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cult-of-husbandos · 8 months

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yami ai [yandere] - Hot Yandere Singles Near You

synopsis: you click on a random pop-up ad and are visited by weird smiling man in suit.

genre: pure crack (like fr), fluff, tbh there's not really a plot

word count: 4.4k

warnings: implied stalking

Isn’t insomnia just the worst? Like, seriously? What’s the point of being a human being with antiquated thoughts and impressive cognitive and motor skills when your brain fights you on the most basic stuff. For example, like sleeping!!

You must’ve refreshed YouTube and Twitter over a thousand times. Over 8 billion people in the world and there’s no new content anywhere? You groaned and jumped back over onto Twitter, silently praying and pleading for something new to show up on your feed. Maybe a wacky billionaire got eaten by a mob of homeless people or maybe a news article about a Floridian doing something gross and outrageous and virtually impossible.

But nope. Nothing.

Not a single thing piqued your interest. You groaned again and looked at the time on your dimly lit phone. It was past 2 a.m. and you were bored out of your mind. You then lazily clicked on Google and sighed.

‘Maybe someone posted a new fanfic over something…’ you hoped. And even if there wasn’t a new fic uploaded you’ll just read the old ones you favorited. Perhaps reading something might put you to sleep.

As you were scrolling through your favorite ship tags, you were startled by a pop up ad covering up 90% of the screen and flashing emojis.

“Ugh… seriously?” you groaned. “They should make ad-blockers on phones for this shit.” You squinted at the bright lettering emanating from your phone even though it was at the lowest brightness setting.

⚠️(99+) Hot Yandere Singles NEAR YOU⚠️

Yandere’s…? Singles? Near me?

The pop-up ad had flashing peach, cherry, and eggplant emojis with a water splash emoji at the end to signify… well, you’re not sure what it was trying to signify. On the sides of the ad, it showed pictures of very gorgeous men and women, all striking suggestive poses. Underneath the title was a small summary that read. ‘These lonely desperate yanderes wanna meet you! They’ll most likely find you anyway, but wouldn’t you rather be the honey to a bee instead of a fly? Try it NOW for FREE!! No hookups! No catfishes! No sign ups!’ Then below that were a few empty boxes to fill out requiring your personal information.

"..."

Was this a porn ad?!

No way at 2:45 in the freaking morning did you just get a porn pop-up ad while googling mafia au fanfiction. This has to be some kind of joke. Maybe it was prank and someone was just fucking with you. And how and why would there be 99+ yanderes in your area?! You couldn’t be surrounded by that many psychos. Could you? Whatever the case may be, it was now past 2 a.m. and as the rule of life states ‘Nothing good happens after 2 a.m.’. You don’t know if it was the lack of sleep or just reckless curiosity, but you gave your shoulders a shrug and mumbled a ‘fuck it’ as you put in your information. Your name, number, gender, age, preferred sex, email, and mailing address. As you clicked submit and continued scrolling, you gave very little thought about how this would go down.

On one hand, the ad turns out to be real and you get a partner out of this. Or

You get quartered, stalked, doxxed, and murdered like the dumbass you are for putting your personal info into a sketchy porno-like pop-up on Google.

Or, it turns out to be a prank and some asshole sitting in a basement has a good laugh at you.

Meh. You’ll deal with it in the morning.

*****

You were jolted awake with the sound of rapid knocking coming from your front door. You groaned into your pillow as you tried to ignore the person desperately wanting your attention from outside your apartment. You finally got some sleep only for it to get interrupted. Only minutes and minutes of continued knocking without any signs of letting up, you decide to get up and shoo away whoever it was. You wearily grabbed your phone to check the time.

8:02 a.m.

You huffed as you stormed towards the front door.

“If this a fucking Jehova’s Witness, I swear to god…” you grumbled. You swung open the door and threw the person a harsh glare, only to be met with popping sounds as confetti flew in your face.

“Good morning, my dear darling~!! Are you ready to begin on the road to happiness and love?” the stranger shouted a far too happy tone for 8 in the morning.

You took a step back in shock, fully awake as you waved and dusted the confetti from your face and hair. You looked the strange man up and down. He was smiling ear to ear and wore an expensive looking suit to warm for the summer weather. A briefcase stood right beside him along with dozens of other party poppers and a white plastic bag filled with brown bottles with oddly enough no labels on them. You looked at the man’s face. He was surprisingly attractive and without a single flaw anywhere. His hair was jet black and shined a very prominent gloss. You were honestly kind of embarrassed to be seen by him when you looked like such a mess. The man let out a chuckle.

“Oh my.” he said, gently putting his hand over his mouth with vague concern. “I hope I didn’t startle you too much. I probably should’ve sent you an email notifying you of the time I was coming. I’m sorry that must’ve been a troubling awakening.”

You quirked your eyebrow and took another step back, grabbing onto the doorknob so that you could slam it right in his face if things got too weird.

“And… you are?”

“Oh my, oh my. Where are my manners? How careless of me to assume.” The man bowed with a curtsy. “I am the ‘Matchmaker’. My job is to pair two people with their fated soulmate and give each of my clients their happily ever after. It’s very nice to meet you, (Y/N) (L/N).”

You felt a chill crawl down your spine. How’d this weirdo know your name?! You tried to close the door as fast as you could, but the ‘Matchmaker’ was even faster. He clicked his tongue at you, his smile unchanging, but his eyes seemed to harden his gentle tone.

“My, how rude. Is that any way to treat a guest?” He let out another chuckle. “You’ll never find love that way.”

“H-How did you know my name?” you stuttered.

Again, another chuckle. What was so funny? “My dear~. You gave it to me.”

What the hell was he talking about? How could you have given this creep your name? Was he a stalker? A junkie? Noticing the confusion on your face, the man spoke up again.

“Oh my dear. Do you really not remember?” he asked, tilting his head in feign innocence. “You filled out an ad to meet singles in your area. And here I am, coming to fulfill that ad.”

You eased up on the tension you had on the door and tilted your head in surprised confusion. “That was a real ad?”

The man stood up tall and smiled earnestly again. “Of course. However, you are the first person to actually fill out that ad. Really, this is more of a celebration to both of us.”

Huh, so the pop-up ad was real.

Not a prank.

And now there’s a psycho standing at your front door promising you a partner from an actual yandere.

“I honestly thought it was a prank. I mean… yanderes? Isn’t that just an anime thing?”

“Oh, I assure you my darling.” he said with a snide smirk. “Yanderes are real. And when they heard about signing up, it was like tossing chicken in a sea of alligators. All clamoring to be the first person to take a bite.”

Okay, gross but kind of sweet.

“May I come in?”

“Huh?”

“Well, my dear. It would be easier to come in and talk through the process of how this goes instead of standing here.”

“Oh, um… Suuuree-”

“Great! My my darling~. What a lovely home. Very well decorated.” The man quickly strided into your house and made himself comfortable in your living room, looking as if he was analyzing every detail about your house.

Richard Chase would’ve loved your dumbass.

You shut the door and followed him into your own apartment and offered him a seat on your couch. Might as well, right? You’ve gone this far and you're still alive.

“Umm…” you hesitantly shifted from one foot to another. “Do you… um… want some coffee maybe? Or tea? Maybe a glass of water? If you haven;t eaten breakfast yet, I whip you up something.”

Yeah, sure. Feed the man with only a title for a name and waltzed right into your house after showing up after you put in your personal information into a random pop-up ad at 3 a.m. promising you a happy life with hot single yanderes in your area. You are the pinnacle of human genius. The apex of natural selection. The creme de la creme of common sense. Charles Darwin would be so impressed.

“How thoughtful. Just coffee would be fine. Thank you.”

After brewing a quick pot, you sat across from the man facing him heads on and gently slid him his steaming cup. After a while of taking little sips in weird silence, he spoke up again.

“Before we continue, I’d just like to say: Thank you so much for applying for this wonderful opportunity!! Not many people would click on an ad requiring doxxing information to meet their soulmates! Again, congrats on being our number one willing client!”

“Willing client?” you asked.

“Well, of course! For some reason, humans seem to really love the idea of a yandere until there’s one standing on their front porch!” he laughed.

“Humans? I’m sorry. Are you not human, Mr…?”

“Ah ah! No need for formalities! Just ‘The Matchmaker’ or simply ‘Matchmaker’.

“Oh, so… you don’t have a true name? Or is that just a title?”

“Oh darling~.” he sang sweetly. “That’s none of anyone’s fucking business, is it?”

Your eyes widened and let out a nervous chuckle. “Okay, got it! Just Matchmaker. Lovely name. Adore it. In fact, I love when strange mysterious men only give a title for a name.” What the hell does that even mean? You had no idea what you were saying anymore.

“Heh, smart cookie.” He winked. “Shall we begin?”

“Um, yeah, so… how does this work exactly?” you finally asked.

“Simple, my dear darling. Think of this as an ordinary matchmaking appointment. I have a stack of potential soulmates all ready to meet you. I have the same information about them that I also have of you. Each potential soulmate also has a picture so if you don’t really feel up to meeting face-to-face just yet you can look over the picture and see who captures your heart.”

“Face-to-face? So these guys have my picture too?” “Of course! And might I say, those pictures don’t do you justice. In all my years in this business, I’ve never seen such an obsession and overload of potential soulmates for just one person.”

You lightly blushed. “I-I don’t know about that… I barely got any sleep last night so I probably look like a zombie right now…”

“Au contraire, Darling. You look absolutely stunning. If I weren’t such a professional I would burn all these forms and claim you as my one and only~.”

You felt your entire face flush red as the Matchmaker pierced your soul with his longing gaze. It felt like he was staring into your very essence – like he could read you like a book. You nervously cleared your throat and shifted your eyes away, hoping to bring down your blush.

“S-So! Um… should we get started?” you stuttered, internally kicking yourself for being so easily flustered by a couple of smooth words. Ted Bundy would’ve had a field day with your dumbass.

“Ready whenever you are, my dear.” The Matchmaker set his briefcase on your coffee table and pulled out a single form and slid it over towards you. “Let’s start off with an easy one.”

You looked at the form along with the picture of a very attractive man paperclipped to the paper. According to the form, his name is Hamazawa Akita. He was in his early 20’s, had a varying array of hobbies from hiking to scuba diving, and was very much in love with you.

“Well, what do you think?”

“Hm, well, he’s very cute. And very active.”

“Would you like to meet him?”

“Um, sure… is there a number I could call or…?”

“No need! We can bring him in right now.” The Matchmaker snapped his fingers and you whipped your head towards the front door where Akita strolled in, all smiles. You looked back over the Matchmaker. “Did I not lock my door? Wait. More importantly, how’d he get here?!”

The Matchmaker smiled. “My dear, when you’re in this business you pick up a few tricks.” He then turned his attention towards Akita who now stood in the middle of the living room. “No. 1 would you like to introduce yourself?”

Akita stood tall and his eyes seemed to beam directly at you. “My name is Hamazawa Akita. Ever since I saw your picture I’ve dreamed about sweeping you off your feet and claiming you all to myself!”

“So, like 8 hours ago?”

“Yes!! But those hours feel like years when being away from you.”

“Hmm.”

“So, what do you think? Are you feeling the butterflies?”

You looked up Akita up and down and your face twisted as if you’re deciding on whether or not to buy a car or a piece of clothing.

“Um, to be honest my guy. I’m not feeling it.”

“Huh?”

“Excuse me, my darling?”

“Weeeelllll…. I mean, don’t get me wrong! You’re very attractive and your words are sweet, but I don’t think I believe any of it. Like, you just admitted to wanting me all to yourself only 8 hours ago, but I don’t really feel anything. Not even a shiver.”

The Matchmaker and Akita both looked at each other like they weren’t really expecting that. With a quick wave of his hand, Akita slumped his shoulders and headed towards your front door. You shouted out an apology as the dejected suitor walked out.

“Well, I didn’t expect that. I don’t normally get such competent clients. At least those that get past kicking and screaming.” The Matchmaker grinned. You shrugged.

“I guess I just know what I like. All the anime I’ve watched kind of gives you that high standard of what makes a yandere a real yandere, y’know?”

He nodded. “I cannot agree more. Well, we have plenty more where that came from. Shall we continue?”

*****

Papers were strewn across your coffee table in an unorganized fashion as both you and your estranged guest were tired beyond belief. You had no idea how many hours had passed nor how many guests were in and out of your apartment. You’re honestly surprised none of your neighbors complained or called the police. Your apartment would’ve looked like a clown car if anyone had been watching from the outside. You honestly lost count after No. 256. You let out another yawn and laid on your side trying your best to keep your eyes open. Maybe 2 hours of sleep wasn’t enough for the multiple interviews you had to conduct today. Maybe your 9th grade biology teacher was right. Maybe you are going to die alone. A weary sigh brought you from your thoughts.

“My, my. You are definitely the most high standard client I’ve ever had. I didn’t think we’d get to the triple digits in just one day.”

You also sighed and sat up in your seat. “I know. I’m sorry. It’s just… All these guys are cute and all, but they’re all lacking something. They’re either too forceful or not forceful enough. Too wimpy or too strong. Or too obsessed or just incredibly so lovesick that I feel like they’d fall in love with just about anyone who’d be willing. Ugh, why can’t this be simpler like adopting an animal?” You groaned. You also hadn’t thought this would take this long. You didn’t really think of yourself as having high standards until today. Until today, you’d be happy with anyone close to you in age and with a heartbeat. Who knew picking out a yandere soulmate would be so challenging. And who knew that there’d be so many willing participants! The Matchmaker reached into his briefcase and pulled another stack of forms and slid them over to you. There must be at least over a hundred papers in front of you. How did he have so many?!

“How about we switch things up, hm? You’ll look over the papers and when you see someone that catches your eye, I’ll bring him in.” He made it sound like you were adopting a dog or a cat. But if this made it go any faster, you were willing to try.

After about 3 more stacks of papers, you were starting to lose hope and patience. When you got to the last few papers, you stopped dead in your tracks. Woah baby!

“Woah baby!” you exclaimed.

“Did you find someone you like?” The Matchmaker asked hopefully.

“Oh yeah. This guy.” You showed him the paper. He furrowed his brows a little.

“Are you sure? I don’t think I remember this man. His name and face don’t seem familiar.”

“Really? Maybe he’s a late entry or something?”

Matchmaker stroked his chin in thought. “I’ll go check it out. Be right back, dear. I’m very sorry for this inconvenience.”

You waved off his apology with a smile and he left your apartment. You then leaned back with a groan. You just wanted to find your ‘soulmate’ or whatever and move on with this day. You closed your eyes for a second and waited patiently for Matchmaker to come back.

Tap tap tap

Just like deja vu, you were awoken by rapid knocking. Except this time it wasn’t coming from your front door.

Tap tap tap tap

It sounds like it’s coming from… your window?

Tap tap tap tap tap tap tap

You quickly got up and walked towards your window and opened it.

“Woah!” You jumped back a little as you were met face to face with the man that you had picked out and that the Matchmaker went to go find.

‘Wow… he’s even cuter in person!!’

He let out a delicious chuckle and gave you a charming smile.

“I didn’t mean to scare you, darling~. Hehe, though I think that fear in your eyes was worth it. So adorable~.” For the second time today, a complete weirdo stranger has made you blush. Wait…

“Wait! I don’t have a balcony and I’m on the third floor. How’d you-?” You peeked over the window to see if he was pulling a Criss Angel.

“I have incredible grip strength~.” he winked.

“Oooh I’m sure~.” you swooned. For a weirdo, he was a smooth talking weirdo.

“Oh, I got these for you, sweetheart~.” He pulled himself up and sat on your windowsill and pulled out a bouquet of roughly cut flowers from behind him. You gasped and grabbed them, giving them a smell.

“These are my favorite!! How did you know? I don’t think that was one of the pieces of info required for the Matchmaker.” you asked.

The stranger chuckled. “Easy. I never filled out that stupid application.”

You looked up from your flowers and titled your head like a confused puppy.

“I already know everything about you. I don’t need a stupid piece of paper to tell me what I already know about you. Like, how I know that you have secret sweets hidden all throughout your room. Or that whenever you have a good day you love to sing Stray Kids.”

He inched closer to you as you backed up further into the room.

“You won’t eat frozen pizza, but every so often you eat a lobster roll from a food truck from Gary on Main St.. You have life destroying evidence of your boss that you’re planning on using on your last day. You’ve seen the Barbie movie 5 times. And…”

You felt your legs hit the couch and tried to keep yourself from falling onto your back like a defenseless turtle.

“Your favorite anime is… Dar-” You quickly covered the stranger’s mouth with a furious blush.

“I only watch it ironically!! I don’t love it! It’s not my favorite!” you quickly clarified. The gravity of the situation was made perfectly clear after that. This man really knew all about you. Honestly, you’re so loud that you’re pretty sure that people on the ground outside could hear you singing. And you don’t really pay attention to your surroundings so it's easy for someone to know that you eat from a food truck every other week at specific times. But, knowing your favorite secretly watched anime?

“W-Who… are you?” you stuttered. You’re pretty sure you already knew the answer.

He laughed and you felt his lips brush against your fingers. You blushed and tried to pull back, only to be stopped by his hands.

“Sweetie~. You already know who I am.” He grabbed the paper from the stack and put it next to his face. “See? I’m Yami Ai. Your soulmate.”

Before you could even process what was happening, you were gently pushed onto the couch with Yami hovering over you holding your hands beside your head. You couldn’t stop the blush erupting from your neck to your face. Your heart was beating way too fast and your stomach felt jumpy and queasy. Butterflies.

You cleared your throat. “Um… so, if you didn’t fill out a form then how come The Matchmaker had your profile and picture? And why didn’t you use the front door?”

Yami smirked and leaned in closer. “It’s pretty simple to pull off when your apartment does security checks on new guests entering the building.”

“But, my apartment doesn’t–” you stopped. “Ooooh… So you impersonated a security guard, slipped your profile and info into his briefcase, and were planning on showing up as one of the potential singles? That’s… convoluted. But, smart.” You shrugged. “And since you obviously knew which floor I was on and which window was mine, I assume you’ve been watching me for a while and were watching me last night when I couldn’t sleep?”

Yami laughed again. “You are so smart~. You really catch on quickly, don’t you?”

You shrugged again with a nervous smile. “W-Well, obviously not smart enough to not put in my personal info and have strange men come in and out of my apartment.”

Yami was quick to turn his gentle smile into a hard, harsh frown. His grip on your wrists grew tighter and you winced under the force he placed in you.

“You know, my darling. It’s partially my fault. If I hadn’t backed out and taken you that night, you’d never be in this situation. With those men eyeing you up and down like you were theirs. Having that smiling freak calling you ‘dear’ and ‘darling’ when only I can call you that. I was planning on getting rid of the competition, but you did that for me.”

Yami loosened his grip and lifted you up, staring into your eyes. You blushed again.

“Rejection after rejection. Some guys didn’t even get 2 words out before you turned away. Of course my darling would only want the most perfect man. Isn’t that right, darling~?”

“Hehehe~” you leaned in with a giggle. “You’re so sweet~.”

You are such a baby for flattery.

*****

“My dear darling, I’m so very sorry for the inconvenience. I didn’t mean to be gone for so long, but I could not find this person you–” Matchmaker explained, rushing in and stopping dead in his tracks when he saw both you and Yami, the man who left 30 minutes ago to go find, eating breakfast in the living room.

Sitting in his lap.

And feeding each other.

“Oh! Matchmaker!” you exclaimed, quickly swallowing your food. You didn’t notice Yami tightening his grip on your waist nor did you notice the cold glare and tense atmosphere enveloping the room. “Look who I found~.”

“I see…” he said hesitantly.

“He climbed up the building and came in through the window.”

“My~. How romantic~.” he sang. “So, I take it that you are satisfied with your soulmate? Or… do you wish to continue searching?” he asked teasingly. Before Yami could say anything, you quickly spoke again.

“Yep! I’m sure.” You ruffled Yami’s hair and nuzzled up against him. “I wouldn’t trade him for anyone else.” Yami hugged you closer to his chest as you giggled. “Plus, he makes the most amazing breakfast in the world, so extra points!” you cheered. You reached out towards the Matchmaker’s briefcase.

“Here you go! I put all the papers back in for you.”

Matchmaker quickly walked over and grabbed his briefcase along with your hand. “Well, my dear. It’s been an honor. You are truly the most remarkable and memorable client I have ever had.” he said with a bow and made his way towards the door. However, before leaving he chuckled and looked back at the both of you. “Although, it’s a shame,” he sighed. “Maybe if I had stayed, I would’ve snatched you up myself.”

And with a final loud laugh, The Matchmaker disappeared, but not before Yami stood up to lounge and attack the fleeting man like a guard dog. You snorted and caressed his face to calm him down. “Relax, Yami. He’s just joking.”

“Well, I hated his joke. Fuckin’ freak…” he grumbled. “And it’s Ai. You’re mine now. You should get used to calling each other by our first names.”

You smiled and leaned against him. “Okay, Ai. Whatever you say.”

“And if a man comes to the door, never EVER answer it, got it!”

“Mhm.”

“I’m serious, darling. I’ll gouge their eyes out right in front of you.”

“Yes sir.”

The rest of your life was going to be very interesting. Suck it, Ms. Braxton. I guess you’re the one dying alone. Because you have a yandere boyfriend! And she has gonorrhea. Bitch.

---

a/n: this is so shit. i'm so sorry that i've been MIA for a while. work has been pretty crazy and i haven't really felt much motivated to write. however, i'm trying to get back into it now. with this goofy shit. kind of a joke piece, but i needed to write something silly and not serious at all to relax. (also i've been writing since 4 a.m., so...) anyways, i'm going to try and update regulary or at least post something.

Here's my YouTube. I make anime playlists.

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oscalesoffeeling · 1 year

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mention of unnamed tar.kin aide in death. star. novel. i'm canon ig.

#most of legends tar.kin makes me go I Do Not See It. I Do NOT Perceive It. but this was a rare legends tar.kin W.#not that it's like horrible with him. but so far the ds novel has kinda slandered his and ani's relationship and it's like. ugh.#they are 5 billion times more interesting as friends. i hate it. these old men like each other and this is nothing you can #do about it! and that's just canon though this book came out before the cw show they still are shown as friends before that lol like in anh #there were a couple parts where i was like ok yeah that's tar.kin-y the characterization is not not accurate but he isn't #weird enough. he needs to be kind of a freak. and he is so much fruitier in canon (both canons) than this novel is making #him out as. not to mention that i do not like him having a wife bc hoogh. outside of the jealousy i feel i also just do not like it from #a narrative standpoint. an arranged marriage that he is generally neutral on fits him (like a lavender one) but him being a 'confirmed #bachelor' (both meanings (into men and unmarried)) is sooo much funnier and honestly fits better to an extent bc he is so stubborn.#and once again: he is a weirdo at his core. cishet men who write tar.kin tend to forget that he isn't just a blando higher up #bureaucrat. he's a little bit kooky a little crazy. incredibly unhinged. thank you james luc.eno for my life (the tar.kin novel)#ellie rambles about stuff #he spun the stars on his fingernails (tag)

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effortandmore · 10 months

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the sleeping hours | knj x f!reader

summary: namjoon thinks there must be infinite versions of the universe, and in every one he’s known, he’s meant to love you.

pairing: namjoon x f!reader

rating: explicit (18+ please)

genre: fluff, smut, angst

au: okay. so this is canon-compliant but also maybe a little bit of a time-travel/multiverse au

warnings/tags: here we go... time travel (kind of), discussions of war, descriptions of famine, talks of anarchy/revolution, descriptions of ww2 germany and nazis, minor character death (not a tannie), implied gun violence, the japanese occupation of korea, sex worker!namjoon, soldier!namjoon, architect!namjoon, idol!namjoon, spy!reader, namjoon has a big dick (ofc), mentions of blood... smut, including: biting, unprotected sex, sex work (this is not the unprotected sex), oral sex (f!receiving), a little bit of cumplay... idk i think that's all but honestly it's not as weird as it sounds i promise

word count: ~12k

a/n: i have wanted to write a songfic for "here i dreamt i was an architect" by the decemberists for... years now. and with my three month vacation from work, i've finally done it! listening to the song will help this make more sense, but essentially there are three verses, and they start like this: "here i dreamt i was a soldier," "here i dreamt i was an architect," & "and in spain i was a spaniard." so, i thought it would be fun to turn that into a story about namjoon and reader across all these different universes. my research for this fic was completely unhinged, and i'm sure i still got some things wrong. if you need translations for any of the dutch, german, or spanish in this, lmk but i think it's pretty readable given context. i hope you like it, but even if you don't, i'm glad i wrote it. thank you so so so much to @ugh-yoongi who assured me this was not too unhinged for the locals—ily and i appreciate you

read on ao3

Namjoon always tells people he doesn’t have dreams, but it’s a lie… Sort of.

