gags becoming moans as I used her mouth for myself. 

“You like that?” I asked as I pushed her against me, though my grip held her tight as she began to gag on it. Realizing she can’t talk and only giving a muffled response, she just nodded. 

Sitting up a bit as I got a fistful of Luda's hair, she gagged the whole time until I pulled her away from my cock. Wet lips and a thick trail of saliva dripped off her mouth as she held her mouth open.

“You like that?” I repeated.

“Love it. I wished my ex did the same to me too,” Luda replied, moving onto my cock despite the fistful of hair above her head. She wanted it so badly, though, of course, we were still best friends after this. 

She then caught my cock again, her saliva and my precum dripping once or twice from the tip as it throbbed. It still was throbbing as Luda wrapped her lips around it, her tongue playing around my tip before I pushed a little deeper and her tongue laid under my shaft, and once that was done, I forced myself into Luda's mouth. 

The squelching sound came off her lips as I bit my lip. Looking at Luda and reflecting on how she immediately flashed a smile as she got on the passenger seat almost an hour ago, with only a plan to catch up and see a movie. But now, as I looked down again to see the same eyes, with her lips wrapped around the smuttiest part, as I had a fistful of her hair as her cheeks bounced every time I smacked my crotch against her face and down her throat.

Feeling that familiar weight coming on as I edged closer to my release, I had ought to rush it. After all, this was just supposed to be quick. I was locking my legs up as I prepared to blow it down Luda's tight throat. I was pushing her faster against my crotch as her gags got louder and prominent. I was close to sending cum down her throat, and I wasn’t going to have her back out now.

I heard once that “A day with a blowjob from a good friend is always a great day,” and needless to say, I scrubbed it off as some crude porn joke. Though now, with Luda at the mercy of my loins, and how my cock was probably turning red with how fucking good it feels using her throat to let my cum out after a long, busy stint at work, perhaps it is a fact.

Her eye smile disappeared and almost begged me to finish as she forcibly closed them, gagging loudly as I throbbed near uncontrollably down her throat. The grip her throat gave as it contracted, seeking both pleasure and withstanding the pain of her best friend’s dick shoving itself down her throat. I just relished at the sight of her both in the throes of pain and pleasure. She knew that by how my fingers gripped her hair tight, and my shaft throbbing down her neck. 

“Fuck, Luda,” was all I could say as that final throb came, and the surge of cum shot out of my tip, the first, weak shot, followed by the thick spurts of hot semen that left my loins and shot down into Luda's throat. Feeling myself crumple as I bit my lip and moaned behind it. My cock twitched as I moved and let out another spurt of cum as it slid back from her tight throat, now splattered white and trickling with cum after I just blasted all over it. 

Letting go of her hair, and as soon as it hit her shoulders, Luda quickly pulled back; my cock plopped out of her mouth, dripping from all that saliva and cum it just let out. She just gasped, swallowing her saliva as her fingers rubbed her neck, wiping her lips with her wrist, before showing her tongue out with whatever cum she could bring up. She just giggled as she pulled herself back and reached for her purse.

“Fuck, that was something,” Luda said as she wiped her lips with the tissues she had in her bag.

Now I was vulnerable, and our day hasn’t even started. Luda just remained there, knelt before my now limp cock and cleaning herself. Only then, as she dabbed the tissue down her neck, clearing away whatever precum and saliva dripped down that, I knew I’d done her well. 

Sliding a finger and flicking my cock, playing with it, though, in honesty, I was surprised that it wasn’t even my girlfriend who gave that, but one of the last persons on my list to make that move, less ask for it themselves. Luda just chuckled as I looked in awe at my own. 

“Too bad I can’t clean that up for you. No worries, it’s all down my throat anyway.” 

“Whatever,” I just replied. Both of us quickly molted back to being friends. Even after she had just sucked her best friend’s dick, and mind you, with par excellence, it wouldn’t change anything for us. It was just some fun banter that turned sexual, and now that’ll remain a truly closeted moment for us. We wouldn’t even have gathered an ounce of the gut, let alone think of it, and to ask this lewd favor just a few years ago. 

“Do you think anybody saw us?” Luda said as she jumped back to her seat. 

“It was none of their business,” I said, laughing, “They should’ve just wished it was them instead,” I continued, smirking. 

“Ah, so you did like it?” Luda asked, although just moments earlier, while I gripped her, it had been obvious, “Besides, that’s the first time I got deepthroated, so thanks?” 

“Yeah, right, my pleasure,” I replied sarcastically. Luda stood her ground and insisted, but I guess she already knew that I didn’t like it - I loved it. 

“So, how long until it opens?” She asked, looking around again before focusing on her phone.

“15 minutes.” 

[tiramisiyu]

【恋与制作人】 MLQC: Chapter 35 “The Final Answer” Summary

Translation Masterlist

Summarized Chapters: [to be updated]

Spoiler alert: Please note that all content in this post is content that has not yet been released in the global server.

35-1

Rainstorm, lightning, hurricanes, earthquakes…

An increase in extreme weather and natural disasters resulted in a prophecy that started circulating in the dark –

“Two daughters of the world

One will lead towards the light, one will be corrupted from the dark.

The left hand of the angel wields a sword to puncture through all deception and lies.”

Right now, everyone desires to return to a peaceful life, but the footsteps that have stopped still must go forth, until…

The moment “that” draws near.

 --

There’s been an increase in extreme weather and natural disasters for the past month, such that it’s been a long time since the sun has been seen

MC thinks about how Victor has been out of contact for a month

As MC and Kiki wait for Minor to drive up, they witness a tree topple, then a young man uses his Evol to stop it before it hits a kid. The parents of the kid run over to grab their child and look at the Evolver in disgust. Other passersby also say some mean things. 

Apparently, similar things (where people disdain of Evolvers) have been frequent

MC sees that the young man is No.93; he expresses surprise that she’s still alive

Minor drives up, so MC offers to send 93 off, but he says he has elsewhere to be and rushes off. MC notices that he’s desperately clutching onto a black card

--

On the car’s TV, the news host says that the increase in abnormal phenomena is proportionate to the increase in Evolvers

MC wonders about Black Queen’s words, “Soon, you will understand that I am the person who will save this world” and what it means

Minor steps on the brakes, seeing someone suddenly appear in front of the car –

MC thought Shaw was unconscious, but he is able to speak weakly and gives something to MC before passing out again

They take him to the hospital

--

STF and LFG delegations are meeting up, including Gavin and Goldman (who is representing Victor)

Lucien walks in with key researchers from Ultima Bioresearch

Helios appears on the room screen, with several people behind him

 35-3

MC waits outside the emergency room, confirming what Shaw gave her was the original copy of her dad’s notebook

Suddenly, a young man hands a black card to MC, saying that the address on it will get rid of their Evols and that the card is an indication that they were selected. MC remembers that 93 also had that card

There’s the letter “A” on the card, and MC realizes it’s her other self/Black Queen

The emergency door room opens, and the doctor says that the wounds are dealt with and him falling unconscious is due to Evol overuse

MC asks what happened to him; Shaw says it’s not important, and he got the notebook back because he caused her to lose it

Shaw then says there’s no particular secret to the notebook, and in MC’s hands, it’s just a normal notebook

Shaw notices the black card, says it was made by “her”, and it has an attached Evol that affects those who touch it – this makes people believe that Evolvers are responsible for all disasters and they need to get rid of Evols to end the disasters

Shaw’s Evol has been heavily damaged by her, so can’t touch the card

MC guesses that Black Queen’s Evol is de-evolution of Evols, as Shaw confirms – the more de-evolutions she does, the more power she gets, so MC should stop her ASAP

MC asks about what side he’s on –

Shaw: I study archaeology. Aren’t you curious about why? Those who walk through history have no position. Because those who walk will not stop, we will not stand on any side. The only thing I want to do is discover truth, and then push forward the discovery of truth. The moment that walking stops, this means that this world is headed to the end. Though I’ve always had my doubts, now I can somewhat believe that you just might be able to protect this world.

MC: I definitely will!

 35-4

After the hospital, they head to an emergency relief centre for Evolvers with no homes, to drop off supplies 

(After Leto’s disappearance, rather than getting better, things got worse between Evolvers and normal people)

The person in charge thanks MC for her efforts in providing supplies and with Miracle Finder, then asks if she knows what the black card that Evolvers have been getting is, and notes that people who got it have been weird

MC advises the person in charge to have them thrown away if anyone gets another one

--

MC and Minor head to the sanatorium noted on the card; the two are planning to sneak in while disguised

A man dressed in grey suddenly walks out from behind a column, startling both, then takes them inside when MC displays the black card. He says that “she” is here today, so they’re pretty lucky, and that “she” is the world’s savior

MC and Minor’s act involves pretending that Minor is a normal guy whose little sister, MC, suddenly got an Evol

The man takes them to the room with lots of people seeking de-evolution, though MC does not find 93 among them

Suddenly, someone addresses MC and Minor

35-6

The person is Gavin, disguised in casualwear and looking dangerously angry

MC says they’re here for de-evolution; Gavin says that he’s doing the same. MC realizes they have the same target after seeing the black card in Gavin’s hand

Someone comes to take MC and Minor, as it’s they’re turn; Gavin says to let him go first, the person suggests for them to come together. 

MC says to let Minor stay out (since he’s not an Evolver), hinting at him to escape when possible

--

They’re taken to a dark path where “she” is at the end

When MC asks the person why “she” is helping them, he says that “evolution” is just a complete lie and than everyone will soon know that de-evolution is the only way to get the single opportunity to live. MC feels that he’s already lost all reason

MC and Gavin walk hand-in-hand down the dark path, realizing that this path is much too long for the size of the sanatorium

They finally arrive at a wall, carved with some symbols

With the sound of an explosion, a heatwave surges over, lighting up the whole path; Gavin tackles MC down as the corridor collapses

35-7

After the collapsing, the two confirm if either have injuries

They’re completely blocked off on both ends on the path

MC thinks that it’s because her disguising wasn’t complete enough, attracting their suspicions; Gavin says it’s fine, as he came to confirm something and they’re giving him this chance

Using his phone, Gavin realizes that there’s no signal here and… time has stopped

The two search for any places with special characteristics; MC finds a little path with the sound of water

Down the path, they’re blocked again, and Gavin uses his Evol to break it down – behind this wall is a scene of clear skies and a waterfall, which MC recognizes as the waterfall in the north. Gavin confirms that they’ve been taken into this space, though this time there’s no need to leave it around

MC: Can this place be destroyed?

Gavin: Yes. The STF already has a preliminary grasp on the whereabouts of the person behind this, so this place is already useless. Before we make our moves this time, I will not leave them a single path to back out with.

Using his Evol, Gavin destroys that space and they jump down from there to the waterfall scene, the wind carrying them to the ground

They meet up with an STF squad with Eli there, who says their guess was right, which Gavin proceeds to explain

Gavin: Actually, in the past month, more than one “de-evolution points” have appeared in Loveland. These “de-evolution points” have no connection between them and they’re very far apart. The person behind has appeared simultaneously at multiple places. So we theorized that these “de-evolution points” will use some method to lead these people to one location. And the place that’s most likely to be used for this is this place.

MC wonders, if Evols are bringing disaster and since everyone will die at the end, why does she need to bother with Evol de-evolution?

They suddenly get a citywide warning for everyone to be on high alert; soon after, MC feels an earthquake coming on 

 35-9

Leaving behind an STF squad, they rush to the city, hearing that there was an earthquake in the neighbouring city and the shockwaves reached Loveland, causing panic and damaged buildings

MC wonders if all this really is due to Evolvers

Gavin: MC, don’t waver in your judgement. Everyone has the right to live. If they feel fear due to the unknown, you can get rid of the unknown. You’ve always helped more people understand Evolvers, starting from the first episode of Miracle Finder… I don’t know what to do, but if there really is doomsday… I will face it with you.

On the road they’re on, the cars suddenly stop and Gavin heads off to check it, as a throng of people attempt to surround the STF

MC starts recording this, and notices that these people are holding the black cards

STF members can only defend from the crowd, as they can’t actively harm them; Gavin ends up forming a wind barrier to barricade off the throng of people

Using his wind, Gavin pulls the black cards away from the people into the air and cuts them into pieces, making the people regain their senses

Gavin: Evolvers will always exist beside everyone. They have had nothing to do with the disasters in the past, and they will have nothing to do with them from now on. No one has the right to deprive others of fair existence, and attacking Evolvers is as despicable as it gets! The disasters are the enemy that everyone should be confronting, not Evolvers.

Gavin gives the command to STF to prepare to set off, then goes to MC and gives her permission to use her footage

Gavin heads off after MC convinces him that there’s no need to send her back, as both realize that they need to deal with Black Queen ASAP to handle the disasters

35-11

MC and her staff are working on reporting how the disasters affected Evolvers at a plaza where citizens were evacuated to

MC is also getting a ton of notifications from the video she took earlier, with comments in approval of Gavin’s words; the clouds have also dispersed, revealing the moon and stars

Lucien calls; when MC asks about if he knows about what happened with Black Queen, he says that he got a few of the cards, did some analysis on them, and got some clues

Lucien has MC look at the brightest star in the sky, then close her eyes and walk according to his directions

She arrives at a place where there’s a deep crevice between tall buildings. Behind her is Lucien

Lucien: Were you afraid that I was tricking you again?

MC: I don’t think you were tricking me. Plus, even if you tricked me over here, I haven’t suffered any damages.

Lucien: You’re right. Do you trust me this much?

MC: Yes. This is the last time I will answer this question. This time, are you going to tell me to not trust you that much?

Lucien: This time, I won’t. In the future, you must continue to trust me.

Lucien then says that he created this crevice, then pushes MC into it; MC seems to see him mouth “Don’t be scared”

 35-12

After a fall, MC finds herself in Lucien’s arms, finding themselves in an “unfamiliar yet familiar wilderness”

Following Lucien’s gaze, MC then sees Black Queen sitting in a large room within a crevice at their feet, wearing half a mask

MC wants to escape, but Lucien hints to her that he will explain to her soon

In the room, 93 appears, taking out a black card and looking somewhat vacantly, asking for de-evolution, and Black Queen obliges

Lucien: Do you want to stop this?

MC nods

Lucien: What if he truly does want to de-evolve?

MC: He can make his decision when under no external influences, rather than now.

Lucien: MC, right now I need you to cooperate in verifying something.

Lucien suddenly gets very close to MC, making her heart skip a beat

 35-14

A white light comes from MC, and a black whirlpool from Black Queen

MC sees that Black Queen is telling 93 that she’s tired, and he can come tomorrow, and he leaves

Black Queen says that she’s been noticed, and if so, she can’t leave her (presumably MC) for too long, then seems to look at MC in declaration of war

Lucien says that this place is an independent existence, and Black Queen can’t see them

Lucien takes them out of the place, his eyes covering MC’s eyes, and MC is able to see through between his fingers that he pressed his lips to the back of his hand

They return to under the clear starry skies, the crevice gone

Lucien makes a call, saying that “The first test can end now”. When MC asks about this “test” –

Lucien: Do you still remember the space-folding experiment?

MC: But don’t you not have an Evol now?

Lucien: Technology is the best copying power itself. This experiment has been in progress for a long time, and just hasn’t been used before.

MC then expresses concerns about whether Lucien has rested, but Lucien suggests stargazing instead

MC asks if de-evolution is a scam of hers

Lucien: If it’s just de-evolution, then it’s not a scam. But her plan comes entirely from a lie. It’s not to save the world, nor is it to save Evolvers. Because she is your shadow to begin with. The stronger your power, the stronger hers is. Your Evol is “evolution”, while hers is “de-evolution”. After you awakened, changes happened with the relation between you two. 

Lucien: So just now, I did a test to prove that this conclusion is correct. Just now, when your Evol was pushed to the peak by emotion, she momentarily lost the power of de-evolution. [This means] Your power can light up this darkness – more accurately, only you can do this. On one worldline, only one of the same person can exist.

MC realizes that the existence of Black Queen comes from all the worldlines being combined into one, except for a single omitted line

Lucien confirms this, but reminds that it is just his guess, that Black Queen aims to get power to destroy MC and join the two worlds together

MC: How will that affect the world right now?

Lucien: Perhaps it will accelerate the collapse of this world, or perhaps it won’t.

MC decides that she will find Black Queen and end everything

Just when Lucien offers to send MC home, they suddenly hear a clamor far away on the plaza and head over to see

  35-15

Two groups are fighting with a group of children between; one group is complaining that the kids are Evolvers that will bring trouble; the others, Evolvers themselves, say that there’s no reason for Evolvers to not be there and everyone is trying to avoid the disasters

MC and Lucien realize that it’s the orphanage kids and director

MC sees a vacant-eyed man with a black card coming at her when she tries to use a loudspeaker, and decides to use her light attack to disperse the crowd

Lucien blocks her from the man, and notes that it’s about to rain

The crowd continues fighting as Lucien raises his hand

A light gathers at Lucien’s fingertips, dispersing towards the sky

People gradually regain reason under the rain that’s become light droplets, shaking hands and making peace

Lucien: If this were my true Evol, would you like it? This way, you should be able to have a good dream.

MC: Why do you…

Lucien: Because I felt that you needed it.

Lucien: That was a lie. MC, hold out your hand. I just remembered that I have something to give to you.

Lucien hands a little light ball to MC

Lucien: Now, do you hear what I haven’t said aloud?

> I felt it – a strong colour, sweet and warm, with a faint bitterness. Like an autumn cornfield, like a single rose on barren soil, like a rainbow that occupied the entire sky. Unrestrained, unconcealed, and in my hand right now.

  35-17

The camp on the plaza has calmed down

MC flips through her dad’s notebook, remembering what Lucien said before leaving 

Lucien: Since she knows that her weakness has been exposed, she will begin the next step in her actions very soon. But we don’t need to be anxious… The biggest connection between you and her is your pasts. Perhaps someone has told you the answer early on.

MC picks up a call from Shaw

Shaw: Just now, her plan changed. Tomorrow, she’s preparing to become this world’s Queen for real. If only one of you can exist in this world, she’s determined to win.

--

At BS’s old site, Black Queen strokes a grey throne, saying that “It’s time”, looking at a row of 10 people below

Helios: We have already prepared for the coronation of the Black Swan Queen.

[ampleappleamble]

reminder: yall on ao3 real nice, also i love you thank you so much

also i’m gonna go ahead and post chapter 5 here in its entirety too (under a cut, natch) just in case. meanwhile, i’m chopping and screwing screenshots into big huge frankenstein images so i can obsess over canon conversations and lore on the go! some of these screenshots are just pure comedy though. post ‘em later! anyway, here it is in case you missed it:

Chapter 5: Home and Hearth

---

Edér wondered sometimes just how long it would take his hometown to finally die.

It reminded him of this dog he used to know when he was a kid, a sweet old hound dog called Tibbeth. She was the Rask's dog, but the whole town knew her, cared for her, fed her scraps. Everyone loved that dog. By the time Edér was old enough to make lasting memories, she was reaching the end of her breeding years, and she only mellowed out further with each year that passed. He remembered her fondly from his childhood: Tibby making him late for dawn church service because she sat on his feet and wouldn't stop giving him Sad Eyes till he rubbed her tummy. Tibby wandering between two arguing friends and licking herself so ostentatiously that the argument was completely forgotten, ending in peals of laughter instead of fisticuffs.

But as he grew into an adolescent, Tibby grew elderly and decrepit. Her teeth and fur fell out. She limped. Her scat was watery and thin, and she tended to let it fall wherever she stood. Her belly distended, and she started getting mean and lashing out at those who tried to touch her, tried to help her.

He had known there was something growing inside of her that was hurting her, and what was worse, he had known that there was nothing anyone could do to help her. But to Edér, the worst thought of all was that she was still in there under it all. Under all the pain and fear, sweet old Tibby was still in there wanting nothing but belly rubs and bits of ham from your plate. It was the sickness made her snap at you, made her shit all over herself and struggle and scream while you tried to clean her up. Made her scared.

And it was this sickness that made his hometown like this, now. And just like with Tibby, there was nothing he could do to help. No way to excise the tumor. His gaze wandered to the corpse-strewn monster of a tree nearby. Nothing left to do but end it mercifully.

But he hadn't even had it in him to watch as Tibby was put down all those years ago. She had scratched and bitten the Gyrning's baby girl, and even though she was old and half toothless, she did enough damage to scar the child for life. He had run away back then, hiding the tears he had been getting too old to shed so freely anymore.

He sighed heavily, barely squinting against the feeble morning sunlight as he gazed out over the only home he had ever known.

"We're both gettin' too old for this, ain't we?" Edér murmured.

Gilded Vale did not answer him.

The hairs on the back of his neck suddenly stood on end, and he turned slowly, carefully, to look at the tree again. He wasn't alone.

---

The rest of the morning hadn't gone so badly.

She'd suffered a nightmare, she'd explained, and the strange hallucinations she'd told him about before had decided to manifest at the worst possible time: exactly when she had woken up. Hence the... episode she'd had. Understandable, given the circumstances.

Unfortunately, she did still want to go back to that tree. "For closure," she'd pleaded. "It'll only take a moment, I promise you."

They had dressed and packed their meager belongings in awkward silence, making it all the way downstairs to a table with their bowls of tepid porridge in hand before she had spoken up again.

"I'm sorry," she'd stated, stirring the beige mess in her bowl with all the enthusiasm of a prisoner fastening her own noose. "That was probably a... distinctly unpleasant experience for you. And this little detour probably will be, too. ...Please know that I truly appreciate your agreeing to accompany me nonetheless."

She sounded as though she'd been planning this apology all morning, phrasing and rephrasing it in her head until she could strike a palatable balance between being honest with him and maintaining etiquette. Aloth had accepted without hesitation, of course. He had almost apologized to her himself in return, for perhaps having seen... more than she may have wanted a near-stranger to see, but he had thought better of it and remained silent instead. He hadn't wanted to embarrass her by bringing up her strange behavior again. She seemed to appreciate it.

And now he was standing a few paces behind her in the center of town as she stared at a dead woman in a tree.

 They had been standing there for fifteen minutes.

 "She's aff 'er heed, lad."

"Nobody asked you," he sighed through gritted teeth.

---

Axa regarded the new, dark world in which she found herself with fear and wonder. She had expected to see the dead woman, feel a little foolish, and then set off on the road. She had not been expecting this at all.

Caldara de Berranzi's soul looked back at her, smiling a gentle, motherly smile.

"What is this?" She said it, but she didn't, just like in her dream. "What's happened to me?"

And the animancer responded in the same fashion. "Poor thing! You must be so confused. The world is a baffling place, and the world beyond the Shroud even more so. But that world is yours now, too, to bear witness to."

"I don't understand," Axa whimpered. She really, really didn't. She didn't even know if this was really happening.

The dwarven woman's soul smiled sadly at the little orlan, tsked in sympathy. "I know you don't, dear. It's a lot to take in. Here, let me put it this way: Whatever happened to you, it freed your soul from your body, but not all the way. You were pulled into this world--" The dwarf gestured at the swirling morass of essence and void around them-- "the In-Between of Life and Death. But! You must have only been here for an instant. Any longer, and you'd have ended up staying here, like me." Caldara gestured at herself, a bloated corpse dangling from a tree, with a sweet little chuckle.

"Your soul remembers, though. Remembers even after it returns to your body. Remembers how it sees in this world. Souls, their histories, their memories, their paths through the In-Between. All are yours to observe." The animancer nodded sagely.

"You are a Watcher, now," she chirped, "and a Watcher you will stay."

Axa blinked. Watcher. The word from her dream.

 "I... I don't know what that means at all."

Caladara sighed softly. "Oh dear, oh dear. Make yourself comfortable, aimoranet. We have a lot more talking to do."

---

Aloth was starting to feel uneasy.

It had been just over 20 minutes now, and Axa still stood in the same spot, mesmerized by the dead animancer. They were drawing curious stares from townsfolk as they passed by, and he was getting nervous about what might happen-- what might come out of his mouth-- should one of them try to start something.

He glanced around furtively, his open grimoire like a leaden weight in his hands, searching for anything to focus on besides the fact that he'd apparently elected to travel with this woman. A blond man with a pipe, leaning casually against a collapsed wall some distance away, cocked an eyebrow at him. The message was completely unspoken, but easily understood. "Uh, your friend okay there?"

He shot back a look that he hoped said both "Mind your own business, please" and "I have absolutely no idea why she's doing this," somehow.

The man with the pipe shrugged, glanced up at the dead dwarf, then turned away. Aloth took the opportunity to study him a bit further, recognizing him vaguely from his time in town. He'd seen this man around, although not as much in recent weeks. He was vaguely aware of the Vale's day-to-day goings-on, and he seemed to recall seeing less of this particular face around the same time the local lord strung up his latest hapless victim in this gruesome abomination of a tree. Aloth tried to remember exactly who that victim had been...

...before noticing, with a start, that Axa had moved. She'd snapped out of whatever strange fugue state had taken hold of her and she stood before him now, looking for all the world like a child woken prematurely from a nap: confused, angry, morose.

He proceeded extremely cautiously. "Axa? Are you alright?" He leaned a bit closer for privacy's sake. "You seemed... a bit lost, there." For almost half an hour.

Either she didn't notice his attempt at discretion or she didn't care. "According to that dead woman," she blurted, "I'm a Watcher."

He felt his eyebrows leap up to his hairline. "Oh. Well. That... explains a lot, actually."

---

Edér had watched the elf and the orlan the entire time they stood before the tree.

The elf he'd seen around town here and there recently, but he'd never interacted with the man. Of course, he'd heard others talking about him, saying all kinds of things: a haughty foreigner who thinks he can bring his high-falutin' Aedyran ass here and piss on our hospitality. But given the usual kind of horseshit his fellow townsfolk usually spewed these days, he didn't put much merit in what they had to say. At least he tended to mind his own business.

The orlan had just arrived the previous day, and when he saw Raedric's henchman approach her, he'd actually tensed up, preparing for a fight. With everything he'd heard about orlans, he was half expecting her to pull a knife, or maybe even whisper some sort of cipher magic. But instead she'd just shouted at Urgeat, mad as Hel and rightfully so. Edér had been unable to stop himself smiling at the look on the magistrate's pinched-up little asshole of a face.

Then the bell had tolled, and suddenly everyone in town had bigger issues to deal with. She'd looked positively miserable as she'd trudged past him on the way to the Black Hound Inn.

Look at that, he'd thought, watching her plod slowly forward. Practically one of us already.

She'd met his eye for a moment, and he'd raised his pipe to her in a commiserative gesture. "Welcome to our lovely town," he'd quipped. And she had smiled at him in response, even after all that abuse she'd just had to take from Urgeat.

Maybe that was why he'd decided to say something when she passed him again. She didn't look to be in any higher spirits than she had when he'd said something before, but she had smiled at him back then, so what was the worst that could happen this time?

"Seventeen-and-a-half," he called out to her, and grinned. She's a little kith, maybe she'll like this one.

She and the elf turned to him, both of them wearing facial expressions similar to ones they might have had he catcalled them in an especially vulgar manner.

...Off to a great start, Edér thought. Nothing to do but press on.

"Eighteen dependin' on if you count the dwarf woman as a full person or not. ...I think you oughtta."

She approached him then, slowly, scrutinizing him with her eerie slitted pupils, while the elven man followed behind her. "You're saying there are eighteen people hanging in that tree?"

"Last I counted. You mean to tell me you were standin' there that whole time and you wasn't even counting 'em?"

Her cheeks brightened, and she turned to the elf. "Aloth? How long was I-- were we standing there like that?"

The elf, Aloth apparently, winced apologetically at the little woman. "Oh, only about... about twenty minutes. Ish."

The orlan huffed out something between a laugh and a cough. "Only twenty minutes!" She shook her head, grinning, hands on her hips. "Excellent. I was worried I looked like a weird asshole for a minute there."

Edér laughed aloud at last, and held out his hand in greeting. "Edér Teylecg. Although y' may as well just call me Nineteen."

"Axa Mala." He felt soft, fine fur in his hand when she shook it, and with it an extremely confusing mix of emotions. The elf behind her introduced himself as well, as Aloth Corfiser, before she continued. "Nineteen, huh. You mean to say you think you're next?"

Edér smiled sadly, looking up at his friends and neighbors in the tree. "May as well be. Eighteen's my former captain in the war. Was my headman on the farm till Raedric put 'im up there for darin' to stand up for us. For me." He squinted back down at the little woman, clenching his pipe between his teeth. "Bein' honest though, way you were carryin' on with the magistrate the other day, I can't see you makin' it much further than, oh, 22, 23, tops. You seem like the sort of lady likes t' get involved."

She really did, too. For the first time since they'd started talking, her gaze met his, and the intensity of her bright violet eyes almost made him want to look away. Not quite. But almost.

She had a strange, guarded look on her face as she peered up at him. "Do you know what a Watcher is?"

Edér choked on his pipe smoke. This little gal was full of surprises.

---

"Caed Nua, huh? ...Haven't thought about that old place in a long time. Man such as Maerwald, there might be things I wanna ask him. Don't know why I never thought of that."

Obscured One, you have truly outdone yourself this time, Axa mused, a slow smile spreading across her face. This was what she'd been missing after her expulsion: A mission, a purpose, a destination in life.

I was ready to die, and you gave me this gift: an absolutely insane convoluted nightmare scenario, compelling me to try to make sense of it... and in doing so, requiring me to stay alive. I am truly grateful. She closed one eye, sending her prayer to Wael.

It was remarkable how much better she felt just knowing what was wrong with her, having a name for it. Watcher. The knowledge presented new challenges, certainly, but at least now she knew what she was up against. And she even had a tangible, short-term goal in mind:

 Get to Caed Nua. Find the Watcher, Maerwald.

The blond folk, Edér, scratched his bristly beard while he thought about her offer. But she could tell he'd already made up his mind. This couldn't go any other way. She'd seen him in her dream, alongside Caldara. A clear sign! This was meant to be!

...Okay, maybe she was taking it a bit too far there.

"I dunno about settin' out with a couple of strangers. Strange strangers at that." He glanced at Aloth and grinned apologetically. "No offense, cousin."

"I'll vouch for him," Axa smiled, stretching, preparing for the work ahead of her. "It's me you have to watch out for."

Aloth shrugged. "Either way, you're probably better off out there with us than here, being sized up for a noose by every other neighbor."

"Can't argue with that. Aw, what the Hel. Sure, I'll do some sightseeing with you folks." Edér grinned at the two of them, his broad, ruddy face brightening considerably. "Where's our first stop on this little roadtrip? We're buyin' supplies, I suppose?"

Axa winced, clutching at her sad, barren little coinpurse. "Uh. Listen... About that--"

---

[multishipperlove]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Critical Role (Web Series), Cinderbrush (Web Video) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Jamie Wrenly/Aff Flowers/Cameron Solomon/Sasha Murasaki Characters: Jamie Wrenly, Aff Flowers, Sasha Murasaki, Cameron Solomon Additional Tags: Truth or Dare, Kissing, Mentions of past injury, Childhood Trauma, Nothing explicit but it's discussed, Werewolf Turning, Polyamory Summary:

A game of Truth or Dare causes a distressing realisation for Aff. Luckily, their group is there for them though.

They were all currently spread out on the floor of Jamie's living room, lazily passing a bottle of cheap wine around while a movie ran in the background. None of them were really paying attention to that though, more caught up with each other than anything that was going on around them.

When Aff passed the bottle over to Sasha again, with quite a bit left, she emptied it without a second thought. Cameron gave a low whistle at that. “I thought you didn't roll at parties?” he asked teasingly, as she placed the bottle in the middle of their little circle. So far, she'd been the one who'd had the least alcohol between them. Now, Cam wasn't so sure anymore.

“Well I'm not at a party, am I,” she shot back, and the smile forming on her lips already told them she had a plan. “It's not like I need to keep my guard up when it's just you losers being around.”

“Thanks, we love you too,” Jamie interrupted, quite pleased when his lame comment got a giggle out of Aff at least. Stupidly adorable.

Sasha just rolled her eyes though, not rising to take the bait. “Whatever. Anyway, now that we got this,” saying that, she picked up the bottle again, giving it a slight shake to get their attention, “let's make this evening a little bit more interesting.”

“Not that I'm opposed to it, but do we really need a game of spin the bottle to make out with each other?” Cam asked amused, though he was already more alert, definitely interested. “I kinda thought we were beyond that stage.”

“Let's make it truth or dare then, maybe that makes things more interesting,” she suggested.

Jamie looked sceptic at first, and couldn't help but take a look around the room again. “Fine,” they agreed then. “But if you break anything we can't cover up, you're the one explaining it to my mom.”

“Oh hush, we're not that stupid,” Sasha sighed, before finally turning to Aff, the only one in their group who hadn't voiced an opinion yet.

“Yeah, sure, I'm up for anything,” they agreed quickly, giving the group a smile that seemed slightly tipsy but definitely excited. “I mean, I've never played spin the bottle before, so-”

“How have you never played spin the bottle before?” Cam asked incredulously, before Aff had a chance to start to ramble. “It's like, the game you play as a teen. Or pre-teen, you know, because we were all young at stupid at some point.”

Jamie's sceptical “were?” was easily drowned out in Aff's laughter, which sounded a bit too self-conscious for their friends taste though. “I dunno, I was never really invited to any parties, you know. I just never got the chance, I guess.”They didn't mention that it was mostly because no one wanted to invite the girl who broke her classmate's nose just for calling her that, but the uncomfortable shift in posture was enough to tell everyone that the question had hit a bit too close for comfort.

So before the tension could get awkward, Sasha spoke up again. “Good thing we're here to remedy that then. Would you like to start?”

Aff shrugged at first but then nodded, reaching for the bottle in her hand as they all started to form a proper circle. It felt more exciting than it probably should at their age, as everyone waited with baited breath for the first person to be chosen.

Naturally, it landed on on Cam. Who immediately started waggling his eyebrows at Aff with a suggestive smile. “Dare.”

Aff bit their lip, almost looking nervous if the others couldn't see them fighting a smirk that badly, as they briefly looked between Cam and the others. Jamie groaned. “Oh please, just kiss him already.”

And they did.

As expected, the first few rounds of the game were spend with almost nothing but smooching each other. It was fun, but after a while they actually started to throw in some other challenges as well. Some embarrassing questions here and there, daring each other to take silly photos, or to eat something gross.