If these are dreams, he doesn’t know how billions of people aren’t talking about them like they’re magical experiences, can’t fathom why so many people still don’t believe in multiverse theory.

Lying about it seems infinitely easier than trying to explain it to people. His “dreams,” if that’s what they are, seem so real. He can smell the scents, he can feel the rain and the blood and the orgasm that courses through him when he inevitably, in every single one, finds a version of you. When he wakes up, he can feel the phantom pain, feels like his skin’s just barely dried out from a shower, feels loose and lazy with the pleasure he’d felt while he was asleep.

So, he says he doesn’t dream, because he’s halfway convinced they’re actually happening, and he has absolutely no clue how to explain that to anyone. He thinks there must be infinite versions of the universe, infinite versions of him. At first, he thought maybe it was a past-lives sort of thing, but he’s lived parallel paths on different parts of the planet during the same time frames. Or, he’s dreamt that he has, anyway… maybe they’re dreams. Maybe not. What he’s sure of, though, is that you must be out there in the universe he lives in—you must exist outside of this near fugue state where he always finds you. If you’re on the streets of Germany during the war, if you’re in Andalucia dancing the flamenco and catching his eye on every twirl… If you’re fleeing with him to Jeju as more and more Japanese soldiers encircle your small farm town… If you’re all of those places, he knows you must be here, too.

There must be infinite versions of the universe, and in every one he’s known, he’s meant to love you.

Every dream is different, but the love he feels for you? It’s always the same, and it goes like this:

Birkenau, Germany — April, 1942

He comes to, and he’s lying in a cot. It’s dark. It would be pitch black, except there’s a crack of light on the floor that’s muted and warm-looking even though the air around him still carries a bit of leftover winter chill. Somehow, he knows there’s a coal shortage this spring because of the war. There’s an everything shortage, really. No coal, no clothes, no food… He can’t think of a time he’d eaten anything but potatoes in days… Namjoon can’t think of anything, really. It’s strange, his memories feel dull, rounded around the edges and blurred out, everything just slightly out of reach. Maybe it’s lack of sleep, maybe it’s hypothermia (he’s a little dramatic), maybe it’s hunger; he doesn’t know. Doesn’t want to know, because there’s not much to be done about whatever it is. Knowing the future doesn’t always mean you can change it, he thinks, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

The clothes he is wearing are stiff—they make it hard for him to bend his elbow to reach his own face. There’s a worn crease in his right sleeve from saluting, dirt that will never scrub out on his lapels… his badges and patches do a poor job of covering the wear and tear. Although his brain isn’t fully awake, the thoughts still cloudy, two are clear: he is ready for this war to be over and he is terrified that he is a little in love with the woman lying next to him.

If someone asked him how he got here, to Birkenau, Germany in the middle of the spring in 1942, he couldn’t tell them (a consequence of for some reason not remembering anything concrete prior to this week at the moment—just feelings and sensations and language and you). He feels as if he doesn’t belong at all and at the same time, as if he’s always existed right here.

He teases you awake slowly. Whispers sweet nothings to you in a language he finds himself surprisingly fluent in—it’s not his native one. He doesn’t know if it’s yours, either, but he knows you like hearing his voice. Remembers how you ask him to tell you stories of his home, how you hum softly along with the folk songs he sings to you when he thinks you’re almost asleep in his arms. He knows he likes the noises you make as you start to come to, knows you need a soft re-entry into wakefulness or else you’re a little off for the rest of the day.

You’d both fallen asleep after what some people would call lunch, although the persistent pit in Namjoon’s stomach would argue that. It’s hard to have energy when you can’t really eat, so the two of you do your best to conserve it.

Tonight, though, tonight he wants to be special. The carnival is in Birkenau this week, maybe longer, but he won’t know. He’ll leave soon, onto the next base, the next battle. It’s a miracle he’s able to go tonight, being a foreign soldier here is dangerous and the demands on him are high. He wears his uniform while he sleeps to stay warm, but doesn’t dare wear it in this town outside of this private and safe space that you’ve carved out for him. It’s been going on for a while, this sneaking away to be with you. There’s another soldier, Seokjin, on his base, who always covers for him. Namjoon doesn’t know how, it’s one of the fuzzy things he can’t figure out. Regardless, he’s here with you now and he knows he’s always grateful to his fellow soldier. And here, he’s someone different. He’s not Namjoon the soldier, he’s Namjoon who loves you, who will give up almost anything to be with you.

Except the one thing you ask him to.

He may be grateful to escape for a while, but he is duty-bound—loyal to his country, to the cause. He is, above everything, a soldier, and that cannot change. The Remington on the cheap bedside table is his best friend, and a reminder that this between you is dangerous, that it has a time limit.

And you? You have to leave, too. He knows it, you know it. It’s not safe for you here, probably just as dangerous as it is for him.

You don’t wear a uniform, you don’t carry a gun (often), but you move under the cover of the night and you deal in secrets you’re not supposed to know. The work you do is just as important as his—sometimes he thinks it’s probably even moreso. He admires you, adores you, thinks you’re brave and beautiful and brilliant. Maybe he thinks some of those things because of how dangerous you are, because of the risks you’re willing to take. Being with him, hiding him here with you is a big one.

Beside him, you stir. Your voice is a melody, always lilting, tumbling from one word to the next. “Love you, Namjoon. What time is it, baby?” Later, he won’t know why he never thinks it’s strange that you weave words across several languages. Maybe that’s just how all spies are; and that’s what you are, at the core of it, isn’t it?

“Is it time?” you ask into the darkness.

“Yes. I need to change and then we can go.”

“Do you think we’ll find something to eat there?”

Namjoon smiles even though you can’t see him in the dark. “We will. Sausages and sauerkraut, I’m sure.” He waits for you to make the gagging sound he knows you’re about to.

You do. “I hate German food,” you complain. “Can’t wait to get out of here once and for all.”

“They’ll have schnitzel,” he says, trying to make you laugh.

“Germans and their pork,” you say dismissively, “swine for swine.”

“They’re not all bad.” He means it, but it sounds a little weak when he says it. It’s hard to see the forest for the trees, sometimes. Doesn’t help that the both of you see the worst of people… that the both of you sometimes are the worst of people.

“Hmm…” you hum, he knows you agree with him. “I know, I'm sorry. I’m just tired. And don’t want to leave you.”

“I know.”

“You could come with me. Run away with me, Namjoonie.”

When you say it, he almost believes it could work. Knows it wouldn’t, knows you’d both end up dead or worse, knows he could never go home, never see his mother again. Knows it would break his heart to bear witness to the secrets you have to keep, to the lives you take.

He never responds, just lumbers off of the cot and strips his uniform off, trades it for the street clothes you keep here for him. They’re ill-fitting, cheap and scratchy. He loves them because they smell like you, smell like the soap you carry with you from France—lavender from Provence—the one luxury you allow yourself.

The two of you walk hand in hand through back alleys and quaint cobblestoned neighborhoods, making your way to the carnival. He hears the barkers getting louder the closer you get, promising fun and winnings and love and only happy fortunes told. In reality, there are no happy fortunes here, and you both know that. But Namjoon’s happy to give into the fantasy of it all, just for tonight. Just to see you smile. He’d do anything to see you smile. Except…

“Win me a prize,” you coo sweetly. It’s futile, since you never take anything with you, and later tonight (or very early in the morning), you will leave Birkenau for good—a mission needs completing, and dead or alive, you won’t be back here again.

“Whatever you want, jagiya.”

You bounce on your heels in excitement and drag him to a booth, one offering cheap stuffed birds. There are swans, peacocks, parrots, ducks… He doesn’t know what you’re drawn by, but he’ll knock over as many milk jugs as he has to get you what you want.

“My strong soldier,” you whisper in his ear after he knocks the top three over. It makes him grin, makes him show you his dimples. He loves you so much, loves how you tease and bait him with your words—then with your body in the privacy of your hideaway. Loves your confidence and your unwavering belief. Loves your conviction. “You can do it, Namjoon.”

He does.

The final three jugs topple off the ledge. With you by his side, he thinks he can do anything. He knows he can.

“Wähle eins,” the barker shouts at him, Dutch accent thick in his German.

“De pauw,” you answer immediately in his native tongue, pointing to the top shelf.

The man pulls one of the blue birds down and hands it to you with a smile. You can charm anyone, Namjoon thinks. A skill you’ve honed doing the work you do, he supposes. “Voor de dame,” the huckster says with a bow and a flourish of his hand.

You giggle as you take it. Namjoon’s enamored with you.

As the two of you wander (you clutching the peacock tightly under your arm), he watches as you make friends with a fortune teller and charm free pieces of chicken schnitzel from a mustached French man. Your greatest feat is sneaking the two of you onto the ferris wheel. Namjoon’s in awe of how you move—though sleight of hand is usually what he catches you at, you’re not as skilled a pickpocket as you are a liar—how you can weave in and out of a crowd unnoticed, how you can blend in with any surrounding, any language, any group… It’s a skill he wishes he possessed, too. He’s too large, a little lumbering, a little awkward in his long limbs made to feel longer as he loses muscle to months of being malnourished. But somehow, you make him nimble, you make him invisible to everyone but you. He wants to chase that feeling forever, wants to bottle it up and uncork it again when you’re gone, when he’s so desperate with the want of you that he’s got no other solace.

Bellies unusually full, legs tired, and peacock secured, he leads you back to your basement apartment. He pulls you along to follow a different path to return than the one you took there—a trick he’s learned from you. Don’t give people the opportunity to see your face twice.

It’s still dark, and you have no electricity, no oil for your lamps, so Namjoon makes love to you by memory.

He feels so foggy, but this he knows how to do, like he’s done it a million times and will do it a million more until you and he become different versions of the same thing. Maybe you already are.

Slowly, using time you don’t have, he undresses you. He’s careful with the buttons of your blouse after he slides your cardigan off of your shoulders. Takes time to press his nose into the skin of your neck once it’s exposed, to try and remember the way that you smell, that lavender soap and the iron of the hard bathwater and the danger that rolls off of you in waves.

When he lets his arms drop from your body, you walk backward toward the cot, unlacing your skirt as you go. Namjoon can’t see you well, but he hears the sounds of the cotton strings being pulled through the gussets, the soft swoosh of it hitting the floor when you shimmy out of it.

“Come here, Namjoonie,” you whisper. He would, even if you didn’t ask. Wouldn’t be able to help himself. Always pulled to you like a magnet.

“Yes, jagiya,” he breathes, now trembling fingers removing his own clothes as he moves. When he finally can feel your skin under his hand, he’s fully undressed, thinks you are, too. Lets his fingertips explore your limbs just to confirm.

You straddle him on the cot, press your thumbs into the meat of his thighs and tell him he’s brave, powerful, that you’re so lucky he’s chosen you. But he knows it wasn’t a choice. Can’t explain it, but he’s always existed for you, would always find you. Couldn’t choose anyone else if he wanted to.

He doesn’t.

The way you kiss him feels like forever, but he knows better. Chases something deeper and messier as his heart rate rises. Knows you don’t have time to draw it out, knows he won’t be able to be as gentle with you as you deserve. No one’s ever gentle with you, is what you always tell him. People who know you know how dangerous you are and they treat you accordingly. Except Namjoon. Namjoon who reveres you and knows you and he are cut from the same cloth—the one where you need to fight for what’s right at any cost. It doesn’t make you dangerous to people who don’t deserve the battle scars you dole out, he thinks. It makes you a hero. To him, you are a lionheart.

Your palms press into his chest above his own heart and you sink onto his length. Every time you’ve been together seems to bleed together for him, but he knows you know exactly how to move to bring him bliss, knows you feel like the god who seems to have abandoned you made the two of you for one another.

It’s a risk, but he reaches up to pull the thick curtain back just a few millimeters. Wants the sliver of light to illuminate the tendons in your neck with your head thrown back as you ride him. Wants to see the peaks of your nipples, the smooth skin over your ribcage, the mole you have right on the plateau of your collarbone. Wants to let his eyes roll back in his skull, that’s how good you feel, but can’t let himself pull his attention from your body.

“Come here,” he says quietly, wraps his spindly arms around you and pulls you down so your chest is flush with his. “Be with me,” he almost begs, “look at me, love.”

Your hands cup his face, and his guide your hips on top of his.

“I want to feel like this forever,” he thinks he hears you say, and Namjoon can see a tear dripping down your cheek before you lean in to press your lips to his. He licks at your mouth, gets you to open for him, plays melodies along your tongue with his.

He thinks they’re love songs.

He hopes you know.

You’re all tight heat around him, and your nipples brush his chest in time with his tongue brushing yours. Your lavender scent is a balm, your tears drip onto his cheeks from above, and your breaths come shallow and labored as he fucks into you.

“I think I’ll love you forever,” he says.

“Mijn schat...” You whisper, brushing your thumb across his cheekbone and smiling the sad kind of smile. Quietly, you tell him that you want to feel him, beg him to move.

He knows he shouldn’t, but he doesn’t stop. Thrusts into you, lets the sound of his skin against yours get louder and filthier. He knows he should stop. Can’t make himself. “Are you sure?” he asks, but it’s probably too late.

You’re nodding anyway, letting out a sweet little moan when his fingers find your clit and he comes, deep inside of you. Feels like a claim he shouldn’t be making. Gets one back from you just moments later when you squeeze around his softening cock, shuddering with your release above him.

Against his chest, you breathe, and he waits for the moment when your inhales align with his. It’s going to be the last time you share the same air, he thinks.

Your work tonight will be messy. He doesn’t ask what that means, thinks he already knows. Eyes the Remington in his periphery and you give him a tight-lipped confirmation. Yes, you have things you have to do. Yes, they’re worth sacrificing your life if you have to.

Namjoon spends a lot of time wondering about the balance between sacrifice and selfishness.

Never seems to decide where he sits on the spectrum.

Lithe like you are, he should barely feel it when you climb off of him, but it’s a crushing weight. Feels like his heart might be melting, like his lungs can’t expand anymore.

Once you’re dressed—in clothes he’s never seen before, those usually given to people of a different gender, maybe a different time—he watches you toss your skirt into the hearth first, then the clothes you’ve been lending him for your trysts. He watches you find the smallest vial of kerosene and some tinder you’d been collecting and add those, too. It’s as if he can see you in your full vibrancy now: focused on the mission, focused on destroying the you that has existed in this space, the him that has loved you.

The fire burns more brightly than he could have imagined after all the time you’ve spent together in the dark. It allows him to see the hope in your eyes when you lean down to kiss him one last time. Allows him to see the tears you no longer let fall when you hand him the peacock, press it close to him so he can hold it like a child.

“Why the peacock?” he asks when you turn to leave. It’s the only question he can think of that he suspects you’ll give him an answer to.

“Immortality, Joonie. You know, the Greeks thought the flesh of the peacock would never decay? Perfect and enduring even in death.”

“Are you the peacock or am I?”

“I guess we’ll find out,” you say as you heave open the door.

He shudders with the cold gust and wishes he knew what to say. Wishes he could choose you over his gun. Wishes you would choose him over yours.

“Until next time, Joonbug,” you say against the wind.

You pull the door hard behind you, and when it punches shut, Namjoon is startled out of his dream.

Seoul, South Korea — Present Day

“You gotta stop falling asleep in here, hyung.” Jeongguk’s voice is almost drowned out by Seokjin’s laugh.

“I covered for you at the last meeting, told them you were chasing down an idea… don’t interrupt a genius… creative flow… you know.”

Namjoon rubs his eyes and sits up. Of course he’s not in Germany during World War two. Of course he’s in his studio in Gangnam, and apparently he’s slept through a meeting.

He hates these dreams because he feels so thrown off when he wakes up. The pain of losing you always sticks with him for a while afterwards, makes his whole world tilt about one degree. Not enough to change anyone but him, but more than enough to notice.

He loves the dreams because he gets to be with you—tries not to let that thought be concerning.

“What’s that smell?” he asks, still half asleep.

“What smell?”

“Mmm… you know, the lavender smell.”

“Hyung, are you having a stroke?”

“I think people who have strokes smell toast,” Jin says.

“Nevermind,” Namjoon sighs as he gets off the couch. “Thanks for covering for me, hyung.”

“You owe me now.”

“Sure, yeah. Of course.” Agreeing is always easier than arguing with Jin.

Namjoon’s awake enough now to notice the looks that Jeongguk and Seokjin are passing between each other. He knows they know something’s going on with him, sees how they adjust the ways they move around him after these dreams, when he’s out of sorts and halfway out of commission for a half a day or so. It’s not just them, either. Jimin has tried to talk to him about it, but didn’t get very far. Hoseok knows Namjoon’s had a few bad dreams, but that’s the extent of it.

It’s not that he doesn’t want to tell them, it’s more that he doesn’t know how to explain it without sounding like he’s completely batshit. Doesn’t know how to tell them that he knows you’re real, that he believes in you the same way he believes in the existence of his sister or his best friend, Heeyoung. It’s part of the problem, really. Because every time he has one of these dreams, he finds himself actually looking for you. In real life. In Seoul. In every city they have a show in. Thought he saw you once in Switzerland, but was too afraid to get close enough to know for sure… Still isn’t sure if he regrets that or not.

It really messes with him when he’s in a city that he’s dreamed you in. Once, in Sevilla, he was too fucked up about it to even leave the hotel room. Tried to explain to one of the managers that something bad had happened last time he was there, but it got complicated when Namjoon couldn’t explain when exactly that was.

“What’s on your mind, Namjoonie?” Seokjin’s tone is gentler now, cautious.

“Spain.”

Another look of concern between Jeongguk and their hyung.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Jeongguk asks softly. “Sometimes it helps to talk about things—you taught me that.”

He can’t help but smile at that. Caught in his own words. And he’s so tired of this, so tired of feeling like no one will understand… he’s tempted. To be honest, he could probably talk about it with Taehyung. Maybe that’s what he should do, he thinks. Tae would listen, wouldn’t judge him. But maybe Jeongguk and Seokjin wouldn’t either. Namjoon has assuredly done more questionable things than possibly believe in a ghost. Or whatever you are.

He sits back down on the couch. “I’ve been having these weird dreams,” he says.

“About Spain?” Jeongguk and Seokjin find seats to settle into, too.

“About a girl, mostly.”

“Want to tell us about her? Is she Spanish? Is she someone you know?”

“I’m not sure,” Namjoon admits. “She’s whoever I want her to be, I think.”

Seokjin’s eyebrows almost lift off his face. “Okay, Namjoonie. Why don’t you tell us about these dreams?”

Namjoon nods. “Well, the one I just woke up from, we were in Germany.”

“All of us?” Jeongguk asks.

“No, I don’t think so. Just her and me. I think hyung maybe, too, but I never saw him in the dream.” He gestures to Seokjin.

“But you have these dreams often?”

“Yeah.”

“And one of them was in Spain?”

Namjoon’s not sure what they’ll think of him once he tells them, but maybe he doesn’t have to give everything away, he decides. Maybe he can just tell him about one of the dreams and see what they think.

“Yeah, I can tell you about it if you want.”

Jeongguk nods eagerly and Jin does, too. He supposes he can’t back out now.

“Alright… well, here’s what I remember…”

Andalucia, Spain — Summer, 1913

The heat is relentless.

Namjoon sweats so much under normal conditions—this is borderline torture. If it were up to him, he’d be back in Sevilla with you, content in the small pension you both scrape together rent for every week. It’s shaded by the orange trees surrounding it, feels safe and private and cool, and most importantly, it’s yours.

Ronda is less forgiving. Maybe because he doesn’t know it as well, isn’t sure who might be someone to know and who might just be pretending. He’s done this for long enough that he thinks he has a pretty good sense for it, but he’s still sucked into having his time wasted on occasion. Wouldn’t mind it so much except it’s time spent away from you.

Blas Infante has been yelling on the steps for a while. His throat should be raw, but the adrenaline of agitating the people of Andalucia keeps him fresh, voice ringing clearly through the square. Namjoon has been watching the wealthiest in the crowd drift away, paying attention to where they’re going, making sure he’s got a line on which bars and cafes will be the best to move on to. The time is about right, he thinks. They’ll be a few drinks in and soon the wider crowd will disperse. Wants to make sure he can find a seat at the bar next to someone rich, attractive if possible. If they’re a little desperate that’s even better.

They probably all will be given the way the political winds are shifting in Andalucia.

As he turns from the crowd, he hears Padre de la Patria Andaluza shout, “the moment has come for the privileged to die!” The remaining crowd roars like the lions on their flags, angry and proud. He agrees with them—as long as he gets his money first.

When he slides onto the barstool, he makes sure to order his own drink first. Chilled palo cortado says he’s from around here but maybe a little down on his luck, otherwise, he’d be drinking Fundador.

It’s strange, he knows he grew up poor, but he can’t remember any of the details. It’s as if his whole life before knowing you is completely out of focus. He feels the resentment, though, the frustration of knowing there’s more for the taking if you have the right family, the right education, the right skin color.

But he’s older now and while it’s there, it’s in the background. Because he knows how to get his share, knows now that it’s also for the taking if you have a nice smile, a silver tongue, and a willingness to do whatever it takes to succeed—including changing your definition of success. Including sacrificing the things you believe in the most.

Good thing the only thing Namjoon believes in anymore is you, and you’re willing to stick by his side no matter what.

She’s not anywhere near as attractive to him as you are. She’s round in all the places he likes—soft hips, soft stomach, thick ass, but there’s something with her face. Too drawn, a little gaunt in a way that doesn’t suit her. It’s age maybe, she’s got to be thirty years older than him.

Age is another one of those tricky things that feels a little elusive to him.

He thinks he’s around nineteen and she’s probably fifty. Doesn’t care, really, as long as she’s got pesetas.

She does. A lot of them.

He fucks her slow in a room above the bar and calls her “Princesa” because she asks him to. Because she’ll pay him more if he does, because he knows how women like her work. It’s been quiet between them since he took her upstairs. They don’t talk about her husband, her children… They don’t talk about you.

She shifts a little below him and it almost hurts. He’s not used to sex so dry like this—makes it hard to imagine it’s you beneath him. Digs his thumbs into the flesh at her hips and tries to picture you instead, but her noises aren’t as sweet as yours, her skin isn’t as supple.

At least, he thinks as he thrusts over and over to her guttural cries, he’s doing this for you. For the future the two of you have dreamed of since you were basically kids and he would throw stones at your window after dark to sneak a piece of your attention. He’s fairly certain you almost have enough saved up to escape, to get away from your father and brother who have never once approved of Namjoon. In their eyes, it’s bad enough he’s a foreigner, but then he has the audacity to be poor in addition.

He wants to give you a good life. There’s still a part of him that thinks someday he can give you an honest one, as well. There’s a part of him that hopes he’s not only his mistakes like your father thinks, that he’s capable of so much more than the world has allowed him to give so far. He thinks you see it, too. He’s pretty sure that’s why you stay.

As the work drags on, he realizes he’s made a critical mistake—he didn’t ask her how much she’d had to drink, didn’t think to slip the bartender a note to water it down a bit. Feels like she’s never going to come, and he can’t leave a job undone. God, he just wants to get home to you. Wants to take a lavender-laced bath with you and cleanse himself of this sin and the thousand others he’s committed before it. Wants to start on new ones with you.

The thought of you: in your orange grove, smelling of sun-dried linen and laughing while he chases you… it gives him the will to keep going.

Ironic that his love for you is the reason his cock is buried in someone else.

Eventually, she comes, and he lies and says he does, too. Makes quick work of ridding himself of the condom with his back to her. This isn’t the first time he’s lied. Would he sound like too much of a romantic if he said he’s only ever had an orgasm with you?

For tonight, his patron seems satisfied, romanticism or not. She asks to see him again the following week and he tells her all about how he’d love to, but he just doesn’t have the money, see? So, if she wants to see him, it wouldn’t be possible unless…

She’s more generous than he’s expected. What she gives him to come back to Ronda will pay for a month of your pension. He shoves it in his pockets and tells her he’s going to get them another bottle of sherry from the bar.

When he slinks out into the finally cool night air, all he feels is relief. He’s going to make it in time to hop the late train back to Sevilla, back to you.

He looks up and down the cobblestone street, taking a second to remember which direction he came from. Notices a man watching him, seems like it should matter, but all that matters is getting back to you.

Namjoon counts his earnings under the moonlight as the train rumbles through the countryside. It’s enough. He’ll need to count what’s at your home to be absolutely sure, but he thinks it’s enough to get you out of there. You dream of Valencia—of a different kind of orange grove, of thick and salty sea air, of vacations in Madrid or Barcelona, strolling the markets and church grounds.

He looks out the window at the moon and thinks of how bright your face will be when he tells you the good news. He looks at the stars and hopes they will guide you both faithfully to a better life.

The train pulls into the station at Sevilla several hours later. Namjoon feels like the time just slipped away, doesn’t quite know how he passed it. Maybe the wine was stronger than he’d first thought…

It’s quiet in Sevilla at this time of night, but he doesn’t pay too much attention to the bustle in front of him, the same man from outside the bar in Ronda rushing up the road ahead of him. Must be in a hurry to get somewhere—Namjoon can relate, he’s in a hurry to get home to you. His bag is weighed down from the coin he’s bringing home, but oddly enough, he feels lighter than ever knowing he may never have to give himself to someone that isn’t you again.

It’s freedom.

After years of conning and scraping and scratching to climb out of the poverty he’s known, he finally has hope for something better. Because of you, because you gave him something to believe in and to fight for.

Tomorrow, he’ll take you to the gardens at the Alcazar, and amongst the flowers and the peacocks you love, he’ll give you the news—tell you it’s finally time. Maybe you can even take the train to the sea that night.

He loves you so much, owes you everything because he gets all that he needs from your company and your faith in him.

As he draws nearer to you, dirt road narrowing as he approaches the pension, he hears raised voices. Yours and someone else’s. Maybe more. It’s all he needs to take off running, can’t fathom why you’d need to be fighting with anyone in the orchard after midnight.

“Namjoon!” you exclaim when you see him sprinting up the road.

He can hear the fear in your voice, and it only makes him come to you faster. “What is it? What’s going on?” he calls. And then he sees them: your father and your brother, gesturing wildly and yelling.

“Mija, you know what he’s doing in Ronda? How disgusting he is? How he’s making a fool out of you, making fools out of our family?”

You’re calmer than they deserve, standing your ground with your arms crossed over your chest, full skirts whipping around you in the breeze. You look brave, intimidating, and more beautiful than ever.

Namjoon starts to understand, realizes he should have known something wasn’t right, that the man in two places would be a problem. Hadn’t let himself believe your father would have had him followed, but why wouldn’t he?

“You know nothing,” you snap at your father. “Mind your own business, old man. I’m not your family anymore. He’s my family now.”

Namjoon joins you in front of the pension, stands by your side, wraps an arm around your waist and presses a kiss to your temple. “I think you should leave,” he says to the men facing you.

Your father spits in his direction, your brother makes rude gestures with both hands. They call him a whore, call him disgusting, claim he’s giving you diseases and ruining you for the god they say you need to meet one day.

(They still believe, Namjoon never has, and you think you already know god—that he lives in the way the birds call a bright greeting to the morning sun and the flowers bend to offer the bees what they both need to live.)

“Leave,” you say firmly. “We’re leaving for Valencia soon—you’ll never have to see us again. I’ll change my name, no one will know the disgrace you think we’ve brought to the family. Just let us be.”

And if Namjoon thought the crowd in Ronda was loud, he hadn’t yet had the screams of your father to compare it to. His face is a violent red, his whole body shakes with his anger, and Namjoon feels scared for the first time in a long time. The arm he has around your waist tightens as your brother pulls a revolver from the back of his trousers.

You are ever courageous—Namjoon can hear your racing heart, but you betray nothing, staring down your brother with iron conviction and pressing in tightly to the man at your side.

“No one will take you from us!” your father yells.

The barrel is pointed straight at the two of you. Namjoon can see your brother’s finger shaking and it’s as if he knows what’s about to happen. He can’t let it, would sacrifice anything for you, already has given up his body and his soul to you in some ways. He’s prepared to do it again. Would never make a choice that wasn’t to protect you. Loves you like you’re oxygen, like he needs you to survive.

He’s nothing without you, but you can be something without him. So, he moves.

And as Namjoon twists to pull you behind him, a single shot rings out through the Andalucian night, louder than a firecracker.

Seoul, South Korea — Present Day

“And then what?” Jeongguk asks, leaning so far in he looks like he’ll topple at any second.

“I don’t know,” Namjoon shrugs, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. “That’s when I woke up. I had the window open and I think there was a car accident or one backfiring or something. Startled me awake.”

“That’s so romantic,” Jeongguk sighs. “Don’t you think, hyung?”

Seokjin nods along. “How often do you dream about her?”

“Every few weeks… for a couple of years now.”

“Shit.”

Namjoon explains how he can’t stop thinking about you for days after the dreams, how you always look different in them but he knows it’s you every time. There’s something in the way you speak to him, in the way you know his mind, in the way you move across each time and space so self-assured and brave and admirable. And then the words just keep coming. He tells them about how he always dreams of you existing at night—never in the morning. Never had a dream where the two of you have made it through the night and woken up together in love with no tragedy befalling you. He almost cries when he tells them how badly he wants to find you, how he knows you must be real, a person he’s just yet to meet… Says he’s not sure he believes in something like soulmates, but that sometimes his chest actually aches with the need to know you, to be with you. Tells them that you’re never perfect in any of his dreams, but you’re perfect for him: a partner in crime, a lover, an intellectual rival, a battleground ally, just always by his side making him sharper and better and happier. Tells them that all he wants is the chance to wake up next to you just once, sunlight and joy and no crisis clapping him awake. Tells them how lonely he is in the mornings.

When he finally trails off, out of ways to explain that each time he dreams of you, the desire to find you seems that much more urgent, Seokjin and Jeongguk are speechless. Jin looks like the fish he loves, mouth opening and closing but no sound coming out. Jeongguk is a little teary-eyed and his hand is rubbing careful circles between Namjoon’s shoulder blades.

“You have to find her, hyung,” Jeongguk says softly.

“I know.”

“We’ll help you find her, I promise.”

Namjoon thinks the commitment from Jeongguk is sweet, but doesn’t know how they could possibly help. You look different in every dream, a different voice, name, language… It’s an impossible task made even more challenging by the fact that you probably don’t actually exist. Just a figment of his imagination his brain has made to give him some stress relief, some friendship. He says as much, and he can tell Seokjin agrees with him, but Jeongguk is insistent. At the very least, it’s a little comforting that he’s told them what he feels like is probably his weirdest, deepest secret, and they didn’t laugh at him, didn’t march him upstairs to the company therapist.

After that day, Namjoon feels a little bit better about everything. Better enough that he doesn’t dream about you for a few weeks, starts to forget to look for you in the face of every person he passes. The best part is that he’s really able to focus on their upcoming tour, and by the time he boards the plane to another continent with the rest of the members, he wonders if he’ll ever dream about you again.

It’s been long enough that he misses you a little bit, as ridiculous as it sounds. He doesn’t mention that part to Jeongguk or Seokjin.

They touch down in a new city, and Namjoon rubs the sleep out of his eyes. He’d fallen asleep on the flight—no dreams. It’s early, but they don’t get the day to themselves. They’ll eat a snack in the cars on the way to the venue, run a short rehearsal for blocking and then Namjoon will do some foreign-language interviews from the hotel. He runs a hand through his hair and pulls his mask up, trying to mentally prepare himself a little bit for the remainder of the day. And then he smells it, as he steps into the airport, a gentle lavender scent that’s so familiar he thinks he might be imagining it.

Namjoon stops in his tracks right outside the gate and starts looking. It’s practically instinctual at this point, head on a swivel trying to spot you. It’s so ridiculous and he knows it. But there’s just something… it’s like he knows you’re here.

Unfortunately, it’s a terrible place to be having a crisis, and he’s literally knocked out of his search when another passenger on their phone runs right into the back of him.

“Fuck, sorry,” you say, only glancing up from your phone for a second.

Namjoon doesn’t look at you, just flushes with embarrassment as if anyone could possibly know what he’s thinking. Keeps his head down, says, “no problem,” and tells himself that the weird pit in his stomach is nothing and the smell he’s so drawn to is in his head. The you of his dreams isn’t possibly in this airport in a city on the other side of the world.

He tries to shake it off all afternoon, all evening, but doesn’t think he’s too successful. Thinks he probably fucked up a couple of the interviews, hopes one of his managers would have stopped him if he was too off the mark, though. It’s probably fine.

That night, for the first time in weeks, he dreams of you.

Gyeongsangnam-do, South Korea — Summer, 1931

In these most uncertain of times, Namjoon is sure of two things: you are the most beautiful woman he’s ever known, and he is so much in love with you that he feels shaky with it.

It’s quiet in your father’s farmhouse save for your soft moans. With a rare stroke of luck, your mother and father have left to negotiate with the angry man who owns their land now, and Namjoon has taken advantage of sneaking away from Pukyong’s campus to be with you. He’d come to review plans for a new barn with your father, but finding him gone was a blessing.

You and Namjoon haven’t been able to find much time alone since he left for Busan. He comes back when he can, which isn’t often, and you sneak out to the edge of the fields to meet him under the moonlight. He’s gotten used to fucking you quietly and in a hurry, helping you brush grass and twigs out of inappropriate places when you’re done. This though, this is a luxury, to be with you in your own bed, in the daylight. To be as loud as you both want—Namjoon could write a dissertation on how nice you sound when he fucks you.

You’re slick and tight, and you’re the only home Namjoon’s ever really known. He sucks one of your nipples into his mouth and watches as you arch your back underneath him, whine a little, tell him not to leave marks where your parents might see.

Because you’re young and reckless and you’ve both only ever loved each other, he knows he’s got to pull out soon, but it’s hard to remember in the heat of the moment.

You call him “Namjoonah,” you tell him how good he feels inside you, breathy and sweet, running your fingers through his hair to brush it off of his forehead. It’s gentle, the way you touch him, like he’s something worth taking care of. You say all the nicest things to him when he fucks you—you tell him he’s strong and handsome and so big, you always emphasize, widening your eyes and palming his cock through his trousers. It’s probably giving him a little bit of an ego, he thinks, but he likes it anyway. Being the focus of your attention is so flattering. He always wants your eyes on him, your hands on him, your thoughts about him. You make him greedy and selfless at the same time—he wants everything you’re willing to give him and he wants to give you even more in return. Wishes this fucking war were over so he wouldn’t have to be on edge all the time. Knows he’s lucky not to have been conscripted to the Imperial Army yet, but that it’s probably a matter of time.

It’s a blessing, being smart, which people have told Namjoon that he is since he can remember. At least they’ve spared him so far because he’s of more use to them at Pukyong, learning how to be the best architect he can be, than he would be as a soldier. Someday, his own father says, he will build castles for a Korean leader, walls to keep the Japanese soldiers out. Those conversations are had in secret, in whispers and gestures. It’s dangerous to be someone like his father, to think there’s a chance for Korean independence, to fight for it in secret… But it’s dangerous to be fucking you into your mattress when your parents could come home any moment, too, and that doesn’t stop Namjoon.

Like father, like son, as they say.

He’s sure it’s not a secret that he’s your boyfriend. Your parents know him, invite him for meals, they like him. They think he’s a sweet, smart, college boy who’s going to give their daughter a better life than they can someday, and they’re not wrong.

Though, he’s also sure they’d like him a lot less if they knew he was a sweet, smart, college boy who loves your body, loves the way your soft thighs feel around his head when he licks at your core, loves the way he can throw your calves over his shoulders and hold you in place as he thrusts home. Loves the small violet bruises he bites into your skin, hidden away under your long skirts and long linen sleeves. Loves how you let him pull out and cover those bruises with his cum, and then especially loves when you run a finger through it and lick it off—when you tell him he tastes good and you thank him for sharing with you.

They’d think he’s ruined you, and he’d cop to it even though it is absolutely the other way around.

You come with a sweet, loud moan. Your throat sounds a little raw when you say his name again, which only turns him on more. With a few strokes, he follows you, leaving his release across your stomach and breasts and thinking that if all art looked like you do in this moment, he’d change his major.

Lazily, he lies next to you and pulls you close. You should clean up, you should get dressed, Namjoon should be sitting at the kitchen table studying his drawings with his shoulders back and glasses smart across his nose when your father gets home. You don’t want him to leave though, asking him to stay just a little longer, turning your head to kiss him softly.

When he wakes up, it’s dark, and he panics. You’re pliant in his arms, still sleeping, and your parents should be home—what if they’ve seen you? What if they know that Namjoon is taking something sweet from you at every opportunity, paying you back with pieces of his heart?

Maybe it’s time he faces this like an adult, he decides. He’s going to marry you someday anyway, it’s a foregone conclusion. They may not like that you’ve been breaking so many of their rules in secret, but someday you will be his wife, and he will care for all of your family as his own, and hopefully that buys him a little leniency with your father. He kisses your temple and gets out of bed as quietly as he can, pulls his clothes back on, and pads out of your room to meet his fate.

He spots them immediately, and as soon as he has the thought that he’s going to be sick, he heaves all over your kitchen floor. It’s going to wake you up, but he needs to spare you from the scene. Somehow, he gets their bodies covered before you get up. It’s the best he can do but it’s not enough—the scream you let out is haunting, half shock and half anguish. When you crumple to your knees, he holds you, lets you sob and scream into his chest and rocks you steadily. He doesn’t know what else to do.

After that day, he files for a leave from school and essentially moves in with you. You use your anger to fuel you, fighting for independence in secret alongside the bravest Koreans Namjoon knows. Your landlord comes around and neither you nor Namjoon even try to hide your rage and disgust. You spit at his feet and he warns you to be polite unless you want to end up like your parents. Namjoon tries to convince you that the old man isn’t even worth your anger, that you’re better off serving your parents’ memory alive than alongside them in a grave.

As the war picks up, so does conscription. Namjoon thinks he’ll be called any day, but the idea of fighting in the Imperial Army makes him ill. So instead, he makes a plan.

It’s only a matter of months before you’re on the ferry to join him on Jeju. He’s been there, building and fortifying. Perhaps it’s cowardly to cut and run, but he doesn’t care. It’s the only way he can be with you, the only way he can keep you safe. With the farm equipment sold off and a bit of his family’s money, he’s made you a home there, and it’s finally ready for you.

There’s a tearful reunion on the dock, and it’s followed by a trip to the courthouse to get married. It all happens in a daze, the memories hazy and dim, but the way he felt as he kissed you and made you his wife burns in him bright, bright, bright.

He makes love to you on the floor of the new cottage that night, slow and sweet. Tries to make you understand how much he’s missed you, how much he loves you. Thinks he succeeds when you tell him you love him as you come, thinks he’s never seen or heard something more beautiful in his whole life.

Finally, he leads you up the narrow staircase to the room he’s built for you. It’s got a big bed, but not too big, because you always want to be close to him when you sleep. Its wooden floors are made warmer with a rug his mother made for you, a wedding gift. The balcony is small, but he designed it himself, based on a wish you’d told him about, that you’ve always dreamed of a place to read in the mornings. It’s shaded from the eastern sun with a balustrade you can kick your feet up onto. There are crude drawings of your favorite animals carved into the balusters, alternating lions and peacocks. Protection and immortality, built into the home he’s made for the two of you. When you see it, you look like maybe you finally understand the way he cares for you, the way he will do anything he can for as long as he lives to keep you happy and safe.

You let yourself out there, and light up the night with your happiness. Namjoon watches you from the bed. He’s been on the balcony, and it’s small. He’s not technically the architect he always thought he would be since he’s left school for good, but he tried his best with this design, and then tried even more when he built it for you.

Maybe he should have seen it coming, maybe he shouldn’t have been so confident. The funny thing about light and sound is that he sees it happen just barely before he hears it. Sees you stumble a little to your right, sees the balcony wobble and thinks his eyes are playing tricks on him. Then he hears the deafening crack and it’s perfectly timed with his stomach sinking and you disappearing from his view, the balustrade going with you.

New York City — Present Day

Namjoon wakes up in a cold sweat, the alarm blaring next to him. He hates this feeling—the one immediately after the dreams. At least he has most of the day off. The company always gives them time for the jetlag, supposed to be for sleeping, but he’ll use it to shake himself out of this fog that settles in after the dreams. Maybe the Met this time; he saw the Whitney last time he was here and he sort of wants to get out of Chelsea, anyway—thinks the walk might help him clear his head.

He sees you when he’s standing in front of a moon jar, wondering to himself what right these people have to even store this piece and then charge people to see it. Wonders if he could get it back to Korea somehow where it belongs, mutters something under his breath about colonialism and notices you smile at that out of the corner of his eye.

It’s exactly like he’d always thought it would be to see you: immediately he knows. There’s no question. You look different again, not quite like you have in any of his dreams, but you smell the same and you’re wearing a blue and green dress, tight around your figure and flouncy at the hem that reminds him so specifically of a peacock he wants to cry. You smell like fancy French lavender soap and you have a smile that could bring world peace.

The sight of you makes him freeze. What would he even say? There’s nothing he could tell you that wouldn’t make him sound insane, nothing that he’s willing to admit to a stranger, even if that stranger is you. His heart races and he feels himself start to sweat nervously. He’s been looking for you for years, and when he finally finds you, it sends him into a panic. How perfect for him.

He can’t stand in front of the same moon jar forever, though, so he swallows his nerves and stands up a little straighter and begins to turn to you, even if just to introduce himself like a normal person.

Namjoon’s heart sinks when he realizes you’re already gone.

He’s talking to Jeongguk while he sits on the steps of the Met, phone pressed to his ear.

“I know it’s her,” he says, sending Jeongguk into a frenzy of questions.

Namjoon is contemplating the possibility that he’s fucked up his only chance to meet you, when you appear, out of the blue, to take a seat a few feet away from him, he rushes out a “Gotta go, Kookie, bye,” and hangs up as Jeongguk is still talking.

“Hi,” you say.

“Hi.”

“This is probably so weird, but…” You straighten out your skirt and don’t make eye contact. You look equal parts beautiful and nervous. “Do I know you from somewhere?”

Namjoon gets this question a lot. Usually, it’s fans trying to ‘play it cool’ when they run into him in Seoul, trying to give the impression that they don’t immediately know who he is. And yeah, he thinks he’s more humble than some people less famous than him, hates to assume, but it’s always pretty transparent. But, for as much as he gets this question, as often as he brushes it off with an, “I don’t think so,” and a rushed exit from wherever he’s been recognized, he has no idea how to answer it when it comes to you. So, he just gapes at you. It’s mortifying.

“Sorry,” you continue. “It’s just that… Well, this is probably gonna sound crazy, but I think I’ve had dreams about you.”

“Holy shit,” Namjoon says, living up to his reputation as a certified genius and a clever songwriter.

This response flusters you even more, it’s clear you’re embarrassed. The way your eyes flit around and look for an exit from the situation tells him everything he needs to know.

“Sorry again,” you groan more than speak. “Nevermind.”

You start to stand, and Namjoon barely gets his shit together in time to grab your wrist and finally speak. “It’s not weird. I have them, too. The dreams.”

“No fucking way,” you whisper, your eyes wide.

“Yeah.” Namjoon nods in agreement. “How’d you know it was me?” He asks.

“Just knew it,” you shrug, wrist still kept tight in his grasp. “I’m not sure. It’s like… you feel the same. You smell like you, too.”

“Come on,” he says, dropping your wrist finally and standing. “Want to get coffee or something?”

To his relief, you do.

It’s awkward at first. Where do you start with someone you feel like you’ve known forever but you’ve never actually met? Namjoon has a million questions he wants to ask you but none of them seem to fully form in his head. It’s bad enough he has to think through how to not be seen with you—his lifestyle adds a whole layer of complication you’d never faced together in his dreams. Eventually, you knock on his hotel room door about ten minutes after he gets in. It had been a little stressful, waiting for you. He made you promise three times you’d actually show up and then on the fourth one, he made you pinky promise. When you took his little finger solemnly, instead of laughing at him, he was finally (mostly) convinced you’d be there.

And now, here you are, sitting at the little table in his room, clearly trying to be polite and not look at the mess of stuff he’s accumulated in just one night. After all this time wishing he could find you, he’s got no idea what to say to you.

“So… why the Met?”

You smile a little sheepish and shake your head. “You’ll think it’s stupid.”

“I doubt that,” he says, trying to be as reassuring as he can for such a weird situation.

“I thought it’s where the lion statues were… you know… on the steps. I thought if I went there, maybe you’d be there. I was sure it was you at the airport but by the time I realized it, you were gone. So, I guess it was the only place I could think to look for you where you might look for me, too. But they’re at the library.”

“The lions?”

His confusion seems to make you a little shy; you duck your head and shake it, like you’re telling yourself off before you even explain. “You always say I’m like a lion in the dreams. No matter where we are or what’s happened to us. You say I’m strong and brave and beautiful—”

“A lionheart,” Namjoon whispers.

“Yeah,” you brighten at that. “Is it like that in your dreams, too?”