When Aff ended up almost tossing their cookies because they insisted on finishing the sandwich that Cam had slapped together (consisting of three different condiments, a thin slice of raw beef, half a marshmallow, three gummy worms, and a spoonful of the mystery leftovers from the fridge), they all finally decided to take a break though.

They ended up in a pile on the couch again, Aff stretched out over Sasha's and Jamie's laps, and their head in Cam's. The boy was trying to make up for the stupid food challenge by running his hands through Aff's hair and gently scratching his nails over their scalp, just the way they liked it.

“If you get food poisoning because of this I'm going to kick your ass,” he muttered, gently flicking Aff's nose when they started to grin again.

“Yeah, I think it's a bit late for that,” Jamie chuckled, while Sasha rolled her eyes again and snuggled closer to them. “But if it gets worse, I can whip something up that should help.”

Aff just shook their head, eyes still gleefully closed as they enjoyed their partners' undivided attention. “Nah, I'm good. Actually, if this is the way you guys react, I might try this more often.”

“I think I'm with Cam on this one,” Sasha spoke up. “You only get to choose truth from now on, and it's your own fault.”

Aff made a disgruntled noise, mostly because it had been their first time being able to play at all and apparently they'd immediately managed to get themselves banned from part of it. But then again. “That's fine, truth is fun,” they muttered eventually, nuzzling a bit closer to Cam again.

“Of course it is, everyone likes talking about themselves,” Jamie said, and surprisingly, it didn't come out as snarky as it could have. “Especially if you give people an excuse to spill their secrets.”

“Well, some secrets,” Sasha interrupted. “Some things you keep to yourself. It's a fun way to start rumours though.”

“Isn't that like, against the rules?”

She chuckled softly and reached over, gently cupping Aff's face for a moment. “Darling, I got so much to teach you.”

Jamie grinned and pressed a kiss to Sasha's temple. “Maybe wait a bit longer before you corrupt them as well, I quite like them like this.”

“Oh, oh no, corrupt me all you want,” Aff said quickly, effectively getting the other's attention again. “I mean, if you want to. It sounds fun.”

The others couldn't help but laugh at that, and it soon turned into a fully blown laughing fit for all four of them, continuously egging each other on and relapsing back into it before anyone had the chance to get themselves under control again. When they did finally calm down again, still letting out the occasional giggle, Cam was the first to speak up again.

“Alright, anyway, does anyone wanna continue playing?” he asked, wiping at his face to get rid of the tear tracks. They hadn't laughed like this in a while, especially not for such a ridiculous reason. Maybe that was the alcohol speaking, though he felt almost sober again by now.

“I would, but I'm also, like, really comfortable right now,” Aff sighed. “Can we do this without moving?” As if to prove their point, they wrapped their arms around Cam's waist, refusing to leave their spot.

Cam chuckled softly. “I guess we could settle on just asking each other weird questions, if that's what you want.” Aff didn't protest at least, and Jamie and Sasha seemed satisfied enough with that solution as well. It was as good a way to pass the time as any, especially when they were all starting to get tired.

“Alright, I'll start,” Sasha said finally, when no one else made any move to do it. “Everyone's first kiss. Go.” Aff and Cam shared a look and started giggling again, and even Jamie had to bite their lip to not join in once more. Sasha looked predictably confused. “What, what did I miss?” she asked.

“Canoe kiss,” Jamie told her, and as understanding dawned on her face, Cameron hit their shoulder in fake outrage.

“You said you wouldn't tell anyone!”

“Not unless offered the right information in return, so don't act surprised,” they chuckled, leaning in a bit to kiss the pout off his face, which worked maybe a little bit too well.

But Sasha interrupted them before they could get lost completely, gently tugging on Jamie's sleeve. “So who was your first kiss then? You didn't answer yet.” Jamie pulled back from Cam again with a sigh, reaching out with one hand though to intertwine their fingers. Cameron appreciated it, gently starting to rub his thumb over the soft skin of the back of their palm.

“Well, this is going to be embarrassing, but- I don't remember,” Jamie told them. At Sasha's unbelieving look, they tried to wave it off. “I know, I know. But there's a reason I have a policy about taking my own products now, at least when I'm working.”

“You really don't remember your first kiss? Isn't that a bit sad?” Aff asked. And if it had been anyone else asking the question, Jamie probably would have taken offence, but they knew that Aff was just like that sometimes. They probably hadn't meant it in a judgemental way.

“Some people would probably profit from not remembering their first kiss, so I'm not too hung up about it,” they admitted with a shrug. “As far as I'm concerned, as long as there is no proof that can be used against me in any way, it doesn't matter. I would much rather focus on who I'm kissing now.”

“That's fair,” Sasha agreed, though she still moved a bit closer and laid an arm around their shoulder. Jamie leaned into it, maybe not needing the comfort but enjoying it anyway. It was really not a huge deal for them, but they were well aware that most people put more significance on this kind of thing.

“So who was yours then?” Cam asked after a few more seconds of silence, looking to Sasha for an answer. “The one who asks has to answer, too. Anything else wouldn't be fair.”

“Fine,” she muttered back, though the blush rising on her cheeks gave away she didn't quite like the new rule. “It was you, doofus.”

“Wait, what?” Cameron thought he'd misheard her at first. “No way, you told me you'd already done it all when we started dating! Didn't you have a thing with Jason once, too?”

“No, I made that up,” she admitted, almost sheepishly. “I didn't want anyone to think I was inexperienced, and Jason certainly didn't mind. It's always been surprisingly easy to get the rumour mill going in my favour, so I figured, why not for that, too?”

“Huh. I guess that makes sense,” Cam muttered, though he was obviously still a bit shaken by the new revelation. “I can't believe I was both yours and Aff's first kiss. That's crazy.”

“Maybe you were Jamie's, too!” Aff piped up, a wide smile on their face. “And neither of you remembers!”

“I could live with that,” Jamie replied immediately, before Cameron could deny it, and prompting another round of laughter. “Sure, let's go with that. Cameron's been my first kiss, then our group is even.”

Cameron shook his head slightly but agreed easily enough. “Sure, that works. Always happy to be of service.”

“And for your sacrifice, you're allowed to choose the next question.”

He wasn't sure if that was actually a reward, but accepted it anyway. After a moment of thinking about  it, he nodded again. “Hmm, alright. What's the worst childhood injury you had?”

It wasn't a question Sasha had expected, but she was the first with an answer. “Oh, easy,” she huffed. “Nothing. Maybe a sprained ankle or something, but my parents never really let me do anything fun, and I spend most of my time inside.”  

“That's tragic,” Jamie replied with a frown. “I think mine would be the time I cut my hand while looking for herbs, because that's the only thing my mother panicked enough about to actually take me to the hospital.”

“Did it need stitches?” Aff asked, sounding maybe a bit more interested than they should have.

“Yeah, a few. But it wasn't as bad as it looked, really. What about you?”

Aff pondered it for a moment as well, and then got a weird look on their face. “I got bitten by a dog once. But does it count if I don't really remember it?”

“If you don't remember it, how do you know it was your worst?” Cam asked, confused.

“My parents have told me about it a lot and I guess I went to therapy for it for a while?”

That definitely made the others pause, and the sudden silence in the room combined with their stares made Aff uncomfortable enough to start squirming. They finally sat up properly again, sitting down on the arm of the couch beside Cam, who quickly reached out to hold their hand.

“I mean, you don't have to tell us if it's like a really bad memory or something,” the boy quickly assured them, feeling bad now for not thinking about something else.

But Aff just shrugged. “Not really? As I said, I don't remember it. It's kind of a funny story, actually, I don't mind telling.”

“Okay, so what happened?” Sasha asked, not able to hide her curiosity now.

“Yeah, so basically,” Aff started, trying their best to tell the story in a way that actually made sense and not start rambling again halfway through. “I think I was like six, maybe seven years old. And back then we lived in a house that had this open backyard that would just lead into the woods, you know, and I do remember that I was there all the time.”

True to their words, they didn't seem to get more agitated or nervous while speaking, but the other three still kept a close eye on their body language as they went on. Cam gently tugged them a bit closer as well, missing the intimacy from just a few minutes ago when Aff had been spread out over their laps.

“Your parents just let you roam the woods by yourself? When you were six?” Sasha asked in disbelief, and before Aff could continue.

“Well, yeah,” they replied. “It wasn't all that big, and I was, like, really small. So if I went back now it would probably seem really small, too. Anyway. So one day I went out after lunch, and apparently I was gone a lot longer than usual. My dad was about to go out looking for me when I finally showed up again, and whenever he tells me about this he still gets really pale when he remembers that part. Because he opened the door and I was just covered in blood.”

Everyone's eyes went wide at that, even Jamie looked shocked behind their red tinted sunglasses. Aff gave a nervous laugh, as if they didn't know how else to react, and quickly continued.

“He said he didn't even ask me what happened, he and mom just packed me in the car and drove me to the hospital. He also said it took me like an hour to start talking again at all, and that I didn't remember anything back then, either. But yeah, I had a bunch of bitemarks on my legs and like, upper torso? And tons of scratches. And most were really shallow, but some have left scars and stuff.”

Cam remembered seeing them, now that they were talking about it. A few white lines and dots criss crossing over most of Aff's back, marks that no one had ever really spoken or asked questions about. They'd had better things to do at summercamp back then. But the scars did resemble old bite marks, he'd just never bothered to think about were they might have come from.

He placed a gentle kiss on their shoulder, just as Sasha spoke up again, still looking concerned. “But, were you okay afterwards? I mean, that must have been a huge thing for you.”

Aff shrugged again, and finally leaned closer to Cam. “Not really? I'm missing a few days there, so all I remember if my mom taking care of the wounds afterwards. Apparently there was a whole police investigation about it too, because at first they weren't sure if maybe my parents had anything to do with the injuries, but the doctors insisted that dog attack was the only thing that made sense.” “Did they search the forest, or do anything else after that?”

“Oh, yeah, but they never found anything. There was a newspaper article and everything, but no one saw anything,” Aff told her. “But some people apparently collected money or something so I could go to therapy for a while? I don't really know the details, you'd have to ask my dad.”

“But you're not scared of dogs now,” Jamie stated, remembering that they'd seen Aff playing with dogs before. And enthusiastically, too, no sign of any fear.

“No, I never way,” Aff confirmed. “But my anger issues got like really really bad after that, so that's why they send me. Not that it helped much.”

The witch looked even more sceptical now, and raised an eyebrow at Aff. “And you've never considered that it might have been something else than a dog?”

“Why?”

God bless them, Jamie thought, but sometimes Aff could be dense as a brick wall. “Babe, you're a literal werewolf. And it's not like that's a trait that runs in your family.”

Aff was quiet for a moment, and then seemed to really process what Jamie was getting at. All they uttered was a very quiet “oh.”

“Yes, oh. That seriously never crossed your mind?” Jamie asked, incredulously, and getting louder as the were talking. “Not even when your anger issues got worse and you started shifting for the first time?”

“Hey, easy,” Cam interrupted, pulling Aff into his lap now and wrapping both arms around their waist to hold them close. “It's not their fault, they don't even remember the attack in the first place.”

Aff was frowning slightly, but felt like Jamie was right. It was weird that they had never put these two things together. They hadn't even really thought about the incident in years though, it had never even crossed their mind. “Well, I dunno,” they mumbled. “It seems kind of obvious now, I mean- I guess it's possible that that's where it came from?”

“Either way, I think it's a bit too late to say anything for certain now,” Sasha said gently, reaching over to lay a hand on their knee as well. “And it's not like it's all that important where it comes from, right? It's just important what you do with it.”

“But- if someone else lost it enough to attack me back then, does that mean that I could do the same to some other kid?” they asked, looking distraught now. Cam turned his head to glare at Jamie, mouthing over Aff's head 'Did you have to say that?'

Jamie gave a helpless shrug, but then focused on Aff again as well, reaching out to cup their face. “Hey, listen. Sasha's right, we can't know for certain that's what it was, and I'm sorry for implying otherwise. Second, if it really was another werewolf attacking you, who said they didn't have it under control? They might as well have done that to you on purpose, we don't know.” Aff clearly didn't like that idea any better, but they didn't look like they were about to go into a panic anymore either, so Jamie continued. “And lastly, beside the fact that you're already actively working on your control of this stuff, you're not alone. You have us, and we're all ready to help if you ever feel like you are loosing it.”

They nodded slowly, making an appreciative little sound when Cam started rubbing their back. “Yeah, yeah you're right,” they finally sighed. “I guess I'm not at that point yet. And-”

Sasha interrupted again. “And you never will be. You're better than that, Aff.”

Cam nodded, hoping that the conflicted look on their face wouldn't stay. They all fell silent again, still huddled up and hoping to comfort Aff however they could, while they themselves were trying to come to terms with the idea of being able to pass this on to someone else if they weren't careful enough. It wasn't a good feeling, but the others being there made it better.

“Okay, no more questions for tonight, huh?” Cam spoke up eventually, keeping his voice gentle. “Does anyone wanna go to bed yet or should we just- I dunno, watch another movie or something?”

“I'm fine with either,” Aff mumbled, admittedly still a bit more subdued than they usually were, but also feeling a little better again. Since no one else showed any preferences either they decided on watching another movie in bed, which was the superior choice in Aff's opinion anyway.

Along with Cam they called dibs on middle spoon, since Jamie's bed was actually the only one to fit all four of them more of less comfortably without them needing to pile two or more mattresses on the floor. They had gone over to doing that when they were all sleeping over at Aff's house instead, which happened more often, but everyone being able to sleep on the same bed for once was nice.

After a while, about halfway through the movie, Sasha and Jamie fell asleep, leaving Cameron and Aff awake by themselves. Cam was still holding on to Aff as well, having pretty much refused to let go since the whole werewolf conversation earlier.

Tucking a strand of their hair back, Cam leaned in a bit closer to whisper. “Hey, you doing okay? You're not still worried about what you said earlier, are you?”

Aff sighed softly and nudged close to him, and in the dim light of the laptop screen still running in front of them Cam could see their concerned expression. “I don't know. Kinda, I guess?” Their bit their lip again, and at first Cam though he's need to keep pushing. But then they continued. “Even if I don't remember the pain or anything, I know that it was a terrible experience for my parents, you know? And it's turned me into a werewolf, which is kind of cool, but also like really fucking scary. I don't wanna do that to anyone.”

“Hmm. You know, Jamie has a ton of books on all kinds of weird stuff, maybe we can find something about werewolves in there,” Cam suggested, actually having been thinking about this for a while. “And maybe we can find something that either makes it easier to keep your cool, or something that makes it impossible for you to pass it on? I mean, that kind of information has got to exist somewhere.”

“You think?” Aff asked, actually sounding hopeful. “That would be nice, yeah. I know it probably sounds stupid now, but I always thought being a werewolf is just something that happens to some people. That it's, like, random.”

“That's still a possibility, don't forget that,” Cam reminded them, closing his eyes now as he was getting more and more tired as well. “My thing was kinda random, right?”

“I don't know if it counts as random if something literally chose you,” Aff chuckled. “But I guess you're right. Or maybe it is a family thing, and it just skipped a few generations or something. That can happen, right?”

“Unlikely,” Cam muttered. “I still think you'd know, in that case. Sasha's thing is a family thing, right? And she knows, even though her parents are shitty and just left her to figure all the stuff out by herself.”

“Huh, I didn't know that,” Aff admitted, making Cam realize once more that they were still, in a sense, “the new kid”. They hadn't known the rest of them for years, like he, Jamie, and Sasha had. And while Aff probably knew some things about him the others didn't, just because of the anger management classes, the other three of them still knew more about each other just due to growing up in the same tiny city. And especially he and Sasha had been sharing secrets with each other way before the other two had joined the picture.

“Yeah, you know what, we should probably talk about that,” he said. “Like, all of us. Where we think our stuff comes from, and what we know for certain. That would probably be a good thing to know.”

“Probably,” Aff agreed, sounding like they were slowly starting to drop off as well.  

“Tomorrow then?” Cam asked.

“Tomorrow,” came the sleepy reply, and it didn't take long after that before the two fell asleep as well, barely remembering to close the laptop before they did so.

[gaylenightingale]

Ever Us--Reflections

Chapter 8  Inuyasha gets frostbite

 Year:  Winter 1546

Prompt:  Inucestlover wonders how Sesshomaru would respond if Inuyasha had a cold.  But it’s cold here now and frostbite seemed the direction my mind wanted to go. Enjoy!

 AN—This chapter takes place in the period of time the dog brothers are married to their human wives.  In “Ever Us—A Slice of Life” chap 11 “A Thorn in the Flesh”  Sesshomaru deals with Inuyasha as he suffers an allergic reaction to stinging nettle.  Currently they are posted on FF/AFF/AO3

  “BRRR!” barked Inuyasha as he stomped the snow off his feet.  As he shook his head he noted he couldn’t actually feel his ears.  He was tired and cold from having carried firewood to every home in the village.

 At the fireplace stirring some herbs for medicine Kagome glanced briefly over her shoulder but did not notice her husband’s ear tips were blue.  

 “Inuyasha, I thought I warned you.  I’m making cold medicine today and you need to be elsewhere or you will smell it.”   She wasn’t looking at him now. This was the point where she needed to be watching the mixture to avoid boiling it.  It needed to cook, not boil.   If it boiled the whole batch would be ruined.

 The Inuhanyou husband took a quick sniff and stepped back one step.

 “Yeh, I heard you woman.   Problem is where to go.   Miroku and Sango are “busy” much like I wish we were.” The eyebrows waggled but the miko didn’t see.  She was too busy making medicine.

 The only verbal response she gave was a huff.

 “Can’t you see I’m concentrating?!” Kagome gritted her teeth so as not to yell.    This wasn’t the first time in their marriage that they had butted heads about making medicine in the house.  Inuyasha claimed that the smell lasted much longer than Kagome knew and she should make it elsewhere.   Kagome’s view was generally about not knowing when people would need it and that it didn’t store well without some fancy long named thing known as a “preservative”.   Typically the conversation ended in a fight, the medication burnt, and both had sad feelings for the day.

 “Look Inuyasha, I can’t fight today.  This batch is for that newborn.   It was hard enough for the poor thing to be born in the worse winter in ages but now I’m sure he had pneumonia and I just don’t want him to die.”

 Her shoulder slouched as she sighed.   The entire time she was dedicated to stirring the heating mixture.  She had not actually looked at her husband.  She finished with this comment.

 “If it bothers you so much build me a workshop, right next to our house and I’ll cook in there.”

 Kagome resumed her concentrated effort on the cooking pot.

 “Very well, Wench!”   Inuyasha stormed out of the house, nose dripping from what he assumed was the change in temperature.  He headed to the forest near Rin’s house.  Maybe Sesshomaru could help him.   He owed Inuyasha.   Maybe he could collect on the debt.  Inuyasha reflected.

 *******

 Several months ago Miroku remarked they needed to be prepared for a rough winter.   Coupled with the draught during the planting season and the poor harvest it also looked like there would be a severe cold winter that year.  Inuyasha, Miroku, and even Sesshomaru had worked together to bring in as much game as possible so the village wouldn’t starve.  Sesshomaru had seen the logic in that.  After all there were limited resources for the local wild life, might as well “thin the herd” so they all could make it through the winter.   That attitude had not gone over well with Rin, who had a tender heart for all animals and believed in the sanctity of all life.   The subsequent discussion had led to Rin and Sesshomaru’s first ever marital spat.   Rin had been so mad she had threatened to move out and had run to Kagome’s house.  After a moment of shock Sesshomaru trailed out of their home after her.

 Inuyasha had been napping in his favorite tree when he smelled Rin’s tears.  Waking quickly he saw Rin run by on the way to his house. Minutes later he witnesses Sesshomaru trailing mindlessly as if in a daze.  Inuyasha jumped down and intercepted his brother.

 “Yo, Bro!”  Inuyasha tried the nonchalant approach.

 Sesshomaru halted his forward motion.  Startled he looked at his red clad brother and tilted his head.

 “Rin yelled at me and then she ran this way.   She was crying.   Why did she yell at me and why was she crying?”   The big dog looked confused.

 “Hey man.   I know that look.   Let’s walk back to your house and we can talk.”   Inuyasha slowly put his hand on Sesshomaru’s elbow and lead him home.  On the way home Inuyasha explained what he understood about human emotions, and the arguments which he understood well.  The rest of the journey and the subsequent time on the front porch he educated his brother on make-up sex.  Sesshomaru was all ears.

 Sango had been gossiping with Kagome when Rin bust into the house, a mess of tears.  Several hours later after Kagome and Sango had spoken gently to her and helped her understand the logic of Sesshomaru’s statement she had returned home to find Inuyasha leaving.  Inuyasha waved and jumped into the trees as he rushed home.   Rin found Sesshomaru sitting on his front porch leisurely leaning his head back appearing as though he had no cares in the world. Rin apologized and the following kiss and sex was earth shaking.

 *******

 Cold and numb Inuyasha ran on toward the smell of his older brother.   The runny nose had frozen on to his nares and his eyes were squeezed tight to see through the falling snow.  Fat snowflakes had caked onto his long eyelashes.  As he ran he would periodically shake his head and rub his nose to rid his face of the frozen icicles.   His anger at his wife kept him fueled on his path to his sibling; however he knew he was nearing the end of his energy.

 Sesshomaru had just returned from a business trip to Castletown to find his home empty.   Rin was out delivering babies.  She had left a signal so Sesshomaru would know.  He had considered searching for her but decided to light a fire first so the home would be warm when they returned.   As he watched the logs catch and started burning Inuyasha stumbled through the door.

 “Sesshomaru?  Can you help me?” Inuyasha asked and then crumpled to the floor as the cold and exhaustion hit.

 “Pup?”  Sesshomaru dashed to his side.  “Inuyasha?  Are you ok?”

 “So cold,” Inuyasha whispered.

 Sesshomaru rolled his younger brother over and studied his face.  Frozen snot, frozen tears, blue ear tips.   The boy needed warmed up!  Sesshomaru removed his brother’s clothes and after placing him near the fire he transformed into a smaller version of himself and curled around the boy so Inuyasha head’s would rest under the big dog’s chin and Inuyasha’s back would be covered by Sesshomaru’s furry chest and belly .

 Inuyasha shivered.  He was so cold.  He was numb.  

 He felt Sesshomaru take off his clothes.   He understood Sesshomaru was moving him to the fire.  Then He could feel warmth roll off his brother.  It was heavenly.  The heat from the fireplace paled in comparison.   Inuyasha trembled as the cold was pushed away.   There was a moment of bliss.  Then suddenly he felt his ears start tingling and burning.    The pain became sharper and then it became stabbing.    Tears welled in the large round orbs.

 “It burns, Sesshomaru! My ears are on fire!  So much pain!”

 Sesshomaru lifted his head from Inuyasha’s and looked.   The color was returning to his ears. They were mottled and puffy looking.

 “Hold still pup.”

 Hesitantly Sesshomaru rolled out his tongue and gently laved the delicate auricles.   The taste of woods and home exploded in his mouth.  

 Inuyasha exhaled a sigh of relief.  

 “Please don’t stop,” the hanyou mumbled.  “That feels good.  It doesn’t hurt now.”

 Sesshomaru wouldn’t dream of stopping.   He had just found a delicious taste and he refused to stop.   The dog demon continued licking the hanyou’s ears for almost thirty minutes.  Periodically he would lick Inuyasha’s face.  He would later say the tear marks annoyed him and the runny nose needed cleaned or it would mess up his fur.  Truthfully it was the most delicious taste he had had since wrestling with his father as a pup.  The great dog purred in contentment, lulling his brother and himself to sleep in front of the fire.

 An hour later Rin quietly entered her home.  She took one look and smiled.

 Her puppy was cuddling with his baby brother.  So cute!   They looked so perfect together.  

 ‘Aw!   They are perfect together!’

 She admired the brothers for a long moment, silently appraising the two men.

 ‘When I die they should be together.’

 Rin silently sighed.  

 ‘Mmm,  Kami, Toga, hear my prayer…Keep weaving these threads of fate.   I’m so excited.  So much planning to do.’

 Rin studied the gorgeous men.

 ‘They aren’t ready to hear my ideas of the future yet.  I just got them talking and Sesshomaru to join us at harvest fest.’

 She regarded them as they breathed slow deep breaths.

 ‘Right now I need to exit and then enter again with more noise so they wake.’

 Rin exited silently.   She stood on the porch for a moment and stomped her feet as if to knock off the snow.   Then raising her voice she called out,   “Sesshomaru?   Are you home?    I’m just getting back from the delivery.   Can’t wait to tell you all about it.   So exciting!”

Rin waited as she heard scurrying of feet then silence and she walked in the home.

 The two men were dressed and sitting across from each other with their sides to the flame.

 “Welcome home Rin.   You have a patient.   My brother managed to get frostbitten ears!”

 Growling Inuyasha snarled, “It’s better than your flea-bitten ones!”

 “HA!  I don’t have fleas!  You have Myoga, not me!”

 And a round of brotherly wrestling began.

 Rin was initially startled but then she noticed the playful manner of the fight.  Covering her mouth she giggled a joyous and happy laugh.

 Both boys stopped and looked at the petite healer still wearing her wet winter gear.   The sound of her laughter brought smiles on their faces and soon they were all laughing too.    Sesshomaru went to her side and assisted her with her coat while Inuyasha made tea for them.  

 Rin checked Inuyasha over and declared he was fine but should stay with them for a while.  

“Refreezing after frost bite is dangerous,” she said, “and could lead to amputation.”  

 Both men opened their eyes wide at that statement but for different reasons.

  Rin regaled them with the events of the delivery.   She noticed both men seemed to follow her every word and actually wondered if they would enjoy delivering babies but then scoffed at herself.  They were just trying to ignore each other.

 ‘Good luck boys.  Ha!   Toga! We have strings of fate to weave. Get to it!’

 She could have sworn she heard a sharp ‘Yes, Ma’am’ but she shook her head and laughed.   ‘I have such a vivid imagination.’

 An hour or two later Kagome knocked on the door.  After a round of greetings Kagome caught Inuyasha’s eye.

 “I just delivered the medicine and left the windows open to clear the house.   It’ll be cold when we get there but the smell should be gone.”

 Rin chirped in.

 “Then have some tea and we’ll eat a meal together.  That’ll make sure the smell is gone.   Plus I want to tell you about the delivery I just did.”

 “Great news!   Mrs. Yama, I hope?   She was so overdue.” Kagome replied excitedly.

 “Oh yeah.   The boy was huge!   I thought I was delivering a three month old,” Rin and Kagome chatted as they prepared the meal.

 Inuyasha turned to Sesshomaru.

 “Umm, Big Brother?”

 “Hmmm?”

 “I actually came this way to see if you would help me build a workshop for Kagome’s medicines.   It smells so bad…”

 “Of course.   What is your plan?”

 Inuyasha’s eyes opened and closed quickly.

 “Well, I was thinking…..”

[bvidzsoo]

Abiding Darkness (I)

 Author: bvidzsoo

 Warning: none yet

 Pairing: Oh Sehun x OC 

 Word count: 3, 888

 Summary:  Belikov Bora is living in Seoul at her grandparents as she had gotten her long awaited scholarship. She’s not new to this world but she’s also not really interested in the famous people of it…so maybe that’s why she gets the shock of her life when a zombie apocalypse begins and she’s stuck with Oh Sehun.

 A/N: First chapter is out after two years, huh. This is an idol AU just so you know, Oh Sehun is himself, and also EXO are all celebrities. The update schedule for this is: I will update once a week, on Wednesday’s so don’t ask for more frequent updates because it won’t happen. If you find this fic on AFF as well, that’s me, my user name is Arfina1 there. All these being said, happy reading and I hope you enjoy!

    There are some people who like taking risks, start new. Well, I am not one of those people, I just prefer laying in my warm bed, reading a book or just staying on social media, doing nothing. I know, I sound just like every other student my age, but despite being a lazy ass I worked my ass hard to achieve where I am now. Aka Seoul, South Korea. Yes, I’m an exchange student, but at the same time not really. You see, I’m half Korean and half Russian, what a combination, isn’t it?

Three months ago, I got my long awaited scholarship to one of the best universities and right now I’m living together with my grandparents, somewhere on the outskirts of Seoul. Even after three months of living here, I still don’t know the city too well and I even got lost last week when I accidentally got off at the wrong bus stop. It was already late, and no matter how safe people assume the streets are, I was still creeped out and had to call my poor, old, grandfather to come and pick me up. Well, he wasn’t too pleased, not that I blame him, it was almost eleven in the night.

“Bora, dress warmly, it’s going to be cold today” Were my grandmother’s first words in the morning when I entered the kitchen, already dressed. No ‘good morning’ or ‘how did you sleep’. Well yeah, my grandparents aren’t the warmest people but they have a good heart and when they heard I got my scholarship they were very happy to offer me a place to stay at. After all, I did visit them every summer, alone or with my parents.

“Okay, I will just grab something to eat” I muttered, half asleep as I slumped in my chair.

“Bora, back always straight” Grandma’s authoritative voice made me internally cringe but I ignored it and flashed her a smile.

“Right, sorry” I mumbled, while chewing some cereals I begged grandpa to buy for me yesterday since I was running out of.

“No mumbling, you are a lady” Grandma’s eyes looked like they were on fire as she narrowed them at me, “And never speak when you have food in your mouth”

I sighed, giving her a ‘really’ look as she continued to glare at me. She’s worse than my mom, and my mom isn’t the softest person either...you can imagine then my father, who’s also a commandant of the Russian Army. He’s a soft man, but only for me and my mother.

“Grandma, I’m leaving” I told her once I was on my feet and she nodded wordlessly, going to the window to look out. I was taking on my boots, secured the red scarf around my neck, as she came into the hallway, eyes watching me.

“Take an umbrella, it might rain” She mumbled and I almost scolded her for it, like she did to me a few minutes ago, would serve her right.

“They didn’t say anything about raining” I shrugged, placing my bag around my shoulders.

“You should listen to me, Bora” Grandma sighed and I flashed her a smile “Grandma knows best”

“Always” I grinned at her and she finally chuckled, for the first time this week.

“Take care” I waved at her cutely as she rolled her eyes and walked up to me.

“I’m supposed to tell you that--and what lady can’t even dress herself up?” I rolled my eyes as she adjusted the collar of my coat before re-doing my scarf.

“Take care” She patted my cheek with a warm smile and I nodded before leaving the warm house, taking off to the bus stop.

And that is how usually a morning of mine is, sometimes grandpa is home too, but most of the time it’s just the two of us in the mornings. Grandpa can never stay still, so he always goes out and finds something to do himself, sometimes he just helps around the neighbors...once he even offered to walk the dogs of a busy businessman and I remember sending mom pictures and how much she laughed at her own father. Even though things were going nicely and smoothly at home, my grandparent’s home actually, school was still stressing me out. My grades dropped a little this month and I’ve been working hard this week to try and bring them back up, because no way I’m going home so early. I’m supposed to stay for a whole year here, and barely three months passed.

There are people who ask me where I’d like to live, Russia or South Korea? My answer is...on a nice island in Greece, where I can have a peaceful life writing and reading. I seemed to be interested in books from a young age and started writing when I was around the age of ten. But my parents were never keen of the idea of me becoming a writer so that’s why we decided if I pursue Psychiatry, they will let me take writing classes in order to develop myself. I’m secretly hoping the book I’m writing now would be a breakthrough for a nice writer career and then I could leave my university and do whatever I always pleased to do. But life isn’t always fair, and unfortunately...some of our dreams stay as dreams.

Usually my brain feels drained after I leave classes and today it seemed like I was feeling just a little bit worse. My head decided to pound in the worst way and I had a slight nausea hitting me every ten minutes.

“Are you okay?” My friend asked concerned when I groaned for the nth time.

“Yeah, don’t worry” I flashed her a smile, but it didn’t quite reach my eyes like usually.

“No, you are not” She rolled her eyes and I just sighed, leaning my head against the cold surface of the bus window, “So then we aren’t getting Bubble Tea anymore…”

“What?” I yelped surprised “We are going there right now, if you still wish to…”

“I do, but you don’t look too well” She muttered, avoiding looking at me.

“I have been feeling like this all day, if I survived classes then I will survive a little stop at the Bubble Tea shop too” I shrugged and she just sighed, continuing to look at me worried.

“Fine, but you will let my brother give you a ride then” She crossed her arms in front of her chest, a determined look on her face.

“Your brother?” I asked surprised. I have never met her brother, I only know he’s a few years younger. She never tells me his name and is actually very secretive of him. Like, I don’t judge her but she could open up a little bit, we’ve been friends for a good two months now. Her name is Park Yoora and I only know her brother has huge ears, which she never fails to make fun of when we get drunk. Last time we got drunk she slipped a little information about her brother, making me quite curious about his life.

She said, “My brother is so busy lately, I haven’t seen him in two months. He’s my little brother and as a noona I should protect him all the time, but his company is over doing them this time”

Honestly, her words were quite confusing and I blamed it more on the alcohol that was making her say such things. Maybe he works at a big company? Something like IT? Who knows, since Yoora refuses to tell me. She’s two years older than me and is majoring in photography. We’ve went sunset hunting by the Han river too many times, I even missed my first classes because of her once.

“Yoora, stop worrying and just give me some medication” I rolled my eyes as we got off the bus and started walking on the busy streets of Seoul, to the Bubble Tea shop. It was a cozy place and we always visited this place since it seemed like Yoora’s brother likes it. When I asked Yoora why we can’t try and visit other places as well?

She said, “Because a good friend of my brother’s loves Bubble Tea and if he says this is the best place, then this is the best place. And we believe him”

“Why do you worship your brother and his friends so much?” I remember I asked her and she only shrugged and quickly changed the topic. Smart of her, she changes topics like it’s her hobby.

“Wait until we get inside, okay?” Yoora scoffed, bringing me back from my thoughts.

“Okay, fine” I sighed, following her inside the warm shop. It was a good feeling to finally be shielded from the cold and harsh wind that seemed to start out of nowhere.

“The usual?” Yoora’s eyebrows rose as she gazed at me and I briefly nodded before going to our usual seat, by the window.

Taking my seat, I took off my bag from my shoulders but decided to leave my coat on as my body started shivering. What a great day to get sick, couldn’t it have waited until the weekend at least? When I could stay in bed?

Yoora was quickly at our table, placing both drinks down when her phone started ringing. Her eyes went wide as she gazed at the caller.

“Chanyeol? Why are you calling? Aren’t you having repetitions?” I looked at her but didn’t register her voice well as my head suddenly got dizzy. I closed my eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath and focused on staying awake.

“Are you sure?” Her worried voice made me open my eyes and I gripped my warm cup of Bubble Mint Tea.

“Chanyeol, I have a friend with me and--” She abruptly stopped speaking as probably this Chanyeol guy interrupted her. Who is he? Perhaps a good friend? Boyfriend? She never said anything about him, maybe she really doesn’t trust me after two months of being friends.

“I’m coming, stop yelling into the phone!” Yoora exclaimed, her brows furrowed as she hang up.

“Bora, I’m really sorry but I have to go” She bit her lower lip and it seemed like guilt crossed her features “You should go home, quickly, okay?”

“Why?” I asked worried as she placed some medicine in my palm.

“Listen to me and just go home. Don’t wait for the bus, call a cab” She patted my shoulder and I have never seen her this worried before. She took her cup and rushed outside as a blue Audi R7 pulled up on the sidewalk. Through the window, I watched her get inside the car as it speed down the street, definitely going over the legal speed.

Sighing, I quickly gulped down the medication with my Bubble Tea and gazed out the window. My eyebrows furrowed as the sky seemed to darken out of nowhere. Grandma was right, I should have taken an umbrella with myself. As I contemplated on listening to Yoora or staying for a little longer, a mother with her little daughter passed by my window. The girl’s long hair was in two pigtails as she was clutching a dark blue dressed doll. Her mother was in a hurry as she pulled her after herself and the girl made eye contact with me as she was being dragged. I flashed her a small smile and she seemed to return it before she disappeared from the window. I sighed and stood up, Yoora’s worried expression flooding my mind. I have never seen her this serious and worried before, and she’s someone that likes to worry about something little and insignificant.

As I took my bag off the chair and flung it on my shoulders, there was a loud thunder outside, making me jump. Oh God, why didn’t I listen to my grandmother this morning? But my eyes furrowed when there was a loud sound in the distance and it seemed to only get louder. It was as if something was exploding. People got curious and started getting closer to the windows but my eyes widened when I spotted the cracks forming in the earth outside and as I opened my mouth to tell them to back away from the windows, it was already too late. The loud sound was just outside our window, something green exploded from the ground and people screamed as the glass shattered, sending shards everywhere. I yelped as I felt a few pierce my skin. What was happening? Was it the gas conducts? Why green then? The mist shouldn’t be green, there is something definitely very wrong here.

I gulped hard, thinking about my grandparents. Poor people, they are probably as scared as I am right now, my heart is beating like crazy. I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself, but then something else happened. The earth felt like it was shaking, from a light shake it turned into a more violent one and I took in a sharp breath of air as the cups started falling from the shelves, shattering against the floor.

“Take shelter everyone!” The girl from the counter shouted loudly as the ground shook violently. I realized this is an earthquake, this is no joke, it’s actually happening. I tried to steady my breathing while I looked around to take shelter somewhere. They always tell you to hide underneath tables so I did that, quickly ran underneath a table, curling up as I started praying, hoping that all this would stop and I would get out of this unscratched. I wish for it to be like that, but my positiveness knows there’s no way I won’t end up unscratched. There was a loud scream coming from beside me and the moment I looked up I realized the ceiling started to fall piece by piece and the last thing I remember is the panic that enveloped me, eyes wide before everything went black.

My whole body felt stiff, one leg numb and my head was thumping violently. With difficulty, I managed to stand up, body seeming to shake a little. I touched my forehead and the red liquid stuck to my finger made me feel dizzy as my legs seemed to get jelly. I quickly gripped what seemed to be a chair. I looked around and almost choked as the bodies around me lay stuck underneath something or simply unconscious. I had to close my eyes for a second and compose myself. I took a deep breath and quickly left the once Bubble Tea shop I so dearly started to like, thanks to Yoora. Yoora, where is she now? Is she okay? What about my grandparents? I need to get to them this instant!

My head still felt light as I stepped through the, now, shattered window. It felt like I was limping as my right thigh ached a little bit, but it might be because of the numbness I felt a few seconds ago. The sky was grey and it seemed as if dust was in the atmosphere, small pieces of ash floating. My eyebrows furrowed as I took in the once busy street of Seoul. Glass, it was everywhere. Everything was covered in shattered glass, cars thrown upside down, lampposts on the ground. It looked horrible, I was afraid to look at the ground, fearing I’d find humans, like inside the Bubble Tea shop. My heart shattered a little bit when the smiling little girl entered my mind, is she still alive? Oh God, what just happened!

I started walking down the road, aimlessly as it was still hard to understand all the things happening. It was too much, my brain couldn’t process everything right now. The worry was eating me alive and for a minute I stopped and took my phone from my pocket, almost surprised that it wasn’t completely shattered. I opened it, but there was no line, I couldn’t call anyone. My throat seemed to gulp down nothing as my mouth went dry, I didn’t even call my parents today. Tears started to form in my eyes when I realized mom would see this in the TV and call dad crying, thinking their only girl must have died. I’m not a strong person, I never watched those movies which portray the end of the world, zombies or aliens that invade Earth, I have no idea what to do.

Distressed, I wiped a tear off my cheek and roughly placed my phone back in my coat pocket. Why do we have phones if in situations like this they are useless!

It wasn’t as cold as before, it seemed like the earth was emitting some sort of warmness, it felt strange. I looked at the ground and it seemed like some light green mist was emitting from the big cracks, something that seemed to stink as I passed a bigger hole, I had to cover my nose. It smelled horrible.

I continued walking down the street, wondering why there was no one besides me. Did they all die? This is too cliche, I can’t be the only one who survived this whole incident. My breathing started getting faster at the idea of being alone in all of this, which I have no idea what it is yet, and my throat seemed to close up on me once again. But the little panic all broke when someone groaned, loudly, underneath a turned car. My eyebrows furrowed as I became completely quiet, even my thoughts, and listened closely. The groan came once again and my eyes widened when I saw the person’s legs twitch.

“Hello?” I called out hopefully, voice trembling. I’m not alone!

“Hello?” I called again when the person didn’t answer me.

“Help” His voice was faint, quite husky. My eyes widened as I rushed towards him, crouching down at his legs.

“I can’t get out, my right thigh is stuck” He huffed, voice steadier than mine and I bit my lip nervously.

“Sir, I--” I chewed on my lips, trying to find a way to lift the car, but I’m a woman, I don’t have the power of a man, “I don’t know how, it’s--the car is too heavy--”

“Not the whole car, just this side, if you could lift it even a little bit...” He hissed as he seemed to pull his left leg more underneath the car.

“Wait a little” I muttered, eyebrows furrowed as I looked around, desperately looking for something to help the man out. Chewing on my bottom lip, my eyes landed on a bigger piece of lamppost that was broken. I quickly rushed towards it.

“Wait, don’t leave me!” The man called out, fear lacing his voice.

“I’m not!” I quickly called out, knowing that he was as scared as I was, “I found something to help you with, hold on for a few minutes”

“Okay--thank you” His raspy voice was breathy and I only nodded, dragging the long stick beside the car. I narrowed my eyes as I tried to find a place where I could place it so that I can lift the car a little bit. Finding the spot underneath the back seat most convenient, I slided it carefully but with difficulty underneath it.

“Okay, I’m going to try and lift it with this stick but I’m really not sure if I can do it. It’s heavy and--”

“Stop ranting and just do it” The man hissed irritated “I’m starting to not feel my leg”

I gasped sharply and furrowed my eyebrows, gripping the stick hard.

“Okay, one..two...three--” I huffed as I pushed with all my strength on the stick but it barely lifted the car. The man hissed as he struggled to pull himself out.

“A little harder, just push it harder!” He called out as I saw the crown of his black head.

“I can’t” I yelped when the stick almost slipped from my hands. Gathering all my force, I quickly sat on the stick and the car made a loud screeching sound and suddenly the man grunted, shimming out from underneath the car. He was breathing hard as he closed his eyes, sprawled out on the dirty ground, his once neat clothes now covered in dirt and ash. I took a deep breath, standing up from the stick and walked around the car.

“Are you okay, sir?” I asked, concern lacing my voice. He hummed, eyes still closed as he steadied his breaths slowly.

“Thank you again” He muttered and I nodded silently, gazing at his slightly familiar face. Where have I seen him before? University maybe?

“Here” I offered my hand to him when he opened his eyes and for a second he hesitated before his calloused hands firmly gripped mine and he rose to his feet.

“And you are welcome” I muttered, pulling my hand away the second he stood on his own legs. But he stumbled and I quickly gripped his arms, steadying him.

“My leg is numb, it’ll go away soon” He muttered as he gripped my arms back, looking around. He was quite tall, I reached his nose with my forehead. His eyes were sharp and really dark, skin white and smooth looking. His lips were a light red, slightly puckering and plump. His nose was pointy and sharp, just like his jaw. He looked almost perfect, if not for the cut on his right cheek. He was extremely handsome and my eyebrows once again furrowed as I realized I have seen him somewhere before, and not just once.

“It’s fine now” He muttered as he abruptly let go of me and I wordlessly nodded. His eyes seemed to fall on me for the first time and I tried to offer him a friendly smile but failed, knowing my eyes were showing fear. His face looked blank, even his eyes held nothing as he continued looking at me.

“Are you a foreigner?” He suddenly asked and I jumped a little bit, the silence around us was deafening.

“Not really” I muttered, consciously glancing down at my ginger hair that hang around my shoulders.

“Are you or are you not?” He asked more firmly, voice demanding. I gulped as I suddenly realized why I know this man. He’s from EXO, one of the most famous kpop bands. Their music is amazingly good and the records they break are also mind blowing. I never took my time in these three months to get deeper into the Korean music, but not knowing about EXO probably would have been a shame. For a reason, I decided to stay silent about it. Lie to him, the distress and sudden fear in his eyes made me feel bad. I’m not a crazy fan if that’s what he’s thinking right now.

“I am, yes, I am a foreigner” I said firmly, surprised how steady I sounded when all I wanted to do was break down and just worry about everything.

“Oh Sehun” He extended his hand, his expression seemingly more peaceful.

“Belikov Bora” I answered while shaking his hand, for a reason suddenly nervous. Was it necessary for an earthquake and for the earth to crack for me to meet someone famous...like Oh Sehun?

~Next part~

[tried-to-write]

We Got Married (but maybe I don’t wanna be)

Pairing: MoonSun

Summary: She did it for the publicity, it was a pretty well known show after all.

or

Yongsun, Byulyi, and Eric through WGM.

Chapter: 2/3 - Moon Byulyi

Links to alternate websites if you don’t like reading on tumblr: AO3 AFF

Yongsun was going to get married to a man, a stranger.

Byulyi had never felt that life was unfair more than she did at that moment.

Sure, it wasn't a real marriage. But it still hurt, the reminder that she would never be the one to stand on the other end of the aisle from the one she loved, her best friend, just for being who she was.

Byulyi felt like she was being torn apart internally, but she also couldn't deny that it was good publicity and decided that she would support Yongsun who had chosen to do it. So she put on the largest grin that she could muster and cheered on her unnie.

The initial few days after Yongsun officially accepted the offer were the hardest. Byulyi couldn't help feeling betrayed, even if she kept telling herself that it was all for business. So, Byulyi withdrew herself from her unnie, not wanting to accidentally hurt her in any way, attaching herself more to the two younger ones instead.

The ever observant maknaes noticed, of course, how dismissive Byulyi was towards their leader. They confronted her one day, after Yongsun had left on her own for a meeting with the managers. They noted her strange behaviour, wondered if their unnies had yet another fight.

Not for the first time, Byulyi considered revealing her (not so) little crush to the two girls. She trusted these girls with her life, had spent a good portion of it with them. In the end, she held back and told them a heavily downplayed version of her story, hiding her romantic feelings behind a veil of platonic friendship.

She hated herself for being such a coward, hated lying to two of her best friends. But, she wasn't even out to them yet, let alone willing to potentially ruin their whole group dynamic. Despite their continuous shows of support for the LGBT community, Byulyi told herself that it wasn't the right time.

The two girls listened and comforted her with sympathetic hugs. They reminded her of the upcoming comeback and encouraged her to make up with Yongsun soon.

She took their concerns and words of advice to heart and the following day, Byulyi greeted her unnie with a hug.

What she had not expected was for Yongsun to pull her in closer and whisper in her ear how much she'd missed her. Byulyi was left sputtering in response, face blazing as the leader giggled amusedly.

This weird behaviour continued on for the rest of the week. Yongsun would suddenly grab her hand or wrap her in a hug. Byulyi was sure that there was something wrong with Yongsun. She couldn't say that she hated it though.

---

Byulyi had to hide her disdain watching the fake couple when she appeared on the show several times to react. She watched as they did things that Yongsun had only done with her before, or things they hadn't, things they planned to do together... And when did they get so casual with hugging and holding hands?

Byulyi had to constantly remind herself that the relationship she was seeing on screen wasn't real. Still, her chest grew tight as she saw the couple get closer.

Byulyi did think that Yongsun looked uncomfortable with all the displays of affection. But then again, how would she know when she'd never seen Yongsun like anyone romantically before?

(Didn't know that she had seen it before, every time they looked into each other’s eyes)

Byulyi answered every question the panel had on Yongsun proudly, not able to hold herself back from showing off how well she knew her unnie. She wanted so much to proclaim how much better she would be with Yongsun instead of that Eric Nam, but knew it was a dumb idea. Instead, she sat there quietly, only laughing and commenting at the appropriate times.

No matter how much Byulyi didn't like it, she could still see that Eric was a good guy. He was treating Yongsun well and all Byulyi wanted to see was her Yongkong being happy, even if it meant supporting the Ddongie couple.

(Even the virtual couple's greeting sounded so much like theirs and Byulyi couldn't help feeling a little possessive)

(“Yongdong Yoondong” would never beat “Yongkong Byulkong” and no she was not jealous) So Byulyi held back on her disdain for the situation and put on a smile as she helped her leader get ready for her dates. She tried not to feel hurt when Yongsun sent her practice videos for her wedding, instead turning it into gratitude that she trusted Byulyi enough for advice. She lied about how cute she found the couple when it was really just Yongsun she focused on each episode. She tried her best to cherish the time they spent together preparing lunch boxes, even if they were for another man.

Through all this, Byulyi hid her resentful feelings, channeling them into song lyrics instead, writing about how worthless she felt.

---

Even when you’re here, it hurts I miss you but what can I do? I don’t want to make it obvious

Afraid you’ll find me pitiful, yeah

I’m so worthless, worthless, yeah

---

Whenever Eric was brought up yet again in press conferences or interviews, Byulyi worked hard to steel her jaw and keep her mouth shut as her leader laughed abashedly. Was their relationship really that interesting? Last time she checked, they were promoting for Mamamoo, not We Got Married.

Byulyi knew she was being petty and unreasonable but she couldn't help her exasperation.

These feelings turned out to be more serious than she had thought and she couldn't help the words that burst from her lips in yet another fight with her unnie.

The fight had started small, arguing over dumb things was a standard in their relationship. But all the pent up frustration and insecurities over Yongsun's relationship with Eric Nam that Byulyi had built up inside of her found it the perfect time to make themselves known. She lashed out at the leader, shouting things she didn't mean and accusing her of things she didn't believe.

And Yongsun shouted back, Byulyi knew she would. The leader would never let herself be accused with false allegations. Then Byulyi was suddenly out the door and finally freeing the tears that had built up behind her eyeballs, the guilt from fighting with her best friend eating at her from the inside. She wanted so badly to just go back in and apologise to the woman, accepting whatever scoldings might await her. But Byulyi was too worked up and heartbroken and maybe a little messed up because she actually didn't want to be on good terms with her unnie at the moment, didn't want to keep pretending that she was okay, and so she left it there and walked off.

An hour later, the door in front of her opened to reveal Wheein who looked questioningly at her as she quietly stepped into the house, eyes rimmed with red and a pack of beer in her hands.

Another hour later, empty beer cans were scattered across the floor among the two women sitting cross-legged.

“Wheein-ie...” Byulyi whined, dragging out her name.

“What do I do...? She definitely hates me now. You should've seen her face, she was so angry. But also hot. So hot . How can anyone look that hot when they're angry? Seriously... I slammed the door on that pretty face! Slammed! On her face! Now I'm angry at myself. Oh man, what if she doesn't want to talk to me anymore after this? Or worse, what if she doesn’t want to see me again? That would be hell...” Byulyi drunkenly rambled, leaning her forehead on Wheein's shoulder

“Wheein-ah, I can't live a life without Yongsun..!” Byulyi wailed in anguish, turning her head to cry into Wheein's neck.

Wheein sighed, bringing a hand up to sympathetically pat the older woman's head. “Get your shit together, Byulie-unnie. You know that she could never hate you, right?”

“You're right, she's too nice for that… And I still hurt that precious sunshine with my stupid words! Wheein, I'm such a terrible person!” Byulyi bawled.

Byulyi suddenly grabbed onto Wheein’s hand, flattening it against her chest. “Do you feel that? There’s nothing, is there? That’s because I’m heartless!”

She promptly let go of Wheein’s hand and burst into tears.

Wheein lifted an eyebrow at the silly display in front of her. After just a brief explanation of what happened, and then close to an hour of overdramatic blabbering about the same thing, her patience was starting to wear thin.

“I think you should just tell her.”

“Tell her what?”

“That you like her.”

Byulyi blanched. It was almost comical how wide her eyes grew and Wheein had to stifle a laugh.

“How- how did you know? Oh my god, Wheein-ah, are you psychic?”

“Um, unnie, it's pretty obvious.” Considering all the flirting, touching, and longing stares. “Hyejin and I have been suspecting it for a long time.”

“But I thought I was hiding it pretty well… I never even told you I was gay. Holy crap, do you think Yongsun can tell too then?” Byulyi started to hyperventilate. “She definitely, definitely hates me now.”

“Unnie, do you seriously think she would judge you for that? Anyway, Hyejin and I are pretty sure she's bisexual.”

“Do you mean that or are you just saying that because I happen to like her?”

“Unnie.”

“Alright, alright, sorry. But this is really bringing my hopes up and my heart is beating unhealthily fast right now.”

Byulyi knocked back a shot of soju and moved to refill her glass, only to realise that the soju bottle was suddenly in Wheein's hands. "You've drunk enough today. It's time to stop," Wheein said as she screwed the bottle cap back on and placed the bottle down an arm's length away. It was just out of reach of the inebriated woman who had too hazy a mind to think to just move to take it. Instead, Byulyi grumbled incoherently before draping herself across Wheein's lap, folding her arms and pouting. Wheein chuckled and gently pushed the woman off onto the floor, standing up and bringing the bottle with her to the kitchen. "No..! Wheein-ie don't leave me..." Byulyi whined. "You can survive the 10 seconds I'm away from you, and I'm like a metre away," Wheein called out, voice muffled by the concrete wall between them. A few seconds later, Wheein emerged carrying a glass of water in each hand. She placed one down in front of Byulyi who was still frowning at being abandoned.

“Come on, unnie. Drink some water.”

“No.”

Wheein sighed. “You'll feel better in the morning.”

“No.”

“Alright, well, I'm going to go sleep now. It's pretty late and we still have practice tomorrow.”

“Okay, and I'll sleep here, in the living room, away from you.”

Wheein had to hold back from slapping herself in disbelief. “Right. I'll wake you up in the morning.”

Before closing the door to her room, Wheein turned back and said, “By the way, I'm sure everything will be fine in the end, especially since it's you two. So don't worry too much about it, ‘kay?”

She gave a dimpled smile and shut the door.

Byulyi stuck her tongue out at the closed door and moved to the couch to finally sleep.

(She was tremendously grateful to Wheein the next morning)

---

It took less than a week of half-hearted perseverance before Byulyi relented, as she usually did whenever Yongsun was involved. She didn’t know how much she had missed the other woman’s embrace until she was finally in Yongsun’s arms again.

---

When Mamamoo was invited to guest star in an episode, Byulyi didn’t miss the worried glances cast at her by Wheein. She mustered a weak grin and a thumbs up that didn’t seem to convince anyone by the look on Wheein's face. But it was still a job, and it still had to be done to the best of their ability.

They got ahold of the Ddongie couple's schedule and planned their surprise visit behind their clueless leader's back. They thought of ways to get the couple closer and came up with games, already scheming their winning strategies. They loved to see their unnie put in uncomfortable situations.

She didn't expect how much harder it would be in real life. Watching them get along in person hit her hard in the chest

Byulyi volunteered to be the game referee, unsure if she would actually let herself beat the couple if she were a part of the games. Her mind went blank when she saw Eric place his lips on Yongsun's cheek. Reminding herself that there were cameras filming, she forced herself to smile and cheer for the couple.

She thought she could win an award for her acting.

It felt almost difficult to leave the place, knowing that she would be leaving Yongsun to sleep together with another man. Sure, there was cameras everywhere so there was almost no chance of anything happening and she had nothing to worry about. But Byulyi still felt uneasy, missed the nights she spent huddled under the covers beside the older woman. Their schedules had been packed and while they saw each other almost every day, there was less time for simply hanging out, just the two of them.

It must have hurt her more than she'd thought it did because she started tearing up soon after they returned to the RBW building. She didn't even realise it at first, not until cries of “Byulie unnie! Are you okay?” reached her ears and brought her back to reality. She noticed first the worried looks of the people around her, then the ever familiar feeling of tears trickling down her cheeks.

Their manager was at a loss on how to react and, after making sure she was not needed, left to give her some time alone with her teammates who were much better at calming her down.

Tears kept spilling uncontrollably from her eyes no matter how much she tried to hold them back which was frustrating her to no end and only served to produce more tears. Her teammates embraced her as she sat on the floor and wept and she clung onto them like they were her lifeline. They stayed in that position till her cries reduced to just the occasional sob.

Byulyi was embarrassed by her breakdown. She didn't like crying in front of others, felt that it made her seem weak, vulnerable. But she knew her members loved her and would never judge her for it. She had restrained herself from showing anyone how upset she was at the situation, tucking away her feelings because she knew they would just be a burden. It was kind of relieving to finally let it all out.

“Unnie, are you feeling better?”

“Yeah I- ” Byulyi paused to sniffle. “I think so.”

“I'm so sorry, I didn't think that you were that affected by them,” Hyejin said, arms going around Byulyi again in another hug.

“It's fine, I didn't think so either.”

“Still, I should have known…”

“You couldn't have known, it's not your fault. If anything, it's mine,” Byulyi let out a hollow laugh. “I thought that if I saw them together, saw how happy he made her... Then maybe I could get over my feelings.”

A wry smile briefly appeared on her face before she continued, “But it didn't work. And now I'm disappointed in myself for being so selfish that I couldn't just be happy for her.”

There was a moment of silence in the room before Hyejin raised an eyebrow. She lifted a hand to knock Byulyi on the head. “Unnie, that's gotta be the most stupid idea I have ever heard from you, and I've heard a lot!”

Byulyi frowned at her junior and rubbed the stinging spot on her head. “Hyejin, that's not helping,” she grumbled.

“She's right though, unnie. And it's just as dumb that you think that you're selfish for not wanting to see the person you like being romantic with someone else,” Wheein chipped in.

Byulyi blinked at her two friends before finally sighing.

“Alright, alright,” Byulyi raised both her arms in surrender. “I got it. I don't need you two to gang up on me.”

The two childhood friends glanced at each other with serious expressions before swiftly high fiving.

Byulyi lifted the corner of her mouth in a half smile, hands lowering as the overwhelming feeling of gratefulness hit her.

“Thank you for this.”

“You know we'll always be here for you, unnie.”

There was a moment of tenderness as the girls shared another hug and soft smiles were exchanged…

“But I'm kinda hurt that you told Wheein but not me, though.”

The three girls burst into laughter.

---

The manager gave them the rest of the day off, told them that they did a good job with filming earlier. It was days like these that Byulyi felt truly appreciative of all the supportive people in her life.

After a restless night, Byulyi gave up on sleeping and went to practice early. Dancing had always been a way for her to clear her head and she let herself be immersed in the flow of movements, her body moving to the rhythm of the music.

The sound of the door opening was drowned out by the music but the reflection of a familiar face in the peripheral of Byulyi’s vision caught her eye and she halted in her movements. Byulyi hadn’t really been prepared to face her leader so soon and thought that Yongsun would even be late that day considering how filming had gone on overnight. Mentally bracing herself for the imminent conversation, she moved to turn off the music.

“Byul-ah, what are you doing here so early?”

Byulyi’s heart rate sped up and she wasn’t sure she could blame it entirely on her dance routine.

“I could ask you the same, Yongsun-unnie,” Byulyi said, reflexively averting her eyes as she deftly avoided the question. She wasn’t really in the mood to talk to the woman who she had been trying to forget when she came in earlier, but said woman obviously had other plans. Byulyi focused her eyes on the wall beside her instead, unable to meet the other woman’s eyes, and so missed the flash of annoyance on Yongsun’s face.

“Filming just ended so I came here early. Now it's your turn to answer the question.”

Byulyi didn’t really want to but could hear the tone of irritation in Yongsun’s voice and reconsidered.

“... I couldn't sleep,” she yielded after a moment.

“Byulie, look at me. What's wrong?”

Byulyi felt a pang in her heart at the gentle tone and finally looked up into her leader’s eyes. It turned out to be a mistake as her guilt just worsened upon seeing those concern-filled eyes directed right at her. Those eyes had always been a weakness of hers. Byulyi could feel herself about to burst and let out a deep breath, resigning to her fate as she forced the words out of her mouth.

“I was jealous,” she blurted out. “Of Eric.”

“I just- I'm the one who's always been with you, but now he's the one who's exploring new places with you and doing new things with you when- when-” Byulyi scrambled for the next words to say.

Her heart pumped fast and hard in her chest as she held the words she knew she wanted to say at the tip of her tongue. Her brain told her that those words could ruin their friendship forever. However, the previous night's talk came to the forefront of her mind and lingered.

Byulyi finally decided to just go for it and said, “When it should be me.”

Her shoulders drooped. She couldn’t bear to look at the leader’s face, afraid of what she would find.

There was a long period of silence in the room and Byulyi wanted to run away. But then Yongsun was suddenly embracing her and Byulyi clutched at the arms around her, afraid that the other woman would suddenly decide to leave. If Yongsun would accept her then...

“Byul-ah, you don't have to worry about losing me, okay? We'll always be the best of friends.”

Byulyi felt a stab in her chest.

“Right, just friends…” she whispered bitterly. Her leader was denser than she thought. Byulyi wanted to laugh at Yongsun, but decided to drop the subject and just enjoy the hug.

---

On the Ddongie couple’s last day of filming for that damned show, Byulyi couldn’t help rejoicing. She didn't feel as good about it when she saw how sad Yongsun actually was about the whole thing ending, but she still felt a little lighter. No matter how she felt about the situation, Byulyi was still grateful to Eric for providing her unnie a pleasant experience on the show.

It wasn't all over yet though, as there was one last event to be attended: the MBC Entertainment Awards Ceremony. Byulyi held it in the back of her mind as they were doing final preparations for their own event.

During a lull in activity, as they took advantage of the chance to rest their legs before having to be on their feet for a few hours, Byulyi glanced at the woman beside her in her pink-tinted dress. Said woman was typing rapidly on her phone, replying to one message or another on her SNS, not noticing or simply just used to the attention on her. She was so beautiful even with her mouth agape as she completely focused on her screen.

Byulyi took out her own phone and held it up, letting the strong urge to document the stunning woman beside her overtake her. She could never resist such urges anyway and the leader was used to it by now, usually complying with Byulyi's every need to photograph her. This time was no different.

“Unnie, look here.”

Yongsun glanced up from her phone, only to look into the screen of another. She naturally went into a pose for the camera, locking her phone screen with one hand while the other moved to lightly hold her chin, along with a gentle smile to complete the look.

Byulyi snapped several pictures, experimenting for the best angle. When she was finally satisfied, she brought her phone back to eye level, showing it first to her unnie who gave her nod of approval before returning to texting. Byulyi stared a little longer at the picture displayed on screen. Their outfits matched especially well, along with the colours and... they looked kind of like they were getting married… which reminded her of what was happening later on that night.

Perhaps out of spite (towards the man who had really done nothing wrong and towards the society that forbid two women from being together), Byulyi found herself posting the photo on their fancafe, with only the word "BEST” added on to it along with a quick caption of ‘Welcome to Byulddonie world’’ (because Yongsun was indeed her world). It didn't matter if she added the word “friend” to it, society deemed it impossible for two women to be anything more anyway, and if that's how it was then she would take advantage of the fact to be as obvious as she could.

It wasn't long before they were called out from their rest for some finishing touches before their performance. Soon, they were stepping off the stage decked out in all black. Their manager immediately pulled their leader to the side, ushering her urgently towards the exit.

Byulyi sighed as she was reminded of the other award ceremony that had already started. She had erased the upcoming event from her mind to focus on her performance. She hated that the events had such clashing schedules that Yongsun had to rush off so hastily. Almost missing the leader's absence, she hurried to catch up with the departing group, pleased that she managed to send off her unnie as she usually did.

Standing at the entrance waving her leader off, Byulyi even kept turning around as she went back in to continue waving goodbye, not disappointed by the silly faces she got from her yeba in return. She went back up to join the rest of the members in the waiting room, chatting with them for a bit before turning on the TV in the room and switching to the MBC channel.

They were all eager to watch their beloved leader appear on the screen and cheered noisily when she actually won Best Couple Award with her fake ex-husband. They all howled with laughter (as their leader had predicted correctly) when they saw her fumbling with her words on stage, a rare sight.

After a while more, they finally wrapped up and headed home. Byulyi ultimately found herself unlocking the door to her unnie's house, washing up and grabbing some clothes she knew she had left behind last time. Stretching herself out on the familiar couch, she scrolled through her phone for a bit before eventually succumbing to the exhaustion that always came after events.

---

Byulyi jolted awake upon hearing the soft beeping at the front door. The resounding click that followed signalled the arrival of her housemate.

Muted footsteps shuffled across the floor.

Yongsun-unnie must be home, Byulyi thought drowsily. Not wanting to leave the comfort of the couch, she didn't bother getting up to check.

The footsteps halted, and the house was quiet again. The silence was lulling Byulyi back to sleep. She was just about to doze off when she heard her name.

“Byul-ah… You don't even know how much I love you.” followed by a soft chuckle.

The confession was soft and Byulyi might have missed it if the room wasn’t so quiet. But it was, and she heard it clear as day.

Her mind, still half asleep, took a moment to process what she heard.

Yongsun-unnie? How much she loves me? What does she- Yongsun-unnie loves me?

Byulyi opened her eyes and looked around the dark room blearily. The space in front of her was empty. Where did she-

The sound of the shower turning on interrupted her thoughts, coincidentally answering her question.

Letting her eyelids fall back shut, Byulyi buried herself into the back of the couch. She groaned. What did Yongsun even mean by that? Was it a friend thing? But it definitely didn't seem like a friend thing. Or was Byulyi simply just overthinking things?

She was so tired. It was so difficult to think. She decided that she'll worry about it in the morning (it's a problem for future Byulyi now) and promptly fell back asleep.

---

A/N: Has it been exactly a week? I kinda rushed some of the scenes in this chapter so I could get it out by today so sorry if it's not as good as the first chapter :’)

Stick around for next chapter where they’ll finally get their shit together… or won’t they..? ;)

[chimwonshik]

House of Mirrors - Chapter 6; 1787w

Pairing: Chabean (side Wontaek)

Rating: Explicit

When Hakyeon meets Hongbin at a New Year party thrown by his best friend, he can’t believe his luck when the man wants to take him home. But Hongbin’s profession proves difficult to swallow and Hakyeon isn’t sure his principles can be swayed.

Note: This is a sequel/spinoff to House of Blossoms.

Also on AO3 / AFF.

“Sorry about the tea,” Hakyeon says and Taekwoon shakes his head.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll see you at work,” he assures him, and Hakyeon throws him a weary smile over his shoulder.

“Yeah. See ya.”

He disappears down the hallway and as soon as Wonshik has shut the door behind him, Taekwoon turns an admonishing stare on Hongbin.

The man rolls his eyes where he’s in the middle of shrugging off his coat. “Don’t give me that look.”

His reaction pulls Taekwoon up short. He’d been expecting a playful deflection, probably something like Oh baby, don’t look at me like that complete with a finger trailing down his chest to draw Wonshik’s ire and distract them from the situation.

Instead, he slouches off towards the kitchen and Taekwoon raises surprised eyebrows at Wonshik who looks just as ecstatic as he did when Hakyeon had been filling them in just now. This isn't Hongbin behaviour at all. Perhaps it really is eating at him like Wonshik said it would be, but whether it’s just because it was a failed conquest or something more remains to be seen. Whatever the answer, things are even worse than the way they’d left them at the New Year party.

“He cut you off in the middle of a good fuck then,” Wonshik gloats, and Taekwoon rolls his eyes.

Hongbin shrugs, clearly aiming for nonchalance, but his shoulders are stiff. “It wasn’t that great. But it sounds like he's told you all about it.”

“Everything except something he said to you,” Wonshik says, expectantly.

Hongbin’s eyebrows raise and then he gives a humourless snort. “He didn’t tell you?”

“No,” Taekwoon cuts in, throwing Wonshik a warning look. Everything Hakyeon just said to them was supposed to be in confidence. “But he did sound sorry.”

“He didn't look sorry just now. Though I suppose I have you to thank for that,” Hongbin says to Wonshik.

“What? I was just evening the playing field,” Wonshik says, airily. “It wouldn’t be fair for you to play the victim in all this when you kind of brought it on yourself.”

Hongbin drops down on the sofa where Hakyeon had been sitting just now, letting his head loll back against the cushions. “How was I supposed to know he’d get such a stick up his ass about a stupid kiss?”

“If it’s stupid, why were you so against it?” Taekwoon asks.

“I have rules,” is all Hongbin says in answer. It doesn’t explain why ‘no kissing’ is a rule in the first place but Taekwoon isn’t sure if he should push it.

“But what do your rules mean from here on out?” Wonshik asks and Hongbin raises a questioning eyebrow. “You don’t sleep with the same one night stand more than once. How do you class this one?”

Hongbin shrugs. “I haven’t decided.”