Namjoon tells you it is. And then he tells you about all the dreams he can remember. Not in detail, and not the worst of the bad endings, but enough that the two of you can compare notes. Enough that you realize you’ve been having basically the same dreams, although not at the same time. Both of you have had some the other hasn’t had yet. He loves it when you tell him about one that ended happily, the two of you betrothed in the Joseon era and figuring out how to fall in love. You think it’s supposed to mean something that the two of you are always facing something that’s keeping you apart—you wonder out loud what might keep you apart in reality, too.

“I hope nothing will,” he says without thinking.

“You don’t even know me!” You’re laughing, but he’s clearly taken you by surprise.

“Don’t I, though?” And the mood changes. You swallow thickly and he tries his best not to break eye contact with you even though he thinks you’re so gorgeous he might not make it through the day without passing out. “Can I kiss you?” he asks quietly, but he’s already moving to your side of the table and you’re already scooting your chair back to make space for him.

You don’t kiss like you do in the dreams. In the dreams, you kiss him like he’s the beginning and end, like you’ll take anything he gives you. There’s something nice about that, makes him feel wanted and strong. In reality, you kiss him like you know it’s the other way around. You’re confident, teasing—you smile against his lips when you do a thing with your tongue that makes him let out a moan.

In the dreams, he can’t remember ever kissing anyone but you. But now he’s got your lips on his and you’re definitely not the first person he’s kissed by a long shot, but you’re absolutely the best. It’s almost like having something to compare it to makes it even better.

Maybe there should be some hesitation, but neither of you seem to have any. Not when he pulls you up from the chair so he can kiss you without bending all the way over, not when he walks you back toward the hotel room bed, leaving a trail of tender kisses up your neck and across your jaw in a surprising show of coordination.

It’s inexplicable, he thinks, how he feels like he’s done this a million times with you before but in the best way. He can kiss you without any of the awkward, nervous, first time worries he normally has. He can trust you without knowing quite why, and that part is probably the weirdest thing about all of this because he can’t trust anyone outside of the members and his family usually.

“Is it weird I feel like we’ve done this before?” you ask as you run your hands from his shoulders down his arms.

Namjoon just shakes his head and winds his fingers with yours, leaning in to kiss you again. “No, it’s the same for me,” he says.

Because of the familiarity, maybe, it’s not urgent when you undress each other. He takes time to appreciate this version of you, the one he’s actually holding in his arms, the one who pinches his side gently and then laughs. “Just making sure you’re real,” you say when he yelps in protest.

There’s a moment when you’re both naked, standing in front of the bed, when the air feels thick between you. You’re holding his jaw in your palm and he’s got his hands around your back and neither of you speak for a long beat. For him, it just feels incredible to be here with you. He doesn’t care that he has no idea what you do for a living, where you live… Doesn’t know anything about you except that he thinks he has loved you for a long time. Thinks maybe he was put on this planet specifically to love you. Wonders how the two of you could have messed this up so badly in every other universe, but is actually really glad you did, because maybe that’s why you’re finally here with him now.

“I… I think I love you,” he says timidly. “Makes me feel crazy.”

You have a tear falling down your cheek, but you’re smiling—Namjoon is pretty sure you’re not supposed to be crying before sex like this, but you seem happy. “S’not crazy, I think I love you, too. I’m so happy I finally found you.”

“I looked for you in every city,” he confesses before he presses his lips back to yours, then kisses the tears off your cheeks.

You go soft under him, body pressed into his, and he guides you onto the bed. The two of you laugh into each other’s mouths, mutter how you can’t believe it’s happening, let your breath grow heavier as you take time to learn each other. Namjoon loves it when your lips move against his pulse point, when you get a little rough with him, leaving small bites and bruises in places the stylists won’t give him shit for. You like when he talks to you, tells you how you make him feel, how much he wants to be with you—he whispers right into your ear, the sweetest confessions sandwiched by pure filth that makes your breath hitch and a shiver travel down your spine.

Namjoon’s dreamed you a hundred ways, in a hundred places, but here, spread naked underneath him in this hotel bed and laughing with him while he fucks you slowly is better than any dream he’s ever had.

“Can’t believe you’re real, baby,” he breathes as you run your fingertips down his sides. He looks down to see where his cock is moving inside of you, and he thinks this must actually be a dream. You’re perfect, he thinks as he moves fingers to your clit and presses there gently. When you pull him down to kiss you, it feels familiar again. You brush his hair off of his forehead like you’ve done in every one of his dreams, and now he feels like he could cry—he’s just so overwhelmed by you, so in awe just like he knew he would be. Just as he always has been.

You whisper his name when he makes you come. You tighten around him and dig your nails into his shoulders and Namjoon thinks this is the closest to heaven he might ever get. When you finally work through your orgasm, you encourage him to change positions, to lay on his back and let you ride him.

The way you know exactly what he likes is magical, that deep grinding of your hips in his lap. You don’t have to ask to know what makes him tick, bringing his hand to your lips as you move, sucking two of his fingers into your mouth and whining around them.

He’s always preferred this to something faster. This way, he gets to watch you, feels like you’re taking your pleasure from him, feels like you’re both getting precisely what you want from each other. He could lift his hips and fuck into you, could hold your waist and get you to bounce on his cock like you’re making a sex tape. But this is better. This is you and him, moving like you’re meant to be connected.

You absolutely are, he’s sure of it.

It’s a movie script ending when you come again just as he does for the first time—he wishes he could feel all of you when he spills into the condom, wishes he’d found you years ago and built a more tangible history with you. Hopes more than anything that you want to try to do that with him now.

The two of you clean up with a little bit of shyness; you hide your face as he cleans you carefully with a warm washcloth, and he tries not to let you see him get rid of the condom. It’s not as easy as the dreams where those things sort themselves out, but Namjoon wouldn’t trade these awkward moments for anything.

There’s not really a need to ask you to stay, he knows somehow that you will, but he asks anyway, preens when you agree and ask to borrow a shirt.

He can’t really risk room service with you here, but he gets a manager to bring you food (hand stuck shyly through a crack in the door as to not interrupt), and while you eat, he peppers you with questions about your life. Feels like he knows the important things that are the same as in his dreams (he loves you, you’re loyal), but wants to learn all the mundane stuff, too.

Much later, before the sun rises but after some people would already call it morning, you fall asleep in his arms and he lets himself drift off thinking of lavender and peacocks and falling in love.

Namjoon’s alarm goes off, and the sun must be high in the sky because the light in the room is a bit muted. It’s the first time in a long time he’s woken up content, hesitates for a second before he remembers why, remembers everything that happened the day before, remembers that you were real and here and in his bed and his arms. He lets himself just exist there for a minute, eyes closed, thinking about what might come next, how he’ll explain you to his family…

Then it sort of dawns on him that you should be right there, that he fell asleep wrapped around you and now he isn’t. He panics for a split second when he realizes you’re not pressed against him, doesn’t think he could handle it if this was a dream, too. Tries to be rational, but for some reason can’t quite bring himself just to tip his head over and open his eyes.

Instead, he takes a deep breath, smells hotel laundry detergent and sex and the faintest hint of lavender. He says a silent prayer and then sticks his hand out to the other side of the bed to feel for yours. Thinks he might scream when he doesn’t feel you there immediately.

Namjoon snakes his hand across the sheet and hopes he never has to dream to see you again.

#bts x reader #namjoon x reader #rm x reader #namjoon smut #namjoon angst #namjoon fluff #rm smut #rm fluff #rm angst #bts imagines #namjoon imagine #rm imagine #kvanity #bts smut #bts angst #bts fanfic #namjoon fanfic #rm fanfic

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minhosimthings · 4 months

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In Love with a Stripper

Request: hiiii! I love your work and I came up with this smut with a plot thing so it'll be great if you write it! So basically sunghoon and you are fuck buddies and so hoons friend got him a stripper for his birthday and it was you bc you filled up for your friend on that day and yeah yk yk mean dom!hoon punishing yn OMG.

Pairings: Sunghoon × fem!reader

Warnings: SMUT MINORS DNI, reader is a stripper, reader wears revealing clothes, dom!Sunghoon, fem!reader, degradation, oral (f receiving), anal sex, breeding kink, orgasm denial, p in v sex, unprotected sex (nope), swearing, mentions of pregnancy, mean dom Sunghoon, fluffy at the end, slight Heeseung × reader

A/N: alright I apologise this took so much time! I really didn't have any brain left in me to do shit so I had to stetch it out a bit. Thank you for the request anon! That's a nice kinky brain you got there! Also tagging @sumaneun-stars and @candewlsy because they deserve this after Mr Park's weverse selcas.

You never wanted to end up like this. In your entire life, you had never wanted to end up like this.

But here you were.

Fucking your 'best friend forever' while you were madly head over heels for him. But it was the Park Sunghoon, so you had no other choice. After all, the boss of a billion dollar company deserved more than a girl who danced in all the city's clubs. You could very egotistically say that you were basically a celebrity.

Sunghoon had often told you to give up dancing in the club and take up a dancing job somewhere, maybe even set up your own studio. But you had declined, dancing in the neon lighting and having whiskey by the lake, and then stripping off for Sunghoon's cock was more than enough for you. And while he never admitted it, he loved you to. But it wasn't allowed, it would never be, maybe he'd change the rules a bit for it to happen, but for now, it was just strolling off to your house every evening undercover and then jump under your covers. Perfect schedule wasn't it?

Until this faithful day.

"Minnie are you serious right now?" You put your glass onto the table, and stared daggers at the girl sitting in front of you.

"Come on babe, pleeease?" She pouted at you, making the cute face you knew you couldn't resist. Minnie was a lioness when it came to dancing but when it came to you? She was a cub.

"How about Miyeon?" You asked, pressing a finger to your temple. You were stressed today, and now with Minnie's news of her sudden departure and her inability to find someone else to cover her shift added to that stress.

"Nah she's booked for the Banhgs today. They're having some party for their cousin."

"Ugh fine but you owe me." You took another sip of your drink as Minnie excitedly clapped her hands and thanked you in a verbose manner.

"Yeah yeah I know I'm your saviour and all." You rolled your eyes and smiled at her, "Who's the shift for?"

"Uh it's for-" Minnie picked out a paper from her pocket which seemed to be an invite, "A Mr Lee Heeseung. He booked it for a quote unquote 'Park Sunghoon is turning old' party."

The only thing the other people in the bar heard probably for the rest of their life was Minnie's loud scream as you spat out your drink onto the table.

"Bitch what the fuck!?" She whisper shouted to you, diverting the attention of the other bar patrons from you.

"Minnie, I'm begging you, I'll bow at your feet, but not Park Sunghoon's party."

Minnie threw you a weird look and slid her paper across the table to you. No one knew what was happening between you and Sunghoon.

"Yeah no you're doing it, you agreed no take backs!"

And that was how you ended up in the back dressing rooms of one of the most glamorous clubs of Seoul, dressed in something you wouldn't have normally worn, but since it was Sunghoon, you decided to give him a bit extra considering the huge pay you were getting. It turned out that Minnie was actually a special book, carefully picked out by Heeseung, whom you knew you to one of Sunghoon's closest friends. But he didn't know about you, so you were thankful that he accepted you as a replacement when Minnie went out. And of course Sunghoon didn't know you were going to be coming either since Heeseung had specified that you were a top secret, extra gift. Playboys, you scoffed, always thinking women were objects they could play with, although a part of your mind said Sunghoon wasn't like that. Who were you kidding? He was the embodiment of that.

From behind your curtain, you could hear Sunghoon's melodious laughter echo throughout the club. Just get it over with, you thought, just get it the fuck over with.

"And now, our dearest Hoonie, we have a gift for you." Heeseung could be heard saying on the other side of the curtain. You could also distinctively hear Sunghoon, Jake and Jay giggling like idiots.

"Ta Da!" The curtain flew open at Heeseung's words and Sunghoon's face fell flat.

You.

It couldn't be, was this a dream?, his thoughts ran wild, as Jake let out a sound of delight.

But you never danced at this specific club, Sunghoon thought. He knew most of the clubs you danced at, and this one was definetly not on the list.

"Dude, you good?" Jay nudged Sunghoon's arm as Jake and Heeseung made their way closer to the bar on top of which you'd give them a show they'll always remember. Heeseung had thought nothing of Sunghoon's reaction, he knew his friend well enough to understand when Sunghoon was shocked out of delight.

"Y-yeah I'm good thanks." Sunghoon answered, not taking his eyes off of the heaven in front of him. God you were looking extra attractive today. Perhaps it was the dress, or maybe the hair, or maybe the fact that you were dancing for him, for the first time.

Sunghoon moved a bit forward and sat directly in front of you, your legs dancing in front of him. If heaven's incarnate existed as a stripper, it would have been you, Sunghoon thought, as he looked up at your eyes, darkened and hooded like a cat's. Your hips seemed to have the universe on a belt, as they moved in synchronisation with the atmosphere. Sunghoon wanted nothing more but to brag that he had seen what was inside of the outfit you were wearing, as he heard Heeseung and Jake making comments on your waist.

"Nuh uh you can look don't touch." You bent down to Heeseung's level, his hand slowly retreating from your legs.

"Can I dance with you then?" Heeseung smirked at you. Although you never admitted it, you had always found Heeseung hot. The bastards smirk combined with his pretty eyes made you have a tiny bit of an urge to fuck him atleast once.

"Is the birthday boy not enjoying my performance?" You directed your eyes at Sunghoon, who widened his eyes to an almost comic level, "Or maybe he wants to join?"

You knew doing whatever you were doing right now would have it's consequences but boy were you enjoying teasing Sunghoon right now.

"Heeseung hyung can go first." Sunghoon leant back on his chair, spreading his legs a bit further. He gave you a cocky grin, one you knew way too well for it not to say 'you're going to be punished.'

You carefully tread down the platform onto the ground, with the support of Heeseung's very soft hands (you kept the thought of asking him what hand cream he used to yourself), your hips jutted against his. Yes this was not according to the job, to be grinding against a customer, but it wouldn't matter if one of the customers was the man you had inside you every night was it?

"God you're hot." Heeseung whispered in your ear, his hips moving in sync with yours, "You single?"

"Somewhat." You replied, throwing your arms onto Heeseung's neck. Jay and Jake had found other people to dance with too, and you couldn't spot Sunghoon anywhere.

"Where's Sunghoon?" You asked Heeseung, peeking over his shoulder, which made him raise a brow at you. God Heeseung smelled good too. Not as well as Sunghoon's pine cologne but this was fine.

"You know him well?" Heeseung asked with a smirk on his face, which made you laugh and shake your head. His crotch was now grinding against your clothed pussy, but you didn't budge.

"We know each other, like a bit. Why you want to steal me from him?"

"Your friend Minnie," Heeseung started, his arms squeezing your waist tighter, "She has another date with her boyfriend tonight. Oh yeah her boyfriend? It's me."

Your gasp was probably heard throughout the entire club. "Shut the fuck up absolute no way!" You laughed, looking at Heeseung's amused face, "The bitch never told me!"

"Well it's a secret." Heeseung shrugged his shoulders, "So can I know your secret now?"

"Hyung can I have a piece of her now?"

Before you could even open your mouth, Sunghoon's voice ran behind you, and as you spun around on your heel, there he was. Looking like the angriest man on earth.

"Sure she's all yours." Heeseung let go of your waist, "I'll see you then, pretty."

You were thankful that Sunghoon didn't hear Heeseung's last words which he carefully whispered into your ear.

"Try to stay alive."

"So you like Heeseung hyung huh doll?" Sunghoon cocked his head to the right, loosening his tie from the grasp it had on his neck.

Fuck he looked hot in dim lighting, you thought. You were surprised when Sunghoon didn't say anything to you at the club nor in the car when he took you home. It was...weird, to have him talk so casually with you, as if you were husband and wife, not even a tint of anger in his voice.

But as soon as you stepped foot in the house, you learnt why he did that. The touch of the cool metal of the handcuffs on your wrist made you wince as you tried to wriggle out of their grasp.

"So what if I do?" You spat, not looking at Sunghoon, "You never thought about telling me what I actually am to you so I thought I might look for..newer horizons."

"Oh yeah?" Sunghoon wore a cunning grin like an arctic fox ready to pounce on its prey, "Well we'll see about that later."

Bending down to your legs, Sunghoon spreads them further apart, his skin pressing against yours like hot iron. It was pathetic how the mere touch of his fingers made you whimper in pleasure.

Your cunt is already so wet, your folds swollen and muscles relaxed, ready and desperate for Sunghoon’s touch. He gently slides a finger into your entrance with little resistance. You clench around him as you search for his lips, which find yours instinctively.

Sunghoon slides his finger out of you slowly. Your beloved was still mastering your body, but he always seemed to know when you were ready for more. As he slides a second finger into your entrance, he breaks your kisses, watching you as you take more of him. He pushes his long fingers into you until he is knuckles deep, which evolves your little whimpers into breathless moans.

Your wrists ached for the touch of his hair, his soft curls all tangled up between your fingers, but the handcuffs weren't allowing it. Your wriggling under Sunghoon's body made him chuckle.

"No can do baby." His eyes darkened, "Take my fingers like a good slut there we go."

Sunghoon watches as he unravels you with the curl of his fingers deep inside your cunt. Your eyes roll at the intense sensation, and you’re already seeing stars.

As Sunghoon is hitting that sweet spot deep within you, his thumb begins to circle your clit, causing your eyes to go wide as carnal pleasure possesses you.

Suddenly, Sunghoon pulls out his fingers from you slowly, watching your needy expression with a smirk.

"You really think you can cum on my fingers after all you've done?" Sunghoon asks you, his fingers still lingering over your labia, you realised that your cunt was clenching around nothing even when he pulled out, "Whose slut are you now?"

You were confused as to whether or not you should give him an answer or not so you gave him a quizzed look, which he seemed to definetly not like.

"No answer? Tch tch." He clicked his tongue, "Answer me slut, and I'll think about letting those cuffs off."

He leaned forward and stared into your eyes with darkened eyes. "Whose fucking slut are you?"

"Y-Yours Daddy."

"Louder."

"Your- Ah fuck!" You let out a whimper of pleasure as his bulge rubbed over your pussy. Sunghoon reached over and carefully removed your cuffs. You let out a sigh, feeling satisfaction wash over you at the retreat of the col metal.

"Turn over," he said while pulling away, "all fours baby."

You followed his demands and pressed your face into the pillow, facing the side of the room where a large mirror sat, you watched him in the mirror as he pulled his sweats down letting them rest below his thighs, followed by his boxers. His cock sprung out hitting the fabric of his shirt, causing him to let out a hiss through his teeth. His tip red and needy, leaking with precum.

"try and be quiet." Sunghoon said while rubbing you lower back with his hands. You hummed in response while still watching him in the mirror as he lazily tugged on his cock before lining it up with your entrance, rubbing it up and down your slit, collecting your arousal before placing his tip into you.

Quiet moans and curses left his mouth as your ass bounced off his pelvis, the sound of skin slapping filling the room.

With every grind and suckle on your clit you were getting closer and closer to coming. It was a wet and filthy experience, your arousal dripping down Sunghoon’s chin and soaking his face. You could feel it down your thighs, his chin scratching against your delicate skin with every jaw movement, every grind.

You could feel your slick dripping down your thighs as he picked his pace up, your eyes having no place to go but the back of my head. You both gave up on being quiet a while ago, more whimpers and groans filled the room.

“mmh, s-so close.” you moaned pathetically while gripping onto the pillow. You felt a sort of shame, feeling this good because of Sunghoon, who, at the moment, you were supposed to hate with all of your heart.

Wth one quick movement he pulled out and flipped you over, his eyes now locked onto yours.

"No cumming until I say so got it?" He growled in your ear, strands of his hair falling onto his face, making him look celestial. Not having the strength to answer him back, you whimpered, feeling his tip at your pussy.

“Say it.” He murmured, squeezing his fingers on the side of your neck to make it all woozy. “Tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you.”

“I want your cock… Daddy… please.”

You’re such a whore, the way you gasp at all the right times as his big cock stretches around your tight walls. He bets you’ve taken cock hundreds of times, but he’s determined to be the best, making sure you know what you’re worth. No one else deserved you, only he deserved you. Now, and forever.

He’s really pounding you now, hands gripping roughly at your hips in an attempt to drive himself further into your cunt, watching as your pussy leaves a milky ring around his base. His hair strands dangle in his face as he bends down to shove himself deeper into you.

‘god, you’re taking me so well,’ he grunts, bucking his hips in pleasure. ‘such a fuckin’ whore though.’

"Nuh uh not yet baby not yet." He says, grinding his hips against you again. Your fingers are pulling at his curls again and you're hopelessly taking what he's giving to you.

"I wasn't—" One of his hands trails down to your wet cunt, rubbing your clit a few times before pinching it softly. Your whiny moans only encourage him, feeling you clench around his fat cock. He pulls out before slamming himself back into your tight hole, pinching your puffy clit even harder.

"you were made for me. you're my whore." he whispered in your ear, licking your jaw as he thrusted mercilessly into your holes.

The sounds of skin slapping, squelching, groaning, whimpering, and moaning were the only things you could hear. The occasional degrading things or sweet nothings Sunghoon would whisper into your ear made your brain go foggy.

"gonna fill you up good n’ proper..." he whimpered, squeezing his eyes shut and biting into your neck, "Want to have my kids hmm princess?"

"Ah fuck-fuck- a-ah." You moaned, not being able to answer his question.

Your legs wrapped around him letting him know that you were close. Sunghoon had an urge to pull out, to teach you a lesson. But something in him told him to let you cum in him, to let him make you a mother, his child's mother. Tears streamed down your eyes as the pressure in your stomach built up.

“Daddy—‘cummin” you moaned out. Sunghoon began to fuck you harder and faster. You felt the tip hit the plushy part in you. Your brain turned into mush and drool began to run down your mouth.

“Cum for me princess. I wanna hear you scream my name~” he said in such a sweet sultry voice.

The knot in your stomach snapped.

“SUNGHOON!”

“Cum with me, my darling.” Sunghoon whined with you, bringing his lips down to yours once again roughly. The moment his kiss was brought upon you, you felt like you exploded with pure bliss. Your legs shook against his arms again as you damn near screamed into his mouth. Sunghoon wasn't far behind you, moaning loudly into your own mouth as his cum spilled into you.

It wasn’t until after some time, when Sunghoon's cum was dripping against your walls, and his seed was flowing out of you that he pulled out. You were drooling, eyes rolled back and cum pooling on the bed.

Not saying a word to you, Sunghoon made his way off of the bed, and into the bathroom, where he quietly picked up all the stuff he knew you loved for aftercare.

"Hoonie..." You whined, feeling the empty space next to you, "I want to cuddle."

The sight of your pout melted Sunghoon's heart, and he couldn't resist. Cleaning you up quickly and lighting your favourite scented candle Sunghoon promptly jumped into bed and pulled you into his arms, his body heat successfully warming you up.

"I didn't hurt you did I?" Sunghoon asked you, looking down at you.

You simply nodded your head no and snuggled closer to him, sniffing in his cologne.

"Im sorry Y/N." Sunghoon sighed, positioning your face to his. His eyes were simply sparkling at you, and his expression seemed genuine.

"Im sorry for what I haven't said to you for so long." He breathed out, you could feel his heartbeat become quicker, "I love you, I really do, and-and I want us to be more than just friends."