“So you do want him again to finish what you started,” Wonshik teases, his glee returning.

“I haven’t decided,” Hongbin repeats, narrowing his eyes at him.

“It sounds to me like you have.”

Hongbin groans and throws his head back again. “I should never have gotten involved with him in the first place. I should have stayed here with you two last night. That wouldn’t have left me disappointed.”

“Perhaps you should have,” Wonshik agrees, the beginnings of a sly smile on his lips. “You would have gotten to watch Taekwoon fuck me into the mattress. Shame you missed out.”

That’s not what happened at all – not last night, anyway – but Hongbin’s eyes are dark as he turns his appraising gaze on Taekwoon. “I could hang around for a repeat performance.”

“Keep dreaming.”

Hongbin hums. “If you’re not up for it, I’m sure Taekwoon and I could manage on our own. From what I remember, we had incredible chemistry.”

“One more word and I throw you out on your ass.”

Hongbin laughs but doesn't say any more on the subject. It's unusual. He's one to push and push and call Wonshik on his empty threats and keep laughing even with Wonshik’s hands around his throat.

Taekwoon is actually a little bit touched that this is the place Hongbin came to when he was feeling down, whether it was a conscious decision or not. He just wishes Hongbin’s arrival hadn't forced Hakyeon to leave the way he had. He knew things would get messy if anything ever happened between them, but never to these proportions. He's just hoping Hongbin decides not to pursue it any further. He cares about both of them, but if things carry on, Hakyeon will most likely end up being the one hurt the worst and as his best friend, he needs to look out for him, just as Hakyeon had done for him with everything with Wonshik last year. Hakyeon is a stubborn one though. He’s not sure if he’ll listen.

“You may as well drink Hakyeon’s tea while you’re here,” Wonshik offers.

“How generous of you,” Hongbin quips, but he reaches for the mug anyway.

It reminds Taekwoon of his own tea and he settles on the sofa to drink it. Wonshik takes up position between him and Hongbin quicker than he can blink, setting some sugar on the table before Hongbin needs to ask for it.

Taekwoon hides a smile into his drink. Wonshik can grumble about Hongbin as much as he wants, but it's obvious that he really does care, and Hongbin knows it. He wouldn’t hang around otherwise.

Hongbin takes off his shoes and rests his feet on the edge of the coffee table like Taekwoon and settles his head on Wonshik’s shoulder, feigning obliviousness to Wonshik’s displeasure. Wonshik doesn’t shake him off though, another prime example of his distaste for Hongbin being just for show.

They sit quietly on the sofa as the two of them drink their tea, and Hongbin cradles his mug for a few minutes when he’s finished before leaning forwards to place it on the coffee table.

“I should get going.”

“You can stay,” Taekwoon offers, more than happy to set up the sofa bed.

Hongbin heaves a sigh and gets to his feet. “No, I've got a busy day tomorrow. Thanks, though. And thanks for the tea,” he says, darting around Wonshik to place a kiss on Taekwoon’s cheek before he can stop him.

Wonshik squawks in outrage and Hongbin kisses his cheek too, much sloppier than the one he'd given Taekwoon.

“Shut up,” Hongbin says to him, fondly, before heading to the door.

Wonshik purses his lips but he follows Taekwoon to see Hongbin out.

“I’ll make sure to call ahead next time,” he says with a wry smile.

“You’re always welcome,” says Taekwoon.

“Don’t make it too much of a habit,” Wonshik adds and Hongbin smiles at him.

“Thanks,” he says, but there’s no sarcasm. He can read Wonshik like an open book.

They say their goodbyes and when the door is shut behind him, it doesn't take long for Wonshik to start cackling. “I’ve never seen him like this!”

“I can't believe you keep laughing! He's supposed to be your friend!”

“Oh, come on, it's not like someone died! His pride has taken a battering, that's all.”

“I'm worried,” Taekwoon admits and Wonshik draws him close with his arms around his waist.

“Don't be. He'll get over it.”

“And what about Hakyeon?”

Wonshik shrugs. “There's nothing we can do. They need to sort this out themselves, either by getting over it or finishing what they started. Going by the UST I'm still choking on from the ten seconds they were in the room together, they'll be jumping into bed with each other again soon enough.”

Taekwoon isn’t sure it’s going to be that easy, especially if they don’t talk to each other first and discuss what went wrong in the first place. “I don't know…”

“Trust me. Hongbin might be wounded right now, but he isn’t finished with him yet. Remember I told you that once he’s chosen his conquest he has to have them? With Hakyeon, it's going to be even worse because he's shown he can resist him.” Wonshik starts giggling. “Knowing Hongbin, he’ll want to drive him crazy until the only thing he can do is cave and pay for it.”

Taekwoon hopes none of what Wonshik is predicting will come to pass, but there is one thing he knows for sure. “That’s never going to happen.”

"One of them will give in eventually.” A mischievous glint lights up Wonshik’s eyes. “Wanna make a bet?”

“Hakyeon wins,” Taekwoon says without hesitation, and Wonshik snorts.

“No way! You do realise this is Hongbin we're talking about?”

No matter how Taekwoon looks at it, it’s going to be easier for Hongbin to swallow his pride and part with a kiss than it will be for Hakyeon to part with the sum of money a session would require and turn up like a dog with its tail between its legs.

“But what are we betting?” Taekwoon asks.

“Hmm… if you win, I’ll wake you up every morning for a week with a blowjob.”

“I’m always awake before you,” Taekwoon points out and Wonshik hums again.

“Before bed then.”

“We do that pretty much every night already anyway.”

“Then…” Wonshik drags the word out as an evil smirk curves his lips. “How about… if you lose, I'll fuck you full, put in a plug and send you off to work for the day?”

Taekwoon’s mouth drops open, and then he actually starts imagining it and has to swallow hard. “But what about you?” He can’t be blamed if his voice comes out a little bit strangled.

“If I lose, you can do the same to me.” His voice drops to an enticing murmur, lips moving close to Taekwoon’s ear like he’s a devil on his shoulder. “Think about it, me out at a photoshoot, the camera flashing, capturing my expression every time the plug shifts. Maybe you could even come and watch. Pretend you’re making sure your suits are being displayed to your liking.”

Taekwoon’s eyes glaze over as he pictures it and Wonshik chuckles in his ear.

He doesn't point out that even if he does lose, Wonshik will no doubt still want to give him his prize anyway.

He takes a deep breath. “Okay. If Hongbin kisses Hakyeon, I win. If Hakyeon books a session, you win.”

“Deal.”

Taekwoon holds out his hand to shake on it, but Wonshik seals it with a kiss instead. Which turns into another, and another, and Wonshik’s tongue curling against his.

“We’re not allowed to interfere,” Taekwoon mumbles.

“Sure.” Wonshik’s lips curve into a smirk. “But until then… how about we play out that little fantasy I spun for Hongbin?”

[moonlightjongin]

Exception [9]

✿ ━ Pairing Jongin x Reader, Taemin x Reader

✿ ━ Genre Romance/Smut, Detective

✿ ━ AUs College!AU, Fake Dating!AU, Love Triangle!AU

✿ ━ Summary When you’re in love with your taken best friend Lee Taemin, it seems you’ll go to any length to sabotage his current relationship in hopes of snaring his affection for yourself, even if that means teaming up with Kim Jongin, a person who is, technically, his worst enemy.

➼ Warnings for this chapter: Descriptive sexual situations between Jongin and reader ✽ Masterlist | Read on: aff ✽ Tumblr links: part one / part two / part three / part four / part five / part six / part seven / part eight / part nine / part ten / part eleven / part twelve / part thirteen / part fourteen / part fifteen / part sixteen / part seventeen / ending / alternate ending

You haven’t had a lot of time alone with Jongin since last night’s encounter, but as you’re standing by his car, you’re hoping -- praying -- that the goosebumps that have formed on your arms from his proximity aren’t as obvious as you believe them to be.

You’ve never been great with ‘the morning after’ in any sense of the meaning, but you’d always had the option to speed out of the room before any awkward conversations could take place; safe under the knowledge you’d never have to see this person again, prior.

In this case, you don’t get that option.

Especially not when you can feel his eyes burning into you, from his place beside you.

It’s worse than usual, you’re not going to lie. Not only does he possess an ability to read you like a book... last night you had to admit an inexperience in an area that had almost become second nature to you, to a person that could so easily question your validity and scrutinize you, so easily decide not to believe you.

None of which happened, thankfully.

But you then went on to experience said act, by his hands. And no matter how much you’ve dreamed about this, envisioned this moment in the finest detail, you know now, as well as anyone, that you can’t take it back. Kim Jongin has touched you, irrefutably.

And you can’t run from him, nor pretend that he doesn’t exist. Especially when he’s standing right beside you.

You can only imagine how surreal it feels from his side. If your touch has done nothing but taint his entire worldview, if you’ve ruined the dream he had for he and his first love. 

If all of this was actually, dare you say, a mistake. If given the option, a chance to relive it, relive meeting you, coming into this agreement with you, would he turn the other way? Would he not be in the classroom at that particular moment in time?

Would none of this have come to pass?

Would that be preferable for Jongin?

You wish you had the strength to ask him.

He hasn’t brought up anything about the next ‘date’, after the previous night’s events, so you’re assuming it’s not a scoreboard that the two of you need to keep tallies for, like your skewered vision of the matter would convince you, and rather an act after an act format.

So when something romantic happens, something sexual follows.

Or when something sexual happens, something romantic follows.

It doesn’t follow on from the first date or first sexual act. 

Something you’re a little thankful for, because if otherwise, you’d have to be preparing yourself for a date, or prepping yourself up to be asked out on a date.

And you have no experience with that.

You may have slept with people, but you’ve never exactly dated. 

It’s a whole other world to you. 

Along with that, much as you’ve convinced yourself that’s it, that you’ve gone as far with Jongin as this week will allow, it’s not as though the sexual tension has left you.

It’s only strengthened. Usually at the most inopportune moments, like when your fingers accidentally brush against his, but mainly when there’s no physical contact between the two of you, like taking note of him leaning a certain way when driving, the look in his eyes when he’s concentrating.

As much as you want to pretend you’re in control of it, you’re kind of not. Which is kind of distracting.

You’ve noticed a change in Jongin as well.

Almost like he’s gained a marginal form of confidence around you -- in terms bringing up the intimate aspects of the arrangement, rather than skirting around them or slyly dodging any and every seduction attempt of your own -- especially since you agreed to this supposedly temporary rule of not touching him, but allowing him to touch you.

The biggest surprise starts with a phone call later that night, when he’s dropped you off...

"My maid is out and... I'm hoping we can try something different, to see if we're capable of combining our elements into one act. Just this once.” 

You hum. "Okay. But... how do we do that?"

It’s like you can hear him sink his lip under his teeth. "Tonight? Over the phone."

You perk up. "Sounds... great."

“Have you ever had phone sex, _____?”

You purse your lip, you can hear the knowing lilt in his tone. "No,” you admit. “You seem to be pretty damn accurate in this ability of weeding out acts I've never experienced.” Few as they may be, you almost add, but decide against it.

He fakes surprise. "You mean you've never...?"

"I don't get their numbers, Jongin,” you mumble. “Don’t act like it’s surprising.”

“Was it their voices that turned you off?" He purposely lowers his own into a seductive timbre. “Describe their voices for me.”

“Usually gruff, or slurred.” You pause, feeling an uncomfortable twinge in your stomach. “Wrong.”

He hums. “And tell me how my voice makes you feel, _____.”

You bite your lip, because it’s something you think about a lot. Often. To the point the depth of your answer may surprise him. "The kind of voice that could simultaneously wake someone up, and put them to sleep. That's a powerful thing, and I don't cringe at the sound of your voice like I do with the others. I... don't want to blank it out. Actually, I--"

"You...?"

"Really like when you talk, I like listening to you. You're always so... eloquent with your words and--” You stop here, feeling heat rise in your cheeks.  

"Aw. Are you blushing, _____?”

"Don't act like you can see me!"  You place your hands over your cheeks, embarrassed at how warm they feel. You just wanted to tell him he had a nice voice, there was no reason to act like you'd asked for his hand in marriage.

"It's just cute. That you're so forward with your most explicit thoughts, but the smallest compliments have you fumbling over your words and blushing."

“You’re only acting like this because you know I can’t see you,” you mutter.

“Au contraire, I’d like you to envision me.” He pauses for a brief second. “Leaning against a table, a button or two of my shirt undone.”

You bite your lip.

“Does it paint an attractive picture in your mind, _____?”

You grumble. “Are you seriously going to act like you don’t know how attracted to you I am.”

He feigns ignorance. “How attracted are you?”

“Enough to let you put your mouth on my--” You clear your throat, hoping to diverge the topic. "Anyway, stop torturing me and explain the scenario."

You hear a lilting chuckle follow.  "Okay. Let’s go years into the future, change our circumstances entirely. We didn’t meet in class, we had a few occasional run ins on the street, and they always left you with a sour taste in your mouth. You’d bump into me, and whilst you’d be all smiles and apologies, I’d be grumpy, vague and nonchalant.  At first, it was my expression that irked you. Eventually, after a few encounters, it was my cologne -- you found it overbearing. Then it was the fact that these run ins kept happening.”

You hum, intrigued.

“To up your frustration even more, I’m the reason you mess up your interview at your dream job, the same interview you’ve been preparing for months. Why? I’m the boss. I’m interviewing you. My demeanor is more irksome than usual. You want to whack the smirk off my face. Let’s say, you try to. Repeatedly. You’re not nice, throughout the entirety of this interview, and you’re almost hoping to mess up your chance, because the thought of seeing me everyday and working for me, it’s almost too much. The worst part? I know exactly what you’re doing, and I hire you, even after all of that.”

“I can feel the sexual tension already,” you say, chuckling, and though he can’t see you, you twirl a strand of hair around your finger, quirking an eyebrow. “Do things get worse from there, now that you’ve hired me? Do we dislike each other a lot, boss?”

“Borderline despise each other,” he lulls. “With evident sexual undertones brewing, much as we try to deny it.”

“Tell me more,” you breathe. You have to suppress a giggle at the exaggerated, almost theatrical quality you let yourself put into the line. Like you’re in a movie. It’s not something you’d ever attempt with your one night stands, but Jongin and yourself are closer than that, so you have more room to have a little bit of fun with the scenario.

And you’re certain he’ll be suppressing a soft smile at your words. 

“You’ve been working for me for a few years now, let’s say. And though we’re cordial and professional when working with one another, it’s clear that we don’t get along. But one day, we’re at a work related party, and we drink a little too much. I need you to think tension, pent up frustration, and a spark of attraction for the other that we just can’t seem to extinguish, as much as we dislike the other. Maybe we’re a little tipsy, but we’re coherent enough to know that we’re interacting with one another, arguing over something nuanced, before we end up in each other’s arms, and later, awake in the same bed.”

“If only you were that easy to seduce in real life,” you lull. And you swear you can feel his eye roll.

“The night we spent together was at least a few months ago, and as much as we swore it would be a one time encounter, it wasn’t. Much as we’ve tried to put a stop to seeing each other, we can’t manage it entirely. The nights together are passionate, always a perfect stress reliever, and it’s so easy for us to lose ourselves in the other’s presence, but over these months, we did what we vowed to never do with the other, and that was to develop feelings. We keep this fact sealed, both afraid that it’s one sided, both afraid to take that next step. Neither has admitted to their feelings, neither expects they’re going to. ...Until that all changes tonight, and one accidentally lets it slip how they feel for the other, only for the other to confirm they feel the same way.”

"It sounded great until you added that last part," you whine. "I can't do that!"

Jongin tuts. "Well it's that or we play to get you off whereas I sit here, completely clothed and completely unaffected."

You want to protest, argue that there’s no way he could sit there and listen to you voice pleasure and remain completely unaffected, but think against it. He’s Jongin, he has a seemingly iron resolve, and even after last night, probably has to think of his first love to even react to the situation.

You feel a little cold at the thought. Wondering if that’s exactly how your one night stands would feel, if they knew. Considering the lack of establishment between the relations, rather than cold, probably more offended at the thought.

It’s not a nice situation to be in, regardless of whether a person has feelings for the night’s partner or not. When you’re with someone in an intimate sense, it’s only natural to want them to be thinking of you, isn’t it?

Much as you expected you’d have to, you’ve never had to think of Taemin when you’re with Jongin. Even if romance is the focus.

Is it selfish to want the same from him, in the area you’re supposed to be helping him through -- the physical intimacy?

For this to be a mutual bonding experience?

Granted, you have no proof as to whether or not he thinks about his first love to get through intimate moments with you, kissing and all, and it’s not like you’re about to ask.

One, because it’d be kind of rude. Two, it’d put him on the spot. And three, you’re kind of afraid to hear the answer.

Whatever the case, you know you have to get to the bottom of this first love and their identity, figure out what it is that’s so captivating about this person, to Jongin.

Understand the root and cause of this love, so you know how to tackle and target his getting over them, in a way that is entirely objective, not invasive and not pushy.

He deserves closure and throughout all of this, you want to prove that he’s worthy. That whatever reason they had for leaving him, is just that. Theirs. It’s on them.

It’s not on Jongin. He doesn’t -- and shouldn’t -- have to spend hours upon hours doubting himself and questioning if there’s something wrong with him.

Questioning if he’s worthy of love, or if he’s always going to be left.

If he’s always going to be the one giving his entire soul to his partner, for them to crush it in their palms and move along.

Truly, the root cause of his situation makes a ton of sense and you just wish he’d let you focus on him, instead of slyly finding ways to make it mutual, a word you’re beginning to dread.

Mutual ends up with him taking control of the situation, weaving it so you’re the focus, even if it’s not intentional, it still skewers everything and doesn’t give him the proper opportunity to get over his first love.

You’re sure it’s not intentional, that he’s simply conditioned himself to believe he’ll always be abandoned by those close to him, held onto this notion that his first love will return for so long that he’s incapable of seeing the situation for what it truly is, convinced himself that if this person doesn’t return, it’s better to prepare for a solitary life than to even make an attempt to move on.

So no matter what territory it leads you to, no matter what you uncover, you’ve promised yourself that you’re going to help him see otherwise, help him take his first steps towards moving on. 

He may not get over this person fully, but you want him to be at a point where they’re not controlling his every waking romantic moment. That he can at least consider being with another human being after being with them.

"Or..." he trails off, snapping you out of your reverie. "It could be mutual. All it takes is for you to play along."

“Fine,” you grumble, listening as he goes on to say that the flow of conversation will lead into the scenario naturally.

“Perfect,” he says. “Anyway, now that we’ve covered the basics, let’s get to today’s scenario, where we’ll be when this phone call takes place. I’m on a business trip... Paris, France. You’re still in Korea. Much as you’re trying to deny it, you miss me.”

You scoff. “Don’t flatter yourself, Kim. Maybe I’m reveling in the time away from you.”  

“Nu-uh,” he says, and you hate that his voice has the ability to make you shiver, actually very thankful he’s not in front of you at the moment. “You miss me.”

“How much do I miss you?”

“Enough that you’ve been dreaming of kissing me. Of running your fingers through my hair, pulling me closer. Holding me against you, snuggling into my collarbone like you belong there.”

“It’s only because you smell nice, obviously,” you tease. “And because you’re warm.”

His chuckle is deep, but evidently humored. “Do you miss me, _____?”

“Mhm,” you say, the sound gentle, almost demure. “I miss you. But I have a question.”

“Hm? What’s that?”

“How’s France?”

“Beautiful, but there’s a certain loneliness, visiting alone.”

“Oh, is that so?” You ask, a teasing lilt to your voice. “Surely there’s a beautiful Parisian lady attached to your arm, how lonely can that be?”

You hear a huff on the other end. “There’s no one beside me. Like I said, I’m alone.”

“So...” You trail off. “You’re saying you only call me when you’re lonely?”

“Hardly,” he murmurs, though you can hear a twinge of annoyance behind it. You’re both definitely playing your roles now. “This is the first personal phone call I’ve made since getting here. And it’s to you. What would that tell you?”

You twiddle with your fingers, mulling over what next to say. You know he’s given you the perfect opening here, that you could get the romantic aspect of the act out the way as of right now, but you could also allow the conversation to take a sensual turn, and as much as it would prolong the aspect you’re dreading, you’re a lot better at the latter than the former. “That you miss me,” you say with a certain intent.

He hums. “You’re not wrong there.”

“So much that the beautiful Parisian women don’t catch your attention?”

“There’s only one woman on my mind,” he says, almost forlornly.

And you try not to think too deeply about it. Remind yourself that he’s just playing a role, that even if he’s subtly trying to reference the love of his life with what he’s saying here, he’s not about to break role. And in this role, you’re the one he’s thinking of.

At least, your character is.

“--Do you like the sound of that?”

You come to a halt, eyes widening at the realization that you completely blanked out the entirety of what he’d just said. “Would I like the sound of what?” You trail off gently, hoping to let him know that you hadn’t heard any of that, without it being offensive.

But there’s no anger in his response. “I asked if you’d be interested in accompanying me on a business trip... in the near future?”

Your eyebrows furrow. “And why would you ask that of someone who isn't half as esteemed as yourself, in your company? What use would I be for future business deals, especially if the boss is already there?"

He’s quiet.

“I have a lot of faith in my employees,” he eventually settles upon.

You let out a soft sounding scoff, not in disbelief of what Jongin is claiming, but confusion as to why he’s singling out you of all employees; employees who have worked there much longer than you have, and have much better prospects for this future business trip. Given the circumstances the two of you -- or your characters -- are in, there’s only one reason.

“Better yet, for a person you merely take stress out on? It’s not like we’d be sleeping together the entire time we’d be there.”

The silence persists for a few more seconds. “Do you... remember our last night, _____?”

You know it’s in reference to the scenario you’re playing out, that evidently these two had had multiple encounters, but it doesn’t stop you from momentarily reliving the memory of your last night together, the feel of his hands as they trailed up your legs and gently spread them apart, leaving you bare, and entirely at his disposal...

It takes everything in you to not let a little sound out in response, willing the night’s events from replaying further.

“Hm?” He prods.

“Y-eah,” you cough out. “I-I remember.”

You remember how the warmth of his breath reverberated through you, how he began by kissing along your thigh, his plump lips as soft as ever, chuckling as he took note of the tremors his touch caused you, the wanton manner you displayed as you edged in closer, desperate for his touch, particularly how he wouldn’t rush, despite all of this.

“Was anything different, _____?”

In comparison to the demeanor of the other lovers? Absolutely. But you know that’s not what he’s asking.

“In what sense?” You ask, though your words are a little strained.

“In comparison to our other encounters. Was there a difference?”

You bite your lip. Would this answer suffice? “It felt like we had all the time in the world. There was no rush. N-not that there is usually, but this time it was...”

“It was what, _____?”

“More intimate,” you cough out.

He hums. “Precisely. If I was simply letting stress out on you, would that prospect stand?”

“No,” you say.

“So where’s the harm in accompanying me?”

You almost let out a sigh of relief, realizing the conversation is once again taking a potentially sexual turn. “Due to the fact that I’ll be a distraction. You can’t keep your hands off me at the best of times, boss.”

“Thankfully I can multitask,” he lulls. “But tonight...”

“Tonight...?” You trail off.

“I won’t be the one doing the touching. But I’ll certainly be sitting here listening to each soft sigh of pleasure you voice from the other end.”

“Ah, but,” you mumble. “That’s still a distraction. You have work to do. You shouldn't let me get in the way of that.”

“Like I said, I can multitask.”

“You say that as if listening to me won’t have an affect on you.” You hum. “...Doesn’t that ruin half the fun?”

He chuckles, the sound deep, almost sinful, it leaves you nibbling at your lip in anticipation. “Luckily for the both of us, there’s a time zone difference.”

What had been a nibble prior, ends with your teeth sinking into your lip, embarrassed at your blip. “Ah, that’s totally right,” you croak out. “The time difference slipped my mind. And of course you’ll have finished up with your work for today. You’re always on top of it.”

“Precisely,” he lulls, in that same sinful tone that has you willing your eyes not to flutter close. “I was just about to call it a night, get some much needed rest...”

"I see,” you say softly.

“But I’m going to let you in on something I’ve withheld all this while.”

“And what’s that?”

“I sleep a million times better when your voice is the last thing I hear, regardless of where I am at the time.”

Your eyes widen, and as much as you want to deny it, your heart skips a beat at his words. He’s convincing, you’ll give him that. And even if being romanced is the last of your current priorities, even if this is nothing but pretend, that was a tremendously sweet thing to say.

“Now...” he trails off sensually, the tone already having you shuffling your position on your bed, chewing at your lip. “Imagine how much better I’ll sleep if the last thing I hear are soft whimpers of my name as you touch yourself to the thought of me?”

“Jongin,” you’re almost breathless. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

"_____,” he’s beyond sinful by this point. “Yes."

“I may have to disagree, then.”

“Even though I know it’s taking all of your resolve to not trail your hand into your panties right this second...?”

You neither deny nor confirm. “Ah--”

His soft laughter reverberates through the other end, instantly silencing you. “Don’t be embarrassed, baby. That’s exactly what I want you to do.”

“Jongin...” You almost whine.

“But more than that, I want you to take them off for me.”

He allows a second’s pause. “Will you do that for me, _____?”

Part of you wants to tease him, to make him work for it, but more than that, a part of you wants to encourage him. Let him know which tactics are an instant hit, let it become known to him that sometimes overthinking is what ruins the mood.

That sometimes, a person can over plan.

Sometimes it’s the raw, primal feelings that are a ton more effective than the planned out gestures and eloquently worded sentences, nice as they may be at any other moment.

“Yes,” you say, doing just as he asks.

“But not just that,” he says, in a manner that has you stilling mid movement. “Everything, _____.”

“Oh,” you breathe.  

“Will you take everything off for me, _____?”

“Oui, boss,” you tease, perking up completely.

It goes quiet for a time, the only thing you can hear from Jongin’s end is the sound of his steady breathing.

And steady is the last thing his breathing should be. You almost pout.

Once you’ve shuffled out of your last remaining garment, you clear your throat, tone undeniably sensual. “So, boss, you’ve got everything you asked for. I’ve been good, haven’t I? -- One could even say that I deserve a raise.”

His -- almost mocking -- chuckle reverberates down the line and you feel your eyes narrowing.

“You think it’s that easy?”

“I think I’m a lot harder to resist in person, don’t you?”

He quietens.

“And you know you can only act this way because there’s miles upon miles between us. But even then, Jongin, there’s one thing you’re not taking into account.”

He sounds intrigued. You can imagine him leaning back in his chair, fingers itching to go south and into his slacks, in the hopes of unbuttoning them discreetly, of course. He won’t want you to know that he’s not yet unclothed. That there’s still hesitance.

And you don’t want to make it known that it’s exactly what you’re expecting. The last thing you want to do is discourage him.

“And what’s that?”

“All you have to do is envision me. Then I’m right there beside you.”

“Is that so?”

“Mhm,” you say. “Can’t you feel me beside you? I’m almost in your lap. All you have to do is secure me in place. Will you?”

“I most certainly will,” he says. “We’ll be so close we’ll feel the other’s heartbeat, see the goosebumps forming on their skin.”

You let out a soft sound in agreement. “Once I’m securely in your lap, I’ll run my fingers through your hair, trace your bottom lip with my thumb. Lead your hand onto my breast...” You make sure your voice softens as you say this, like you’re luring him in, closer. “Then I’ll trace your naked torso with my fingers. Touch you in all the ways I’ve been dreaming of since you left for Paris.”

You allow a second’s pause. Much as you don’t want to call him straight out and ruin the mood, you do have to move it along, encourage him to be in the state of undress that you are. If mutual is what he wants, then it’s the only way... “But.”

He pauses, almost as if you’ve taken him by surprise by saying this. There’s a first for everything, right? “But...?”

“How can I be sure I’m touching your bare torso, Jongin? I have a feeling you’re more clothed than I am currently.”

“Perceptive,” there’s a note of guilt. He’s probably biting his lip, a hesitant note to it. “My shirt is unbuttoned, but it’s still on, you’re right about that.”

“And...?”

He seems to be suppressing a sigh. “Boxers, too.”

“Oh how I wish I was there to take them off for you,” you say, almost devilishly. “To place kisses along that toned stomach, going further and further until...” You purposely cut off here, suppressing the urge to chuckle devilishly.

“Ah,” he breathes, and you’re hoping he’s taking himself into his hand at this very moment. You have absolutely no confirmation that he’s doing so, but you’re certainly hoping so. “Is that so?”

Though it’s not new news that his voice has a strong affect on you, as you direct your fingers over yourself, you’re still taken aback by how turned on you are, even without his physical assistance.

Momentarily you still your fingers, turning your attention back to the conversation at hand. “Can you tell?”

“Hm?” And it’s clear the almost breathless element to your voice has had something of an affect on him, at least this time.

“Just how much I want you?” You allow a moment’s pause, as along with the seductive, you hope to add a romantic element. “Just how long I’ve been waiting? To hold you... fall asleep beside you? I know it hasn’t been long since you left, but...”

“But...?”

You’re well aware that this would be the perfect moment for your ‘character’ to admit her feelings, but as much as you may be playing along, you find yourself freezing, unable to get the words out.

You sigh, and instead opt for a, “I want you, Jongin,” with intent.

“Tell me how much,” he says softly.

You open your mouth to do just that, but you’re cut off just before you’re able, as he continues, “not just with words. Convey it to me, convince me that even with miles upon miles between us, I’m the one you want to be with tonight, bridge the distance with me, _____.”

Which is exactly what you attempt to do as you go on to adjust your positioning, letting out a soft sound as you slowly insert a finger inside yourself, envisioning the hands touching you aren’t your own, but Jongin’s.

Without much trouble, you slip another finger inside yourself, as it seems the simple thought of touching Jongin, hearing his slightly lustful tone and hushed breathing over the phone, is apparently all the preparation you need.

Minutes of labored breathing and hushed whispers pass, time almost beginning to blur into itself.

The simple thought of him touching himself to the sound of your voice is certainly adding to your arousal, it’s no lie, but the mental image you’ve concocted of straddling him before you slide down onto his hardness, connecting your bodies in perfect rhythm, that has you whimpering in total want.

And as much as you’d expect to be enveloped in a familiar sense of guilt, like you do every time you touch someone other than Taemin, and would especially expect so envisioning another in the role you’ve only ever wanted to allocate to Taemin... something about the situation this time around, weirdly, it makes you feel safer.

The other men from the previous encounters have always been complete strangers, that knew next to nothing about you or even what you liked; strangers who could’ve done anything to your body and anything to you afterwards,  but none of that applies to Jongin.

No part of Jongin wants to harm you, and as in denial as you may have been about this at times... truly, it’s a nice feeling.

Losing a slight sense of alertness to your thoughts and current actions, your hushed sounds of pleasure come to a direct halt when you hear Jongin’s voice crack over the line. You quieten, anticipating what he’s going to say.

“Say my name,” he goes onto instruct, and had you been in the same room, you know it’s been said in a tone of voice that would instantly make you go weak at the knees.

Thankfully your bed is adept support. "Jong--"

But he cuts you off, almost sounding displeased. “No,” he says, with intent. “Moan it.”

He doesn’t need to ask you twice. It doesn’t take long for you to do just that.

“Tell me how much you want me to connect our bodies, how much you need this, how much closer you need me be.”

You’re a mess of soft sounds and whimpers, losing yourself in the mental image he’s concocting and find yourself continuing, “what about how much I need you, Jongin?”

He pauses, as if he’s silently urging you to continue.

“More so than your physical presence, I mean...”

“Hm?” 

“Lately...”

“Ah-ah,” he says, as if he’s picked up on the fact your ministrations have slowed, possibly from the fact that your voice is a lot more level as you’re saying this, than it had been in your previous sentences. “Keep touching yourself for me, darling. Tell me what you were just about to, but don’t stop.” And the latter is said in such a frank, authoritative tone it doesn’t take a lot of imagination to envision him as a boss, even in present terms, which no matter how you try to deny it, is very attractive to you. 

You curse under your breath. “L-lately,” you manage, as strained as it happens to be, due to the fact you’re touching yourself as you do. “I find myself missing you a lot more than--” Cutting yourself off with a whimper, which you didn’t intend to voice. 

Which as much as it may have pleased Jongin -- or his character -- in hearing, you know he was expecting you to continue your entire sentence, uninterrupted. “Than?”

Your curse is a lot more vocal this time, because this is practically torture, but you suppose it’s helping you keep your mind off the anxieties of the romantic aspect, meaning that may come a lot more naturally. “Than I ever believed I could,” as breathy as it is, you’ve still gotten your meaning across with it. 

You hope.

Either it’s his tone of voice that changes, or you’re just particularly attuned to this aspect of him, but you can almost feel his eyebrow raise at your words. “You’re missing the sex that much, hm? Missing the way I pin your arms above your head and--”

You whimper. "Jongin, please."

His chuckle leaves shivers in its wake. “What was that, _____? Is it difficult to think when I’m inside you, hm? Or is it the fact that I’m not currently inside you that’s driving you crazy?”

“It’s the fact that you’re currently torturing me when you know full well what I’m trying to do!”

“What if I told you I missed the feel of you too, _____? The taste of those cherry lips...”

“Jongin,” you whine. “That’s not fair.”

“Maybe so. But is it incorrect? -- Isn’t this what you’ve been dying to tell me since I left for Paris?”

“Y-yes... no. No, okay!”

"No?” He sounds so gleefully amused at how flustered you’ve become, but the tone of his voice is evidently lustful, like it’s affecting him on levels that aren’t as obvious as yours currently. "Then what is it you want to tell me? What is it you want, ____? But before we get to that..."

You hum, not trusting yourself to be able to convey much else in your current state.

“Bring yourself over the edge for me. You deserve to. Make up for the time we’ve lost since I’ve been in Paris.” 

And for a few moments, the line is filled with soft moans almost entirely from your end, losing yourself in bliss. You want to be focusing on Jongin too, making sure he’s enjoying this, that he reaches his peak too, but it’s so difficult to gauge from over the phone, and of all things you do know, he has a very tight reign over self control, and probably cleverly weaved this so he didn’t have to be the sexual focus of the night, rather the romantic. Regardless, you know it’s bridging distance, and the very last thing you want to do is overwhelm him, so you’re not going to voice it. 

And especially as he hasn’t pushed you into the deep end with the romantic aspect. 

There’s a few moments of calm quiet, as if he’s letting you catch your breath and come back to your senses.

“So...” He trails off, teetering, probably assuming you’re a little embarrassed after what you’ve just allowed him to witness, neither of you being tipsy and readily letting go of inhibitions, something he’d likely need to be to able to fully let go. “Where were we?”

But it’s not really that that’s getting to you, even if you past encounters have been one night stands, sex and acts of sexual nature aren’t embarrassing to you. It’s what you have to do now, to complete this scenario of sorts. The things you’ll have to say.

The romance. 

That’s what frightens you and has you freezing in place.

You stay quiet, suppressing a sigh.

“What is it you wanted to tell me, _____?”

"You know what I want to tell you, Jongin. A part of me believes you already know what it is I want, too.” You cringe at how awkward the words sound, and this is even before anything truly romantic has slipped from your mouth.

As if he knows how much you’re struggling with this, he speaks next. “But do you know what I want, _____?”

You pause.

“I can’t keep doing this,” he says. “Having you like this, but not being with you. Not in the sense I long for.”

“Possessive?” You tease, deciding it’s your turn to torture him, turn the tables a little. “You want to tell the whole world I’m yours, is that what it is?”

But apparently it’s going to take a bit more than that to ruffle his feathers. “We both know you were mine the minute you walked into my office the morning after the night before.”

“And where’s your evidence for such a claim, boss?”

“Quite possibly in the way you gripped onto me the time after, the sounds made the times after that, at first I doubted if you even experienced the same pull I did to you, even back then, but your body language doesn’t lie, _____. You’re as addicted to my touch as I am to...”

You stay quiet, waiting for him to continue.

He clears his throat before he does, as if he’s laying his entire heart on the line for you, and he kind of is, at least for the characters you’re playing. “To your entire existence, _____.” 

“Jongin...” 

“I can’t hide it any more,” he says, like he’s finally letting a weight off his chest. “There’s no place I’d rather return to at the end of a grueling day, no arms I’d rather fall asleep in. You’re my first thought in the morning and the last thought before I fall asleep. I could say it was a gradual progression, but a part of me has always known that my soul has been calling for you even from our very first meeting.”

He takes a deep breath. “I guess what I’m trying to say is I love you, _____. And I have for some time.”

As much as he’s been playing into this character and has been since the beginning of the call, and has been nothing if not convincing, this time, with these words, you can’t help but feel sincerity.

That he’s dreamed of saying this exact thing to another being, prior to this phone call.

And of all things you do know, much as you may be the person he’s practicing with, you’re not the person he’s directing the words at. 

Seconds pass. Minutes pass. 

The clock is ticking. Your heartbeat is increasing. You need to say something and fast.

But just like before, you freeze in place. 

Honestly you feel like you would even if you were in this situation with Taemin himself. 

“I-I--” You begin.

Jongin’s eerily quiet. Waiting, almost like he’s praying for a response. Like he’s completely forgotten about the current situation, that it’s you he’s on the phone to, and not this, you almost want to say -- damned, for all the issues they’ve caused -- first love of his. 

It’s like he’s hanging onto your every word. Or even any potential word. Like you -- the person you’re meant to be representing to him, even -- bring out a sense of desperation that he’s never shown to another. That he can’t ever see himself showing to another. 

A vulnerability. 

He sounds so gentle, so welcoming, like it’s a blessing to even be talking to you all of a sudden. Part of you feels cold. “You...?”

“I--” you sigh. “I--” you take a deep breath. “I feel the same, Jongin.” 

But you both know, in that moment, that it’s an ‘I love you’ or an ‘I love you too, Jongin’ that he wants to hear. 

And it’s not you he wants to hear it from. 

It’s your exact response that brings him back to reality. So even if you did humor it -- not that you would, seeing as it’s the very thing you want to help him get over -- it still wouldn’t have the effect he desires.

A few moments of silence pass.

“Now,” he finally coughs out, and you hate that you can note the hint of pain in his voice as clear as day. “...Real time. Was any of that easier? Did the romantic aspect come to you easier? Or was it worse?”

Worse for you, you find yourself thinking. “I don’t know,” you mumble truthfully. “Part of it was easier because I was given the freedom to distance myself from the actual me, but--” You stop here, chewing at your lip. “Hopefully you understand what I’m trying to say, I, uh, I can’t seem to find the words.”

“Yeah,” he says, softly. “I understand.” 

It goes quiet for a few seconds and you know Jongin’s just about to insert some routine goodbyes, so you know if you’re going to talk about what just happened, it needs to be now.

“Jongin--” you say, as if to stop him in his tracks, as if you’re about to talk about what just happened, hopefully making it known that you realized exactly what was going on. 

Apparently he knows you knew, and that’s why the hesitance is clearer than any time before. “Hm?” 

You open your mouth, only to close it a second later, sighing. “Thank you for tonight. Please sleep well.”

“You too,” he whispers. “Goodnight, _____.”

“Goodnight,” you say, ever so softly. 

Jongin won’t look at you. At first, you think it’s because of the night prior, but as you pull up to a dreary looking landmark in the middle of nowhere, it’s apparent it’s something else entirely, though that’s probably still dwelling in his mind.

His eyes keep darting to a piece of paper in his palm, jaw clenching. Rather than edge closer to the destination, like you’re doing, he turns on his heel and strides off to his car, letting the note fall from his palm and onto the ground below him, as he perches onto the hood.

At first you think it’s intentional, an invitation for you to look at the note yourself, which is exactly what you do, your eyebrows pulling together in confusion a second later.

'Thought a change in schedule was warranted, so here’s a little detour. The rest of the group should be at the real destination by now -- an orphanage. Giving meals to disadvantaged children, reading stories, painting pictures. That’s not on your agenda today, if you’re unable to tell. I thought it’d be better to take a walk down memory lane. Thought a graveyard was a little dreary, even for my standards, so welcome, Jongin.'

Were you not meant to be here, were you part of ‘the rest of the group’? Did he know you were with Jongin currently?

Most of all, why was Jongin receiving hand written letters from Taemin’s father? Was this the first, or had he been receiving them since the first event? Your mind is swimming with questions to the point you don’t even take note of Jongin edging closer to you.

Your eyes widen as he snatches the note from you, crumpling it in his hand in one movement, his eyes swimming in unbridled anger, though not directed your way.

"Jongin?"

"We don't have to stay here, there’s no requirement anywhere that says we’re obligated to play into this sick, twisted game.”  

You edge closer, worry evident. "Jongin?"

He evades your oncoming presence. "I hate him," he grounds out, looking like he’s resisting the urge to kick something very hard, though luckily for his limbs, there’s nothing kick worthy in sight. Besides his car, but you doubt he’d go out of his way to kick that. Thankfully. "God, I hate him."

You’re not sure what to say, no idea which of your million pending questions you should present to him, if any. “S-should we...?” Go to the car, go explore the wreck of a landmark before you? What were you meant to ask?

“Go down there? Not a chance.”

“Are you--”

“Sure? Absolutely.”

“Jongin--”

“Look,” he says, and the sheer frustration behind the tone silences you in a second. He takes a deep breath, and you know he doesn’t have any intention of snapping at you, it’s just the situation in general. “Yes, it’s an orphanage. Yes, he wants to take sly digs at each and every one of us and dangle in our faces the information he has about us, even those he’s never met...”

You stay quiet, waiting for him to continue. 

“But this goes beyond me technically being parentless,” he says, and it’s not only anger you hear, it’s exhaustion, it’s pain. “I had a mother for almost sixteen years, compared to these children I’m blessed.”

There’s a second’s pause. “I don’t know about the other orphanage, but the one he really wanted to send us to... there’s no one in that orphanage. Not anymore.” He looks away, then down at his palm. “My mother worked closely with it.”

You nod, trying to gauge the situation. What had happened? From what you could see from the ruins ahead of you, it looked like a building that had once been there had been torn down. 

Torn? Not so much.  

“It burned down on the 14th of January, 1994,” Jongin continues. 

His birthday.

“The one day my mother wasn’t there, the day that was supposed to be the happiest of her life.”

You’re instantly silenced, paling. “Oh my god,” you sound out, freezing in place. 

“When I was old enough to understand what had happened, she’d take us yearly to pay our respects. And every year before that, she’d make my birthday as happy as could be, tell me how much she loved and cherished me, how I shared my birthday with a hundred angels.”  He pauses here, glancing at the ruins far ahead. “I should’ve realized from the route, but... God.”

“Jongin, I--” But you cut yourself off here, knowing you don’t have words to express the severity. He evidently has a lot more to say too, so you’re happy just to listen, at this point in time. 

“She hadn’t been there as the fire took place.” He stares ahead, an unreadable expression in his eyes. “It had been night when the fire broke out, and everyone in the building had been sound asleep. The news channels were only notified afterwards, so no one knew how many escaped or lost their lives until after.” 

He pauses here, knowing he needs to explain his mother’s ties to the orphanage. “The orphanage came into existence by my mother’s own insistence. She’d had a breakthrough in her line, her reputation, brand name, her entire presence in the industry... everything had skyrocketed. Money was flying in from a variety of sources, she’d been offered tons of new deals. And all she wanted to do with the extra income was help others.”  

There’s a pause as Jongin catches his breath. “...It wasn’t an impromptu decision, she mulled it over for some time. She bought land, a decayed old building, put so much time and effort into refurbishing it, making it habitable, presentable. She employed trusted staff, and finally, when it was ready, she gave disadvantaged children a home, as temporary as that residence may have been, even in knowing that she’d have to give the children away to other families eventually, she didn’t let that get in the way of her attachment to these children.    Every free moment of her time she spent at this orphanage, getting to know these children, teaching them, helping them realize their dreams and future aspirations. Biologically, they weren’t her children, but none of that mattered, because mentally, emotionally, she’d already adopted them. It hurt her to know she couldn’t take them all in herself, and raise them herself, so she intended to give them the best alternative, she intended to take part in each and every screening procedure of potential adopters, to make sure these children entered into a safe, secure home.    Much as she tried to divert the attention, already there was a lot of media coverage around the orphanage, coverage that went way out of her control. My mother hated it being called a project; none of this was about reputation, none of this was about good press. This was wholeheartedly about the children, and ensuring they had happy lives.” 

He taps his fingers on his thigh, directing his gaze there, as if it’ll be reason enough to not look at the ruins any longer. 

 “Along with the struggles of juggling ravenous reporters who hounded her on every aspect of her life, she had a hard enough time thinking about the children she’d come to care for so deeply, leaving. Pairing that with the fear of never seeing them again, and a sadness of knowing that some of the children wouldn’t get to meet the child she was carrying...” He pauses here, avoiding direct eye contact. 

You want to reach over and take hold of his hand, encase it in your own, as a means of support. But you daren’t, in fear of interrupting him. 

He’s here, actually telling you about his life’s events, answering a number of questions you’d already voiced to him, without you having to prod or pry into it, like you had to do then. 

Compared to a few months ago, this is a massive improvement, and the last thing you’re going to do is stop him in his tracks. 

“Just as she was coming to terms with it, just as she’d learn how to manage the reporters... it only being months away from the official opening of the orphanage to the public, the day her first and only biological child arrived... the fire happened.”

You gulp back a lump that’s forming in your throat, keeping quiet.    

“Her eyes were glued to the television for days on end, she wouldn’t move an inch until all the names were released, for the news of any survivors...”

And by his tone you can already infer that there were no survivors.

“There were funerals, granted the bodies couldn’t be laid to rest in their allocated coffins because by the time the fire had been put out, the children were unidentifiable. But she tried. She tried her utmost to honor them to the best of her ability. Her heart broke a hundred times over, I’m sure. Her eyes likely ran dry of tears by the end of the day.   And yet, she came home to care for me afterwards, making sure I only saw her smiling, nurturing self. Even though losing these children broke something within her, and she had every right to mourn that, she felt she had to keep a brave face for my sake, baby me’s sake.    Even when I was old enough to understand, even when we’d visit yearly to pay our respects, no part of her showed any animosity towards my birth also being the death date of one hundred others. Birthdays didn’t feel morbid when she was around, and like I said, she always made it seem like I shared my birthday with one hundred angels.   It’s just...  even after all that she did for them, even the mental gymnastics she must of gone through to be able to separate ‘Jongin’s birthday time’ from ‘mourning time’, she still felt like the blood was on her hands. She’d never say, not openly, she’d call it the most terrible, awful accident that could’ve ever taken place in the chance she ever had to discuss it with another... but when doors closed, when words ceased, when she thought I wasn’t watching, I saw the facade falter. In her mind, no matter what angle she viewed it from, she was the children's’ primary caregiver and she wasn’t there to save them on the day they lost their lives.”

You’re listening, intently. You don’t dare interrupt.

“A lot went unsaid,” he continues in a whisper. “A lot I had to learn to infer. I guess it was a valuable lesson to learn early on... that there’s a lot that people don’t say. That there’s a lot they can hide behind expressions, even more so through micro-expressions. But most of all, sometimes there are truths that co-exist, without cancelling the other one out. And whilst it may be the most frustrating and confusing thing on the planet to decipher at the time, it can happen.   I pondered it, I questioned it, studied it to a depth I didn’t know was possible at that age, of how it could be possible that my mother genuinely made my birthday the happiest time of the year, without faking a thing, but how I could look at her and still see thoughts swim through her mind I knew she’d never voice... mainly along the lines of ‘if only I’d arrived one day later, she could’ve been there, she could’ve saved them’... without blaming my existence in the slightest, without blaming me for what had taken place.   But even in her wholeheartedly believing this, believing my birth played no part in the fire that took a hundred orphaned lives and believing my existence played no part in the events of that night, she still found a way to blame herself. No one else. Just herself.”

His gaze falls to the ruins ahead, once more, same unreadable expression falling into place.

“It was the worst thing that could’ve possibly happened, especially given her circumstances. She’d just given birth to her first child; a child she’d likely discussed with the children, a child she’d consider their sibling. Someone she planned to take to the orphanage, so the children could see and interact with him. She knew she had no control over the events that night, especially, no... specifically because she wasn’t there that night.   Rationality told her it was something no one would’ve been able to predict or prepare for. An awful, unspeakable tragedy that she’d have utmost sympathy for, had it happened to anyone else, never once thinking of placing the blame upon, because who would do that? But that sentiment wouldn’t stand for herself.  Evidently, this was a painful thing to witness, to watch happen to your own mother, especially when you knew she’d never be able to move on fully.    But as awful an event it was, it had been long since established that it was an accident. My mother blamed herself, but knew in her heart she had no control over the events. The media had covered the event in detail, they came to the same conclusion: a tragic accident. As had I, as had everyone.”

You watch something in his expression change as he says this and freeze in place, knowing for certain this isn’t where the story ends. That somehow, even after all he’s just said, it’s about to get worse.

“But as I grew older, I couldn’t shake a certain feeling away. This feeling that we were missing integral pieces of information about that night, that as much as we knew, there was still something that wasn’t adding up. The media had covered the ‘project’ in depth, there were lots of people who knew about it, within her work circle and outside of it. She never suspected any foul play, she swore that those around her were trustworthy.”

You blink. Hadn’t they been? From Jongin’s description, his mother seemed like she had a good gauge on who was trustworthy and not. Surely if there was foul play involved, it would’ve been from someone outside his mother’s inner circle? 

“It should also be noted that my mother... she tried to distance me from the events of that night and the talks of it as much as she could. She’d change the channel, hide newspapers... but in her position, a self made millionaire and owner of an empire-like establishment, even before the orphanage, media coverage was nothing new, and in a city as soulless as the one we currently inhabit, reporters are relentless.  I’d found out gory details about the night through them, because of their insistence. Details that my mother had tried so hard to hide away from me.   She didn’t want me to know the gory details, she didn’t want me to associate my birthday with the death of hundreds of other children, she didn’t want me to know that the angels I shared my birthday with were actually the children who’d lost their lives in a fire she couldn’t put out, she wished that the reporters would have had respect and boundaries, and I knew she would’ve told me in her own time, at an appropriate age.  But there was no way of altering how I came to this information, and there was really no way to talk about it with my mother. Not any more. So I did my own research into the matter. And what I found...”

He pauses for a while, a disgust brewing in his irises that’s almost left you breathless. It’s how you know that whatever it is he found out, and to what extent, he won’t be going into explicit details today, and you’re certainly not going to push for them. You’re simply going to listen to what is he will tell you, and try comfort him as best you can.  

 “My mother always saw the good in the world, even when faced with nothing but the worst, and as much as she knew she’d always blame herself, at the heart of the matter, as I said, she’d always assumed it had been an awful, tragic accident, possibly due to the building’s location, a fault in the building’s mechanism, through this she was able to allocate the blame towards herself, because she’d been in charge of the location, and the refurbishment. She knew she wasn’t the one to strike the match, so to say, but she was the one in control of these aspects.    Both of these fears... about the location, the mechanism, they were put to rest by authenticated sources. The location had been like any other, had as much chance catching flame as any other. The mechanism and refurbishment, she’d made sure it was a top tier job, and the building passed every check with flying colors.   So when those fears were put to rest, she went ahead and convinced herself she’d been blessed with too much good by becoming pregnant, and that some force from above didn’t want her to have both her biological child and her orphaned children by her side...”

He seems to have paled, his words coming out numb, as if the anger for the topic had already been exhausted beyond reason. “She was so convinced of these outcomes that she didn’t realize the entire thing had been premeditated.”

You’re deathly silent, paling. 

He allows a short pause. “And so long as I was born, a factor that was inevitable during a pregnancy that had reached its ninth month, the events of that night would’ve taken place, regardless of what form that may have been in.   I stood there every single year, even after uncovering the truth of the situation, watching as she blamed herself for something she had no control over, watching her mental state deteriorate, knowing that no matter what I said, there was no way she’d see it as anything but. There was no way she’d consider anyone else but herself responsible -- no matter which loop she had to go through to reach that point -- even if someone else was responsible.”

It’s like he’s looking right through you. “And someone else was.”

Jongin’s eyes are colder than you’ve ever seen them. “There’s only one family out there that’s evil enough to pull a stunt like that and get away with it.” And like before it’s as if he’s looking through you when you next make eye contact, his eyes void of any emotion. “Take a wild guess as to who, ____. Think of who’d be sick enough to dangle something like this in someone’s face and experience no guilt as they did it.”

You can’t seem to take in sufficient oxygen. Your whole body feels cold. You knew he was bad, but this was a whole other level.

“Think of how close you’ve been in proximity to this man and how much he already knows about you without having had a face to face encounter. I’ve put myself off saying this a thousand times, because I thought we’d find a way around it, but he’s only upping the ante. You can’t come on this vacation, it’s too dangerous. Anything he lays his hands on is dangerous. Deadly. I can’t subject you to that being one of the few who knows who this man really is and what he’s capable of.”

“Maybe so,” you say, though it comes out shaky. “But Jongin, there’s no way you’re going on this holiday alone. Not now.” He’s already targeted Jongin and his family before, and if he’s only upping the ante, what’s next? You have to be there to help Jongin, and even Taemin if it comes to it that his own son needs protecting from him.

He may know some things about you, but there’s a lot he doesn’t. And whether he thinks so or not, there are strength in numbers and if there’s some way for you to get Jongin and Taemin to work alongside each other, maybe this man will be served justice, punishment for his crimes.

Jongin doesn’t respond for some time. “We’re not going to the other orphanage.” Which you’re definitely in agreement of. “Can we go somewhere?"

"Milkshakes?"

He hesitates. “Your apartment, maybe?”

He hasn’t said anything on the drive to your apartment block, but you’ve been keeping watch on his body language and facial expressions, hoping you’re being as discreet as possible. The last thing you want to do is provoke him further, he’s visibly seething as it is.

Once he pulls the car to a stop and turns off the engine, you watch as he flops against his seat, eyes screwing closed, shoulders tensed.

You're about to reach over to gently comfort him, but decide against it a second later, knowing how it could back fire. But just as you draw your hand back, Jongin reaches over and takes a grip of it, pulling it to his chest.

There's a bit of a uncomfortable stretch, due to the positioning, and Jongin's well aware, so he ushers you over to sit in his lap, almost so you’re straddling him, helping you climb over into his seat, where he proceeds to hold you close to him, resting his head against your chest, though nothing about the move is sexually motivated.

“I can hear your heartbeat,” he whispers, and he says it in a tone that suggests this is nothing but a calming prospect. That your presence in this moment is nothing but a calming prospect.

The few minutes of silence that follow, allows you to mull over the question you're about to ask him. You chew at your lip, hoping the wording matches your intentions -- which is to show support. Let him know there's a place for him to stay whenever he needs it, and during the day's particulars, that he won't have to worry about driving back home, especially in such a shaken state.

He seems to have noticed your internal monologue, as he peeks up at you, almost inquisitive in nature.

“Do you... do you want to stay over tonight? Y-you can have the bed and everything...”

You watch what initially appears to be confusion morph into a look of pure gentleness.  

“I just... I don't know if I'd be able to live with myself if I made you drive yourself home after everything that's just happened. I know it's a long shot and I'm probably overstepping some boundaries but I want you to know that it's a prospect that's open to you, w-whenever you need it, like right now, for instance. Of course you don't have to and hopefully your car won’t be vandalized, I know my area of residence isn’t as, um... well off as your neighborhood and--"

He rolls his eyes at you and your nervous rambling as he links one of his hands with yours, proceeding to place a finger of his free hand against your lips in a shushing motion. "I'd love to."

And that's that. That's how you invite the endlessly affluent and overtly educated Kim Jongin to sleep over. For the second time this week.

Except this time, your best friend is nowhere in sight.

An aspect that’s only just hitting you.

By this point, you've offered to make several beverages and meals, run him a bath, anything and everything that could possibly make him feel more comfortable in your residence.

And he's refused each and every offer, simply opting to flop onto your couch, and before you have chance to offer more hospitality, he pulls you along with him. 

You let out a surprised squeak, as you’re perched beside him. 

"You know," he says, languidly, as he begins to trace the skin of your forearm. "If there’s one thing I haven’t allowed myself to do when around you...”

He’s holding fluent eye contact with you, and you’re so close you can see eye individual eyelash, so close you watch as his pupils dilate, so close that your heart skips a beat, maybe two.

“What’s that?” You manage, albeit croakily.  

“It’s to get lost in your beauty.” He chuckles when he notices the goosebumps forming on your skin in the wake of his touch. “Which isn’t due to the fact that it doesn’t exist, because it most definitely does. Anyone with eyes could tell you that.” He’s tracing patterns on your skin, mulling over this. “I’m sure it’s a favorite past-time of a lot of men, pointing it out, fawning over it.”

“Maybe so,” you whisper. “But you’re not the other men, you’re not half as vulgar. Even off the top of my head, there are quite a few words they’d resort to prior to beautiful.”

He hums. “Beautiful should never be a last resort,” he whispers. “Definitely not the only resort, as there’s a lot more to a person than their outer appearance. It should be something you’re reminded of daily, not something a man coughs up when he wants to get into your pants and has realized himself that he’s exhausted how ‘hot’ you look over the course of the evening. It’s not just a look, it’s in the things you do, the way you carry yourself, how kindhearted you can continue to be in a world that keeps trying to drag you down.”

Your cheeks pink, his words leaving you in a momentary awe; never in your life has anyone said anything along those lines, outside of Taemin, who’d always emphasized the platonic aspect of it. 

“But,” he continues, gaze locked on your face, as if he’s drinking in your every feature. “I’m allowed to get lost in your beauty from time to time, aren’t I?” 

He links the hand that had been tracing your arm moments prior with your own. “To get lost in you?”

Your response is a little delayed, as you’re drowning in the intensity of his gaze. “Yes.”

There’s a quirk of his lips. “What was that, _____?”

“An answer to your question,” you say, eyes twinkling. 

“And if I have another question, what then?”

“Tell me what it is and we’ll see.”

“What if I need you closer, before I can tell you?”

You blink up at him through your lashes, feigning innocence. “How much closer?”

He pats his lap. 

To which, you happily oblige. You shuffle over so you’re sitting directly in his lap, almost letting out a sigh of pleasure when you feel his arms sneak around your waist, whilst the warmth of his breath on your neck proceeds to send shivers down your spine. 

And just as you’re getting comfortable, he whispers, “the other way, ____.” 

You’re glad you’re facing the opposite direction, so he’s not able to witness the almost comical widening of your eyes. 

You do so shyly.

“Much better,” he continues, brushing a lock of hair out of your eyes and behind your ear. 

“So...” you trail off, peeking down at him through your lashes, having to remind yourself to breathe when your gazes lock. “What’s the other question?”

There’s a minuscule quirk of his lips, as his eyes flitter towards your own for a fraction of a second. “Is it frustrating to know that even after saying all of what I just said, and genuinely meaning it, sometimes when I watch your lips move the only thought that occupies my mind is that I should press mine against them, stop you mid sentence?”

You hum, as if you’re truly thinking it over. “Sometimes it’s mutual,” you whisper.

His eyebrow raises. “Sometimes?” 

Your eyes retain a sparkle of mischief. “Most times.”

“But how does one politely say they want to kiss the breath out of the person in front of them?”

“Sometimes words aren’t necessary.” You blink at him. “And some people,” it’s clear you’re directly referencing Jongin with the ‘some people’. “Have a way of making everything sound poetic.”

He hums, his gaze never leaving your face, before he begins to pull you closer, to the point you’re straddling him fully. His arms wrap around you, encasing you securely, like he’s about to dip you during a waltz, but instead, he pushes you onto the couch, locking your body underneath his. 

“Jongin,” you gasp, legs wiggling a little, due to their change in position.

He’s the one to feign innocence this time, as he blinks at you. “Sometimes words aren’t necessary.” 

You raise an eyebrow at him. Is that how it’s going to be?

Two can play at this game.

A little naughtily, you wrap your leg around his waist to pull him even closer, watching something flicker behind his irises.

A few tense seconds of eye contact pass between the two of you and before you know it, his lips make their way onto your own.

For a while, you let yourself lose focus, bask entirely in the pressure of your clothed bodies pushing against each other’s, your linked lips barely parting.

But it’s when he leads your hand under his shirt and up his torso, do you realize you need to pull away. As gentle as he’s being, as flirty as your previous conversation and actions may have been, there’s a franticness to him right now, a franticness he usually lacks.

You need to make sure he’s okay, that if anything does happen tonight, he’s in the right frame of mind to be doing so. 

“Jongin--” You manage once you’ve pulled away, question evident in your tone. 

"I want to try it your way,” he says, a little more gruffly than he’d been prior, as he closes the distance between your bodies, once more, though he doesn’t make a move to connect your lips like they’d been moments before. “Let’s pretend tonight doesn’t count. For once, let’s not think.”

He doesn’t seem to be acting like himself, but it’s like the minute he lays his hands on you, all rationality leaves you. You know you don’t have the strongest threshold for resolve to begin with, but there’s something about Jongin acting like this that’s entirely new to you, and really quite irresistible.

A side of him you’ve never seen, a side you’d be ecstatic to explore the depths of.

If he trusts you enough to tell you what he told you at the orphanage grounds, he surely has placed enough trust in you to be doing as you’re doing right now, no? 

“Can we do that?”

He needs a distraction, that much is clear. And, well... you happen to be good at distractions.

You nod, the movement almost weary in its nature, before bridging the distance once more, pressing your body into his, lips against his.

You run the fingers of your right hand through the exposed strands of his hair, tugging very lightly, feeling him moan into the kiss as you do.  

“God,” he pulls you closer, if that's possible, before parting your lips momentarily. “You’re heavenly.”

You’re about to connect your lips once again, but before you can, Jongin shuffles off you, and up into a sitting position. 

Your lips form a pout, in question, but as he offers you his hand, helping you into a sitting position, your eyes widen a fraction when you realize what his intentions are. He wants to move from the couch and into your bedroom. 

Before that takes place, he edges closer, so your knees are touching. You’re struck with a sudden appreciation of his sturdiness, and as if he knows, or perhaps wants you closer himself, he wraps an arm around you, letting you lean into him. 

“...But so naughty.” As his fingers sneak from across your shoulder, down your arm and into your shirt. Gentle as ever. “You have a habit of choosing outfits that make it feel like I’m unwrapping a Christmas present.”

“Interesting,” you say in response, eyes fluttering close at the feeling of his hands running up your side, touching your bra. “That you’re so delicate about unwrapping said Christmas present. Most tend to tear the paper off, and throw it to the side, before they get to the real treat that lies beneath."

Jongin only smirks. He doesn’t even have to say anything to emphasize that he’s not most people.

Thinking you’ll be helping him by taking your shoes off whilst he works at the rest of your clothing, you make a move to do so. His hands still entirely, watching you with regard.

You quirk an eyebrow, peering at him once the shoes are off, analyzing the look he's giving you. "You want me to keep them on?" There’s a heel to the shoes you’re wearing, but they’re not half as sexy as your other heels, so you’re hoping he’d rather have them off, at least today. 

“Not tonight.” And in all seriousness, says, a little grudgingly, “But when have you known a Christmas present unwrap itself, _____?”

You snort aloud. “Noted.”  

But before he lays his hands on your clothing once more, he brushes your hair to your opposing shoulder, leaving tingles in his wake, placing one chaste kiss against your neck.  

Though his fingers had sneaked under your shirt prior, it seems your skirt is his first choice. He begins unzipping it slowly, so slowly, letting the anticipation build. 

Eventually the skirt pools onto the floor and you kick it away from your ankles. 

Jongin then instructs you to lift your arms up, evidently enjoying the tiny wiggle you do as your shirt is being removed. Unlike you, who practically threw your skirt off once it was at your ankles, Jongin gently folds your shirt and lays it onto the couch. 

You notice how delicately he starts at removing your pantyhose, eyes seeming to narrow at the mere sight of them. “I don’t like these things,” he mutters. 

You giggle to yourself. “It’s okay if you tear them.” 

But he’s determined not to, and though they take a little longer to get off than your skirt and shirt, eventually they’re taken off too, folded and placed besides your shirt. 

Jongin’s eyes fall to the pooled skirt on the floor, turning to you.

You smile sheepishly. 

He shakes his head, almost fondly, before reaching down to pick it up and place it beside its fellow garments. 

Once your shirt, pantyhose and skirt are off, Jongin pats his lap again, and you have to bite your lip, a rush of excitement running through you at the prospect of undressing him, the way he just undressed you.    

Your nimble fingers start on his buttons, stumbling every odd button or so. Given the intensity of his gaze, you think it's quite justified.

By this point, at least with your one night stands, clothes would’ve already been teared off, with no regard to building excitement or anticipation. Which is fine, you suppose, it’s just a lot more fun doing it this way.   

It seems you’re not the only one a bit taken aback by the evident shakiness of your hands. “Are you nervous?”

“A little bit," you admit. "But mostly excited.” 

“No,” he whispers, putting a small amount of distance between you two, concern evident. “____, what is it?”

You pause. “I guess it’s hitting me how... different this is,” you whisper. “You’re not making it seem like we have a time limit or like we have to tear the other’s clothes off within a five second time frame. I... I have a name to you, I’m not just some younger chick you’ve picked up at a bar who you can be rough with for an hour and barely speak to as you’re doing it. We’re...” You stop here.

“Equals?”

You nod. “And as well as that... we’re not strangers, Jongin. It’s not... distant.”

“Not at all,” he agrees. But the worry is still there. “Do you want to stop?” 

You shake your head, wondering why it’s never occurred to you that you’ve never been asked this by any other man you’ve been intimate with. Why none of them stopped to check if you were even in the right frame of mind to be consenting, why they only cared about their own pleasure, about using your own body for their own pleasure.

“I think we should change the room though.” You get up onto your feet, offering a hand out to Jongin. “Seeing as the bedroom is the place I tend to think the least in...”

You see a hint of worry pass through his eyes once more, his hand stilling mid air. 

“Overthink,” you amend, hoping he wouldn’t dwell on it for too long. It was just a case of it being a different scenario than your usual. And maybe it’d take a little while for the differences to sink in, but the last thing you wanted was to turn Jongin away.

Jongin. 

The same Jongin you’ve been trying to seduce since your first meeting. 

A man that you’ve experienced levels of attraction you didn’t know were possible. 

He’s still for a few seconds, searching your face for any sign of discomfort. When he’s convinced there aren’t any signs of discomfort, he takes your hand. 

His shirt is still half unbuttoned and you debate whether to help him out of it here or in the bedroom.

You decide you’ll remove it in the bedroom, as you pull him along. 

Once his shirt is off and before you can close the door to your bedroom, you feel his arms snake around your waist. You offer no resistance as he turns you around so you’re facing each other directly. 

“Maybe it’s a force of habit,” you whisper, biting at your lip, the natural sensuality of the act has his eyes flickering down to it in a beat. “But defined roles always get my gears turning.”

His eyes flicker back up to meet your own.

“Do you want to play dominant?” 

The look he sends you is answer enough.  If you were to allocate roles, he wouldn’t need to be playing.

You suppose, sometimes, that’s how the dice naturally falls. 

His eyes have an unfamiliar glint, as he seems to be processing what you’ve just said. 

It’s a glint you’d love to become familiar with.

“We can play,” he eventually says, reaching down to peck your lips. 

You take his hand in yours once more, tittering over your bed, where you perch yourself, blinking up at him. 

He leans into the frame of your bed slightly, and it takes all of your resolve to not jump into his arms and wrap your legs around his waist, pull him down with you. 

"Over the course of our interactions, you have said that you want to help me, at least when intimacy is on the agenda. It has me wondering, to what extent?”

You open your mouth to reply, but he shushes you. As politely as possible, you must add. 

“You'll do anything I want?"

"Anything," you breathe.

"Prove that for me tonight, then." He edges closer, tilting your chin up. “Hm?”

You nod.

"Unbuckle my belt and take my pants off." You instantly perk up, making your way to do so. If the rules are off for a night, then doesn't that mean you're allowed to touch him? "Though not for the reason you think."

You visibly deflate.

"Don't look so disappointed, I thought you wanted this." He tilts your chin up, again, before you have chance to kneel down, holding fluent eye contact. “Don’t you want this?”

“I do.”

By the time you’ve unbuckled his belt and helped him out of his pants, he’s offered you his hand and perched you back onto your bed. 

He eyes your lingerie. 

“Don’t you think it’s time it comes off?”

You pretend to be deep in thought. “Is it?” 