"Why didn't you say so before you fucking idiot?" You giggled, pulling him in for a brief kiss, "I love you too."

"So, now you're my wife?"

"Girlfriend first Mr Casanova."

350 notes · View notes

archie-sunshine · 2 months

Text

So, What Now?(Rehabili/Cohabi-tation)

Chapter 8: An Interlude

FIC TAGS: Eventual Whirl/Cyclonus/Tailgate, Cyclonus/Tailgate, polyamory, slowburn romance, mutual pining, slice of life, fluff, comedy, eventual smut(planned for later chapters), sappy mushy lovey stuff, polycue, May eventually have illustrations

The Lost Light has a brand new universe to explore! But everyone's still tired from the old one! In the interim between wacky hijinks, a solution is offered to those bored to death by peacetime- Why form a club about it or renovate your hab suite of course!

Whirl doesn't know how he feels about all the pep. And even worse, he doesn't know how to feel about Cyclonus and Tailgate wanting him to join in on their clean slate.

Other Chapters Here! Read on AO3 Here!

_________________________

Author's Notes: ITS BEEN A THOUSAND BILLION YEARS. anyways heres chapter 8 ahahahaaahahahah sorryyyy

CHAPTER TAGS: domesticity, self care, pov swapping, whirl receives impromptu therapy, whirl experiences regret.

Their unit was quiet save for the noise of the rotary filer in Tailgate’s servos. The quiet grind of metal against the sanding head was a comfortable white noise that did little to ease the tension of the room.

Tailgate pulled the filer back for a second, examining his work on Cyclonus’s claws and brushing the metal shavings away. He grumbled something unintelligible and went back to filing, smoothing down a little chip their previous altercation had left.

“Darling-” Cyclonus began, breaking the silence.

“AND- AND TO THINK!!-” Cyclonus let out a sigh as Tailgate burst back into chatter. “After!! After everything- he still- He-! UGH!” He jabbed the filer against Cyclonus’s digit, drawing a hiss of pain from the larger mech. Tailgate quickly tugged the filer back. “-Sorry- I just! I thought we were making progress- Do you think he really thinks we’re just- just doing this for our own benefit!?”

“I struggle to imagine Whirl being a benefit to most things.” Cyclonus joked. Tailgate frowned at him. “... I’m kidding… sorry.”

“... do you think he hates us?” Tailgate mumbled, dipping Cyclonus’s servos into the bowl of solvent on the living room table.

“No. I don’t think he hates us, love.” Cyclonus said patiently, lifting his free servo up to examine his claws. “Excellent work, by the way.”

“Thank you.” Tailgate said proudly.

“I think he’s… struggling with a lot right now.” Cyclonus sighed, gazing wistfully out of the window to the stars. “... I think he’s worried about showing that.”

“But- he doesn’t have to be!” Tailgate muttered, setting the rotary filer down and picking up a delicate rasp. “Doesn’t he know he’s safe with us?”

“I don’t think he’s felt safe with anyone for a while, Tailgate.”

“... Then what do we do?”

There was another long moment of quiet as Tailgate carefully filed down the point of Cyclonus’ claws. He dunked his sparkmate’s servos back in the bowl of solvent, dipping a rag in polish and beginning to buff his digits.

“... I think all we can do is wait. If we push too hard he might pull back even more…” Cyclonus said quietly.

“But if he doesn’t know what all of this is about he’ll just assume the worst of us again!” Tailgate protested.

The other mech thought for a long moment. “... I suppose you have a point.”

“I usually do!” Tailgate chirped. Cyclonus smiled fondly, pulling his servos from Tailgate’s and picking up the rotary filer. He attached the buffing head to it.

“Alright, your turn.” He said, pushing Tailgate onto his back gently. The minibot made himself comfortable, tossing his legs over Cyclonus’s lap and folding his servos behind his helm. He let out a pleased sigh as his sparkmate began to buff out the paint transfers and smudges on his plating.

“I dunno, Cy, I just think it might be easier if we just go up to him and tell him how we feel! That's what you did, and look how happy we are!” Tailgate offered.

Cyclonus cringed. “And how long did that take to happen, dear?”

Tailgate thought for a moment. “Hm… good point. But that could be averted if you said it sooner!” He raised a brow ridge at the larger mech, optics growing more devious as he noted the uncomfortable flush that overtook Cyclonus’s faceplate. “Oh primus, you’re that nervous about it!!?” He giggled.

“Tailgate, I vowed to kill him when he least expects it, and even if we let that go he might never trust me because of that.” Cyclonus groaned, turning his helm away to focus on a blotch of grime on his shin plating.

“But you’re making up for it!” Tailgate added.

“... I am trying to…” Cyclonus grumbled. “But what if he thinks I’m lulling him into a false sense of safety so I can strike him at his weakest?”

“That sounds like something the old Cyclonus would do, he knows you're different now!” Tailgate objected, bumping his fist against Cyclonus’s shoulder.

“... Am I?” Cyclonus murmured absently, gently rubbing his thumb over a dent in Tailgate’s thigh.

Tailgate reached forwards and put his servo over Cyclonus’. “Yeah. In only good ways.” He whispered, leaning up to bump his mouth guard against Cyclonus’s cheek.

Cyclonus smiled softly, turning his faceplate to kiss him. “... I’ll… try my best to talk to him… It’s kind of… A big ask, don’t you think?”

“Well sure, but so was asking him to live with us! I thought he was already on board when he agreed to stay-” Tailgate admitted shyly.

Cyclonus chuckled. “I assumed you’d thought that.”

“I’m optimistic, I mean, it's kind of a whole thing, asking someone to move in!”

“Not really, on a ship like this, it makes sense he didn’t take it as ‘come date us’”

“Ugh… This is annoying.” Tailgate muttered, wriggling indignantly and folding his arms over his chassis.

“Stop moving-” Cyclonus scolded.

“I mean sue me for thinking anyone on this ship would take anything at face value! Nothing is as it seems, everyones being deceived all the time.” Tailgate ranted.

“I mean- we were-” Cyclonus began.

“I don’t wanna get into it, Cyclonus.” Tailgate cut him off with a flat look, earning an affectionate chuckle.

“I know, I know.” Cyclonus sighed, reaching to the table and picking a sponge out of the solvent bowl. Tailgate shivered a bit at the cool fluid hitting his abdomen. “Anyhow, we should give Whirl a little more time before we try to continue with everything. It’s a bit gauche to come back at him with a question like that after an argument.”

Tailgate groaned impatiently. “Well then what do we do in the meantime! It’ll take fore- hey- Careful-!” He stuttered a bit as cyclonus carefully drew the sponge along the seam between his chassis and midsection. “I’m sensitive there-”

“I know you are.” Cyclonus purred, laughing as he earned a playful punch on the arm. “Well, I suppose… we just let him come back to us.”

“How do we know he will?” Tailgate asked nervously. The couple locked optics for a long moment, bright blue on sharp red.

“... We trust him to come home.” Cyclonus said quietly, averting his gaze. Tailgate wrapped his digits gently around Cyclonus’s servo.

“... Okay.” Tailgate whispered. “We can do that.”

“This is a little unexpected, Whirl! I thought we’d be fighting you back down onto the slab, honestly.” First Aid said, attempting light conversation over the fizzle of the welder he was using on Whirl’s arm. “I’m surprised you were interested in fixing cosmetic details.”

“Yeah, I got a whole new lease on life now. I’m a huge recovery and recuperation enthusiast.” Whirl said flatly.

First Aid chuckled quietly. “Well, I’m glad to hear it, it makes my job a lot easier. You know, a lot of mechs don’t like to be awake for reassembly like this.”

“Eh. I like to see what you freaky little medics are doing with my bits and parts.” Whirl shrugged the shoulder that wasn’t actively being operated on.

There was a long moment of quiet in the medbay, at least the relative quiet of a beeping, fizzling workroom. It was a bit uncomfortable, but that seemed par for the course for chatting with your surgeon during surgery. Whirl stubbornly refused to let his mind wander, picking at the slab with his claws, feeling the divots and gouges absently.

“... Did uh…. Did you need to do any reconstruction on the others on the mission?” Whirl asked. “Anyone else do something stupid enough to get blown up?”

First Aid shook his helm. “Oh no, nothing as bad as yours.” He adjusted his position, flipping Whirl’s arm over to work on a seam at his elbow joint. “Ultra Magnus had to get some of his armour fixed, but Perceptor and Brainstorm are handling that, or at least Brainstorm will be once he’s off bedrest.” He explained, gesturing with his helm to a newly configured quarantine room with a very unhappy Brainstorm inside.

“Oh yeah, what did he get into?” Whirl probed.

“Caught a pretty mild infection from a wound sustained during the whole junktacons thing.” First Aid whispered. “I just want to make sure it doesn’t spread to anyone, but he should be fine in a few more cycles.”

“I can HEAR you, you know!” Brainstorm called grumpily.

Whirl chuckled a bit. “Wait– how long was I out?”

“Oh, just a couple cycles.” First Aid answered.

“How many is a couple?”

“Three.” First Aid supplied, wincing a bit with a shrug.

Whirl groaned.

“But, on the bright side, you’ve got some visitors waiting for you after you’re all patched up.” First Aid offered a comforting pat on Whirl’s leg.

“Heeeeyyyyyy buddyyy!”

The awkwardness in Rodimus’s tone was incredibly apparent. He was the first to enter, but was followed by several others, Swerve, Rewind, Chromedome, Ultra Magnus, and Rung. Each of them-that could- was holding a little get well soon vial, which they added to the meager collection by Whirl’s bedside.

“How’s it hangin fellas, feel good to not have to replace your legs today?” Whirl laughed.

Rodimus chuckled awkwardly as he sat down in the stool by the side of the slab. “Yeah- Uh, sorry for that, Whirl.”

“In the future we will do better at scanning planets for possible threats before rashly entering possibly dangerous areas.” Ultra Magnus vowed, placing an implicatory servo on Rodimus’s shoulder.

“Ehhh, wouldn’t have been nearly as fun, love the surprise, huge fan of surprises, me.” Whirl waved a servo at them, attempting to look comfortable despite the clear patches from his injuries. “When’s our next stop, cap?”

Rodimus shrugged. “Well, we didn’t get a ton from that mission, but then again, we did do a big restock before leaving our dimension, so we aren’t hurting for supplies. Unless something interesting comes up on our scanners, we’re gonna keep it easy.”

Whirl groaned. “DAMMIT.” He kicked his newly configured legs a bit in anguish before going dejectedly limp.

“You got your legs blown off, Whirl! I know you’re- well- you, but frag, man, take it easy for a second!” Swerve piped up.

“There’s plenty of interesting stuff to do on the ship, Whirl, I doubt you’ll be hurting for mental stimulation.” Rung offered, giving the bot a comforting pat on the knee joint.

“Hrrnngg…. You’d better be right or I’m gonna start breaking scrap.” Whirl threatened.

“Don’t… Don’t do that.” Chromedome said, glancing around.

“I’ll do it too, none of you are safe! If I get even a little bit more bored than I already am right now this whole ship is gonna hurt for it!” babbled Whirl, “I swear, I’m about to be even more of a fragging problem!!”

“Woah, woah, hey, Whirl, buddy, you’re gonna be just fine! First Aid said you’re free to go tomorrow, and then you’ll be able to do whatever you want-” Rodimus soothed.

“Whatever you want within reason.” Ultra Magnus added.

“Aaaand, to pass the time,” Rewind interjected, holding up a data slug. “Swerve and I compiled some fun bits of media for you to check out while you recuperate.” Whirl flicked his optic to Swerve, who grinned back at him with a dorky thumbs up.

“It’s all more human junk isn't it.” Whirl grumbled.

Rewind nodded. “Yeah, its a lot of human junk, BUT, it comes along with a fun new genre that I’ve recently been getting into.”

“Just take the gift, I promise you won’t be disappointed.” Swerve assured. Whirl reached out, delicately pinching the data slug in his claws and tucking it into his subspace.

“... Thanks fellas, ya really know how to cheer a bot up.” Whirl said, letting his helm drop back against the slab.

Truthfully, Whirl was thankful for the data slug. Even though it was more trashy human flicks and songs, it made decent enough entertainment while his frame refused to enter recharge. It was a good distraction, easier to watch human period pieces than think about how royally he’d fucked up. If there was one thing Whirl was good at aside from fighting, it was wallowing.

Apparently, another talent Whirl was honing was burning bridges.

He let out a long, quiet sigh. The holovid playing in his processor was painfully slow, painfully boring. It was all longing glances and sweeping shots of those weird organic manors with all the trees and open fields of green. Whirl scoffed at another painfully sweet moment, a glance between the starring mech and femme as their digits just barely touched, the camera lingering on their almost contact.

Whirl wondered if thats how it looked when…

If that was how it looked when he and Tailgate and Cyclonus…

Whirl let out a guttural groan of frustration. He snagged the dataslug out of his helm port and went to toss it across the room. This was untenable, he couldn’t focus, he could hardly do a thing without his stupid processor looping back to those two annoying little fraggers who were ruining any semblance of normalcy in his life. He hated those clubs, he hated the quiet, he hated the canoodling and the caring and the calm.

Whirl hesitantly shoved the data slug back into his subspace and flopped back down onto the slab with an embarrassing whimper.

“Trouble recharging?”

Whirl shrieked, whipping his servos around and immediately managing to knock Rung off his pedes. “PRIMUS- FRAGGING- RUNG!!” Whirl shouted. “Fragging- Warn me when you’re gonna sneak up like that!! I could’ve-”

“No, no, It’s alright, I’m quite used to it!” Rung chuckled goodnaturedly, dusting himself off as he gathered himself up off the floor of the medbay.

“I swear it’s like you’re trying to get choked out with how you’re sneakin’ up on people...” Whirl clacked his claws together menacingly. Rung didn’t seem to give that much of a reaction as he adjusted his spectacles and sat down on the chair by Whirl’s slab.

“Well, choking aside, how are you feeling, Whirl?” Rung asked, tugging a datapad out of his subspace.

“What-? Is this a house call, doc? Who sent you?” Whirl narrowed his optic.

“Who- Me! I did, I was worried for you.” Rung frowned, looking a little hurt.

“Don’t you have more important patients to worry about?” Whirl huffed, rolling his optic and slumping back on the slab.

The psychiatrist gave him a puzzled look. “... It’s the middle of the night, my friend.”

“Ah.”

Rung cleared his vocalizer. “So…. how you’re feeling?” He prompted.

Whirl thought for a moment. “... I’m glad my legs are reattached.” He decided.

Rung nodded sagely, waiting for more. Whirl grunted, caught off guard by the impromptu session.

“... I think I really messed up, doc.” He mumbled, turning his helm away to anything else. He noted the curtain, drawn back to show the rest of the medbay, the dull yellow glow of Brainstorm’s quarantine room.

“In what way?” Rung asked.

“... I moved in with um… with Cyclonus and Tailgate…” Whirl started, vocalizer feeling choked.

“Oh, congratulations! I noticed the three of you had been quite close lately-” Rung interjected. “Sorry, continue-”

“Yeah… Yeah, we um. I guess we had been… I was on the mission, you know that, and uh. There was this big… thing.” He made a weak motion with his arms. “And I saw my shot, and I took it, and I almost got scrapped in the process.” He took a long sigh. “Y’know, like EVERY OTHER MISSION! It wasn’t even a big deal, they fixed me up fine but for some reason these two got up my aft about it…”

Rung nodded quietly, glancing up from the datapad. “So… they took offense to you… hurting yourself.”

“Yes!! I hurt myself all the time, I’m a fragging attack helicopter.” Whirl rolled his optic. “I’m built to take a hit!”

“Mm… Now, Whirl… If I may…” Rung began. “... What was it about the situation that made you believe it was necessary to.. Attack in such a reckless manner?”

Whirl thought for a long moment. He knew the answer, he understood all too clearly, he’d nearly shouted it in Cyclonus’s face.

“... I don’t know.” He breathed.

“Well, were there any outside factors that could have urged you into such an act?” Rung probed.

Yes, it was the moment where he saw the shadow of it’s hand over them.

Yes, it was the look in Tailgate’s optics as he noticed it coming down.

Yes it was the way Cyclonus was prepared to shove Tailgate away without escaping himself.

“There was… precious cargo in danger.” He lied.

Rung frowned a bit. “Mm, and so…?”

“So I crashed into it’s arm before it could destroy it. It was stupid, yeah, I get that it was stupid. Whatever.” Whirl rambled. “If that energon exploded from the thing, could you imagine? I’d still be washing Cyclonus’ energon outta my seams. Or if by some miracle the thing missed the palette and crushed those two- well- It- It’d be a a lot of work for the medics piecing those two back together! Hell, they could even get their kibble crossed, and- and think of how silly that’d look!”

Rung was quiet for a long beat after Whirl finished rambling. “So you saw this as a tactical decision?”

“Well sure! You know me, always tactics first, Tactics Whirl they used to call me.”

“... Mhm… and it was a purely tactical decision, there was… nothing else that went into that?” Rung asked.

Whirl’s optic twitched. He was staring at the ceiling now.

“... It coulda squashed them.” Whirl breathed.

Rung nodded again. “... Do you think that was what it was then?”

“... What does it mean if it was?” Whirl asked, narrowing his optic slowly as he turned to face Rung.

“So you’ve been spending much more time with them, do you feel that has had any effect on your disposition?” Rung deflected.

“I dunno! I’m just bored more, with them dragging me to those stupid clubs-” Whirl muttered.

“Did you think my club was stupid?” Rung cocked his helm.

“Ugh- NO, I don’t… I guess the clubs arent terrible or anything, but- ARGH- I don’t know, doc, It feels WEIRD to be around them!” Whirl snapped. “I- I can’t do anything without thinkin about them, its- It doesn’t feel right, it- It’s different, it’s not the same as it used to be- I’m all thrown off and I hate it.”

“Could you go into more detail on that?”

“NO, I- I don’t know how to say it!! It’s- Its a warm feeling, it doesn’t feel bad necessarily, it- It feels complicated, it makes it hard to be smart, or clever or whatever-” Whirl pinched at his elongated optic casing with his claws, dragging them down and over his optic. “It feels like fighting with Cyclonus- but. After I knew him. But- not as hot as that.”

Rung nodded slowly, an eyebrow cocked as he absently tried to make sense of his patient’s words. “Contentment?” He offered.

Whirl made a wretching noise. “Ugh- I hope not- that has such a sappy spin to it-”

“I mean, it’s not a bad thing if you feel content, Whirl.”

“It feels bad. It feels wrong.” Whirl urged.

“... I would suggest you resist the urge to fight against it, my friend.” Rung said quietly, offering a comforting pat on the arm.

“... I shouted at them… for worrying about me.” Whirl finally admitted. “Said stuff I didn’t mean. I dunno if they’ll forgive me for that.”

“I’d say many others have forgiven you for much worse…” Rung said, scratching implicatively at his neck strut with a coy smile.

Whirl chuckled a bit. “... I hope they’re as forgiving as you are, Doc.”

#my art #my fic #whirl #tailgate #cyclonus #cywhirlgate #rehab/cohab #transformers #mtmte #tf fic #transformers fic

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happygirl2oo2 · 6 months

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Every reference I could find to Fitz's love of monkeys in Marvel's Agents of Shield, organized by episode numbers

According to this article, Fitz's love for monkeys comes from Iain de Caestecker's love for monkeys. The actor joked in season one about wanting a monkey sidekick for Fitz and it made it into the show's story. Fitz even has monkey figurines on his desk in early seasons.

season 1 episode 2:

FITZ: “I would love to see a capuchin in the wild. Maybe even a yellow-tailed woolly monkey. You know, um, Peru has 32 different species of monkey.”

season 1 episode 3:

FITZ: “If we had a monkey, we could get in.” SIMMONS: “Ugh, Fitz!” FITZ: “If we had a small monkey, he could slip through the sensors and disable the fence's power source with his adorable little hands.”

and

FITZ: “Did you hear the deadly lasers part? Without a brave monkey—”

season 1 episode 8:

FITZ: “Still, this is definitely the type of work a monkey could easily do.” WARD: “You're our little monkey.”

season 1 episode 16:

MAY: “What's this?" FITZ: "Um, say you need to tag a fleeing vehicle... or a wild monkey, if it was to get away from you.”

season 1 episode 22:

SIMMONS: “That means that every bit of energy inside us, every particle" *breathes deeply* "will go on to be a part of something else, maybe live as a dragonfish, a microbe, maybe burn in a supernova 10 billion years from now. And every part of us now was once a part of some other thing ... a moon, a storm cloud, a mammoth.” FITZ, softly: “A monkey.” SIMMONS, also softly, accepting: “A monkey.”

season 2 episode 14:

Daisy: "Okay. But why am I suddenly feeling like old yeller right now?" Coulson: "Kind of surprised you know the reference." Daisy: "I've had a lot of downtime lately. That and Fitz really wants a dog." Coulson: "Thought he wanted a monkey." Daisy: "Guess he readjusted his expectations."

season 2 episode 16:

*When Fitz is packing up his stuff to leave, his three-monkeys statue is the first thing he's seen grabbing*

season 3 episode 21:

*When Fitz is getting ready for the broadcast with Talbot, he's making monkey noises as his vocals warm-up*

season 4 episode 3:

FITZ (counting his breath): “One chimpanzee, two chimpanzee. One chimpanzee, two chimpanzee.”

season 5 episode 5:

*Fitz is shown drawing monkeys on his cell's wall as a way to mark the passing of time while being there, instead of the regular line-markings that are usually used for that*

season 5 episode 16 (as Bobo is a common monkey name):

Jemma: "I was hoping you could tell me more about our future." Deke: "I mean, you saw it... It sucked." Jemma: "No, I mean Fitz and me. Do you recall any evidence of major injury, any noticeable scarring, perhaps?" Deke: "I don't remember you guys at all. I didn't even know your real names. Everyone in S.H.I.E.L.D. changed them when they were getting hunted down. I just knew you as Nana and Bobo."

season 5 episode 21:

*when Simmons is packing up Fitz's things into the suitcase, his monkey statue from the earlier seasons can be seen among the things already in the suitcase*

season 6 episode 3:

SIMMONS: “Expecto Patronum! [a small hallucination of Fitz in a monkey suit appears on her straw] Hello, little monkey Fitz.”

season 6 episode 6:

*while in the memory of the night they first became friends, after Simmons tells Fitz she also remembers "how manic you were and thinking that genius is just a tick away from madness", the wall is seen suddenly covered in drawings of monkeys in the same way Fitz did to the wall in his cell in season 5 episode 5*

season 6 episode 8:

SIMMONS (about the events of s6ep3): "I saw you in a monkey outfit dancing." FITZ: "No, no, reverse on that bit, what do you mean you saw me in a monkey outfit dancing?"

season 7 episode 13:

*When Alya gets up from her bed in the pod to hug her mom, a few monkey dolls can be seen at the edge of her bed*

and

FITZ (about Alya): “This little monkey is punching me as hard as she can in the leg.”

#that man loves his monkeys #agents of shield #aos #leo fitz #leopold fitz #fitzsimmons #iain de caestecker #fitz's monkeys #monkeys #marvel's agents of shield #marvel cinematic universe #mcu

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yuurei20 · 6 months

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Ace Info Compilation part 11: Ace and Cater

Cater and Ace meet for the first time right after the opening ceremonies and during Heartslabyul’s welcome party, when Cater overhears him trying to convince Deuce to sneak into the headmage’s office.