“Most definitely.” He perches himself beside you, slightly raising his eyebrow at you, as if to ask why you’re not getting to it. 

“I would," you say. “But according to the rules...” 

There’s humor in his eyes, but the stern expression doesn’t falter. "I'm not playing games, _____."

“I always obey the rules,” you whisper, chewing at your lip.  In reality, that’s very far from the truth but right now, you’re sticking to your guns. Like he said before, a Christmas present can’t unwrap itself. 

You blink at him, feigning worry at his stern silence. “Don’t I?”

“Apparently there’s a rule you’re not aware of.”

“What’s that, then?”

“Tonight, I’m the one making them, so I’m the one who can amend them. This is your last chance, _____.”

You shake your head, crossing your arms over your chest. “Maybe I amended my own truth,” you say, valiantly. “Some rules I like to break.”

“Even if it gets you into trouble?”

Your eyes twinkle. “Especially if it gets me into trouble.”

Before you know it, Jongin’s lips are against your own, and your arms are being pinned above your head, securing you in place. 

You feel yourself smirk into the kiss, as you hook your leg around him, pushing your -- clothed -- groins together.

He parts from your lips momentarily and you watch his eyes flutter closed at the proximity. 

You watch the realization dawn on him, knowing there’s only two pieces of fabric -- and a bra -- in the way of connecting your bodies, that you’re closer than any time before.  

And perhaps, it’s not entirely uncomfortable for Jongin. At least not now that he’s gotten to know you. That he’s already kissed and held you, shared aspects of his life with you, that very few know about, outside of rumors and hearsay. 

You really aren’t strangers any more. And as scary an aspect as that is for you, it seems to be the most comforting thing for Jongin.

The thoughts passing through your mind are most certainly all about how far the two of you could go and possibly will go, if the rules are off for the night. 

What surprises you the most is you swear you see the same thought cross through Jongin’s mind. 

He only smirks when your eyes next meet. 

“If you could only see the way you’re looking at me right now.” 

His lips descend towards your earlobe.  “So, so needy, hm, baby?” 

You can only nod, not trusting yourself to speak at the current moment. 

“Is it that difficult?” His lips trace your neck and you try to hold back the moan, but fail. “Waiting for me?”

You know you shouldn’t nod, but he’s so close and his tone of voice is so teasing, the pressure of him against you is so intoxicating yet so far away, it’s like the only place in the world you want to be right now is wrapped up in him. 

All of him. 

“Should we disobey the rules, hm, _____?”

You nod abashedly. 

“We could,” he continues, eyes twinkling when you let out a whimper. “Couldn’t we, baby?”

“Yes,” your breathing is quite labored. “A million times yes.”

“But what if I want to torture you a little more, hm? How frustrated would that make you feel?”

“I’d probably --”  You gasp when you feel his fingers sneak into your panties and brush against you.  

“Already so wet,” he muses, as if he’s truly becoming aware as to the affect he so easily has on you, the intensity of the desire you feel for him. 

Just how much you actually want to be intimate with him.

His hands then slide up from below your waist and under the hook of your bra, unfastening it. He takes it off of you ever so gently, and you hum in appreciation as his hands trace the curve of your breasts.

You want the same friction from before, but just before you’re able to grind against him, he’s crouching to your belly button, hooking his fingers into your panties. He begins to slide your panties down your legs, in a tediously slow manner, eyes twinkling as he does, before -- and a first time in manner of your garments -- flinging them off you. 

His eyes roam over your naked form, and if the look in his eyes is anything to go by, you have witnessed lust from him, just not to this extent. 

It’s intoxicating. 

But no part of you feels objectified. 

Just desired. 

“...I want you to straddle me.”

Your eyes widen. “Naked?”

He places you onto his lap, so your entirely naked body is brushing against his almost naked body.   

“Jongin,” you pant, though he’s clad in boxers, there’s still friction, and though you know tonight is likely to not end in sex, it’s still driving you crazy.

He knows exactly what it is he’s doing to you, but feigns innocence all the same. “Hm?”

You almost hiss at him.

“What is it, baby?”

“Touch me.”

“Hm?” 

“Make me yours,” you continue,  watching as he eyes your lips. 

“Not yet.” He allows a second’s pause. “You’re going to be writhing in desire before I even lay a finger on you like that.”

And before he lays a finger on you like that, you absolutely are. 

He lays you down,  pressing his thumb against your clit very lightly, tracing your folds as his fingers make their way to your opening, edging one finger into you slowly.  

There’s barely any resistance, so he decides to up the ante. 

You gasp as he inserts a second finger, and the first thrust of the fingers is tediously slow, making you push into them to guarantee more friction, which has your breathing shallowing. 

Before you catch your breath, he's thrusting the fingers in and out of you, working up a steady pace.

In reaction, your mouth opens in an almost breathless moan, but it's when he does this slight curling motion, do you pant out his name.

He then stops.

You all but whine.

He adjusts your positioning so you’re almost at eye level, his fingers are still inside you. "Don’t close your eyes just yet, baby. Look at me."

You try to, but it’s in this moment that his fingers restart their previous ministrations. His thumb keeps brushing over your clit, not so much that it’s overstimulating, but enough to knock you off from coherent sentences.   

“Tell me how much you want it, _____.” 

You open your mouth in an attempt, but a moan serves as your reply.

“Nu-uh. Tell me straight.”

You want to scream in frustration. “H-how can I when-- oh.”

“I guess you’re not able,” he teases, and you whine, both in pleasure and frustration. 

“What if I told you you’re not allowed to cum until you tell me how you’re going to please me in return? You seem to be forgetting we have all night, I could easily slow the pace down. If you don’t want that to happen, you know what you need to tell me.”

You hiss, knowing he’s not going to let you please him in turn, at least not tonight, much as you could -- and probably would -- beg of him. 

“Give me a scenario, tell me how you’d please me in return. It’s something you think about a lot, isn’t it?” 

If only he knew. 

Your mind is blanking from the pleasure. Would you talk about your current situation, a future situation, even a generic situation? It’s clear he wasn’t going to make this easy. “W-when you’re -- we’re --  in the sho--ower--” Brushing over your clit, as he continues to pump his fingers in and out of you. “I’ll reach down,” this comes out as a whimper as you try meet his pace. “Jongin, Jongin, please, faster--”

“Not until you tell me what you’d do to me. If you can.” His fingers still from inside you but the clitoral stimulation only intensifies. “Look how weak you are for me, after all that talk."

“I’ll take you in my hand--” You can’t think straight. “F-fuck.”

Evidently bemused, he stills his ministrations entirely, and just when you think he’s giving you chance to catch your breath, much as you whine from the loss of feeling, from the need to get your release, he adjusts your positioning so you’re straddling him once more. 

The friction from the clothed erection that’s pushing up against you, due to your position on his lap, has Jongin let out a moan of his own, which only makes you want him more.

He leans in to kiss you, and you melt into his embrace, your body seeking him out on its own accord. You need him closer, you need to bridge the distance entirely. 

He adjusts your positioning, so you’re once again on your back, him hovering over you. He momentarily parts his lips from your own.

“Look how much you've wet my boxers,” he says  and you suppose it’s meant to be a reprimand, but the lustful tone it’s said in is anything but.   

“Looks like you’ll have to take them off, then, hm?”

He watches you with -- lustful -- regard, like he’s actually considering it. 

“I can feel how big you are, oppa.” You blink at him.  “What would you say if I told you I want it inside me. ...All of it.”

“That you haven’t earned it yet.”

Your whine is so audible. “Please let me touch you.” 

 But he’s unrelenting, shaking his head at you. He leads his hand back to you, his fingers making their way back to your core, but not before brushing over your clit. 

“O-or at least touch yourself for me, hm? Let me watch you get yourself off,” you gasp as he reinserts and curls his finger inside of you. “Oh god.”

“Quite the convincing proposition you have there, hm?”

You nod enthusiastically, moaning in quite a wanton manner as he slips a second digit inside of you, building up a pace like he did before. You’re a mess of moans and whimpers by this point, needing your release.

He takes his fingers out of you all of a sudden and you whine, desperate for him to allow you to cum. 

Rather than place the fingers back into your soaking core, he puts them into your mouth, making you taste yourself.

“Sweet, hm?” 

But that moan turns into a whine when you feel material snake around your eyes and black out your vision. From the feel of the material, you think it’s a tie.

A tie from where? -- Had Jongin even been wearing one? 

You’re not entirely sure. You just know that tie or not, it’s a piece of material you vehemently despise for what it’s about to block your vision from.

“No, no, Jongin, that’s not fair.”

He chuckles in your ear, the sound low and sinfully sensual, as the material is tied around your eyes.

“You get your way,” he continues. “But it comes at a price. Each time you do as I say, I’ll take myself in my hand and pump. Every time you disobey me, I stop. If you want to please oppa, you’ll do well, won’t you?”

You nod.

“Won’t you, _____.” But it’s not phrased as a question.

“Y-yes, oppa.”

“First, move to the opposite end of the bed.”

You pout as you do, but believe it to be half worth it when the sound of Jongin shimmying out of his underwear and taking himself in his hand infiltrates your hearing.

“Cup your breast."

You do so without question, too turned on at this point to even think of being playfully disobedient. 

"Mhm, now slip two fingers inside yourself."

Same as before, you do this without question.

He coos. “Your fingers are too small to get yourself off, how cute.”

You pout.

“You going to prove me wrong, hm? Cum on those pretty little fingers for me?” You arch yourself, trying to go deeper inside yourself, but still feeling like you’re falling short in comparison to Jongin. 

A moan escapes your lips and Jongin hums.

“Faster baby,” voice thickening with lust. “Thrust your fingers in and out for me and I’ll go faster for you too.”

You do as instructed, whimpering as you do. His fingers feel so, so much better, but at this point you’ll take anything, especially if it gets you any closer to what you truly desire. Him. “Jongin,” you say breathlessly. “Can I take the blindfold off now? Can I touch you yet?”

“I don’t think you can handle me. Your hands are just so small, what are you possibly going to achieve with them?” You know he’s having fun teasing you like this.  

You scrunch your nose at him. “I can,” you say stubbornly. “You know I can.”

“You sound determined. Let’s see how determined you truly are.”

You listen, awaiting his next instruction.

“Keep the blindfold on and edge closer, get on all fours and crawl over to me. If you lose your way or go in the opposite direction, even if unintentionally, it means less time touching me. You have to prove to me you want this.”

“You’re so evil,” you breathe out, as you hear him shuffle on the bed, amending his position. You don’t know by how much.

You can almost hear the eyebrow raise. “Do you want me to deduct more time? You want to sit in the corner of the room listening as I bring myself over the edge, knowing not only have you not seen what you’ve caused, you don’t get to help, either? Such a nuisance.”

“No, no, please, I’m sorry. I’ll behave.”

“Good girl.”

And though it takes longer than you plan, which you curse yourself for, wondering if your bed has always been this big, or you’re just so hyped on the adrenaline, if it’s the nerves that angry-turned-dominant-let's-pretend-this-night-doesn't-count-Jongin happens to be so good at instilling,  you make it over to him, tingling with anticipation.

Once there, he takes hold of your wrist, pulling you along the length of the bed until you're at the pillows, before pushing you back into it, laying you on your back.  

“You have to cum first, okay?”

You actually whine at this. Much as you want to cum, especially right now, you want to touch him even more than that. “Oppa...”

His voice softens at this, “then you can touch me. I promise.”

Spreading your legs for him once again, you hear him shuffling his positioning, and before you know it his lips are pressed against you.  “Jongin, Jongin,” you breathe out, running your fingers through his hair, tugging at it. “Oh god, Jongin.” He trails his tongue along your folds, before trailing it up to your clit, tongue swiping across it in a circular motion. 

He’s applying just enough pressure to have your toes curling, the kiss of his plump lips ensuring that you’re a mess of moans and that your hands have the perfect amount of flail to them.   

“Who’s making you feel this way?” Though his mouth stops its ministrations momentarily to speak, you can still feel his breath, his fingers as they thrust in and out of you, hitting the exact spots you missed.  

"F-fuck." 

"Who's making you feel this way?" he repeats, not satisfied with your answer. 

“You. You are.”

“And who am I?”

“Jongin. K-Kim Jongin.”  Legs convulsing, before they snap closed, trapping his fingers inside of you. Waves of intense pleasure wash over you, rendering you breathless.

You take a few moments to catch your breath and come down from your high, before reaching your hand over to him, tingling in anticipation. 

As he takes a hold of it, he directs your hand to his hardness, allowing you to feel every inch of him, to savor it. 

“Since it took you so long getting to me,” he only chuckles devilishly at your pout. “I’m closer than either of us want me to be. Finish me off, _____.” And the simple fact that he addresses you by name, in that moment, it feels so intimate, that even if he isn’t touching you anymore, you almost let out a moan of your own. “Show me what your little hands can do for me.” You hear his devilish, mocking chuckle. “If anything.”

You’re biting so hard on your lip you’re sure you’re going to make it bleed.  Experimentally, run your hand down his shaft, stroking it, working up a steady pace. You’re blindfolded so you know it may be a bit more difficult than normal, but you intend to utilize both hands, so you make sure to direct your free hand to his balls, cupping them gently.

This emits a gasp from him, and you smirk.

"Just like that," and it’s so soft you almost miss him saying this, entirely thankful you don’t.

As you continue pumping him, increasing your pace, you feel him jerk in your hands, and with one final curse word, as soft as it is, as you lightly run your thumb over his head, he releases into your hand.  

Once you’re both dressed and cleaned up, you’re a little unsure how to bring up his staying over. 

You meant what you said in the car, but now that the distraction has stopped and the night’s events are dawning on the both of you, there’s a heavy silence emitting. 

Jongin’s the first to break it. 

"Like I said, we'd do it your way tonight, so, uh, I guess I should--”

He gets up to leave, sighing.

“Jongin, wait--” You reach over, taking a hold of his hand. “I meant what I said earlier.”

He turns to you, eyes almost hopeful.

“I-I want you to stay, okay? Even if tonight technically doesn't count, it's only fair that we do something romantic after something sexual. We can...”

You watch him break out into the most genuine, humored smile. All because you’re blushing at the prospect of asking to cuddle him after everything that’s just happened. 

“Can we... I mean should we...”

He’s watching you, a softness in his eyes. It kind of puts you at ease.  

“...Share a bed?”   

“We should.”

"I know tonight’s kind of exempt from counting,” you mumble, once in bed and in his embrace. “But how did you find such a perfect balance?"  

“I think we’ve built up enough sexual tension to last a lifetime,” though he almost chokes this out. “And since you're spent enough to get cuddly, you’re getting cuddly.”

"Though I could go again," you say teasingly. And as much as you wish you could force your mouth shut, because somehow this has fallen into the most perfect rhythm, you can’t seem to curb your curiosity and perhaps -- foolishly -- think this would be the best time to do so. “But if we were going to go again, I'd need to know the direct recipe in getting you angry. Angry enough to disobey all previous rules. ...Or is defying all previous rules reserved for one person and one person alone?”

You watch what had previously been an entirely relaxed posture stiffen, but you know now more than ever if you persist, you may find yourself some answers. 

“Would she be mad if she knew what had just happened?”

“What are you doing?”

“I’m just curious,” you whisper, not liking the hint of pain you can detect in his tone. “I know nothing about this love of yours.” Usually you were happy to address the mystery person as his first love, but in all honesty, it’s clear that even when he’s not in active contact with this person, he’s still in love with them. Maybe trying to humanize them more than a distant figure from the past, would help him open up about it, even if only by a little bit. “If you told me who this person was then maybe we could go about this in an entirely different way. Through discussing them we could target specific areas, or work on specific things--”

“Can we not do this right now?” 

"Jongin..."

"Don't worry about this person," he whispers, but he feels further away when he says this. “I’m not thinking of them when I’m with you.”

You know you shouldn’t attempt to contradict this, that he doesn’t want you to contradict this. But you can’t suppress the scoff. “That’s a lie and we both know it.”

He freezes. “Fine,” he coughs out. “Maybe I have, at times. But I wasn’t thinking of them, then.”

“No,” you say. “You were thinking about fucking me, and I could feel it, I could feel the desire there, Jongin. There were moments when I knew you were thinking about how easily you could’ve disobeyed all previous rules, about how good it’s going to be when we actually do.” You pause, eyes everywhere but at his face. “And that’s the thing. They’re our rules, our stupid, little rules. We’re under no obligation to stick to them, but we keep acting like they’re paramount. Until we actively talk about our issues, in a truly mutual sense, we’re going to be stuck in this position of getting somewhere, but also barely anywhere.” 

He doesn’t reply. 

You feel your eyes roll. “I just want to remind you -- maybe even let you know --that you’re not in a relationship with this person and you don’t owe them anything. Not any more.”

He’s still quiet.

“Jongin...”

Rather than snap at you, or bite back, he brushes a lock of hair behind your ear. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispers. “We shouldn’t fight, _____.” 

You cross your arms over your chest. “We need to talk about this.” 

He sighs, as if he knows this also, but knows how easily it could get out of hand and end in an argument. Which is what he doesn’t want to happen. “Obviously I can’t deny that what you’ve said is the major reasoning as to why I’m hesitant to go the full way, but it’s not just that, _____.”

You blink at him, waiting for him to continue. 

“There’s... danger in this, _____. I think you’re unwilling to see that, at least to a degree.”

Your confusion persists. What was he getting at here?

“Because you’re so detached from the reality of your situation.” 

You force yourself to hold your tongue, willing the irritation that’s bubbling in you back. Admittedly you both had issues, but for him to just casually point out yours and pretend like his weren’t at the same level.

You puff out a breath. He hasn’t considered living a life without this first love, at all, has he? He’s so sure that wherever they are, they’ll find their way back to him.

He doesn’t seem to realize the reality of his own situation, either now, does he? The chance of them not returning. 

You keep quiet however, urging him to explain.

“And that’s something that I can’t skip over, because I see it all too clearly.”

He lets out sigh. “In your position, when you’re experiencing what it’s like to have a relationship for the first time, regardless of whether it’s real or ‘practice’... a lot of truth can get mixed up in that, whether it’s intentional or not. We’re not pretending to get to know each other, we’re legitimately getting to know each other more deeply and profoundly with every interaction we have.   Whether it’s a real relationship or not, there is a bond forming, there’s a level of trust that’s already been established. This exact experience could either make or break your view of relationships in the future, and you’re so focused on me that you don’t seem to see why that’s a terrifying aspect to consider.”

You guess that makes sense. But you keep quiet, waiting for him to elaborate further. 

“You’re so sure that if things don’t go as we plan, you’ll be to separate love from sex, like you can do right now, for the rest of your life. Like you’re not realizing that what we’re doing is teaching you to associate the two things together. To be able to experience them together. Up until this point,” he pauses here, glancing at you. “...You haven’t slept with Taemin, have you?”

You shake your head.

“Then truly, up until this point sex and love have been two separate things for you. They’ve never coincided. You’ve conditioned yourself to not only view them on a separate basis but to pursue them on a separate basis. The men you sleep with have always been strangers. You’ve never been intimate with the one man you do love.    If we see this through to a point of no return, and let each other become a sanctuary, we must consider the future consequences of everything we do. It’s easy for me to say because it’s something I tend to do naturally, but you’re so sure this entire thing ends with you being with Taemin, even though you may deny it when I ask you, even though you’re aware of the possibility of it truly being an unrequited love. Am I wrong?”

You shake your head, avoiding his eyes. 

“And if things don’t go as you plan and you don’t end up with your best friend--” 

And you hate that even if it isn’t intentional, and he has no intention of hurting you by saying it, there’s a confidence to the words, like he’s already accepted it’s finality. 

Though he’s so sure you won’t end up with Taemin, which in his eyes, seems to the better, more logical view point, even though it’s just the flipped view of what you believe.

It has just as much and just as little chance of coming true as your view point does.

You’re so ready to bite back, and let it turn into an argument, but you’re well aware that Jongin wouldn’t say this for no reason, especially not at this point. Especially not after what you just found out at the orphanage. 

Taemin isn’t his father but his father is always going to be in his life, considering the tight reigns he holds over him and seems to always have. 

Jongin knows the severity of this man’s actions first hand. He knows what he’s capable of, what he’s capable of getting away with. 

So it’d be in your own favor to listen to what Jongin’s saying. Find out how much of Taemin’s life his father is actually controlling. 

“If it does pan out that way -- and you reach a point where you actively want intimacy and love to coincide, where you’ve found comfort in situation that mimics that, as pretend as that may be, you’ll likely find yourself stuck between two paths.   Which would be reverting back to the old way, the risky encounters with strangers.  Or wanting to explore the newer way, embracing the frequent touch of a man that you’ve come to trust. I think you’re good at disguising it, but just like me, you’re slow to trust, and it would take a lot for you to allocate this role we’re giving each other, to someone else, in the chance that you don’t end up with Taemin.    With every fiber of my being, I’d like to advise against returning to the one night stands, but I can’t pretend that the latter option isn’t as soul destroying. Yes, we’ll trust each other, yes we’ll find solace in each other, but no matter which angle it’s viewed from, I’m still the same person who’s irrational about his first love and the future he’s envisioned, for he and that first love.    A future I’ve had years to mull over alone, to plan and prepare for. Years in which I could’ve spent seeing the situation for what it truly is, and whilst I likely have, I can’t pretend I’m not stuck in that same place I’d been back then.    I’m no stranger to the possibility of never encountering them than reuniting, but that doesn’t change the fact that as much as I’ve begun to hate it, feel shackled to it... even as awful an aspect this is, I know in my heart that if there was but a one percent chance of reuniting with this person, I’d go out of my way to make it a reality.    Even if love isn’t involved with us in such a scenario, it’s not something I ever want to deny you of. You deserve a love that ignites your soul. I don’t want to deny you of that, in the case that things don’t go as plan, make you feel like you’re chained to me, simply because you may be at a point where I’m the person you trust most, next to Taemin.   If we allow ourselves to go the full way with this, we need to be prepared to accept an outcome we’re not desiring and I need to know that you’ll be okay with that.”

Truthfully, he was right. You had only imagined this from the perspective of things working out the way you’d initially planned, where Taemin ended up with you, and Min-seo with Jongin.

You’d been focusing on Jongin and his situation so much because you’d been wrong, or hasty in your hypothesis, of sorts. You’d noticed tension between he and Min-seo and automatically assumed they’d been romantically or at least sexually involved at one point. 

The furthest he said they’d been in response to that was a few not so serious dates, and at the time, you’d assumed that could’ve been a bluff, one because he didn’t trust you like he does now, and two, so you had no leverage to hold over him. He’s holding to his word, at a point where he trusts you, so you know there’s no reason for you to be doubtful of what he said, at least not any more. 

It’s just the more you get to know him, the more you want to ensure happiness for him also. In the case of you ending up with Taemin, you wanted him to have someone at the end of all of this, also. You’d just prematurely assumed that would be Min-seo. 

The existence of his first love didn’t exactly take you by surprise, because you had guessed there had been someone special in his life, you’d just been wrong about the person. Yet, the mystery around this person’s identity is constantly throwing you off, adding onto that the fact that he’s clearly been hurt by this person to such a degree, and has just confirmed that he’d go so far to be with them again, you can’t help but feel cold at the thought of them reuniting. 

At the thought of this person once again having the leverage to hurt Jongin.

A hurt he seems to imply persists in as much intensity as the day it was cast upon him. 

You blink.  

“W-wait.” Could it that be? 

Jongin waits for you to continue. You see apprehension.

“Did your first love leave you when your mother--” Was he subconsciously allowing himself to mourn the loss of his first love and his mother at the same time?

With his mother’s death, it was only logical that at least some of the hurt would never disappear. 

That he’d try hold onto some piece of her, or least the reality they’d had at the time. If his first love was also in the picture at this point in time, could she -- or they -- be doubling as both the physical manifestation of love -- someone to hold, someone to dedicate his life to -- and the sheer concept of what love represented to him? 

Would the embrace of the first love mimic that of a mother’s warmth, in a time he needed it most? Would their soft, forgiving words remind him that he couldn’t control the events of her untimely demise? Would they remind him not to blame himself? 

Did he try hold onto them extra hard because the loss of his mother reminded him that even those we care about most and believe will always be besides us, are something death can still touch?

If it ended after -- and especially during -- the period of time when he lost his mother, surely the hurt would be increased tenfold. 

He glances the other way, doing everything in his power to avoid looking at you directly. 

“And you’d never given yourself chance to mourn your mother, because you had so much to do, so much to take over. You let things like taking over the businesses and studying, so forth, distract you from the mourning process. And only through the loss of the first love can you say ‘I lost something irreplaceable to me’. Only through the first love are you able to mourn them both, because it’s the only aspect of your life you’re allowing yourself to mourn.”  

He doesn’t want to talk about it, but you know, as heartbreaking a discovery as it may be, it holds truth. Possibly the truth you’ve been missing the entire time. 

The truth that makes the irrational, rational.  

You edge closer, because even if he brunches back, you have to comfort him this time around. 

He doesn’t resist when you wrap your arms around him, simply embracing you back. Running his fingers through your hair, you notice a ghost of a smile. 

You wake up to darkness, panting.  

“Hey,” Jongin sits up, stirred awake by the movements. You’re instantly calmed by the sound of his voice. “What is it?”

“I-I just... my surroundings blurred and I woke up thinking I’d gone out again and slept with some random--” You take deep breath, hoping to calm your nerves entirely. “But it’s you.”

“It’s me,” he assures, coaxing you back into his embrace. 

You bury your head into his chest. 

“You’re safe, _____. I promise.”

It takes a little while before you doze off after that, but when you do, you fall into a peaceful sleep, warm in Jongin’s embrace. 

You’re completely oblivious to the thoughts running through Jongin’s mind. His internal debate of whether he should buy two plane tickets and embark on a two week holiday with you elsewhere, whilst the rest of the group find themselves in the evil clutches of Taemin’s father. 

His phone beeps.

He double checks that you’re fast asleep, that the sound hasn’t woken you, before reaching over to the nightstand. 

‘It’s been a while since we last spoke, but I was assured that everyone would be in attendance. Maybe I’m wrong -- and I hope so -- but we’re not on the plane yet and if any time is a good time to doubt it, or find a way to avoid boarding the plane, it’d be now.  Much as you want to deny, I know how your mind works, Jongin. Of all things, I know attending itself is a risk, one you’d rather not take. I know you hold nothing but contempt for the man organizing it all, but if there’s anything I can assure you of, it’s your safety. It’s everyone on the trip’s safety. -- Junmyeon’

Jongin narrows his eyes at the screen, just about to turn the screen off, but the phone beeps again. 

 ‘...I can also offer the bribe of a lifetime.’ Jongin’s eyes only widen the further he reads into the message. After reading it over to make sure he’s not imagining what’s in front of him, his eyes make their way to the bottom of the message. ‘So if you’ve seen my messages, send an emoji! :-) if you’re hearing what I’m saying and :-( if I physically have to haul your ass onto the plane and drag you there myself.  --Junmyeon’

Jongin rolls his eyes, but finds himself complying.  

‘:-). Goodnight, Jumyeon,’ he sends. 

‘Goodnight, Nini! --Junmyeon,’ he receives in an instant. 

Jongin cringes at the use of this nickname, but can’t fight the chuckle that bubbles up from the exchange. He’d known Junmyeon for a while, and as much as he didn’t go out of his way to say so, he genuinely did trust him. 

If he were to consider anyone an older brother figure, it’d have to be Junmyeon.

Jongin’s eyes then widen when he hears you shuffling in your positioning. He quickly turns his phone off, placing it back on the nightstand.

“What app were you playing?”  You mumble, groggily. 

“Just checking the time.”

You nod, snuggling back into the pillow. Once you’re in a comfortable position you ask, “what time is it?”

“One AM. Don’t worry about getting up just yet.”

“Sure thing,” you say, chirpily, happy to catch a few more hours. “One more question though... will we be safe?” 

 “I hope so.” He takes a gentle hold of your hand, linking your fingers. “What matters is we’ll be together, and I won’t let anything happen to you.” 

“Ditto,” you say in agreement. “Now let’s go back to sleep.” 

And as you buckle yourself up in Jongin’s car the next morning, journeying towards the airport, you wonder what it is you’re walking into, what these next two weeks of vacation are to entail.

> previous chapter > next chapter

[jiminthestreets-bonesinthesheets]

In My Dreams: Chapter 6

HeeeeeY!! So I have decided to let the kpop loving side of me free and unleash one of my (many) kpop fanifcs! This one has been well liked on AFF so I hope you guys like it too!! ^^ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Description: Junhong lead a hard life. Taken in by his abusive acoholic Aunt and Uncle after a tragic accident that lead to his parents death was only just the beginning of his pain. He never fit in at school, bullying had become a daily routine, and being openly gay in a closed minded town didn’t exactly help his current social situation. Junhong lived most of his life with his head down praying that invisibility be his friend. But in the flash of a moment everything changed. Finding himself somehow transported to a foreign land he’s given a second chance at life. A chance to make new friends, new relationships, a brand new beginning he thought he would never have. But it will not be without its ups and downs, the biggest hardship being the handsome face in his new group of friends. In the end Junhong will have to make the biggest decision of his life, does he return to everything he knows to be with his family like he’s expected, or will he stay in this strange new land and give up everything for love?

Pairings: Banglo, Daejong, Himjae

Rating: M (SMUT INVOLVED!!!)

Characters: Yongguk, Zelo, Himchan, Daehyun, Jongup, Youngjae, Oc’s

Masterlist

Hope you all enjoy!! ^^

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

WARNING!!!: THIS CHAPTER INVOLVES SMUT!!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 6: Are you the one?

    “Junhong, will you get out from behind my back already, they are gone,” Jongup tried desperately to unlink Junhong's hands from around his waist but had no luck, he had a tight grip.

    The whole time the Chief and the boy who was to be their new squad leader were talking, Junhong had thrown himself behind Jongup in an attempt to hide. The Chief was not his friend nor did he want another encounter with the frightening man. He wasn’t the only reason though, that boy, he recognized him. He was the boy from earlier, the one who had caught his attention as he walked by when he had first met Jongup. Junhong was sure he had never seen another man like him, he was gorgeous, and his deep husky voice didn’t help to quell the nerves that settled in Junhong's stomach. If this was how he was going to feel every time Junhong was around that man how was he supposed to be a part of this squad if he was their new leader?!

    Panic began to sink hard and fast in his stomach when he caught sight of Daehyun out of the corner of his eye. Daehyun, this was his fault. Why hadn’t he told him that this man was to be their new leader?! “You!” Junhong finally let go of Jongup, lunging forwards to grab Daehyun by the collar, “Why didn’t you tell me he was our squad leader?! You didn’t even tell me he was in our squad to begin with! Had I have known this I would have found a different squad! This was vital information, Daehyun, why didn’t you tell me!”

    When Junhong was done with his mini rant he shook Daehyun, causing a laugh to burst from his lips, “Whoa, hold on a second, Junhong. I only found out that he was going to be our squad leader the same time as you, I didn’t know that you even knew who he was and also… you didn’t ask.” His brow quirked with the last words.

    Junhong sat back, unknowingly straddling Daehyun's lap, his eyes wide as he knew he was caught, “I don’t know him.”

    A smirk the devil would be proud of covered Daehyun's face as he leaned closer to Junhong, “If you don’t know him then why are you freaking out so much about him being our new leader?”

    “I…I am not freaking out,” Junhong puffed his cheeks, trying to hide his blush.

    “Yes you are.”

    “No, I am not!” the two were now forehead to forehead, Junhong glaring daggers into Daehyun, and Daehyun staring back with a knowing look.

    “Awe!” Junhong jumped as he heard the loud squeal coming from Jongup, “Do you have a crush on Yongguk, Junhong?”

    Junhong quickly turned his body enough so that he could cup his hand over Jongup's mouth, “Shh! Not so loud! He might still be close, what if he hears you!?”

    Now it was Youngjae’s turn to chime in, “That’s so perfect! Me and Channie, Jongup and Daehyun, and Junhong and Yongguk. It was meant to be!” he sighed as he clasped his hands together.

    Youngjae quickly grabbed Jongup, pulling him from Junhong's hold. The poor boys face flushed even deeper shades of red as the two held hands and began dancing excitedly in circles. When he turned back to face Daehyun and found himself staring into the most horrifying grin he had ever seen, he knew he was already conducting a plan in that devilish little mind of his, one that Junhong was sure he did not want to be a part of. And on the other side of him Himchan was keeled over howling at Junhong's embarrassment. He hated being the center of attention.

    He ran his hands down his face, looking down as he sighed before saying, “Don’t get your hopes up guys, I'm not very good at these kinds of things, and I'm pretty sure he doesn’t even know I exist.”

    “But you haven’t even tried yet Junhong-ah. You have to make him see you, make him interested, seduce him like I did to Himchan,” Youngjae walked over and straddled Himchan's waist, laying a gentle kiss on his lips as Himchan wrapped a possessive arm around him. Turning back he said to Junhong, “There was clearly some kind of connection that happened when you saw Yongguk right? So when he sees you and there’s a connection on both sides, just like Daehyun said would happen, you'll know if he’s the one the spirit wants you to help. If he’s not then we will help you find…Himchan!” Youngjae's sentence was cut short by Himchan's adventurous lips. After the first kiss they had wandered down to his neck, licking and sucking every inch they could get to. When he got fed up with that he pulled Youngjae's face back and his tongue instantly began exploring the others mouth in a heated session right beside Junhong.

    Jongup came over and stood on the left side on Junhong smiling down to him, “Don’t worry, we’ll help you, you’ll have Yongguk wrapped around your finger in no time.” That only made Junhong’s butterflies worse. What if he wasn’t the one, what if he didn’t like Junhong. Rejection was at the top of the list of things Junhong did not handle well. “Oh, and Junhong?” He looked up to Jongup, “I know you’re new and all but uh… you’re in my spot.”

    Jongup pushed Junhong over and the next thing he knew he was on his back in between the two couples. Jongup had moved to take Junhong's previous position of straddling Daehyun and both couples were now in very heated make out sessions, Junhong stuck in the middle.

    He didn’t know what to do, he tried to slither his way out but every time was knocked over or squished even more when someone shifted. He tried to, without disturbing them so much, ask where he could find their tent, “Hey, could someone show me where I will be sleeping so I can get out of your way?” None of the four boys budged and this was becoming a little too much for Junhong to handle. If anymore blood rushed to his face he was sure it would explode.

    He tried desperately to escape from this awkward situation as the sessions got more involved. The two pairs beside him had started moaning, they began grinding, and hair pulling. Suddenly, Himchan decided that he wanted to switch his position with Youngjae so he was on top and rolled right on top of Junhong and that was his last straw. Using all the strength his little body could find Junhong pushed the two boys off of him, now in complete hysterics, “Ya! Get off of me will ya! Show me where to sleep, please!”

    Himchan broke his lip lock with Youngjae, smiling at Junhong as he mumbled, “Silly little virgin.”

    “Hmm, not for long,” Daehyun retorted.

    The four of them got up and jumped out of the pit, leaving Junhong behind.

    “Not for long…” he thought out loud, “what's that supposed to mean? Hey wait for me!”

***********

    The four boys walked quickly to their camp site, Daehyun purposefully keeping the pace a little too quick for Junhong, he had some things to discuss with his friends about what had just unfolded before their eyes.

    “Poor Junhong,” Jongup spoke first, “he’s really freaked out by Yongguk.” It was as if he had read his boyfriends mind.

    “I think Yongguk might be the reason why Junhong ended up here in the first place, Uppie,” Jongup turned to Dae, his nose scrunched in confusion.

    “Why? Because of Yongnam’s death?”

    “It makes sense,” Himchan joined in, “if you think about everything that Daehyun said about how Junhong was brought here, it all connects to Yongguk and his brother dying at the same time Junhong started having dreams.”

    “You know,” Jongup slapped Daehyun's arm, “earlier, when you asked him what he was looking at, I’m pretty sure he was looking at Yongguk,”

    Youngjae spoke this time, “It might explain why he acts so weird around him. Daehyun said that when the two people see each other an instant connection is made right? Well, if Yongguk is the other half of Junhong it would only make sense that he would get that butterflies in your stomach feeling when he sees him. Just like anyone else.”

    Himchan bent down and nuzzled his nose, “Look at you, my smart little boyfriend,” Youngjae blushed a bright tomato red.

    “But if that were the case, then wouldn’t Yongguk have reacted to Junhong the same way? Maybe we have the wrong person after all.” Daehyun sighed.

    “Yeah, I would assume the other person would have the same sort of feeling wash over them. But don’t give up yet Dae,” Youngjae continued, “Yongguk still hasn’t seen him yet.”

    “Yes he has,” Himchan spoke up this time, “at the fire pit when Chief introduced him as the new squad leader.”

    Youngjae chuckled, “They might have been in the same place but Yongguk didn’t actually see Junhong.”

    “Youngjae's right,” Jongup piped up, “he hid behind me the whole time remember?”

    “You’re right!” Daehyun's face lit up like the stars, maybe there was still hope for the both of them. He looked to his three friends with a smile as he continued, “You know what we have to do now right?”

    Both Youngjae and Jongup's eyes widened and they said in unison, “We have to get them together!”

    “This could be fun,” Himchan and Daehyun both looked to one another, the devil was doing dances across their shoulders in delight. Himchan turned to look back at the sound of fast approaching steps, “no more talk, Bubblegum caught up.”

    All four boys quickly dropped the topic as their new friend finally reached the group, panting, “Thanks for waiting,” he spat between breaths, “how much further?”

    “It’s just up here,” Daehyun pointed absentmindedly, his thoughts diving right into hatching a plan.

    A few feet later found Junhong sighing in relief as he finally made it to their tents. There was a point when he thought he would never get here. “Wait…” he turned to Daehyun, “three tents, five people. Who gets the single tent?”

    Before Daehyun even had the chance to answer a booming voice was heard from directly behind Junhong, “Actually three tents, six people.” Junhong instantly tensed, every muscle in his body seizing.

    Daehyun looked at the two of them, Yongguk still only seeing the back of Junhong, and this was not going to work if they didn’t come face to face. Jongup squeezed Daehyun's hand lightly and looked up to his boyfriend. No words needed between the two, Daehyun caught on to his plan. Dae nudged Himchan beside him as he nodded his head towards the three tents, a smile creeping on to Himchan's face as he too understood their silent arrangement.

    Himchan was the first to act, taking Youngjae's hand and springing to the left, “Youngjae and I get this tent!” The two of them dove into the tent quickly zipping it closed behind them.

    Daehyun was next as he and Jongup ran to the tent on the right shouting, “And Jongup and I get this one!”

    Inside their tent Jongup and Daehyun covered their mouths to stifle giddy laughter, “We are so mean,” Jongup whispered.

    “It’s the only way,” he whispered back, carefully undoing the zipper, “let’s see if our plan worked.”

    Jongup slowly stuck his head out and peeked at the two remaining. They hadn’t budged. “Maybe they need a little push,” he said to Daehyun as he stuck his head further out calling to the two, “that leaves the two of you to share the last tent… Sweet dreams.”

    He pulled his head back inside his tent, just enough so that he could still see the two boys outside but not get caught, Daehyun squishing in beside him to do the same. The pair couldn’t hear what Yongguk and Junhong were saying to each other but they could tell that Yongguk was talking to Junhong. That was a step in the right direction at least. Junhong remained frozen as Yongguk moved from his place behind Junhong and ducked into the tent, “Shit! He didn’t see his face.”

    “I wouldn’t worry too much Dae,” Jongup said lying back, “how long can they avoid each other when they have to share a tent. Yongguk will have to look at Junhong at some point.”

***********

    Junhong was far from ok with this sleeping arrangement and he would be sure to have some choice words with Daehyun tomorrow morning. How was he expected to share a tent with him? He could barely make eye contact and they already wanted him to sleep with him!

    “Well,” his voice sent shivers down Junhong's spine, “I guess it’s us in this one then.”

    Junhong had seen Yongguk a total of three times now, but the few words he had heard him speak, Junhong had never really listened. His voice was hollow, completely void of emotion, lifeless. The aching in his words had Junhong's body cold, goose bumps covering his arms. How could someone be so…dead inside?

    His voice sounded again, “Kid, are you listening to me?” Junhong heard every word he had said, but no matter how hard he tried no part of his body would listen when he told it to move. “Whatever, I’m going to bed…weird kid.”

    Yongguk brushed past Junhong and into their tent. Once he was out of sight Junhong was able to finally relax his body, his shoulders slouching as he sighed. If Yongguk was the one then this whole thing was a lost cause. He couldn’t help someone he couldn’t even talk to.

    After allowing himself a few minutes to calm his raging nerves and take a couple deep breaths he crawled in behind Yongguk. He mustered up some courage and looked to his face before crawling under his blankets. He was already asleep, clearly exhausted from whatever was eating him inside. His breathing was even and heavy as Junhong watched the gentle rise and fall of his chest, his face scrunched. With a sigh Junhong took the blanket from his side of the tent and placed it over Yongguk, “Someone that cold on the inside must be cold on the outside. No matter what it takes, if you're the one, I’ll find a way to warm you again. I promise.”

    Junhong turned his back to Yongguk, curling in on himself and settling in to sleep. His eyes were heavy and he could feel sleep slowly pulling him. He was almost there when his head snapped up at a sudden noise outside, at first it was coming from the left side then it seemed that he was surrounded. Realization hit him and he groaned as he threw himself back, taking his pillow and covering his face. “Oh my God! Does it never end here!?”

***********

    “Hyunnie,” the moaned name escaped swollen lips.

    “I never want to leave you again, Jongup, that patrol was too long without you,”

    Daehyun dipped his head nipping and sucking at Jongup's exposed skin, leaving his mark everywhere he touched. The two of them were already stripped of their clothes, wasting no time after too long apart. Jongup writhed under Daehyun as he stuck a single finger into his entrance, beginning to stretch him. After what felt like a lifetime Jongup smacked his hands away as he breathed, “No more teasing, it’s been to long.”

    Daehyun removed his fingers, lining himself up with Jongup's entrance and slowly pushed in. He kissed away the tears that began to form in Jongup's eyes, moving down to kiss his nose next, then down further to leave a long passionate kiss on his lips. Jongup couldn’t wait any longer and began to push back against Daehyun, his actions ripping a delicious moan from the boy above him. Daehyun started to move his hips in a slow rhythm, their love making filled with loving caresses and heated kisses. Jongup missed this. He missed his boyfriend, the love of his life, he missed loving him until they couldn’t breathe, completely spent but never happier.

    Jongup was the first to break their kiss, arching into Daehyun as he hit that spot just right. Slender arms wrapped around Daehyun as Jongup moaned into his ear, “faster…”

    Pushing himself up Daehyun picked up his pace. Jongup ran his hands over Daehyun’s toned stomach, admiring that which was entirely his. He could feel himself coming closer and closer to unravelling, a fire burning inside him when he felt Daehyun's hand reach between them to stroke his member in time with his thrusts, Jongup's name the only word on his lips.

    He reached down, pulling Jongup into his arms as they rocked into each other. Jongup bit down on Daehyun's shoulder as the two of them came together. They fell back spent, breathing ragged. Daehyun kissed Jongup's forehead before rolling over, motioning for him to lie on his chest. He pulled the blankets over the two of them wrapping his arms tightly around his boyfriend. This was exactly where the two of them wanted to be for the rest of their lives, completely safe wrapped in each others embrace. They could think of no other place they would rather be.

    Jongup stretched his neck to kiss Daehyun, whispering, “I love you.”

    He smiled down at the younger boy, “I love you too, Uppie.”

    It wasn’t too much longer before both boys fell deep into sleep.

***********

    In the next tent over the second couple was up to the same thing as the two on the right, though where passion had filled their tent, lust and want filled this one. Screams of faster and harder filled the air, the sounds of skin slapping skin surrounding them.

    Youngjae was on his hands and knees, Himchan behind him pounding into him with every inch of his strength. Since the two of them had met they had always been a little rough when it came to showing the other how much they loved them.

    “Harder Himchan…” Youngjae's back arched, his head coming back as Himchan leaned forwards, licking up his back.

    Himchan's thrusts started to become frantic and uneven and they knew they were both close. Himchan's moans turned to guttural grunts and it wasn’t long before Youngjae felt him release inside him, his coming soon after.

    He grabbed Youngjae by the waist and flipped him over onto his back as he pulled out. He hovered over him possessively with a look in his eyes that had Youngjae squirming with glee knowing that look was all for him. He took his lips hard, biting and sucking his bottom lip as he groaned, “I missed you my love.”

    “I missed you too, Himchan.”

    Himchan continued his assault on Youngjae's lips, his movements becoming more and more heated every second. He began grinding his hips against the younger below him, both of them quickly becoming hard again…round two!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: woooo!! Little bit of smut, sorry guys i couldn’t resist ;P But as always let me know what you think! I love reading your comments and let me know if you wanna be tagged!! <3

tags: @jeonwuu

[jbankai89]

Fic: Needs

My good friend and braintwin @kuriquinn suggested I try posting my actual fics on Tumblr, rather than just linking them, so I'm giving it a try. For those of you following my work on AO3 or AFF, these will be reposts until I'm caught up and everything is posted. :)

Title: Needs

Author: JBankai89

Status: Complete

Chapters: 1/1

Rating: NC-17

Fandom: Harry Potter

Pairing: Harry Potter/Severus Snape

Warnings: Attempted Sexual Assault, Dub-Con

Genre: Omegaverse

Summary: Harry had no idea that Alphas and Omegas existed until a trip to the Hospital Wing turned into much more than he expected.

Other Links: AO3, AFF, LJ

Notes: Do mind the warnings if you are of the olden faith. (my obnoxious way of saying if you're one of those Purity Wank people, your bitching will be ignored)

Sequel: Wants

Needs

“Harry? Are you all right?”

Harry groaned; his head was pillowed in his arms at the Gryffindor table, and even though Hermione had spoken in a tone just barely above a whisper, it raked through him as though she'd been screaming. He tilted his head to the side, just enough to give her a one-eyed glare.

“Do I look all right, Hermione?” he demanded, then groaned again, and burrowed his face further into his arms.

Everything was too bright, to loud, too smelly, and everything was making his head pound.

The pain refused to stay in one place either; he could feel periodic bolts of pain course down his spine, he could feel his muscles cramp and seize, before it found a new miserable home somewhere else in his body. The pain was so fleeting that he didn't have a chance to properly react to it before it was gone, and that in itself was infuriating.

“Maybe you should go to the Hospital Wing?” Hermione asked timidly, as though afraid that he was going to curse her.

Harry had half a mind to, if she didn't shut up.

“I can't,” Harry replied with another groan, “we've got that test in Potions, remember? Snape would skin me alive if I missed it.”

“But, Harry, you're ill,” Hermione protested, “even Snape isn't that unfair.” Harry snorted.

“Potions is second period,” Harry said in a mumble, “I can survive until then and I'll go see Pomfrey after.” He hoped the explanation would placate her, as all this talking was making his head feel worse, not better.

The shrill tonalities of the bell steamrolled through his head at that exact moment, cutting off any further protests that Hermione may have made, and he forced himself up and off to Charms with Ron and Hermione on either side of him.

Charms went about as well as Harry could have expected, and with the edges of his vision going a little red, he managed to at least stay standing through the lesson. Unfortunately, his spellwork was so shoddy that he was one of the few eighth years given extra homework to make up for it. It was a testament to how awful he must look that Hermione didn't even chastise him for not paying attention properly. He tried to ignore her worried glances, though it was proving more difficult than he had anticipated. Following the war Hermione had become strangely maternal, much like a miniature Molly Weasley.

He shuffled along with his friends down to the dungeons, and he felt a wave of nausea wash over him. The potion fumes had never affected him this strongly before—he was uncertain whether he would faint or puke. The smells were overwhelming, and he staggered back a few steps, only to be caught by Ron and Hermione, who seemed to sense that whatever was wrong with him was no doubt getting worse, instead of better. Harry rubbed at his eyes, but the red ring around his vision did not fade, and his friends silently steered him towards the classroom door. Harry breathed through his mouth, trying to ignore the way the sharp, pungent smells made pain lance through his skull much more frequently.

Draco Malfoy shoved past them, but instead of spouting off one of his usual insults he froze, standing stock still. For a moment, Harry wondered if he'd been hit with some sort of Freezing Charm, but slowly he spun around, and stared at Harry in a way that made him extremely uncomfortable. It was the same possessive look Harry had seen in his eyes when he'd laid eyes on something he'd wanted. The fact that he was looking at Harry like that made absolutely no sense. Malfoy's nostrils flared, and he smirked, as though he and Harry were sharing some sort of private joke. Harry stared back, face blank with confusion. Without a word, Malfoy stalked off towards his fellow Slytherins.  

“Okay, what was that about? Did I forget to put on deodorant or something?”

“You smell fine mate. It's just Malfoy being Malfoy. C'mon,” Ron steered Harry bodily towards their usual seats, and not a moment too soon as Snape swept into the classroom.

“As you are well aware, today I will be testing your aptitude—or lack thereof—on recalling N.E.W.T. Level Potions from memory. You will brew a Calming Draught with an Alyssum base. You have one hour. Begin.” There was a mad dash for the store cupboards, Harry lagging behind slightly as his head continued to throb. How on earth was he supposed to brew like this?

Harry found himself next to Malfoy, in line for the store cupboard. He was still trying to shake off the pounding in his head, and as a result nearly jumped out of his skin with shock and surprise when the blond fisted his robes. He yanked Harry closer, letting out a low, canine growl as he did so. Eyes wide with shock, he tried to lurch away, but his legs refused to work properly. Harry found himself hyperventilating, too surprised to even speak, but luckily his friends seemed to have noticed his distress.

“Oi, leave him alone!” Ron grabbed onto Harry's arm and yanked him away from the Slytherin, who seemed very reluctant to let Harry go. Malfoy narrowed his eyes at Ron as though he'd taken away his favourite sweet. Harry stumbled as Ron continued to drag him away, and Harry found his voice.

“What the hell was that about?” He whispered the words in a hurried hiss as Malfoy grabbed what he needed and stalked off sulkily. Some of the redness around the edges of his vision had begun to recede, though his head was still throbbing.

“I'll explain later,” Ron said in a hurried whisper, his eyes a little wide. He nudged Harry and nodded at the cupboard. Remembering that he was supposed to be brewing a potion, he hastily grabbed what he needed and Ron steered him back to his seat.

His potion was far too thin and a bright turquoise instead of the sea green it was supposed to be, but he was far too distracted by everything. His head had slowly stopped aching, but every small sound, smell, and touch was maddening in its intensity. He struggled to focus on the task at hand, but he was acutely aware of more than a few of his peers—Slytherins, mostly—staring at him in a way that was nothing near to what he was used to. It was an intense, sexual look. Harry's stomach twisted uncomfortably. What was going on? Had someone slipped muggle LSD into everyone's morning pumpkin juice?

Snape swept past his table, and froze just as Malfoy had. He turned slightly to stare Harry down, but offered up none of his usual acerbic barbs. His nostrils flared, and Harry could hear him taking a great sniff of something. He jerked back in his seat alarm, startled by the way a similar growl to Malfoy's escaped the Potions Master. A split second later, the man seemed to remember himself and offered Harry one last glare before he swept away in a swirl of billowing robes.

~*~

Harry all but staggered out of the classroom his limbs felt stiff, as though he'd been in bed for a week. Ron and Hermione helped him, but he felt slightly more clear-headed as the headache had finally faded in the last quarter of the lesson.

“Look, I'm fine,” Harry protested, “I'll go see Madam Pomfrey and get this sorted. You two'll be late for Transfiguration if you help me.” He felt unsettled by the looks the Slytherins were still giving him in passing, and it was made worse by the amused smirks they gave to Ron and Hermione. He did not need babysitters.

“Believe me, mate, the last thing you want is to be left alone right now.” Ron's tone was strangely serious, and as they helped Harry towards the stairs Malfoy made another appearance. He moved as if to approach them, but Ron whipped out his wand and pointed it at him. “Don't try it, Malfoy,” he growled, narrowing his eyes.

At first, Malfoy didn't move, clearly testing to see if Ron was bluffing, but finally he snorted in disgust and took off. Harry blinked in confusion, but didn't have a chance to question Ron as he steered him towards the staircase. Harry was too busy being manhandled by his friends to notice the Potions Master intently watching their ascent with hungry eyes.

~*~

By the time they had reached the Hospital Wing, Harry's legs had completely given out, and he was being dragged over the threshold. Harry groaned, the stark white of the walls and the bright springtime sunlight that bathed the room was too much and he shut his eyes tightly, his headache returning to him with renewed vigour. Distantly he could hear Madam Pomfrey's angry exclamation, and he felt himself being levitated off the ground. The pain in his head was too intense, and he could no longer focus on the sounds of his friends' voices or the matron enough to comprehend the words. He felt himself being lowered onto a bed, and the cool lip of a goblet being pressed to his mouth. He gulped down the potion, and within moments sunk into dreamless sleep.

When Harry next woke the Hospital Wing was dark, but Harry could still hear the occasional teenage voice bleed through the closed doors of the ward. Harry supposed it wasn't as late as he thought, and sat up with a small groan. He did feel better, the pain and sensory overload seemed to have passed, but his entire body felt heavy and weak.

“Potter?” Madam Pomfrey came into view at the front of his cubicle. “Ah, good, you're awake,” she bustled over, holding a vial in her hand that contained a thin, dark purple liquid. “Drink this, and then we can discuss your condition.”

She unstoppered the vial with a quick tap of her wand and handed it to him. Harry knocked it back and swallowed as fast as he could, though he still gagged on the rancid taste.

“Condition?” he rasped, accepting the glass of water she handed him and gulped it down, “I thought it was just a migraine or something.”

“I'm afraid not, Potter,” she grimaced, and Harry had the distinct impression that whatever was wrong with him wasn't good. He swallowed nervously while he waited for her to continue. “Usually symptoms of this condition present itself much earlier, often between the ages of fourteen and fifteen. I suppose with the stress of the last few years, yours had been suppressed.” Harry bit back a laugh; stress was putting it mildly. “Potter, have you heard of the terms Alpha and Omega before, from your lessons?” Harry shook his head, his mouth twitching into a small, confused frown. What was this about? The matron studied him for a moment, then elaborated.

“Within the wizarding world, there are four sexes, not two. Male, Female, Alpha, and Omega. The two latter are wizards born with lupine traits, and it is believed that it is a recessive gene from a period in history when many of our kind had bred with werewolves. The gene will not present itself until the child reaches puberty, but often the parents will often cast certain charms on their newborns to determine whether or not they fall into one of those two categories.” Harry blinked at her words, uncertain how to respond. Was she saying what he thought she was saying?

“There is no documentation in your file stating whether or not you had been tested for the Alpha/Omega gene,” she continued, “but given your symptoms, I performed the charm and your test came back positive for the Omega gene. This is not good news, Mr Potter.” Harry swallowed nervously; Madam Pomfrey was looking at him as though she had just informed him that he had cancer.

“This Omega thing...what does it mean?” Harry's voice shook slightly as he spoke, and based on the grave expression she still wore, he wasn't entirely certain that he wanted to know.

“Omegas are quite rare, Mr Potter. Of Alphas and Omegas born to a generation, only one Omega will be born for every ten Alphas, sometimes less. Omegas are physically weak, especially when in the presence of an Alpha. Unbonded, it can be very dangerous,” She paused, Harry staring at her with a blank look. “Omegas are submissive by nature, and when you have not committed yourself to an Alpha—romantically, sexually, and so on, you are considered to be unbonded. Your body will respond instinctively to an Alpha who takes an interest in you. There is no way around it, and if they want you, they will take you.” Madam Pomfrey spoke in a serious, matter-of-fact tone, but he felt himself go red at her words. Remembering how Malfoy had acted towards him, Harry supposed that that had to do with his condition. Harry shivered, grateful that Ron seemed to have understood the danger when he pulled Harry from the line of fire.

“Are you talking about...do you mean rape?” He swallowed thickly, shivering a little as he recalled how he was virtually incapable of independent movement by the time they had reached the Hospital Wing.

“It comes rather close,” she frowned, pausing as she considered her words carefully. “If an Alpha takes interest in you, they can use their innate abilities to render you submissive and compliant. You will find that your body does not react to your thoughts as readily, or you may suddenly feel compelled to act submissively towards the Alpha in question. This could mean kneeling at their feet, or losing your ability to stand and collapsing. The responses tend to be rather unpredictable, as are the ways in which the Alphas in this school will respond to you.” Harry shuddered at her explanation, his mind filling with images of kneeling at some faceless man's feet, like a household pet. The concept made him feel sick with shame.

“In addition to this,” she continued, “you will experience Heats.” Harry blinked, and to his blank look she elaborated, “every month starting the day preceding the full moon and ending the day following it, your body will crave sexual stimulation from an Alpha.” Harry felt himself flush at that—it was a little strange to imagine himself morphing into some sort of wanton whore. “It is quite painful, and I can have you sedated and warded in a private room for the duration if you so wish.”

Harry stared down at his lap, his fingers picking at a hairline scratch on the back of his hand given to him by Crookshanks. He tried to work through what she had told him, but it was too much, and he could already feel the first signs of panic setting in. “There's more, Potter,” Madam Pomfrey's voice snapped him out of his daze, and she looked even more grave than she had before.

“More?” His voice sounded rather hoarse in his ears.

“As I said, the wizarding world has four sexes, not two. Alphas and Omegas differ from Male and Female in several small ways physically. That being said, the most significant physical change that you need to concern yourself with is the fact that Omegas can conceive children.”

“Wait, what?” Harry shook his head, certain that he had misheard her. “But that's...that's impossible. I'm—I don't have the right equipment for that.” Harry reached down—all sense of decency forgotten in his panic—and checked to make sure nothing had fallen off in his sleep—nope, meat and two veg still in tact. Thank God.

“Not yet, but you will,” frowned again, though this time she looked rather sympathetic. “You won't lose your equipment, as you call it, but your rectum will develop a secondary use during your Heats as a receptacle for bearing young. You will also lose your testicles, as your body no longer has a need of them.” Harry groaned, lifting his knees and burying his face in his thighs. This was too much. He had always thought he'd get to have the normal life he'd always wanted once Voldemort had snuffed it—so much for that.

“What am I supposed to do?” His despairing voice was muffled slightly by his position, but he didn't move. “I don't want to...I mean, is there any way to get rid of this Omega thing?”

“I'm afraid not, Potter. Had we known of the gene prior to you presenting, we may have been able to block it with potions for a time until you felt ready, but now there is nothing to stop it. The potion I gave you will suppress your scent as an unbonded Omega, but that will not stop the Alphas within the school who already know of your status from seeking you out. I suggest for the time being, you keep your friends close, and do not wander off alone.”

~*~

Harry left the Hospital Wing the following morning with a wad of pamphlets in his hand, given to him should he have any questions. Harry shivered as he recalled the conversation from the night before. He just wanted to pretend the whole thing had never happened.

He made a quick stop at Gryffindor tower to change into some clean robes and grab his books, and arrived in the Great Hall with time to spare. He sat down heavily next to Ron, who jumped in surprise at his sudden reappearance. “Harry! We didn't think Pomfrey would let you out so soon.” Harry crammed a piece of bacon into his mouth to avoid responding, but Ron simply ploughed forward, oblivious to Harry's reluctance for small talk that morning. He leaned in and hissed, “how come you never told us you were an Omega?”

“I didn't know,” Harry's voice shook with annoyance, and he struggled to keep it at a whisper. “I didn't even know about all this Alpha and Omega stuff until last night when Pomfrey gave me an earful.” He grimaced and shifted his gaze to the High Table, where he could see the recently-cured-but-still-an-idiot Gilderoy Lockhart having some sort of exuberant conversation with Professor Sprout, who looked particularly sour at the seating arrangements that morning. Hermione's voice dragged Harry back to the conversation.

“Harry, I know you don't want to think on it, but you need to be very careful for the next while. I mean, unbonded practically every Alpha in the school will be able to sense it—”

“I know, Hermione,” Harry said wearily, absentmindedly raking a hand through his hair. “Pomfrey told me. I'm like a beacon or something for all these Alpha-whatevers.”

“Not to mention Malfoy,” Ron sniggered a little, while Harry hit his head against the tabletop with a groan.

Taking it upon themselves to protect Harry from every Alpha in the castle, Ron and Hermione had begun to escort him absolutely everywhere. Harry felt extremely weird being shepherded from class to class by his friends; he knew they meant well, and as such kept his complaints to a minimum. Even stranger still was the way his legs seemed to buckle when he got too close to certain students.

Draco Malfoy was practically stalking him, and Ron had taken the fall quite spectacularly when he cursed Draco in order for Harry and Hermione to make a hasty getaway. Ron's subsequent detentions with Filch sounded like nothing short of torture, but Ron had brushed off Harry's apologies with a casual shrug, as though he'd done no more than pick up a quill Harry had dropped.

At mealtimes, Harry was assaulted more than once by the distinctive scent of Alpha coming from the Head Table. While he knew that Snape was an Alpha—a realization that made him extremely nervous—he had a feeling that he couldn't be the only one, as the scent was far too strong. He had wondered on more than one occasion who else might be, but he wasn't exactly keen to get close enough to the teachers to find out for himself.

He had slowly been growing used to his heightened senses, in particular the way he could smell an Alpha nearby well before he saw them. Their scent was so distinctive from the other witches and wizards around him that he had quickly learnt to look for it in an effort to make himself scarce before the Alpha in question could zero-in on him. During his lessons that was next to impossible, and his only choice was to choose a seat as far from the Alpha scent as he could. Ron and Hermione dutifully sat on either side of him to deter any hopeful Alphas from sitting too close to him.

Two days following his stint in the Hospital Wing, his musings as to who else on Staff was an Alpha was answered most unpleasantly following the lunch hour.

Professor Lockhart swept into the room for their afternoon Defence lesson in robes of lilac, while he smiled broadly at the assembled pupils. A few of the girls near to him tittered, and Harry rolled his eyes. Why McGonagall thought it was a good idea to take the git back was beyond him. His memory had been repaired, but he was still the biggest moron Harry had ever met.

“Good afternoon, class! Today we will pick up where we left off last time in my latest book, Budding with Basilisks...”

Harry wasn't listening, but instead he was focusing on a scroll of parchment before him, doodling and feigning his note-taking. Or, he was until a very distinctive scent invaded his senses from the front of the class, making his head snap up in alarm.

Oh bloody hell. Lockhart was an Alpha.

Harry raked a hand through his hair nervously, looking sideways at Ron with wide eyes, but he was too busy sleeping to pay his alarm much mind. Hermione was engrossed in her note-taking, and did not even look up when Harry looked her way.

Harry determinedly looked anywhere but at the professor as the lesson progressed, but he could practically feel Lockhart's eyes boring into him. Harry felt that all-too familiar weakness in his limbs, and he was thoroughly grateful that he had been sitting down. He didn't much like the idea of falling to his knees before Lockhart in full view of his peers.  

At the end of the lesson, Harry packed up his things quickly and stood up on trembling limbs. He was almost at the door when he heard his voice being called. “Harry! A moment, if you please!” Harry felt his insides turn to ice and before he could protest, he saw Lockhart shunting Ron and Hermione out the door, shutting it in their alarmed faces. Swallowing thickly Harry leaned against a nearby desk, gripping the edges tightly to keep himself standing.  

The older man spun around in a swirl of colour and smiled down at Harry in what the older man clearly thought to be a friendly smile. Harry thought it looked rather like the man planned to devour him like a dessert; the thought was not comforting. His legs shook more violently, and he held onto the desk more tightly. The urge to fall to his knees before the man was almost overwhelming, though his heart still pounded out his fear unabated. “Harry,” Lockhart purred his name, and Harry felt slightly sick. “My, my, my. What am I going to do with you?”

“Sir, I—”

“Now, now, my little Omega, I didn't tell you to talk,” Harry found that he suddenly had lost his voice, his breath coming out in a faint rasp. His eyes bulged with fright as Lockhart came closer. His legs trembled worse than ever, and Harry pulled himself onto the top of the desk to keep himself from toppling over. Harry opened and closed his mouth several times, but still his voice refused to work properly. His absolute helplessness to defend himself or even cry out was overwhelming, and despite looking on the professor with an expression of nothing short of terror, he continued his approach as though he hadn't noticed it.

Lockhart stopped when he was directly in front of Harry, with a smile he certainly thought was seductive in some way. He reached forward and twisted his hands in the fabric of Harry's robes and dragged him to his feet. At once, Harry's knees buckled and he found himself caught by a pair of surprisingly strong arms. Harry stared up at the professor with wide eyes, his entire weakened form thrumming with panic. He struggled to find the strength to wrench himself away, but whatever Alpha magic Lockhart was employing now, it kept him as compliant as Pomfrey had warned him that he'd be in a situation like this. Oh God, Harry thought in a panic, what do I do, what do I do? This can't be happening!

“Harry,” Lockhart purred his name, and a shiver ran through him. “Do you know how long I've waited to find an Omega worthy of me? Your body knows it wants this,” he leaned in closer with a chuckle, his free hand pressing against Harry's chest and above his frantic heart, “not to worry, your mind will catch up.” He moved the hand to cradle the back of his neck, his other arm coiled around his waist. Harry lifted his arms to try and push the professor off, but it was as though he had completely lost all of his physical strength; his attempts were as effective as trying to push over a brick wall barehanded. “Now now,” Lockhart said softly, looking down at Harry's arms, “none of that.” At once, Harry's arms fell to his sides, limp and useless.

The professor's mouth was mere millimetres from his own when the classroom door burst open. In his shock, Lockhart dropped Harry and he crumpled to the ground in a heap. Harry winced as his knees fell hard against the stone, gasping sharply in pain. At the same moment, he felt his voice rush back into him like a sudden gust of wind. His relief was short-lived, as his gaze shifted to the door to see who his rescuer was to see Snape standing there, looking furious. Harry heard his throat click as he swallowed nervously.

A tense silence fell, Harry's gaze flitting between the two professors. His heart was hammering so hard in his chest he was certain that they could hear it, and it took a great effort to keep himself from hyperventilating. Lockhart and Snape stared each other down, teeth bared, and Harry was struck suddenly by how lupine it all seemed. Snape took a step forward and a low growl escaped him, while Lockhart stood his ground in a most uncharacteristic manner.

“I believe the Omega was rejecting your advances,” Snape murmured in a low, dangerous voice. The tone washed over Harry, making him shiver. The low rumble of the voice was not entirely unpleasant, which was a slightly alarming concept for Harry to wrap his head around. Snape's gaze remained fixed on Lockhart, his eyes narrowed with barely-controlled fury. “Or is your ego compressing your feeble brain so effectively that you cannot control your base magic enough to give the Omega back his self-control?”

“That's not your concern, Severus,” Lockhart replied, his tone far from his usual easy confidence, his eyes narrowed at the other man. Harry could not recall ever hearing him this angry, though Snape looked entirely unconcerned, as though he was observing a tiny dog trying to look more dangerous than it actually was. Harry felt some of the strength returning to his limbs and he stood slowly, but this turned out to be a poor decision as both of the Alphas whipped around to face him. He froze, pressing himself back into the desk, not daring to make any sudden movements.

Harry swallowed nervously, his eyes flitting back and forth between Snape and Lockhart, mirrored looks of possessive desire in their eyes as they looked down on Harry. Lockhart took a step towards him and he tried to lurch away, but the older man was too quick for him, and he felt himself suddenly dragged forward and pressed into the arrogant git's side. “I saw him first,” Harry tried to pull away, but it was as though Lockhart's arm had turned to a steel beam. No matter how hard he struggled, he couldn't move it. Snape watched the exchange silently, his left brow arching as a strange look of amusement crossed his face.

“Perhaps you did, Gilderoy,” Snape shifted his gaze to Harry, staring him down so intently he felt his face heat. He determinedly looked anywhere but at the two quarrelling Alphas—he hated how they made him feel like a piece of meat, and not a person. “But it seems as though the little Omega does not choose you.” Harry gritted his teeth and his gaze whirled around to Snape angrily. Little? Wasn't the man past his petty insults yet? He felt Lockhart's arm slacken, and at once Snape grabbed for him, the movement so sudden he could not quell the strangled yelp of surprise that escaped him. Without so much as a backward glance, he frogmarched Harry out of the classroom.