The second time they meet Cater accosts both him and Deuce for a selfie as “the ones who broke a billion-thaumark chandelier” and “the one who ate the housewarden’s tart that same night.”

After drafting them into painting roses Cater reveals that Ace won’t actually be allowed back into the dorm until he brings a tart to replace what he stole, and he never intended to allow them back in the first place.

On EN Cater assigns Ace and Deuce the nickname “hunting season,” but only uses it once before changing to “A2.” On JP, his nickname for the two is always “ADeuce.”

In a vignette we see Ace going to Cater’s aid of his own accord: when other Heartslabyul students accuse Cater of being a poor leader and call for Riddle to collar him, Ace interrupts to reveal that their problem can be solved via Cater’s Magicam account. Ace even joins in to help Cater’s group without complaint, saying it is “like a treasure hunt.”

Ace often seems to blur the lines of politeness and formality, and this is especially true of his interactions with Cater: despite Cater being both older and an upperclassman, Ace is quick to call Cater out for going off “on some tangent” and for showing up to try their chestnut tart without helping prepare it in Book 1, despite having only just met him.

Ace also calls Cater “way too shallow” and “a shameless fanboy” in Book 5.

Ace is possibly just very comfortable around Cater, saying that he would choose him as his older brother if he could.

We see Cater sharing sweets from Trey with Ace and the two students attend the Wish Upon a Star event together (where Ace offers to take a video on Cater’s behalf), Ace performs sleight of hand tricks for Cater, offers to teach him (in exchange for a favor) and goes to Cater when Deuce is having difficulty with math.

During Halloween we see Cater get a phone call from Trey saying that Ace has jumped in to help Deuce with a problem and Cater responds, “Ugh, he’s probably just trying to do me a ‘favor’ so he can get leverage over me!”

(Ace refusing to help without receiving proper compensation seems to be a theme: in a vignette where Silver is having trouble coming up with a look for Halloween Ace offers to give him advice in exchange for receiving tips on how to recreate Diasomnia’s gothic aesthetic. (“…since I’m gonna be scratching your back, you can go ahead and scratch mine!”)

Ace seems to namedrop Cater very often, mentioning him in Book 3 and 5 saying he has “surprisingly good moves” on a broom and expressing displeasure that Cater tagged a picture of him on his birthday as “GrowingBoyAcey.”

When Ace learns that most of the dorm disappeared at the start of Spectral Soiree his first reaction is, “Wait, where’s Cater?”

#acefacts #twstfacts #twstace #Ace Trappola #Twisted Wonderland

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p-oisn · 3 months

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✪ moot appreciation time ! tag some of your fav moots and share what you love about them ! then place this in other blogs asks !

okay I tried including as many ppl as possible but these are the ones I can list from the top of my head / interact w the most so </3

@pupicito : SUUPER CUTE ACC ??? like every mb is so unique n cool everyone should frame fish's mbs on their wall 🤕 n also so supportive like every post of theirs deserves a billion notes . alsososo thee most fun person to talk to ever 😞 js so sweet I wake up solely to look at fish's mbs they are so perfect i could talk abt them forever

@wiotas : I was acc so happy when I found out we knew each otber from like late 2022 ish i forgot ... (you knew me since my wannabe edgy phase but 😨) bc i rmb wanting to be your friend so bad bc you seemed so cool n now we're moots ?!?! you're so sweet liek omg ☹️☹️☹️ you always are so supportive n everytime you use my mbs as your theme i feel like biting into a brick wall BC WDYM you like my mbs enough to use them as your theme that's such an honour coming from you esp ?! 😞

@y-vna : DONT EVEN GET ME STARTED ??? like oooh I'm so happy to have ari as a moot I don't even know what I did to deserve her 😞 n also you have such stunning jaw dropping toe curling stomach churning mbs like omg ???? giggling everytime I get an mb from from you bc it's literally like a blessing 🤞🏼🤞🏼 n js soo supportive

@jeonzio : scremaing and yelling everytime I look at your acc bc everything and I mean EVERYTHING abt is soooo pretty n pleasing to look at ?? you're soo sweet n also the cutest person ever !! idk what else to say but like live laugh love tee 🤕 I will forever cherish every single one of our interactions bc they are simply the cutest

@koosuvi : YOU'RE SOOO SUPPORTIVE SOBS I lovelovelove every single one of your compliments they make me want to start jumping around my room giggling 😞 n also you quite literally have one of THEE prettiest accs on tumblr like omg pls teach ... your mbs are always out of this world 😖😖 I love you n everything ab your blog never stop posting plz ill cry

@yeritos : JUNEEE my fav my fav my fav ☹️ the best nctzen on this app ugh there aren't enough words to describe my love for you 😞 your mbs are literally soooo gorgeous omg i was screaming n crying when you followed me back bc im literally your #1 fan . you're sososo nice n amazing n everything 🌸 I love waking up to your mbs everyday n eating my yeritos meal 🍴

@tookio : ONE OF THE BEST MOODBOARD CREATORS ON THIS APP literally no one comes close i mean it 😞 your entire account is sooo stunning like you really deserves ALLL the love in the world !! n omg how I love your comments they make my day soo much better I love you so much for that istg :(

@jaes1lvr : literally hugs n kisses to mely 🫂 /p one of my biggest supporters too n js super sweet 😞 your mbs are js sooo unique I wish I could plaster it on my forehead so everyone in the world could see them 😡😡 I will forever be grateful for your overwhelming support like omg <33

@s-heon : super cool person that i really really really admire 🤔 like omg i could talk abt how grateful I am to you for hours, days even bc you were like my biggest inspo ever while starting out n also your mbs 🔛🔝 im so happy I ever found your blog it has such a special place in my heart 🤕💓 i loev you to the moon n back .

#ㅤ𝆬ㅤ ㅤ◌ㅤㅤׅㅤinboxㅤ₍ᐢ ᐢ₎

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bloopitynoot · 7 months

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Shadowgast Corporate/Office-Au Rec List!

Hello I'm back again with more disaster wizard (well and in this case working professional but more office-like setting) recommendations!

This list is a little bit more bawdy than normal (I love a good smut fic, but I also try to vary the ratings on these lists for those who may not share my enthusiasm).

If you want to see my other shadowgast rec lists- they are linked at the end of this post. ANYWAYS- let's get into it!

______________________

1 As per my last email

As per my last email (11651 words) by LivThael (I don't think they are on Tumblr- if they do please comment so I can tag- but they have a twitter listed in the notes of the fic) Chapters: 11/11 Rating: Explicit Summary: Essek Thelyss is an asshole with a questionable taste in spreadsheets. Caleb Widogast has more important and certainly more interesting things to do than filing travel expense claims. A series of mails turns into a escalating meeting. Or: Please stop writing me emails, I genuinely hate you. - Explicit content only in chapter 10.

What I loved: Anyone who has worked in an office knows a passive aggressive email when they get one. Plus we have the added bonus of having to deal with accounting to get expenses covered- ugh, so good. The energy of these passive aggressive- yet flirty workplace emails between new hire Caleb and kind-of-an-asshole Essek in accounting is *chefs kiss*. The build up to their meeting was written so well! I also really love the way the fic is formatted- the email style gives it an immersive feel.

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2 Paradigm Shift

Paradigm Shift (114,291 words) by full_time_dreamer_behold (I don't know their tumblr, please totally feel free to tag if they have one- i'll add it). Chapters: 28/28 Rating: Teen and up Audiences Summary: Recently moved to Rosohna, Caleb accepts a job at a prestigious law firm, but the work turns out to be menial and dull. Thankfully, his life takes a turn when he makes new friends and starts taking a curious interest in the IT Manager- the handsome and intriguing Essek Thelyss. Could he be reason enough for Caleb to stay in this place? He certainly intends to find out.

A friends-to-idiots-to-lovers slow burn with a sweet ending.

What I loved: This was such a lovely slow burn. It covers hard topics in a corporate kind of setting including racism, nepotism, and power dynamics that really suck but it handled with care and well written. I also really love the disability representation here! This slow burn is so so good, I super recommend! Also bonus it's the length of a beefy novel!

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3 the golden thread around your neck whispered visions of my undoing

the golden thread around your neck whispered visions of my undoing (172812 words) by MarsBar2019 (If you know Mars' tumblr please comment and I will tag- I couldn' find it in the notes). Chapters: 38/? Rating: Explicit Summary: Caleb Widogast does not belong here. The world of sharp suits, board meetings, and billion dollar budgets is a far cry from Caleb’s preferred domain: the research lab. Where nobody cares about his faded T-shirts and raggedy jeans. But a year of industry experience will look good on his CV, and the hefty pay bump wouldn’t hurt either. How hard could a secretary gig be? What he finds behind the glittering edifice of Auriga, Wildemount’s leading name in arcane technology, is CEO Essek Thelyss, who maintains his domain with an acid tongue and an iron fist. It’s difficult not to find him intriguing, this handsome, guarded, brilliant man. It’s even more difficult not to want to please him. Caleb knows to keep it professional, though. Working late nights together at the office and lingering glances here and there don’t cross the boundaries of propriety. That is, until they do.

Or: the one where Essek Thelyss loses focus and has a consensual workplace relationship.

Updates weekly on Mondays.

E-rated chapters: Ch. 4, 9, 13, 14, 17, 18, 22-23, 26, 32, 38

Why I love it: Out of all the recs this one is the SPICIEST (and I love that). Head the warnings - there may be stuff that isn't for you, but if you, like me, enjoy a 6/5 spicy level fic- congrats this one will not disappoint. This story is in progress but updates weekly which is fantastic. We have big time and hot mess CEO Essek and his personal assistant disaster bisexual Caleb- of course it's an HR scandal waiting to happen, but also, Essek might come out a better person for it. I cannot recommend this enough, this fic is so so good. In addition to the smut, it's also just a really fantastic story.

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4 sleep, with benefits

sleep, with benefits (62272 words) by KmacKatie @kmackatie Chapters: 12/12 Rating: Explicit Summary: Caleb Widogast wakes up from the first good night of sleep in far too long. It takes him a moment to realise it's because he's not in his bed. Is it the better mattress (lump-free and like a cloud), or the fact he drunkenly slept with Essek Thelyss, the colleague he's been secretly crushing on for the last six months?

Why I loved it: Let me just start off by saying kmackatie is brilliant and everything shadowgast that katie writes makes my heart sing. In this fic Essek and Caleb are captured so well- they are both big idiots who act like scared cats around one another (even though they both want the same thing) but honestly- can there be any other dynamic? This hot mess of them not using their words eventually leads to the best of endings and you should all read it because it is so lovely.

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BONUS FIC: (high school teachers, less corporate feel, but not what I would throw on a professor or academia list so its a bonus for this one).

5 all this science i don't understand

all this science i don't understand (8858 words) by mllekurtz @mllekurtz Chapters: 1/1 Rating: Mature Summary: Caleb knew how he was with crushes, he was aware that historically they’ve brought him nothing but trouble, and vowed that he wasn’t going to develop one on his new colleague. This resolution lasted a remarkable twenty-four hours. * Small-town high school science teacher Caleb Widogast has his life more or less figured out, or so he thinks. Then an unexpected variable gets thrown into the equation in the form of the new addition to the teaching staff: the handsome and clever Essek Thelyss.

Why I loved it: This fic was so sweet. I have a soft spot for fics that play with chronology in their story telling and this one does a bit of that. It is a shorter read but honestly that works really well for this love story. Caleb of course falls hard and fast and Essek does not mind at all. Some angst, but they are written so well and so soft, Brilliant <;3

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My Other Shadowgast Rec lists:

Shadowgast fics that made me ugly cry

Shadowgast Space Opera-AU list

Shadowgast Bakery/Coffee/Tea Shop-AUs

As usual I devour all fics shadowgast so if there is a rec list you want to read that is tried and true- dm me or leave a comment. I always prefer to use my librarian degree for chaotic neutral purposes so hmu.

[I am totally thinking about doing a Professor/Researcher OR College-AU OR Time is a Weird Soup list next but we shall see!]

#shadowgast fic recs #shadowgast #for the shadowgast shippers #essek thelyss #caleb widogast #critical role #critical role fan fiction #mighty nein #cr 2 #I honestly love making these lists so much #if you have a theme you like to read let me know #I will totally make you a personalized list

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wr0temyway0ut · 3 months

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WIPpet (wip snippet)

Tagged by @innytoes, thanks Inny! Here's a lil snippet from something I started this morning

“He’ll be fine,” Willie says. He tugs the drawstring of Alex’s hoodie out of Alex’s mouth. Alex hadn’t even realized he’d been chewing on it. “Come on, sit down.” They push Alex down onto one of Ray’s billion couches— why does he have so many? Is he preparing for some sort of couch shortage? A couchpocalypse? Willie shoves a piece of chewelry shaped like a feather into his hand, and Alex’s face screws up into disgust. “This isn’t Luke’s, is it?” he asks. “I don’t want anything that’s been in Luke’s mouth in mine. God only knows what kind of germs are festering in there.” “First of all,” Willie snorts, “you’ve literally had Luke’s tongue in your mouth before–” “Ugh, don’t remind me–” “I think you guys are past the point of worrying about cooties,” Willie continues. “Second of all, it’s mine, and third of all, it’s clean. I washed it this morning.”

No pressure tagging @stellarspecter @thatbitchmabel @joyandthephantoms and anyone else who wants to!

#wips #wip games #tag games

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sincerely-sofie · 19 days

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still cant get over travailshipping. i remember when you first tested the waters with it (which i believe was some time before the tpiag chapters started coming out?) and at first i thought it was pretty funny. ark slowly but surely falling headfirst for twig, who if she had a tagline it would be "if i could turn my feelings into weapons, mine would be a goddamn nuclear bomb", and her at first just being oblivious to it and thinking that the letters that expressed love and care that were written in cursive in her mailbox were just funny and she wanted to show them to ark with the guy just looking at her with the most "well that backfired in the weirdest way possible". but when tpiag finally ended i finally connected the dots as to why these two are just. augh. i wont go into detail here in your askbox but i wanna know is: HOW DID YOU DO IT. HOW DO YOU KEEP MAKING SUCH GOOD IDEAS FOR THE FUNNY DIGITAL ANIMALS. TELL ME.

(thinking to myself) "Ugh I should stop posting so much travailshipping stuff... It's probably so annoying to everyone who sees it. I feel bad for my poor followers. I'll check my inbox real quick and then commit to shaking up my content by—" *gets obliterated by your niceness*

Oh man. I remember posting that poll where I hesitantly described a possible Darkrai/Twig pairing in the tags while proposing Twig/Kip as an alternative route, despite it not being the direction I wanted to take the characters, because I was so scared of what people’s reactions might be. If I remember right, I posted it a little bit before I had just barely reached 5k words in the first draft of TPiaG.

I've been trying to write up detailed responses to how I come up with good ideas for travailshipping in particular, but there's one rule I use that defines everything after it and speaks for all of them: I have fun with the characters.

That's it. That's the rule. If I don't want to write a subject, I don't. I stick with what I find enjoyable and resonant. Does a joke make me laugh? Does a scene make me cry? Does a villain make me punch a hole in my wall? Does a cute gesture make me squeal? If so, then into the project it goes. I think people can feel when someone is having fun with their work, and that fun radiates out into their own experience consuming that work. It's like laughter— joy is something we're sharing with others as long as we feel it. Fun is contagious.

Also: when you don't force yourself to make things you hate, you attract people who like the same things as you. These people will find your work even more fun— because not only did you have fun making it, they're having double fun consuming it.

An important tangent I'll go off on is that I think that every creative project idea is a good idea. There's so many beloved bizarro ideas in the world, even the ones who try to be cool about how weird their premises are. There's this weird show where the main character works as a service industry worker in an underwater setting that's ruled by a Roman deity— he lives in a piece of fruit, and his pet gastropod makes cat noises. This show sounds like word salad garbage on paper and could be tossed out for its nonsensical nature, and yet SpongeBob SquarePants has made Nickelodeon over $13 billion dollars and is a treasured part of many childhoods. There's also a character who spends his time locked in intellectual and physical combat with a wannabe clown and wears a costume with bat ears while doing it. Batman's been an icon for over 80 years.

All of this is to say:

Ideas are always good ideas by virtue of existing. They don't derive their goodness from external sources. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.

Make more of what you love. Don't make things you hate making.

If you have fun while making the thing, people will have fun while they consume the thing's content.

I hope this makes sense. I didn't touch on idea generation as much as embracing existing ideas. Fingers crossed that was the right response. I'd just woken up from a nap as I was writing it, so hopefully it's not too meandering and managed to answer the question and—

— Oh shoot. Was that a hypothetical question??? Uh. Sorry if I went off on this rant when you were just trying to voice your niceness. Oops. 🫥

#also: feel free to go into detail in my inbox 👀#i am always happy to hear people's thoughts on my blorbos #creativity tip #creativity advice #writing tip #writing #creativity tips #swear warning #creativity tips with sofie #(kinda)#sofie answers asks

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interlunium-opus · 2 years

Text

▶︎ DISMANTLING ALMOSTS. [Sunghoon.]

Part 1: "Beyond 7 Minutes in Heaven"

Abstract: Two weeks have passed since your bestfriend, Park Sunghoon, kissed you unexpectedly during a round of 7 Minutes in Heaven. Since then, you have done nothing but avoided Sunghoon like a plague. Like gravity however, you two were forced into one another’s orbit again thanks to a Winter Outing which the university held. With nowhere else to run to, you guys were forced to confront the elephant in the room.

Genre: friends-to-lovers (or will it, hmm 😋) | Word count: ~10.9k

Taglist: @woniebae | @angel-hyuckie | @sfthyuka | @sweetjaemss ((heheh I've tagged all those that mentioned that they wanted to be tagged in Part 1 -- sorry if I've missed out anyone :( ))

“Something must have happened between you and Sunghoon that night, I am sure of it. Am I right or am I right?” Jay, who was seated next to you, pried for the umpteenth time. You glared at him, “Jay, not now. The President of the Student Union is speaking.”

“As if you’ve ever paid attention to him,” Jay scoffed, “you know the more you deflect away from these questions, the more curious and persistent I will get. Perseverance is my middle name after all.”

“Oh, I’ve always thought meddlesome was your middle name,” you replied flatly, “Also I’ve never deflected. I’ve told you only about a billion times that nothing happened.”

“Bull.shit.” he whispered to you with extra emphasis, “Even the average Joe can see that something is amiss with the campus’ inseparable duo. You guys looked as if you guys have been avoiding one another like a plague since that night that one would have to be blind to not notice it.”

“We’re on winter break, of course we’re not together 24/7,” you grumbled, face impassive.

It has in fact been two weeks since that night and well, Jay was not entirely wrong for you have indeed not talk nor met with Sunghoon since then. While Winter Break could have been a factor, both you and Jay know very well that that was not the case. After all, your Winter Break thus far has been mostly spent on campus grounds, for revisions in the library and student union duties. Same goes for Sunghoon who had to spend most of his Winter Break on campus for his Ice Skating training. In other words, you had plenty of opportunities to see or talk to your best friend — except you never did because at every instances you spot any sign of Sunghoon, you just run for cover like some sort of criminal. It was childish, you know. You thought you’ve got it under control, that you can act rationally and nonchalant if you see him and yet at the slightest sight or sign of him, everything just feels like it was crumbling and you found yourself running for the nearest cover: the bathroom; an empty class; cafeteria; Janitor’s closet; behind your friends; behind strangers; and the list goes on. It was as if seeing him after that kiss, if you can even call it a kiss, something changed. Not that you had even given yourself any time of the day to ruminate on what exactly had changed — you were too fearful to explore the depths of your feelings.

Paradoxically, despite often being praised for being a natural problem-solver, this simple thing is one problem you have no idea how to tackle: after all, how were you supposed to act after that? do you address it? ask if he was out of his mind? or would bringing it up means you’re overreacting to it when it was actually no big deal? so should you just feign nonchalance? act as if it was nothing or it was normal? or should you just pretend that it never happened? — ugh, whatever, you found yourself concluding every time the whole conundrum arose in your head. In the end, you thought wholeheartedly, it was just easier to not think about it and the best way to prevent it from being brought to the forefront of your mind is to avoid the root of all problems at all cost: Park Sunghoon himself. Thus, this leaves you with the easiest option, to run away. You know you can’t keep on running away forever but at least you thought once Winter Break ends, you should be back to your old rational and collected self and therefore will be able to face the issue head-on. Easy peasy.

Except, life don’t work that way, they don’t bend to anyone. Just like how you can't evade him in campus during the Winter Break. Here, far in the mountainous range of the East, at the Winter Outing which he never signed up all these years despite always being specially invited, somehow Sunghoon appeared.

“Speak of the devil,” you hear Jay mutter under his breath as the door of the lounge swung open. It was to your horror (though to the delight of many), Park Sunghoon. As if a natural reflex by now, you immediately sunk in your seat, trying to hide yourself.

“Apologies,” Sunghoon muttered, apologetic over interrupting the President’s speech, before looking around awkwardly to find an empty spot to sit on.

“Should I call him to join us?” Jay smirked playfully. You glared at him, seething, “Ha funny. The row is full Jay.”

“He can always sit on my lap,” he snickered, “Or yours.”

“You’re insufferable,” you spat, “Why is he here anyway? Don’t tell me this is all your doing Jay.”

“Hello, in case you forgot, this Winter Outing that we are hosting is open to everyone, why can’t he be here?” Jay raised his eyebrows, “I mean if there’s anyone who’d be more excited for a Winter Outing, it should be the Ice Prince himself — he gets to be in his element.”

“But he never likes these outings. Also, it coincides with his Winter break training so he should be back at the campus,” you retorted, “Seriously, Park Jongseong, as the Head of Events of the Student Body, you didn’t even bother telling me that he was joining?”

“Dude, you usually have zero care in the world about non-substantive matters like these,” he replied acidly, “also, come on. He’s your bestfriend, if nothing happened that night, you should be rejoicing now that he’s here with us. Maybe we can play another round of Truth or Dare to set things right? Right.”

You glared at Jay — if eyes could shoot lasers, he’d smithereens by now.

“You know what, I guess not. Seems like he’s got company,” Jay jutted his chin out as if pointing to someone. You slowly followed his gaze, trying to be discreet while at it. Trailing closely behind Sunghoon and then sitting close next to him was an impeccably beautiful girl with long wavy locks, pouty and glossy pink lips, a smile that could instantly light up a room and legs that could go on for days.

“Isn’t she that First Year everyone is raving about?” You elbowed Jay, “No wonder she’s been making waves in campus — she’s gorgeous, ethereal even. The two of them looks straight out of pictorials side-by-side — like a match made in heaven.”

“That’s what everyone said — didn’t work out though,” Jay said nonchalantly. You immediately turned to him, mouth ajar, wondering if you had misheard him. Jay raised his brows, bemused by your confused expressions, “what? You didn’t know? They used to date. In high school.”

“How come he never told me about this?”

“I'm pretty sure if you had actually asked him about it, he would have told you," Jay shrugged, "knowing you though, I bet you never did given how topics like these are just out of your realm of interest."

“Okay fine, you have a point,” you rolled your eyes before badgering him further with questions, unable to mask your curiosity, “Did they date long? I mean they look perfect together, why did it end?”