Harry was half-walked, half-dragged halfway across the castle before Snape felt compelled to stop. Pressing a hand to the centre of Harry's sternum, he slammed him back into the stone wall of the corridor. Harry grimaced as the force of the shove caused his head to jerk back and hit the stone sharply. “Potter, exactly how you managed to vanquish the Dark Lord when you don't have enough common sense to fill an eggcup is beyond me. You know that you are an unbonded Omega, and Lockhart is not subtle about his heritage. And yet you saw fit to allow yourself to be alone with him. Do you have some burning desire to bond yourself to the likes of him? Five more minutes and I can assure you, that is exactly what would have happened.” Snape rattled off his little speech in an angry growl just barely above a whisper.

“I didn't do it on purpose,” Harry growled back, moving to push away the hand that pinned him, but he found that it rested there as firmly as Lockhart's arm had earlier. “He stopped me at the end of the lesson, and closed the door on Ron and Hermione before I could say two words. And then my body went all weird.”

“That is Alpha Compulsion. Any Alpha can compel you to weakness and compliance, usually when they intend to bind an Omega to themselves. Stronger Alphas know how to control it so that an unbonded Omega will not turn into a pile of jelly when they are within ten feet of them.” Snape snapped off his words impatiently, as though he was explaining a painfully simple concept to a small child.

“Stronger, like you?” Harry sneered, making sure that Snape knew that he did not intend it as a compliment. Snape rolled his eyes, and in his moment of distraction Harry tried to wedge out from under the pressure of his hand again, but he was still stuck. At his minute movements, Snape refocused a glare on him. “Let me go,” Harry said coldly.

“No.”

“Why the hell not?” Harry was getting tired of this Alpha dominance crap, and it had been less than a week since Madam Pomfrey had broken the news to him.  

“Watch your language, Potter, I am still your professor,” Snape came closer, and Harry instinctively pressed back into the stone, trying to keep his mind from dissolving into a panic—and the faintest trace of arousal. “You will respect my authority,” the low, velvet tones of the command washed over Harry, and an involuntary moan escaped his barely parted lips. He felt himself go red immediately following it, and he turned his head away. Harry had no idea if his reaction was genuine or some stupid Alpha/Omega thing, and he wasn't certain he wanted to find out.

His reluctance to look at the older man was indulged for about three seconds before he felt Snape's strong hand grip his jaw and force his gaze back to him. Harry glared at him, his arms hanging limply at his sides, while he did his best to mask his fear. The stare Snape was giving him was deeply unsettling, and before he could completely think through the action, he tried to jerk out of the hold.

The small motion seemed to shatter Snape's self control, and with a growl he claimed Harry's mouth with his own.

Harry wanted to tense, wanted to cry out his surprise, or protest. But Snape's—Severus's mouth was so very hot on his own, the demanding and expert tongue sought out his virgin one, and within seconds he could feel an erection straining painfully against his trousers. Harry arched into the touch and kiss, reaching up to cling to the older man as he trembled with desire.

As quickly as the Alpha had descended upon him, he was released. Harry slid down the wall, feeling boneless in an entirely different way than earlier. He looked up at Severus through half-lidded eyes, and the deep thrum of his laughter washed over him like a warm summer breeze. Severus crouched down, ignoring Harry's blatant erection as he cupped Harry's jaw and kissed him again, allowing it to linger for barely a moment before he pulled back.

“Not yet, my little Omega,” Severus purred, “you will know when it is time.” The Alpha's hot breath danced across his mouth and cheek, and Harry found that this time he did not mind the pet name as much. His eyelids fluttered, but Severus paid his blatant arousal no mind as he stood and swept down the passageway without a backward glance.

Harry stood slowly on trembling limbs, and after ensuring that no other Alphas were nearby he hastened to the nearest loo.

~*~

Harry stepped back into the passageway, sated, but not as satisfied as he had hoped. He cursed inwardly when he nearly collided with Draco Malfoy, who seemed to have been waiting for him right outside the door. Harry felt the painfully familiar weakness in his limbs, and he moved quickly away from him. Draco was too quick, and he reached out with lightning-fast movements and grabbed tightly onto Harry's forearm, dragging him close. Harry staggered into him, yanking weakly on his arm caught in the Slytherin's vice grip.

“Damn it, Draco, let me go,” Harry hissed, tugging weakly at his trapped arm while silently cursing himself for not waiting to get back to Gryffindor Tower to finish the job Severus had started.

“I can smell the sex on you, Omega,” he hissed, ignoring Harry's demand, “wouldn't it feel so much better if you had an Alpha take care of that for you?”

“An Alpha would feel better,” Harry whispered, still trying to escape Draco's grip, “but not you.”

His words seemed to startle the blond, and he leaned in close, his nostrils flaring. He seemed to smell Severus's scent still clinging to him, and with a curse he threw Harry's arm away from him with such force that Harry stumbled back several paces. Draco took off in the same direction that Severus had gone, but Harry was not worried about his welfare—The Potions Master had proved on more than one occasion that he knew how to take care of himself. Harry did not waste any time, and instead hurried back to Gryffindor Tower.

“Harry!” Hermione practically threw herself at him the second he slipped through the portrait hole. Harry staggered back a few paces before Hermione seemed to sense how off-balance he still was and let him go. “We were so worried! We thought Lockhart might try something, there was just something how he was looking at you during the lesson and we found Professor Snape and told him—” Harry had tuned out most of her her rushed explanation, until it registered what he was hearing. Eyes wide, he dragged her to a quiet corner of the common room with Ron following quietly behind.

“Are you telling me that it was your brilliant idea to send in another Alpha on top of Lockhart?” He hissed, struggling to ignore how decidedly not unpleasant his encounter with the Alpha had been.

“What are you talking about?” Hermione's brow knitted together, and Harry cocked a brow at her. Ron seemed to get it about three seconds before her, and even his freckles seemed to pale. “Oh. Oh dear.”

“I swear, mate, we had no idea Snape was a—are you okay, though? I mean with Snape and you being—being, well, you know...” His ghostly pallor flushed red, and Harry bit back the urge to tell them exactly what had happened. While their reactions would have been highly entertaining, he reigned in the temptation.

“I'm fine. Or, I was until Malfoy cornered me. He smelled Snape on me and now I'm pretty sure he's come to the wrong conclusions—” or the right ones, Harry thought, “—and is plotting revenge against his Head of House as we speak.” Harry smirked, rather pleased that he managed to keep a straight face through most of his explanation. Ron looked highly amused, while Hermione looked apprehensive.

“I just wonder if you'll be fine three days from now,” she replied nervously. She frowned, and both Harry and Ron turned to her with confused stares.

“What's in three days?” Harry blinked once, and Hermione huffed with annoyance and shot him a dirty look.

“The night before the full moon.”

Suddenly, Severus's words made much more sense.

~*~

Ron and Hermione stuck to Harry like glue, so intensely protective of their suddenly more-than-helpless friend that they would not even allow him a trip to the loo on his own. Harry was grateful, but by the second day it had begun to grate on him, especially when all he wanted was a minute alone with Severus. One look from the Alpha and all Harry wanted to do was drop to his knees and service his cock. He struggled to keep his eyes to himself and not on the Potions Master during lessons and mealtimes. His intense focus was not missed by Hermione, but she never commented on it.

Draco was furious and more antagonistic than usual, clearly jealous of the older man succeeding where he had failed so spectacularly. It had escalated to the point that Harry half-expected to see a report in the Prophet about hell freezing over, as the eighth year potions class witnessed Severus Snape dock points from his own house for the first time in history.

Amidst the chaos of his friends and his would-be suitors, it seemed as though the other Alphas had backed off. Whether this was because they could still smell Severus on him or some other reason, Harry wasn't certain. It was a relief for that he didn't need to worry as intensely about being accosted by another student when he found himself suddenly without his would-be bodyguards.

As for Lockhart, it seemed as though Severus had memorized Harry's timetable—or at least when he was scheduled for Defence Against the Dark Arts—and would mysteriously appear every time Lockhart tried to keep him past the end of the lesson. Severus hadn't touched him again following that first heated kiss, but Harry was rubbish at hiding his desire for the older Alpha, giving him a significant look every time he rescued him from Lockhart's clutches. In these instances Hermione gave him a knowing look, while Ron mimed vomiting behind Severus's back.

Harry woke early on the day preceding the full moon, his stomach knotted with anxiety. His heat, and whatever it would entail, had filled him with nothing short of an excited panic. He was still uncertain whether or not he should take Severus up on his unspoken offer, or if he should just ask Pomfrey to sedate him for the duration of it. He knew which one sounded more appealing, but he wasn't sure he had the nerve to actually do it. Harry dragged himself out of bed and headed to the showers.

By the time he made it to breakfast he was on time and not overly early. He felt distinctly awkward as he wove through the tables, as more than one head spun in his direction and watched his progression through the Great Hall and to the Gryffindor table. Harry could feel a flush creeping up his neck, but he determinedly did not look around as he walked. It felt as though every Alpha in the entire school was staring at him.  

Harry sat down heavily next to Hermione and grabbed some toast. She poured him some black coffee and pushed it towards him. “Why does it feel like I'm walking under a spotlight?” Harry muttered to her, while she smiled at him weakly.

“It's because your first Heat is about to start,” she whispered, trying to be as discreet as she could. “I read about it in Alphas and Omegas: A Case Study in Genetic Divergence. Basically, they can sense that not only that you are unbonded, but you are about to have your first Heat. Your body produces extra pheromones—you may as well be a walking billboard, Harry. Don't wander off today. I don't want you getting pounced on by anyone.” She paused, and a slow smirk replaced the nervous expression, “unless there's someone you want to be pounced on by...” she giggled as Harry elbowed her.

Harry spent the day in a state of tense worry, uncertain how he'd know when this Heat thing was supposed to start. Hermione's reassurances that he'd 'just know' was not helpful in the least. His end-of-day Potions lesson was much better than usual, as Severus took more than one opportunity to sweep over and come up with thinly veiled excuses to touch him. Harry particularly enjoyed Malfoy's silent but infuriated reactions each time this happened.

Evening came and went, and Harry went to bed supposing that perhaps that his body wasn't as caught up with the rest of the changes as he thought. He'd heard of girls missing periods—perhaps this was similar. He settled into his four-poster with a contented sigh, reliving the small moments during his potions lesson from earlier that afternoon, a silly grin plastered across his face.

~*~

Harry woke sometime after midnight soaked with sweat. His body was on fire, his groin ached and he was strangely sticky in a way that almost felt as though he'd soiled himself. Harry sat up with a groan, the sudden movement causing a wave of dizziness to run through him. He was painfully hard, and muscle cramps lanced through his abdomen and to his groin in a constant cycle of pain and arousal. Harry could barely stifle the pained whimpers as he struggled to think clearly through his fog his mind had become.

“Harry?” Ron's groggy voice shot through the silence like an arrow, but Harry felt as though he couldn't zero in on it; he was too focused on the multitude of bodily reactions happening to him all at once. He tried to respond, but it came out as a keening moan, and he heard Ron hiss a curse under his breath. “It's started, hasn't it?” Harry nodded mutely, dragging in ragged breaths as he tried to get a handle on the pain and arousal coursing through him, his fingers tangling in his bedsheets and gripping them tightly as he arched his back, his breathing shallow. Ron was up and racing out of the dormitory in a flash. Harry watched him go, but another wave of pain shot to his crotch and he hissed again, trembling as he struggled to keep quiet.

Ron's hissing voice was joined by another, and in an instant he and Hermione were there. They dragged Harry from the soaked bedsheets, and Harry stood on trembling limbs while they helped him into a dressing gown. “Come on Harry,” Hermione whispered, draping one of his arms about her shoulders, while Ron mirrored her on his other side. “Don't worry, we'll get you sorted,” the invisibility cloak was draped over them by Ron, and they carefully ushered him toward the staircase.

Walking was agony. Harry was still shaking, cold and hot all at once, the pain in his most intimate areas  making it difficult to walk properly. The wetness in his arse was extremely uncomfortable, and it caused his pyjama bottoms to cling to him as he moved. “It's okay Harry,” Hermione would whisper every few minutes in a soft, reassuring tone, “we'll get you what you need.” Harry was only vaguely aware that they had deviated from the general direction of the Hospital Wing and they were descending to the dungeons. Harry nodded weakly to her words, and stumbled over his own feet as he struggled to stay standing.

They paused before a door Harry did not recognize, and Ron drew the cloak off them while Hermione reached out to knock. The Alpha scent was intoxicating, and a low moan escaped him. A faint breeze brushed over him as the door flew open, and Severus stood there with a simple dressing gown pulled over his nightshirt. “What the...” his words died as he inhaled sharply. Hermione and Ron released Harry and he staggered forward, his breath coming out in short gasps before he was pulled into a tight embrace by the Alpha.

“Please,” Harry whispered hoarsely into the Severus's chest, “I need—I need—”

“Shh,” Severus whispered, cutting off his words, “I know what you need.” He turned briefly his two friends, who were looking on fearfully. “Granger, Weasley,” he paused, and in the silence that followed the only sound that could be heard was Harry's ragged breathing. “Twenty-five points to Gryffindor...each.” He dragged Harry into his chambers and slammed the door, not even pausing to watch the effect his words had had on the pair.

Harry clung to the Alpha, his skin still hot, the contact of the older man like a cooling salve. He struggled to stay upright, and another jolt of pain shot through him, ripping another keening moan from his lungs. Harry's knees began to buckle, but Severus swept him up in his arms before he could fall. Harry tried to focus, but the intoxicating scent of the Alpha coupled with his own bodily reactions was overwhelming. He hooked his arms around Severus's neck and buried his face in his shoulder, inhaling deeply as the man crossed his chambers to the bedroom with the Omega securely in his arms.

Harry was dropped onto the bedspread and the Alpha's mouth was on him at once. He reached out and fisted the older man's hair, opening his mouth to receive his delicious, demanding tongue. Harry moaned into his mouth, arching his spine and grinding his painful erection into Severus's thigh. He groaned into Harry's mouth, and reached down to press his palm into the hot flesh of his groin. Harry's breath hitched, and another moan escaped him.

Severus moved his hand away, ignoring Harry's whimpers of protest as he hastily stripped the Omega of his dressing gown and pyjama top, several buttons popping off the shirt in his haste. The cool air of the dungeon chambers hit Harry's sweat-soaked skin, shivering as gooseflesh broke out across his arms and shoulders at once. Severus chuckled at the reaction and broke the kiss, leaning down to drag his tongue from the top of Harry's sternum, across his clavicle, only stopping when he reached the dip where his shoulder met his throat.

Long, angular fingers ran up and down Harry's arms, warming them as the pain slowly began to fade, while his arousal intensified. The wetness in his arse became more pronounced, and he squirmed uncomfortably. Severus's hot breath ghosted across his skin as he chuckled, his left hand sliding slowly down his chest and abdomen, pausing just above the tented garment. Harry groaned, intending to mumble a demand for the man to get on with it, but the words tumbled from his lips as gibberish, Severus's mouth still licking, sucking and biting at the flesh of his throat.

Harry was uncertain what Severus did, but he moved his mouth to another spot along his throat, and pleasure lanced through him like a bolt of lightning. “Oh!” Harry gasped, leaning into the contact while the Alpha chuckled at the enthused response.

“That is your Bonding Gland,” he purred, reaching up to caress it with his fingertips, eliciting another moan from the Omega beneath him, “it is delightfully sensitive, especially during your Heats.” Harry leaned into the touch, quivering with the pleasure that coursed through him from the contact. His cock twitched against the fabric of his pyjamas, the front of them positively soaked with his precome. Harry whimpered and jerked his hips minutely, the motion causing Severus to chuckle again.

The Alpha paused just long enough to shrug out of his dressing down and peel off the nightshirt, and another moan escaped past Harry's lips at the sight before him. Alabaster skin stretched over a bony torso, marred only by the jagged scars left by Nagini. A fine dusting of dark hairs trailed down his abdomen and collecting in a dark thatch just above the man's groin, where the delicious sight of his thick cock jutted forward, a pearly drop of precome dangling from the tip. “Like what you see, pet?” Harry caught the right side of his lower lip between his teeth and nodded, the corners of his mouth twitching into a grin. The nickname from anyone else might feel demeaning, but Harry loved the way it rolled off Severus's tongue and made him feel possessed; claimed.

Without waiting to be asked, Harry slid off the bed and fell gracelessly to his knees before the older man. Severus's fingers ran though Harry's thick mop of hair encouragingly as he sat up slightly, leant forward, and his lips stretched over his cock. Severus groaned and his hips jerked forward, the hand in Harry's hair moving to the back of his neck, urging him silently forward. Harry gripped the base of the cock, doing his best to swallow as much of it as he could. Severus did not force in more than Harry could reasonably take, and he could all but feel the Alpha restraining his urge to thrust down Harry's virgin throat.

Slowly Harry began to bob his head, stroking his hand up and down Severus's length in time with the movements of his mouth. His technique was given very little critique, save for the garbled murmur of, “cover your teeth,” early on. After several minutes, Severus moved a hand to Harry's shoulder, stilling his movements. The Alpha slid his cock from Harry's mouth with a wet pop and closed his own hand over his throbbing erection. He gave it several quick pulls and came with a groan, thick ropes of come splattering across Harry's face and throat. The contact of the semen with his flesh caused Harry to moan again, his mouth twitching into an open-mouthed grin, his eyes shut tight.

“Accio,” Severus murmured, Harry's eyes flicking open at the sound of the incantation. He reached out and caught the flannel that soared across the room, tapping it once to dampen it with cool water. He knelt before Harry and gently mopped the spunk from his face, the small touches enough to elicit further fevered moans from him. Harry leaned into the contact, his breath ragged, his own painful arousal not diminished in the least.

Harry had expected that it would take Severus some time before he was ready to go again, but the Alpha urged him to his feet and reclaimed his mouth hungrily, while he pulled Harry down onto the bed. He could already feel the half-hard prick pressing into his thigh, the contact making Harry tremble with barely-controlled desire. He shifted closer, locking his arms around Severus's neck while he coiled his arms around Harry's waist, pulling him close. Their bodies moulded together, the feeling of Severus's hot flesh clinging to his own made Harry tremble.

“I want...” he gasped between kisses, “I—I need...” Harry's words were cut off by a large hand pressing against his groin, and Harry threw his head back with a cry.

“Hush, my little Omega,” Severus purred, nipping lightly at Harry's lower lip, “I know what you need.” His thumbs hooked in the elastic of the garment at his hips, pulling down sharply and freeing Harry's painful erection in one swift movement.

Harry had little time to enjoy the feel of the fresh air encasing his cock before Severus's hands rested on his hips, slowly coaxing him over and onto his hands and knees. Every minute touch caused Harry's cock to twitch and another moan to escape him, his ready and eager reactions making the man at his back chuckle with amusement. A kiss was pressed to the centre of Harry's spine, he hissing with shock as the feeling of some sort of spell rushed through his arse. He had only barely come to the realization that it was a preparation spell before the head of the Alpha's thick cock breached his entrance.

Harry's arms shook with the effort of staying in position, his spine curving and his neck arching, crying out his approval at the delicious sensation of the thick cock entering him. Harry was only vaguely aware of the sear of pain that shot through him, too busy thrusting backward, all but impaling himself on Severus's cock. Behind him, the Alpha grunted in time with Harry's fevered moans, an arm wrapped around his waist, anchoring him in place as he was mercilessly fucked.

One final guttural moan of pleasure, and Severus dug his fingers into Harry's flesh, hard enough to bruise, though he was too far gone for the pain to register. Harry bowed his head forward, his breath hitching as Severus pushed forward, his knot passing the ring of muscle none too gently, while the Omega's own orgasm hit at the same moment, hoarse cries echoing throughout the room as he released onto Severus's bedspread.

They fell bodily onto the coverlet, Severus holding tightly to Harry as he rolled them onto their sides, spooning the boy against himself. Harry shifted a little, but the Alpha tightened his hold on him. “Don't move,” he murmured, his voice somewhere between a purr and growl, “we are still joined. It will be some time before we can separate.”

“How long?” Harry murmured, while he snuggled back against him, not entirely disliking the feel of the enormous member still filling him so completely.

“It could be an hour—maybe more,” Harry moaned in response to the answer, his cock twitching a little when Severus leaned in to nip at his Bonding Gland. The Alpha chuckled softly, his hold on Harry tightening slightly. Severus reached down and trailed his fingers along Harry's length, the Omega shuddering and struggling with the urge to thrust his hips forward. He didn't want to hurt the Alpha, but his control over his own body was almost beyond him at this point.

Severus continued to stroke him with feather-light touches, enough for his painful hardness to return, but not enough to make him come. Harry whimpered with frustration, his hips twitching reflexively, the Alpha's free arm holding tightly to him to keep him from ripping them apart prematurely. Slowly, he closed a hand over Harry's hardness and increased the speed of his strokes, and within moments he had leached another orgasm from him.

Panting shallowly, he eased back into Severus's embrace, sated—for the moment. They lay in comfortable silence, Harry's hands resting over the arm that held him, while something he remembered reading from the pamphlets coming back to him.

“Are you...I mean, will you...” Harry felt his face heat, “c-claim me?” Harry had read the passages on Alpha/Omega bonding more thoroughly than he had any other. At the time they had scared him senseless, as the Omega had little control over the Alpha, should he decide to lay claim on him by way of a bite to his bonding gland. In the afterglow of better sex than his fantasies had ever managed to conjure, the idea of being bound to Severus filled him with a thrill of longing.

“You are still lost in the Heat,” Severus murmured after several long moments of silence, though following his meek request his hold on the Omega had tightened slightly. “If when you return to your normal state you still wish it, I will be more than happy to oblige you.” Harry trembled a little when he felt teeth nip lightly against the gland, his eyes fluttering shut as he sighed contently.

A soft squelching noise filled the silence, the knot releasing them and leaving Harry feeling strangely empty. At once Harry turned and kissed the Alpha, clinging tightly to him as they once more descended into the throes of passion.

~*~

That following Monday, Harry returned to the hustle and bustle of the castle, a crescent scar adorning his throat.

For once, he didn't mind people staring at his scar.

-Fin

If you like my work, please consider throwing a few bucks in my Tip Jar! or become a patron on Patreon for my upcoming original horror novel, Keep Looking.

[jellyfishjihan]

Beyond the Walls - (1) Nothing but a Name [MarkJin]

Despite not remembering much, when Jinyoung awakes in this strange building and is imprisoned with a bunch of other kids, he is sure of one thing- he hates Mark with a passion. So what if he's been there the longest? Jinyoung finds himself fighting with Mark constantly, each and everyday, until they both realise there are things much important than that. Things much more dangerous. 

AFF Link: http://www.asianfanfics.com/story/view/1228524/beyond-the-walls-angst-2jae-got7-markjin-jackbam

~ Chapter I ~

It wasn’t until we had stepped outside of that hell that we realised how naive we had been. The outside world past the walls that we had been so desperately trying to pass through, was so much more worse than we had expected. It was then that we realised, the world outside was a hell worse than within the walls.

Jinyoung’s eyes flew open. He was lying down, his pale skin cold against the metal table. He was alone. Body light, Jinyoung sat upright; the room he was in was white, the metal table he was sitting on was the only thing occupying it. On him, he wore a simple pastel blue gown that you would find in a hospital.

Where am I? Jinyoung’s eyes were drawn to the white door that had no window, just a single metal doorknob. For moments, Jinyoung wondered whether he should get up and try and leave the room, but still in shock, Jinyoung simply thought.

He didn’t remember much, besides his name, Jinyoung could only remember one thing, his parents being murdered. The image of his parents being stabbed and their crimson blood splattering everywhere. A memory that was so dark that it was much like a nightmare. A memory so prominent that red flashed in Jinyoung’s brown eyes and he almost felt the warmth of their blood on his hands. Yet his hands were dry, and he was clean.

He was alone.

Jinyoung’s ears twitched ever so slightly as he heard a click and the white door swung open. A tall man with brown hair and white strands from stress, greeted him. “Jinyoung, how are you feeling?”

“...Fine,” Jinyoung answered, finding his throat strangely rough and irritating.

The man had a clipboard in one hand and he began to write several things down with a blue ballpoint pen. “Do you remember anything?”

Jinyoung wondered if he should mention the scene of his parents but quickly decided against it, “Just my name…”

The man continued to write, “That’s good. Since you’ve passed all the tests, we’ll be moving you in with the other boys.” After he lifted his pen off of the paper, he made his way back to the open door, his white lab coat flying away from him. He turned,

“Follow me please.”

~

“Where are you taking me?” Jinyoung questioned as he struggled to catch up with the large stride of the man. The hallway the man led Jinyoung down was lit eerily by singular light bulbs, the walls were white and there weren’t any windows. There were almost no sounds besides the clopping of the man’s dress shoes and the shifting of Jinyoung’s barefeet on the floor.

“You’ll figure that out soon enough,” The man answered without so much as a glance.

This bothered Jinyoung, “Where are we then? Who are you?” He caught up purposely so that he could glare at the man.

“I’ll answer your first question for you,” The man said bluntly, “where you’re going, there won’t be any need for questions nor answers. Your reason for being here is not so we can take care of you. You have absolutely no reason for being alive besides to provide for us.”

The man stopped short, nearly causing Jinyoung to bump into him. Jinyoung glanced forward to see why the man had stopped; they were in front of a door.

Unlike the door that Jinyoung had exited from earlier, this door had no knob, instead there was a pad on the wall illuminated in blue. The man placed his hand onto the pad and before long, the door in front of them began to slowly slide open.

Was this modern technology? Jinyoung thought hard, but he couldn’t remember a thing.

The man glanced at Jinyoung for the first time since they had left the room, “Go in,” Was all he said before actually pushing Jinyoung into the room and immediately letting the door close, trapping Jinyoung inside.

“What-” Jinyoung said in surprise but immediately cut himself off as he felt eyes on him.

In what seemed like a giant rotunda, there were at least twenty kids suspended in animation as their eyes were glued on Jinyoung. Most of them seemed to be around Jinyoung’s age, some younger, but they were all wearing the same pastel blue robe.

No one said anything, a complete eerie silence filled the rotunda.

Jinyoung was frozen, unsure of what to do, his eyes simply moving within his sockets. Should I say something? What should I say?

“Hey,” A strong and clear voice broke the silence, “bring him over here.”

Jinyoung’s eyes searched the crowd, but it was not difficult to find the source of the voice. With half of the boys’ eyes glued onto him, a tall lanky boy with brown hair leaned against the wall opposite of him, his arms crossed.

Jinyoung swallowed down hard, feeling his fingers curl into a fist unconsciously. Even from this distance, Jinyoung could feel the aura that the other boy exhibited. If there was anytime to be afraid, it was now.

“I said, bring him over,” The boy said again with a lower tone this time. A group of young boys, probably no older than ten, approached Jinyoung, eyes wild, and gestured him towards the other end of the room.

With everyone’s eyes on him, Jinyoung concluded that playing along would probably be the safest option. Walking slowly, Jinyoung made his way across the large rotunda. The boys��� eyes followed him like paintings on a wall. To his left and right, two hallways split off from the rotunda, several other kids gathering to see what the commotion was about.

As Jinyoung got closer to the other boy, other details seemed to form. Besides his hair being brown, it was messy and strands of it lay over his forehead creating side bangs. He was skinnier and taller than Jinyoung had noticed from far away. On top of that, the boy’s eyes were a strange mix of brown and green, staring straight at Jinyoung.

Jinyoung stopped just a few feet short of the other boy, trying his hardest to maintain his posture.

“Name.”

“H-huh?” Jinyoung answered immediately, taken aback.

The other boy made an annoyed sound with his tongue, “Your name. Are you deaf?”

Sparks of anger rose inside of Jinyoung, “Jinyoung,” He answered back with distaste, “what’s it to you?”

There were sudden murmurs spreading as the boys around them were shocked by Jinyoung’s words. “What’s your age then?” The boy disregarded Jinyoung’s words and continued, his calmness unfazed.

My age? Jinyoung blanked. He couldn’t remember his age. He certainly had to be older than the younger ones, but that wasn’t helpful. “I…” Jinyoung started, “I don’t remember my age.”

The murmuring got louder yet again. Jinyoung, too afraid to look around at the other’s, could only keep his eyes glued onto the boy across from him. At first, it seemed as though the boy hadn’t heard Jinyoung, but slowly, his lips curled into a smile.

“Are you retarded?” The boy stepped away from the wall and came closer to Jinyoung, “No one else remembers anything either, but at least most of them can notice the code on their wrist.” His words cut off as he reached swiftly, grabbing ahold of Jinyoung’s left arm and twisting it so that he could see the underside.

“Ah!” Jinyoung yelled out in distress and tried to free himself from the boy’s grasp but his hands were gripped tightly.

“So you’re fifteen, huh?” The boy’s grin spread even further, letting go of Jinyoung’s wrist the moment he had stolen a glance.

Jinyoung scowled as he rubbed his wrist, red marks forming where the boy had held onto so tightly. It was then that Jinyoung took note of the strange markings on the underside of his wrist. Still slightly inflamed, black numbers were printed on Jinyoung’s wrist. 77 - 15.

What the… have these marks always been here?

“You better watch yourself, Jinyoung,” Jinyoung looked up and glared at the boy; he simply smiled, “in this place, you’ll be lucky if you don’t end up dead.” The boy turned away from Jinyoung and began to walk towards one of the halls, the boys who had been watching moved out of the way. Behind the boy, three others that had been watching the whole time followed.

Around him, everyone seemed to continue what they had halted and Jinyoung was left alone, stuck like stone. What the hell is that supposed to mean? Confusion, hatred, and fear coursed through Jinyoung’s veins, so much so, that he could no longer feel the throbbing of his wrist.

“Hey… are you okay?” Jinyoung felt himself jolt as a hand touched his balled up fist. He turned around quickly. Standing in front of him, short with messy black hair, was a young boy.

“I…” Jinyoung started.

“Jun, what do you think you’re doing?” Another boy, a little taller, approached them.

“I’m just trying to help him out, Jimin,” The boy retorted before facing back to Jinyoung, “are you okay?”

“I’m fine…” Jinyoung’s voice trailed off as two more people approached him.  “Who are you?”

The boy smiled, “My name’s Jungkook, this is Jimin,” He gestured to the boy who had yelled at him just seconds ago. His eyes were a mysterious grey and purple, his hair a simple brown. “Those two are Taehyung and Jin,” Jungkook added as he pointed to the two taller boys in the back, one wearing a blue and white bandana around his forehead.

Jinyoung nodded, despite not really remembering all of their names, “Jungkook, who was that guy earlier? The nasty one.”

The boy with the bandana stepped forward, “I’d be careful with your wording,” He warned, glancing around, “if you’re not careful, Mark’s underdogs will hunt you down.”

“Mark?” Jinyoung said.

“The guy from earlier,” Jimin explained, “he’s the eldest in this place, not to mention the leader. If you get on his bad side, your days here will become a living hell.”

So his name is Mark. Images of Mark flashed in Jinyoung’s mind, his words, “You’ll be lucky if you don’t end up dead.” Jinyoung shivered. “Who are his underdogs?”

The four boys glanced around the rotunda, searching for familiar faces, “They’re not here right now, probably left with Mark back to their room,” Jungkook explained, “There’s five of them. Jackson, Bambam, Yugyeom, you saw them earlier, they left with Mark. Then there’s Youngjae and Jaebum. Those two tend to lay low, but they’ll still listen to Mark no matter what. The six of them have been here since the beginning.”

“Mark said I’ll be lucky if I don’t end up dead, is that true?” Jinyoung asked hesitantly.

“No,” Jin shook his head, “the adults won’t let you die, they need our blood, but…” Jin paused for a moment before continuing,

“in this place, there’s things much worse than death.”

[woozifi]

i'm really bad at writting but i do love it and sometimes i feel demotivated. i don't want to give up because i know if i keep practicing i make progress but sometimes it's really hard to not just give up. how long did it take you to write so well ??

i mean, years tbh???

i’ve always had a knack for characters and stories, i guess. i’ve been reading since i was 3 and a half years old and i’ve been writing stories since i’ve had access to my own computer as a child (and even withOUT my own–i distinctly remember writing stories on the shared computer in my 3rd grade classroom during my free time). i’d like to think that i have the imagination for it, although not necessarily the skills.

i always feel guilty when i get asks like these, because for the longest time (i think since i got into kpop like 6 years ago???) my writing skills had actually hit a plateau. worse, it was on purpose. this was back before ao3 was the Big Thing and asianfanfics was where you went to get slash fics and a lovely niche of overly cliched, stereotypical, oftentimes super sexist reader/oc x kpop group fics. i eagerly wrote fic after fic there (all the same overly cliched stereotypical oftentimes super sexist reader/idol fics that everyone else was writing). eventually, as my writing improved and i had decent attention for the things i wrote, i came to this terrible realization that when it came to aff, i could lazily write whatever idea that came to my head and still get praised for my works simply because there were….well…..the general quality of most of these niche fics were all…..not…..great……and just having proper grammar/punctuation/spelling and some description was enough to have my ego fuelled. so for the longest time, my writing was just….THERE, and i started to realize that my laziness was actually taking a toll on my skills because i was never trying to improve myself. honestly, i kick myself in the ass looking back now, because i feel like my writing could have improved so much sooner and so much better if i had only worked harder a little earlier on.

people always ask me “how do you improve your writing?” or “how do you write so well?” and it’s like HONESTLY, it’s so embarrassing for me to say “the first genuinely good fic that i’ve worked really hard on and strove to get better at was literally reckless, wild youth”. so idk really what to say because i’m still learning too? i’m still trying my hardest to improve my writing with every chapter/fic i write. it’s definitely demotivating to read someone else’s fic and get blown away, like “how did they make that part sound so good?” or “how did they get the idea to use a simile like that?” and then look at your own writing and be unhappy with what you have on there. the way i improved my own writing was to just read and compare. i read my favourite fics and stories and basically analyzed the sections i really liked and tried to understand how they did it, and then tried to incorporate it into my own works. so like right off the bat, i can say that the early chapters of RWY were mostly inspired by MALL AU on ao3 and my absolute favourite raven cycle series, before i started to develop my own “style” of writing later on.

honestly, you’re already practicing and writing and that’s already so so good, you’re already at a great mindset! don’t lose hope, even if you aren’t improving as much as you want to be. maybe find friends irl or online who write as well? fic writing has definitely become more enjoyable for me when i got to talk to people who love to write just as much as me!