“I guess you can consider it long, they dated for like 2 years. They broke up when Sunghoon was in his final year. Kind of surprising really — they match each other so well, from aesthetics to interests. I guess, they were just too busy for each other at that time — him with Ice Skating, her with modelling — Oh wait, pretty boy is looking this way —"Jay gave a quick nod and waved at Sunghoon’s direction while you froze, not daring to move a muscle as if your life depended on it. Noticing your changing expressions, Jay smirked, “You should sink yourself down further, or maybe just sit on the floor, you’ll hide better that way.”

“Piss of Park Jongseong,” you mouthed. Jay snickered, leaning closer to you as he whispered playfully, “Want to finally tell me what really happened now?”

You sighed to yourself, realizing that your days of running away were numbered.

“Everyone accounted for?” Jungwon, the Student Union President appeared behind you, peering over your shoulders at the checklist you were holding. You nodded, “Yeah, everyone has left for skiing, it’s only us here now.”

“Finally!” Jay, who had been holding the main door open, groaned, “can we go now? The jocks aren’t blessed with patience as a virtue, they will riot soon — we are already making them wait for the match for like what, 5 minutes? That is equivalent to 5 days in jock terms.”

“Wow, since when is Park Jongseong so punctual?” You stared at Jay in disbelief, grinning sarcastically.

“Since he knew the girls from the campus national athletics team are joining, that’s when,” Jungwon quipped with a smirk, taking out the chalet’s keys and about to lock the door behind you when you guys were suddenly interrupted by a girl’s voice, calling you guys out, “Hi sorry guys-“ it was Sunghoon’s ex, out of breath, yet still as ethereally as pretty as ever, “oh my goodness, sorry I just ran the whole way — I, uh, phew — okay, so uh I left my phone inside. Sorry, I know you guys are about to lock the chalet but-“

“We are in a bit of a-“ Jay quickly replied only to be cut off by Jungwon, whom, with a gentle smile, reassured, “No, don’t worry. We can wait for you. Go on take your time.”

“Thank you so much. You guys are such life savers,” she cooed, her plump glossy lips curving into a picture perfect smile as Jungwon held the door open for her. You can really see just how easily people fall for the girl. She is basically Barbie-personafied: long legs; lean body; plump lips; luscious long locks; large eyes with long eyelashes; red cheeks; melodious voice; animated and cutesy expressions; and a gregarious personality to boot. She is basically the blueprint. You watched as she quickly disappeared into the hallway, leaving only invisible trail of perfume in her wake.

“Really? Take your time?” Jay chided as soon as she was gone from your sight, “Our time is on the line. In case you forgot, I’m the running champion for the ski match for the past 2 years. Actually, if I win this one, which I am sure I will, that’d be 3 but we won’t have a match if you’re late and I wont have enough time to warm up if-“

“Okay okay, we get it,” you rolled your eyes, “He’s right Jungwon, any later, someone is either going to get hurt or they’d just get rowdier, as always. You guys can go ahead then, I’ll stay behind and wait for her. I’ve been to the slopes with you guys last night so don’t worry, I won’t get lost.”

“Well, what are we waiting for? The girl has spoken,” Jay raised his brows at Jungwon who was biting his lips as if hesitating for a second. “Fine,” Jungwon sighed, handing the keys to you, “I’m just a phone call away if there is anything yeah?”

You nodded, waving at them as they rushed towards the direction of the main ski slope where the skiing match was going to be held. Not long after they disappeared from your sight, Sunghoon’s ex appeared beside you, her perfume wafting in the air as if loudly announcing her presence, “Sorry again for the wait! Sunghoon was in a rush earlier so I just dashed without realizing that I’ve left my phone.”

You feel your eyebrow twitch at the mention of his name, though thankfully, no one was around to catch that as you were facing the door, busy trying to lock it. Feeling antsy at the mention of his name, you blurt out, eager to change the subject to anything but Sunghoon, “the boys have gone ahead by the way, I hope you’re okay that it’s just me.”

“Of course, why ever not?” She answered sweetly, tilting her head to the side as she waited for you, “Actually, I have been dying to talk to you since I knew you that you also in this outing.”

“Oh yeah?” you shot her a confused look, “is something wrong or did you need something-?”

“No no. It’s just that I heard a loooooot about you,” she sang, “As the girl, or rather the only girl, that Sunghoon is close with in campus.”

“Oh,” you chuckled drily, trying to feign nonchalance, “I hope all the things you hear have been good so far then? Or have I amassed such a negative reputation without realizing?”

“Oh, don’t worry. Nothing bad,” she emphasized, tilting her head sideways again like a form of reassurance, “though since Sunghoon is such a shy and closed-off boy, a lot of people are dying to know your magic. Geez I still remember how in high school he was just so shy that he came off like an arrogant prick. Like you would have thought he hated you just by the way he acted so curt and indifferent back then though apparently it was just a mistranslation of how shy and flustered he was inside whenever girls shower him with interests and attention. Even after we dated, he was still so shy with other girls, preferring to latch and cling near to me for comfort—”

Kill me now, you thought to yourself, suddenly regretting having even suggested to walk her back alone. I should have just let Jungwon and Jay be late — be selfish for once, all man for themselves, you thought to yourself when suddenly you feel her hand squeezing yours as she gasped loudly, “Oh no, I am so sorry, I am jabbering aren’t I? Really sorry — bad habits die hard.”

“No it’s fine,” you said as you plastered your usual diplomatic smile, “You look like you’ve been enjoying the trip so far so I’m just glad about that.”

“Aww, you’re so sweet,” she cooed, “Yeah. I mean Sunghoon plays a huge part in making the trip memorable so far. Makes me forgot that we even broke up. Oh — I am jabbering again. Goodness me,” she sighed before suddenly sharply turning to you, eyebrows knitted in deep thought as she eyed you suspiciously, “Wait, you … you don’t have a crush on him do you?”

You almost choked on your spit, “I -wha-“

“I mean it’s understandable, most people just fall for him and-“

“No, no— I don’t,” you answered immediately, “Don’t worry, we’re just friends.”

“Oh thank God, I would hate to see another heart break,” she slurred, tilting her head again, “He has grown into such a fine man though, buffer, manlier, and more sociable compared to the skinny, lanky and tight-lipped boy that I used to date.”

"Hmm," you nodded awkwardly, unsure how to respond. Thankfully, just then you started seeing the familiar ‘welcome’ sign, which indicated the start of the slope, "well, here we are. It's good to talk to you today," you muttered, gesticulating towards the side of the slope where people were waiting, “Sunghoon is right there, you should probably run to him now before the match starts — he could probably use some cheering.”

“Certainly, I never missed any of his matches back then — skating, hockey and even skiing — both there as the cheer captain and his girlfriend. This takes me back,” she exhaled, before giving you a gentle pat on the shoulder, “Thank you so much for waiting and walking me back. Duty calls, see you around.”

“No worries,” you waved back, surprised to find yourself heaving a huge, heavy sigh as you watch her join him. Almost immediately, the serious expressions which he usually wore before his matches, lit up at the sight of her. Like magnets, her hand immediately wrapped over his arm, giving a light squeeze as if providing some form of comfort. It all looked so natural — as if it was meant to be, as if it has always been like that. You quickly turned away, heading towards the other side where Jay and Jungwon stood.

“Why the long face?” Jay raised his eyebrows, “also, where’s my good luck?”

“As if you would need any,” you scoffed, holding up your hand for a high five nevertheless, “but, if you insists, all the best champ.”

“Can’t you put a little bit more sincerity in it?” Jay grabbed your hand, pulling you closer towards him.

You sighed, holding his hand with the other free hand, “My dear Park Jongseong, I wish you all the best of luck. I hope you’ll take the trophy again this time. That way, your ego wont be bruised and you’ll get more girls clamouring over you.”

“See? Not that hard, isn’t it. Thank you. I love you as always,” he grinned sarcastically before suddenly grabbing you by the shoulders and turning you around, “I think your other best friend needs a good luck from you too.”

“Jay wha-“ you were about to protest when your eyes landed exactly on Park Sunghoon at the other side of the path, who was already staring back. You feel your breath hitch. Sunghoon isn’t one to stare but then again the Park Sunghoon as of late has been anything but the best friend you knew and the stare he was giving you solidified that. For starters, they were anything but warm. It was almost cold but with so much intensity that no distance could mask, compelling you to break the eye contact. Fortunately, you didn’t have to because Jay, always so boisterous, yelled his good luck to him, “Good luck bud! Break a leg!”

As if broken from a trance, Sunghoon’s serious facial expressions soften as he looked away from you to Jay, yelling back, “Right back at you!”

You took the chance to turn around, shooting daggers at Jay, “You’re an ass.”

“Hey, what have I done wrong?” Jay grinned playfully, “He was staring at us for the longest time — thought he might have wanted a good luck from his best friend too.”

You shook your head, rolling your eyes, “Whatever Jay.”

Throughout the event you tried your best to not look at the direction of Sunghoon for wherever he was, his ex was also there. But in the few instances when your eyes accidentally landed on him, to your horror, he was already staring — his eyes looking as if he was itching to tell you something. But that could all just be in your head, you thought.

Except it wasn’t.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Jay suddenly grabbed you by the wrist that night as you were heading the opposite direction of everyone else, “Dinner is that way.”

“I uh- I got like period cramps,” you lied, “So I’m not hungry.”

“didn’t you just have your period like 2 weeks ago? I don’t think you’re going to have it so soon-” Jay was saying before getting cut off as your hands immediately flew to his mouth, stopping him from jabbering any further. You looked around in alarm, trying to make sure no one had heard what he had just said before letting him go and smacking him by the arm, “Dude, someone would easily misunderstand if you say that out loud! Also, why the heck would you know or remember that anyway!”

“Duh! because you were complaining about period cramps 2 weeks ago too while we were at the coffee shop. Also, you’re snappy when you’re on your period, I’ve pretty much connected the dots,” Jay grumbled, wrapping his hand over your arm again like a prized possession that could be stolen any time, “This is getting ridiculous, it’s our 3rd day here and you’re skipping dinner again. Don’t think I have not noticed you sneaking around okay? Because it was bloody obvious — to me at least.”

“I am not sneaking aro-“ you stammered, trying to hold your ground as Jay tugged you towards the other direction, “Park Jongseong, let me go. I am not hungry!”

“Of course you are hungry, you always skip lunch and have early breakfasts, how in the world are you not hungry?” Jay retorted, his grip strong. As you struggled to pry your hands off of Jay’s grasps you noticed, from your peripheral vision, a familiar silhouette standing at the end of the hallway watching you both. To your horror, it turned out to be Sunghoon, again with the staring. His face was so impassive, you wouldn’t know if he was puzzled, annoyed or just staring blankly. Like auto-pilot however panic immediately rose inside of you, triggering some sort of flight response.

“You know what, I have to show you something first,” you blurted out and like magic it worked as Jay stopped tugging you towards him, “We’ll have dinner after this. Just come with me Jay. Now. Stat. Please.”

Jay heaved a huge sigh, shrugging with the other free hand, relenting, “Okay, fine. Show me then. But after that, we both will have dinner. No questions asked. I’m not about to let anyone out of this outing emaciated.”

“Absolutely,” you immediately replied, heaving a huge sigh of relief as you push past the throng of people in the hallway. Your mind was a flurry of mess though. Since talking to Sunghoon’s ex, as if emboldened with a newfound resolve, you had doubled your efforts at avoiding him. Prior to this, you flee at any signs of him, now however you had taken the taxing task to a whole new level by pre-emptively avoiding crowded times so you wouldn’t even see him and therefore wouldn’t even have to run away from him in the first place. This means avoiding peak meal times, avoiding events, and taking on mundane administrative student union tasks like cleaning up or preparing the next venue for the next event and whatnot.

Such was the state of havoc that had been brewing in your mind that unbeknownst to you, you had dragged Jay towards the direction of your room.

“You wanted to show me your room?” Jay asked sardonically, bringing you back to reality as your two stood in front of your door.

“Uh yeah,” you lied, pushing the doors open, “the view actually. It’s beautiful, you have got to see it.”

You hear Jay let out an audible sigh as the doors close behind you two, “I am pretty it’s pretty but we both know you did not just kidnap me to your room to show me your awesome view. I know you saw Sunghoon earlier and the only reason you managed to kidnap me here is because I let you.”

Crossing his arms and feet while leaning against the back of the door, he pressed further, “since we’re alone now, just spill it y/n. I know something is amiss and I know it revolves around Sunghoon. Deflect again and I will really treat everything as normal and I will be, in my most boisterous and annoying extroverted self, pulling you into all events, gatherings, mealtimes — you call it.”

“That a threat?” you scoffed as you sat on the armrest of the couch near your huge window.

“Works like a charm as if I held you at gunpoint doesn’t it?” He clicked his tongue as he walked towards you, eventually taking a seat on the arm rest of the chair next to yours so that you guys were facing each other. With a gentle gaze, he murmured softly, “Don’t just bottle things up y/n — it will just fester in uglier ways.”

You sighed, staring into his eyes longer than usual, contemplating hard. Always so sensitive and understanding, Jay did not hurry you through it. With such a gentle gaze, contrasting his usual hawk-like gaze, he waited patiently — knowing how hard it is for you to express your feelings. Eventually you relented, telling him fully about what had unfolded that night during the 7 minutes in heaven.

“Damn, the kiss should have been such a turning point for you two — but it seems to be a turning point of things going south instead,” Jay shook his head.

“Always leave it to Park Jongseong to put it in the worst light possible,” you replied flatly, mustering a sarcastic smile.

“All these aside, don’t you think it’s a bit childish to keep running away? I don’t know what you’re trying to get from it because it just comes across as if you’re really offended by him or you’re really flustered — so which one is it? Because if the kiss meant nothing to you, you won’t be acting like this.”

You opened your mouth to protest but immediately closed it as his words, which were very true, left you with no more replies to retort with. He was right and you do know it — avoiding Sunghoon was indeed childish. It wasn’t supposed to drag on for this long. You thought after a few days, with clearer mind, you can face him again — feign nonchalance, as if nothing happened but as days passed, it got even harder to face him as if the flight response is already coded into your DNA.

In between your toss and turns in bed at night, you allow yourself to finally ruminate about why you were being so childish and in moments where you allow yourself a shred of honesty and allow yourself to feel with your heart instead of with your head, it seemed to all boil down to how unprepared you are to face the actual reason behind the kiss.

In essence, there should be 2 reasons as to why he had kissed you that night. The first, which is the most likely reason to you, is because he was just messing around. Kissing are indeed not a big deal in today’s age and time so while the kiss might have stupefied you, it’s probably something casual and meaningless for others including Sunghoon. However, you thought over again, Sunghoon is not just like any other average Joe. He doesn’t really engage in unnecessary flirtations and romantic engagements and to top it off, he is far from reckless and is basically the word ‘unadventurous’ personified which means he wouldn’t just kiss anyone. Let alone kiss his best friend on the lips — I mean, best friends don’t do that, right? You often ask yourself.

As much as you hated to even think about it, your train of deduction just somehow lands on that one possibility which you hate to even entertain nor think about: that his feelings for you goes beyond what one should feel for their best friends. But of course, your cynical and pessimistic side are so entrenched that whenever such thoughts crop up you’d just convince yourself of how delusional you are, “Pfft, as if. Not in a million years”.

Having said that, that night has been putting your mind on overdrive with regards to that possibility especially when prior to that there had been a plethora of instances where people have pointed out that Sunghoon might as well be your boyfriend considering his actions to you that has often borderline that of a boyfriend. From the adoring gaze, the teasing, the constant touches, the lack of boundaries, the banters, the protectiveness and so on — all seemingly reserved and unique towards you and no one else.

You remembered one night when Jay brought up how you and Sunghoon might as well date considering how Sunghoon is always staying back with you at the library until late after his practices. “Normal friends don’t do that — that’s too taxing,” he argued, pouting and gesticulating wildly as if he’s a prosecutor in court.

“Maybe he just wants to study,” you replied nonchalantly. Jay scoffed, “yeah right, did he ever?”

You ruminated for a bit, realising that most of the time, if not all of the time, he would just fall asleep. Jay clicked his tongue, “Never right? He just falls asleep, waking up only when you’re packing almost as if he’s there just to make sure he can walk you home.”

“Jay, you’re just projecting,” you shook your head dismissively.

Jay cocked his eyebrows and snapped back, “if we can measure just how romantically-dense you are, you could compare to an Osmium so you’re not one to speak.”

“Ugh whatever. He could also just be a naturally caring person. Caring people exist — even more so if they’re best buds,” you countered. Jay scoffed, “First things first, this is Sunghoon. Sure he has his caring moments but boy is not stupidly selfless, he has his priorities and skating as well as his wellbeing is at the top of that pyramid. So no, he wouldn’t just trade his good night’s sleep after skating practice, just to walk someone home because that someone is always silly enough to stay at the library until late”.

He continued, “at most, if you’re just like any other best bud of his, he would just continuously nag at you to go home early but no, for you, he actually stayed behind. Nothing else screams selfless devotion than that especially if it’s coming from him. Though I presume, it’s a win-win for him too because doing so means he gets to spend more time with you and he can also make sure that you get home safe. Also let me just add, I’m also your best bud and no, I will not do the same, sorry. At most, I will steal your backpack just to force you to go home in time.”

In another instance to shore up his ‘Sunghoon has feelings for you but you’re too dense’ agenda Jay would bring up Sunghoon’s subtle clinginess and protectiveness towards you, “it’s as if you’re his centre of gravity — he just orbits around you and sticks close to you. In a room full of people, he faces you — he might as well be a sunflower with you serving like his own sun. Then, in an area even with empty spaces elsewhere, he still stick close next to you that some parts his body would guarantee to touch yours, be it the shoulder, the arm, the finger — you get the drill.”

“Jay, that’s just rid-“

“Don’t even try — I have noticed sometimes he would link fingers with you or rub circles at the back of your hand when he’s bored too as if you’re his personal stress ball or something? Does that scream normal to you? Because dude we both are also close and while I can hug you just fine, I aint going to be rubbing circles at the back of your hand for no reason,” Jay asserted, looking smug as if you guys were on a debate and he’s winning, “Also, don’t get me started on all the protectiveness — combine it all, you guys just seem like you’re dating.”

You remember opening your mouth to protest but closed it as you couldn’t find an argument to retort back, remembering all the touches that lingered far longer than necessary that you could start to ‘consciously’ feel it, as if they were burning holes. Not that you’d complain though. While you’re not the touchiest person on earth, it’s not bothersome enough for you to point out. You also figured perhaps physical touches gives him some sort of comfort since he often asks for your hand when he’s nervous just to squeeze or hold it, as if it provides some relief, so you thought if it helps him in some way, you wouldn’t mind.

“Yeah, see? You two are like always compromising for one another, it’s disgustingly cute sometimes,” Jay rolled his eyes. Suddenly, as if unlocking a box of repressed memories, it all came rushing out in your mind like a film reel: the dilated pupils; the leaning-ins; the long hugs; the lingering touches; the shared utensils; the shared outerwear; the eyes-to-lips glances; and all his little remarks which, as much as you hated to admit, sometimes ruffled your feathers and make your heart flutter (just a bit, you tried to convince yourself).

“Jay, come on, you’re one of the most objective person I have met, so you know that these instances are not necessarily explicit romantic interests — they are just bordering on the caring, protective and no-boundaries spectrum — the spectrum that is widely open and susceptible to misinterpretations,” you argued back to Jay one day, “No explicit hard evidence, no credibility.”

As if reading your train of thought, Jay clicked his tongue, bringing you back to reality as he affirmed, “you wanted hard evidence all these while right? well that kiss is one hard evidence and if you are going to dismiss that like all the rest, you’re just in denial.”

You protested, “Okay but it’s not like he said ‘I love you’ after he kissed me so there’s still a possibility that he was just messing around. It’s a 7 minutes in heaven anyway, people are bound to kiss.”

Jay scoffed, “I’m sure he would have probably said ‘I love you’ if you let him but you’ve never given him the chance to explain anyway. Also, yeah sure there are people would just go ahead and make out in a 7 minutes in heaven casually or meaninglessly but not you two. Nu-uh, if you two do kiss in that circumstance, it aint casual that’s for sure.”

You shook your head dismissively, standing up and staring out of the window — trying to clear your mind again, “Jay stop — I don’t need your advice and input whatsoever. You wanted to know what happened and there you go I’ve told you all. I don’t want any unsolicited advice. You’re not helping anything but make me feel even worse. All I need now is to not think about him and about whatever happened that night.”

Jay threw his hands up in the air, giving up, “Fine, I’ll stop pestering or nagging you about this. I just- I don’t know. I love you both and it kills me to see you two like this. Pretty sure if others are as observant as me, they would have said the same thing. You guys have got to address it sooner or later.”

“… or perhaps with space and time, we can just move past as if it never happened,” you murmured. Indeed, whatever the reason behind the kiss was, it carried heavy ramifications to confront. If he was just messing around, he is as much of a prick as the the frat boys in school who thinks their good looks are licenses to transgress in actions. If he had meant it, then you’d need to confront it but the problem is you don’t know how you feel about him. Either way, both would change your friendship forever and you did not have the bandwidth to deal with it at the moment so you did the easiest thing: running away, at least buying some time until you’re ready to confront it.

“As if y/n,” Jay said scornfully, “admit it, you’re avoiding him even more now. At this rate instead of pretending the kiss never happened, you two would end up pretending your friendships never happened.”

Indeed, now that his ex has come into the picture, the prospect of the latter reason behind the kiss, which was already minuscule to you in the first place, diminished even more that you just did not want to entertain any of the possibilities any more and assumed the worst. Hence, your newfound resolve at avoiding him.

Except, unlike during the previous moments in campus when every instances of spotting signs of him would just trigger your flight response — nowadays, spotting him and his ex, both of which may as well be joined-at-hips given how they always come in pair, elicited a twinge of pain in your chest.

Sunghoon heaved a huge exasperated sigh as he fell for the umpteenth time in an attempt to land a Triple Axel that night — a feat that is usually easy for him until the past few weeks. Feeling frustrations welling up, he slammed the back of his skates against the ice beneath him, cracking parts of the surface, sending little shards of ice flying.

“Hey, watch it.”

He shot up, suddenly alarmed over the fact that he might have sent shards of ice flying towards an innocent fellow skater. As soon as he saw the person skating towards him though, his expressions softened and he laid back against the ice, “Oh, it’s just you.”

“Just me? Hello, this face is insured okay,” Jake, his best friend, whined, “Also, why is Park Sunghoon suddenly throwing tantrum like his 12-year old self again?”

“I guess old habits die hard,” Sunghoon mumbled, arms sprawled, eyes staring blankly at the dark night sky. He could feel his back getting damp from the ice but he could not care less.

“Get up now, this isn’t the Park Sunghoon I know,” Jake raised an eyebrow before offering Sunghoon a hand.

“How can I be the Park Sunghoon that everyone knows when I can’t even land the bloody axels,” Sunghoon grumbled as he grabbed Jake’s hand, “My skills are slipping and I don’t even know where it all went wrong. I didn’t miss a day of training, I slept well, kept myself fit and the list goes on.”

“Sure it’s your skills?” Jake gave him a knowing smile as he helped Sunghoon back up on his feet, “Just so you know. You have definitely been out of it as of late. Not that you’ve done a good job at hiding it anyway. Penny for your thoughts? Maybe you just need to let whatever is bothering you inside, out.”

Sunghoon skated towards the barrier while dusting his pants which were covered in some small shards of ice from the multiple falls, “I guess you were right.”

“Hmm?” Jake followed closely behind, “About what? The tantrums or you being a walking time bomb as of l-“

“That I’ve got it bad with y/n… that it will end up festering in uglier ways,” Sunghoon threw his head back, staring forlornly at the sky, “I kissed her that night … during the 7 minutes in heaven,” he blurted, surprised at his own honesty.

“You wh-“ Jake paused, his jaws agape, eyes wide, jabbering and gesticulating wildly, “Wait… back up— you kissed her? You? Park Sunghoon made such a bold move? This Park Sunghoon? I - wai- how come- how did- was there tongue tho-”

“Dude!” Sunghoon jabbed Jake in the ribs, looking slightly embarrassed, “Get your head out of the gutter man.”

“Oh,” Jake paused, suddenly realising the gravity of the conversation, “Oh right… If it was that kind of kiss you wouldn’t have turned into a walking time bomb like this, right? So I guess… she didn’t take it well?”

“I wouldn’t expect her to, I was being such a prick,” Sunghoon grumbled, “I… I might’ve just ruined our friendship together.”

“Hey, you don’t know that,” Jake elbowed him, “Not until you guys talk it out at least.”

“I don’t even think we can — she has been avoiding me like a plague. I initially thought it was all in my head but it’s bloody obvious that she has been avoiding me. I thought she just needed some space but 2 weeks in and she is still turning away at the slightest sight of me,” Sunghoon scoffed.

“Then go after her.”

“That is also the problem. I don’t know what to say if I do go after her. Heck, I don’t even know how I clearly feel,” Sunghoon sighed, running his hands through his hair.

“That’s probaby because you never confronted your feelings before,” Jake said as a matter-of-factly, “You just suppress and masks them — not that it hides any of it at all to be honest. It actually spills out like an overflowing sink through your actions.”

“You’re overreacting, I have never-“

“I’m overreacting?” Jake scoffed, “Who ended up kissing his own bestfriend? If those feelings were not so entrenched and repressed in the first place, they wouldn’t fester in such a way.”

Sunghoon sighed exasperatedly, throwing his head back, at loss for words.

Jake continued, “You probably don’t realise it but as someone who is prudent, overcautious and overtly pragmatic, you don’t go out of your way to be unnecessarily flirty, self-sacrificing nor outgoing. You do just enough, if you have to. Except towards her. Yes, only towards her. With her, you drop all your guards, you bend your ways, you compromise and you’re shamelessly you. It’s both endearing and bewildering at the same time especially given how you two are just friends. In fact, you weren’t even like this when you were still dating your ex, though that could probably be chalked up to the fact that you were still too young and immature back then.

“But anyway, going back,” Jake gesticulated, skating back and forth in front of Sunghoon, “you hate instability and insecurity so you go out of your way to make sure everything will be in order and will be secure for yourself. Thing is, you extend such an arduous effort towards her as well, like it’s second nature. Your hands/body is always protectively shielding her from any possible harm/inconvenience: the sidewalk; rowdy boys; open cabinets; rain; her fears. Your bag always carries things she might need: extra power bank; extra umbrella; extra charger; gastric cramps pills. And your time, although you already spend a lot of it in practice, the remainder of it you willingly devote to her: whether doing something fun or mundane, from just lounging around her in her place; accompanying her at the library until 4 AM just to walk her home; snowball fights at 3AM; and so on. It’s like she’s your Achilles heels.”

Jake sighed, stopping right in front of Sunghoon, eyes dead-set on his as if to emphasise a point, “So if a Park Sunghoon, a guy who will never let any weakness or vulnerability flourishes within, willingly keep such a kryptonite close, the affection has pretty much gone beyond surface-level attraction or short-term enamour Sunghoon. It’s already so deep and entrenched — it’s no longer friendship either. The kiss is basically the testament of that.”

Sunghoon finally lifted his head up, staring back at Jake in silence, contemplating his words seriously. In any normal time and day, he would have been too uncomfortable to talk about emotions and feelings in such depths that he would have immediately deflected, if not joked about it. But Jake’s words were ringing some sense into him. He’s been so knee-deep in an area that is so gray — he needed the enlightenment. Like a film reel, all past instances and moments play in his mind. The touches that lingered, almost as if it’s second nature, were essentially his feelings dripping over, slipping through the cracks of the walls that his pragmatic and overcautious mind have built. The sudden protectiveness over her whenever interest comes her way, despite having always told her to be less aromantic as a person, were simply his feelings festering into uncalled possessiveness.

“What if that ruins the friendship? Accepting the feelings and being honest about it?” Sunghoon muttered quietly.

Jake shrugged, “Not talking about it will also ruin it, don’t you think? Especially since you two seem to be avoiding one another after 2 weeks? At this point, there’s nothing to lose anymore. If you tell her how you honestly feel and she said she doesn’t feel the same way — then if the friendship falls apart there, at least there is a concrete reason behind it: love gets in the way or something. Way better then if the friendship falls apart without any closure simply because you two are too cowardly to talk your feelings out.

“Also, who is to say that she doesn’t feel the same way,” Jake added, “You said it yourself, she’s a paradox and kind of like a fortress in that it’s hard to get inside her mind — so who’s to say for certainty that she feels the opposite? What if she feels the same? Then that’s good news for you. In the same manner, what if she felt the same and yet you never asked her about it, that’s just one sad belated lovers trope that will leave you the rest of your life to regret over because you have just lost a potential love interest AND a best friend.”

Sunghoon sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, “But… she has ice in her veins, is the paragon of pessimism and cynicism, and is totally averse to anything that rhymes with romance. Come on Jake, you and me, we both have almost the same personality — wouldn’t you have avoided such slim chances too?”

“To be honest, if I’m already knee-deep in the muck, I would risk it no matter how slim,” Jake winked before turning Sunghoon around, his head jutting towards the building behind the rink as if telling him to look over there, “Let me just say, in matters of romance, timing is important and your risk-aversion and proneness towards overthinking can be your downfall.”

Sunghoon followed his gaze, wondering what it was that Jake wanted him to see. Through the glass-to-ceiling windows of the building, Sunghoon can see parts of the lobby on the ground floor, where a crowd was forming, either dancing, chatting away or playing beer-pong. Right in the hallway of the first floor however, which was also visible through the large windows, he saw a familiar figure: it was you, smiling widely with a box in hand, before breaking into a fit of laughter, doubling over. It was a sight that has been imprinted in his mind for he had shared such fits of laughter with you countless of times. Almost as if on auto-pilot, the corner of his lips lifted into a smile, his hearts leaping, realising just how much he had missed seeing that bright smile upfront.

His smile slowly faltered however as soon as he saw the source of your laughter: it was Jay, gesticulating wildly in front of you, before pulling you close into a playful head lock. Suddenly, he can feel the familiar sinking feeling in his chest — as if knots were forming. He had the same feeling when he saw Heeseung getting close to you. As of late however the feeling also grew in intensity and frequency when he saw you with Jay but something else was brewing together with it, something akin to contempt. He can’t help but feel bitterness seeing how the spot, which has always been his, seem to gradually be overtaken by Jay. He hated how close you two have been especially when to him, you’ve been cold instead. Jake was right, his feelings were really festering in ugly ways. Worse, Jay was also his bestfriend and yet not even such bond could shield Jay.

He gradually saw what Jake had meant about how his mind had always silenced his feelings. Because now, seeing you so close in proximity to Jay, all he saw was red, effectively silencing his mind which in normal times would have gone on overdrive in justifying what he saw. Only then though, while basking in the silence of his mind, can he really feel the depth of his feelings for you because right then all he wanted was to walk up to you and tell you that you avoiding him was killing him, that he feels like he’s losing you and most importantly, that he loves you more than a best friend.

And that Jay should piss off.

Thus, hit by a newfound resolve to set things straight, you were everything Sunghoon looked for in the crowd since that night. Unfortunately, like parallel lines that is bound to never meet, you had a newfound resolve too, which involved avoiding him at all cost. So what followed during the next few days was him going after you the moment he spotted you, pushing past the crowd as if possessed, and you slipping away and disappearing quicker than he could call out your name.

In the rare instances when he actually caught up with you, insisting that you two talk, you found yourself lying shamelessly, saying that you’re busy currently and that you will talk to him later. Of course, you won't. In fact, you would ensure that never happened. Despite the excuses though, Sunghoon was no quitter, not this time, not on you, he told himself. If anything, the more you run away and throw excuses, the more emblazoned his resolve was.

Hence why he acted like a vulture stalking its prey on the night of the farewell party — the last night of the outing. Despite the rowdy crowd and the cacophony of noises, all he could see in the room full of people was you.

“You are boring holes onto her,” Jake whispered, noticing how his best friend had not taken his eyes off y/n even for a second ever since the speech started.

“I can’t let her disappear again tonight,” Sunghoon sighed, his foot tapping nervously on the wooden floor, wondering why the Student Union president have to prepare such a long speech, “It’s tonight or never.”

Just then he felt someone’s hand wrapping over his arm. He looked over to his left. It was his ex, “Hi Sunghoon, I booked some gears. Join me for skiing tonight yeah?”

“No I can't, sorry,” Sunghoon muttered, slipping his arm off of her grasps, “Bring someone else instead.”

“Oh come on,” she tilted her head, flashing the smile she is famed for, the one that used to work so well with him, “just cancel your plans. It’s our last night, we should just spend it together.”

Sunghoon sighed, not even bothering to mask the annoyance within, “Look, maybe you’re misunderstanding something but… we have long been over. Please don’t mistake my amicability over the past few weeks as something else — it isn’t. I was just being nice as a senior. That’s it.”

“Wow, did you have to be that harsh?” Her smile disappeared in an instant, “I thought-“

But Sunghoon did not hear the rest of what she wanted to say for when he glanced to where you had stood earlier, you were long gone. His heart sank and panic quickly took hold that he immediately took off, looking around warily, ignoring the calls of his ex and ignoring the annoyed grunts of the people he had bumped shoulders with.

“No…” he mumbled to himself as he couldn’t spot a single sign of you in the room.

He really felt like he was losing you this time.

Having just quietly and discreetly left the hall where the farewell party was held, you quickly scurried across the hallway, heading back towards your room. You knew if you stayed any longer until the end of Jungwon’s speech, Jay would have roped you into a series of stupid party games — the last one of which ended in catastrophe for you. You shook your head, refusing the let the memory play in your mind. As you were about to take a turn towards the lobby however, you felt someone’s strong grip over your wrist, yanking you towards the other direction that you almost lose your balance. Before you could even react, you found yourself unwittingly getting shoved into the coat closet nearby.

“What the he-“ you yelled but stopped mid-sentence as your eyes slowly adjust to the dimmed lighting of the small room, gradually registering that the figure in front of you was the last person you wanted to be alone with, “Sunghoon?”

“I’m sorry,” he let go of your wrist as his other hand swiftly lock the door behind him, “I have no choice, we have to talk but you kept on running away from me.”

“No I haven’t,” you lied, yet again, “I was just… really busy.”

“Yeah right,” he scoffed, the tone his voice did not mask the annoyance within — clearly he had enough of your excuses, “Well, if that really is true and you have not been avoiding me then you should have no problem with us having a conversation alone in here then.”

“Of course,” you answered almost immediately, trying your best to look and sound unfazed. Please don’t talk about the kiss, please don’t talk about the kiss, please-

“About that night,” he mumbled, swallowing thickly, “I’m sorry… for kissing you. I didn’t- I wasn’t thinking straight.”

“Oh,” you managed, suddenly feeling a lump in your throat as his last few words play repeatedly in your mind like a broken radio. While you had constantly convinced yourself that the kiss had meant nothing, the ‘confirmation’ had stung more than you expected. Ignoring the pain the twinge of pain in your chest, you feigned nonchalance, casually shrugging, “It’s fine. I thought so too.”

You gave him a small smile as you headed towards the door, pushing past him. The lump in your throat felt too much to ignore. To your surprise however, Sunghoon’s hand quickly flung over the doorknob. “I’m not done yet,” he muttered, blocking your way.

You stared at him in disbelief, crossing your arms, “Sunghoon what now? You didn’t mean the kiss and it wasn’t a big deal to me. We can just move past it. Just pretend it never happened. Case closed.”

“But I don't want to pretend,” he scoffed with a slight twitch of eyebrows, looking offended.

“Then what do you want?” you sighed exasperatedly.

“I want us to address the elephant in the room,” he pressed on.

“We just did,” you cried out, “you were messing around and I don’t take any offen-“

“I never said I was messing around!” he retorted with a scowl. The edge in his voice making it obvious that he has had enough with you deflecting from the real issue, “the kiss was not thought through, yes. But it wasn’t meaningless. I did not kiss you just for the fun of it, you know I wouldn’t.”

“It’s fine, it’s 7 minutes in heaven anyway — it’s not out of place. I wouldn’t hold it against you,” you mustered, sighing weakly, “Sunghoon, let’s just drop this okay. It’s all in the past, no one cares and no one knows. Your ex is here now, I won't want to ruin anything. That night was just like a fever dream, I won’t say a thing so let’s forget it and move on—“

“You know what, stop. If you don’t let me say what I want to say, we’re both going to be in this cramped closet all night long,” Sunghoon glowered, “Maybe you dont care. But I do. And what the hell is this about my ex? I don’t understand how she fits into all these, into us. If there’s anything that is in the past and will always be — it would be her. Not us, not the kiss. We need to address that and you, YOU need to listen.”

“Well, where are we going with this. I already said that it’s fi-“

“I love you,” Sunghoon blurted out as his patience all dried up and just like that, your train of thoughts crashed, rendering you speechless. His gaze slowly softened as he stared into your eyes, repeating with greater conviction this time, "I love you more than I should for a best friend, y/n."

"N-no you don't," you stammered, "Maybe you're mistaken..."

"Oh trust me, if this had been one whole misunderstanding, the feelings would not have lingered for this long. Growing, even," Sunghoon muttered, "Look, I know we both hate talking about feelings or rather feeling feelings of these kinds but I have to. I have sat on them for the longest time and look at what it has done instead, it just intensified, festering in uglier ways, to you and even to others."

"The feelings spill like an overflowing sink through my actions which, as many have pointed out, are too caring, affectionate and protective between just friends," he swallowed thickly, "then came other people, forcefully entering our little protective bubble. That's when the feelings took an uglier turn. It was very selfish of me, I know. By being a coward, I never let you know of how I truly feel about you and yet when others outrightly showed such interest and affection towards you, I turned possessive and defensive, as if I owned you in the first place."

"But my selfishness will cause me to lose you at this rate," he muttered softly, "so I made my mind to stop being a coward and stop being so avoidant with regards to my romantic feelings and interests. So no, I was not messing around with you, never have been. On the contrary, I am in love with you. Have been, still am and I would like to continue loving you in such a way if you let me."

He stared at you expectantly but no coherent words form except for a jumble of mess as your mind was thrown in disarray, " I- I don't know... how-" you sighed, "Sunghoon, there are better people for you out there, that's for sure."

“to me, no one is,” he said adamantly.

“No—,” you croaked, “I mean, we have been best friends for more than 2 years so you know how very non-girlfriend material I am. I am far from that caring, affectionate and nurturing girlfriend that you deserve. I am also very frustrating to be with, even more so as a girlfriend."

“Like you said, we have been best friends for quite long now — if those qualities put me off, they would have. But they never did. In fact, even after 2 years, you never cease to amaze and enamour me,” he reassured, “Sure sometimes your behaviour and personality can be painted as indifferent, workaholic, emotionally-detached whatnot but I see the flip side of it more, that you’re hardworking; gritty; impartial; and wise. You don’t just enamour me, you drive me to be a better person too. I love that about you and I like myself better when I’m with you too".

He continued, murmuring softly, “I just want to clarify that whatever you respond me with, I didn’t confess to you just so I can get my feelings reciprocated. I just don’t want you to misunderstand, given your predisposition to pessimism and cynicism. Most importantly, given your stellar record at self-deprecation, I genuinely want you to know that someone is capable of falling and staying in love with you. You effortlessly give so much vibrancy and zest to my life — you’re like my reprieve and it would pain me so deeply to lose you. So if you let me, I’d very much love to continue being by your side but would even love to able to transcend the constraints of best friends — without having to hold back and without having to overthink whether what I do is excessive for friends.”

You stared away, the gravity of his words weighing heavily in the air, stirring your mind into complete shambles. You have hardly ever ruminated the nature of your friendship with Sunghoon mainly because you know the more you overthink about certain moments, the more romantic feelings possibly flourish and to let that happen with a campus heartthrob is just like setting yourself up for a heartbreak. So you never did. No matter how much you two compromises for another — something you two often do for each other only and sometimes transcending that of bestfriends' norms — you’d just play it off as something casual. Even when your heart sinks when you see him getting close to some other girls — you’d bury such feelings without facing it, smothering yourself with extra work and distancing yourself.

But Sunghoon will always come around — like gravity, he always finds you and like earth orbiting around the sun, you two always stick to each other — realising that you two are each other’s constant amid the chaos you two face independently in your lives.

“Y/n,” Sunghoon spoke up again, breaking your train of thoughts, “I won’t force you to answer me now nor accept me — you can take all the time to think about it but just promise me one thing? Don’t disappear on me. Whether it’s a ‘no’ or ‘I’m not sure’ or ‘I’m not ready’ — I’ll accept them all. But just, at least for the sake of our friendship, don’t let it hang in the air. Let it have a conclusion, good or bad.”

Mustering a weak smile, he slowly backed away towards the door, “I’ll go now. I’m sorry for having kidnapped you in such a cramped room. This could have been done in a grander space but well, I was desperate.”

Trepidation filled your heart as you watch him turn around, about to exit the room. You’re not one to act very rashly but at that moment — things seemed so fleeting that you just blurted out anything you can think of, not wanting him to leave, “What if — what if it doesn’t work out?”

He stopped, turning around. Not missing a heartbeat, he replied, “We don’t know that. In the worst case that it doesn’t — it’s better than never pursuing it because we’re afraid of the risk isn’t it? That’s what you always tell me. That you always regret things you don’t say and don’t do, more than things you’ve said or done — it’s the same for me. And this time, I refuse to fall in the same trap. Not when you, us, are on the line.”

“What if,” you paused, “... what if I turn out worst than you expect? That I can’t be who you want me to be?”

“You don’t have to be anyone — it’s you who I fell for,” he uttered, “I’ve met thousands of people, many of which are more emotionally-transparent, doting, caring, and affectionate, than you and yet it’s you who I just fell back to — you who I gravitate towards. Even when it takes you ages to reply to my text; even if you reply me sarcastically instead of sweetly; even if you don’t hug me when I wish you would; even if you’re always glaring at me instead of looking at me adoringly; even when I always have to make the first move in contacting you — you’re greater than the sum of your parts and that’s who I fell for.”

“Aren’t you scared? If it doesn't work out at the end. It will just hurt," you reasoned.

“I hate uncertainties — you know that well. But you’re the exception,” his lips curl into a slight smile as if assuring you, “I’ll traverse the great unknown and take the risks if it’s for you.”

You stared at him, ruminating deeply. Sunghoon let go of the door, walking towards you instead. You held his gaze as he walked closer towards you, "So, y/n, what do you say? Would you go out with me and be my other half from here onwards?"

You have never imagined that you would ever date anyone, let alone that person being your own best friend. You have always been so aversed towards the idea of romance and dating for yourself. You have never viewed yourself so highly either so you never would have imagined anyone to ever like you in such a way, let alone that person being your own best friend. But now standing so close to him, with all possible repressed feelings hashed out, it all felt — weirdly natural. You thought it would have put you into a pickle — that it would all turn South. Yet, it felt weirdly natural — as if things are falling into place, as if this was how it was supposed to be. All in all, you were surprised by how, deep down, you felt as if you had known the answer already, "Sure. Let’s try it then.”

Sunghoon's serious wary expressions gradually softened, his lips curling into a wide sheepish smile, before he dropped his head momentarily as if trying to prevent you from seeing his facial expressions. You tilted your head slightly, trying to meet his, "What? are you shy now? after confessing a whole essay to me?"

He schooled his expressions as soon as he lifted his head back up, pressing his lips in a thin line as if trying to suppress the glee within from escaping again, "Pffft, you're still so dense. I'm not shy. I'm overjoyed, silly."

You snorted, "uh-huh sure."

"Want to me to prove it?" he bit his lips, reaching over to your hand before pulling you closer towards him. His smile begin faltering as the proximity between you two grew, filling the air with heavy tension. You swallowed thickly as his gaze bore intently onto yours. You were opening your mouth, about to say something but before you could do so, he had leaned in, pressing his lips onto yours gently — a stark contrast with the harsh collision from the last time. Stunned, your shoulders stiffened as your heart begin to race uncontrollably. Noticing your stiffened body, he softly wrapped his hand over the side of your neck, his fingertips gently caressing your nape — feeling like butterflies against your skin. You gradually warmed up to his soft touch, allowing yourself to slowly ease up, letting his lips melt onto yours. You can feel him smile against the kiss before he momentarily pull away, his eyes gazing intently to yours, softly muttered a ‘thank you’. You smiled back, surprised by how comfortable you were with the proximity. He latched his lips back onto yours, as if they were magnets. This time, his other hand snaked over your back, pulling you closer, closing any small space in between, as he deepened the kiss. Any worries and thoughts slowly dissipated from your mind as the kiss grew in intensity, his soft lips dancing against yours, his body pressing onto you, backing you up slowly to the wall.

"Oh shit."

You immediately pulled away from Sunghoon, startled by the voice that followed the sound of the closet door opening. It was Jay, standing by the doorway, looking horrified, "I know I said you guys should stop avoiding one another but making out was really not really what I was suggesting--" he was saying before stopping himself, realizing what might have unfolded. With a coy smirk, he nodded, closing the door, "you know what, sorry, please continue," he pulled the door shut as quietly as possible as if he had not just flung the door opened earlier, before you hear him yell to others across the hall, "Guys, the closet is occupied. Don’t go near it!"

Not even a second after, Sunghoon begin to lean in again, about to lock his lips with yours again but your hand immediately flew over to his chest, trying to stop him from leaning in completely.

"Dude, he just walked in on us," you reminded, bewildered at just how unfazed Sunghoon looked. He just shrugged, his hands tightly wrapping itself around your waist, "No big deal. Sooner or later, he'll find out anyway. I will make sure of that," he smirked playfully, his eyes flitted from your eyes to your lips, realizing he had found out more things about you that is so addicting, "Also, who cares about that, you heard what he said, the closet is all ours."

A/N: Phew, finally it’s done. I hope the wait has been worth it :3 Again, thank you for loving part 1 and for sticking by. I would appreciate it if you guys can comment on how I did for this Part 2 hehe — that would massively help me from sliding into another round of writer’s block. Have a great day/night everyone :3

Masterlist // Work in Progress

#enhypen #enhypen imagines #enhypenwriters #enhypen sunghoon #enhypen sunghoon imagines #park sunghoon #enhypen scenarios #enhypen fluff #kpop imagines #sunghoon imagines #sunghoon scenarios #enhypen sunghoon scenarios #kpop scenarios #enhypen x reader #enhypen x female reader

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