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how to unsubscribe to dating

SUMMARY: on april 18th, hansol likes his favorite youtuber’s instagram picture. not because of her content—though, he finds himself laughing at all of her weekly videos—but because he thinks she’s gorgeous. that is how it ends. just a like on a picture that no one will see.

three years later and after a tough break-up, the internet hates her and a misstep has hansol dragged into the drama. now, everyone thinks they are dating and what a better way to gain subscribers and have millions on views on their videos? just let them think it’s real and work on a whole season of dare videos for the world to enjoy.

only that it is not so easy, one can subscribe to a youtube channel but not really unsubscribe to falling in love.

TITLE: how to unsubscribe to dating.

PAIRING: chwe hansol x reader

GENRE: youtuber!au ; fake dating-ish!au ; youtube drama!au ; strangers to friends to lovers!au ; idiots in love!au

WORD COUNT: 14,014 words

GENRE: fluff ; humor ; drama ; angst if you squint ; suggestive

NOTE: this was a kofi request! if you want me to write anything, you can go over there and request something from me.

The secret to color theory is that there are primary colors, and the rest are just blend-able shades that would not exist without bases, foundations and ‘trials-and-errors’. In some sense, we correlate the color of our lives to that primary stance—we are red, we are yellow…the intensity that we want to be. How we want to counterpart in a main role that, inherently, sometimes won’t be settled upon us. The saddening truth of being a purple, or a lime green.

She would have never imagined herself to be anything more than a yellow. She said, when she was younger, that her voice would be so high that the annoying tone that came with her made her stand out in any crowd. Yellow. And then came heartbreak, teenage years, the blending with a pure gray or a black undertone that could never get her to darken her soul. It was more like a mustard yellow. Lulled. Not as bright. Just wishing upon standing out again, blending nicely with everyone, but always sticking out like a sore thumb. Hard to look in the eyes.

For the past two months, she felt like she was back to her bright yellow. To smiles with all teeth, shared with Jay as he wrapped his arms around her shoulder; to late-night talks with the phone screen glaring across her vision as she whispered small ‘I don’t want to go’s. Relatively, that comes to a stop. Because, in the eyes of a man that she dated with the dumbfounded hope to finally meet the love of her life, she was never yellow. God, he’d cringe at the mere sound of the Coldplay song. She was brown.

As in shitty brown.

Jay should be better than this. In actuality, after how everything fell down with a break-up text that he never really responded to, she doesn’t think he’s better, but hey, common sense is a thing still, isn’t it? As a YouTuber, quite like her, who shared the same interests and niche with a commentary channel based on pop-culture, one would think that he would not incorporate their ‘not-that-talked-about’ relationship in a Tweet. Though, maybe she had seen him as a bright blue, when he’s nothing but—at best—a plum or a dark gray.

You know, like having concrete between your teeth. Not that pleasurable, neither something she wants to try again.

@notthatjay_lee: how does that song go? a, b, c, d, e, f…thank you for wasting my motherfucking time.

She chuckles. Actually, full-on laughs when sitting on the counter at her kitchen, trying or supposedly about to edit her newest video commenting on Disney’s old shows and how she binge-watched them on a brim. Not that the viewers should know that she watched the entirety of Hannah Montana in a week because she was going through a break-up and crying for the asshole that Jay Lee is, but she needed to update after being a month away.

She continues scrolling, watching the thread that has formed in the tweet and the hundreds of comments that tag her. They weren’t precisely out as a relationship, but it was known. They went to conventions together, appeared in pictures with fans tagged together. It wasn’t hidden under the rug, but it was also not blasted out of proportion like Jay is doing right now.

He responded to a fan.

@jaysassissick: We are here for you, Jay! I can’t believe what some bitches can do for fame.

@notthatjay_lee: imagine getting cheated on by someone who can’t even reach a million subscribers. lol. can sadly relate.

“You just didn’t…” She mutters to herself, standing up and closing her laptop with a bang. More notifications pop up, from all social media that she could muster. Pictures tagged of the two of them together coming up with headlines that read commentary-channel YouTubers feuding. Cheating. Cheater, out of all things.

And that’s the thing about women. If they are not colors that blend well with the primary ones, like men expect to be, they are tarnished and burned to ashes to stay in the ground. That was her case, in which her silence was the ignition of a chain of events that now are out of her reach. None of those people that keep harassing her online can know that Jay had been distant the past month; that he’d spend more of his days running away from her than actually trying to put effort into the relationship.

That it’d be more looking through social media to see him commenting on pictures of his supposed ‘friends’ wearing bikinis and his phone hidden with his face down whenever they were together. It was not confirmed, of course, she didn’t have enough proximity with him, neither did they live together for her to confirm that her suppositions were true, but something she knows. Jay is not a saint, neither is she for the rage that builds within her like a Lego house that burns with the unsatiable need of revenge.

She almost believes that the best way to go about this is making it as public as he is. However, she knows she’s better. Yellow, bright, shining, as she has always been, just shadowed by someone who was envious of how burning her colors could be. Hence, she puts her phone down after turning it off, quite like he did whenever a fight ensued between the two and he would play the victim card with a pout to his lips. She thinks about it—the video she is supposed to edit, the pictures on her phone she has yet to delete and the revival, that word that speaks about new beginnings and definitely, a smirk that tells the past that she’s doing much better.

For now, she’s just alone in her apartment. With a bowl of noodles that has gone cold and a heart that is palpitating far too fast, for heartbreak isn’t easy, much less when it’s this open, but she can think of ways of getting back to Jay, whether the public knows it’s directly thrown his way or not.

She owes this man nothing.

“Jeonghan, I need you recording my shit. Not looking at your phone.”

With a hand quipping closed as if asking for Hansol’s lips to remain shut, Jeonghan remains as relaxed as he had been when they started recording this weekly’s recap. Though, while Hansol had been stumbling over his lines—as per usual on a Saturday morning, that’s the only time they could meet up because Seungcheol was going on a trip this weekend for his cousin’s wedding—, Jeonghan had frankly lost his mind to whatever is showcased in his phone. So far in the text he’s reading, which Hansol is certain is not a book, that he leaned back on one of the love seats in Hansol’s office, propped his knees to his chest in fetal position and lurked through whatever caught his interest like a lion looking for his prey.

“The moment you can get a word out without stuttering is the moment we start recording.” Jeonghan runs a hand through his black hair, covering the rudeness of his words with a soft smile. Hansol knows better than to take Jeonghan’s words close to heart, but still.

“I just needed some more coffee.”

Seungcheol enters the room then, with a new Starbucks drink since Hansol decided to steal his. “You drank my macchiato.” With a slap on the back of Hansol’s head, the man takes a seat on the other empty love-seat, as if there is not a whole video to be recorded and posted on Monday. “But Hansol’s not wrong. I have to get on that plane at four and it’s nine in the morning. We can get through this video if we just start recording it.”

Jeonghan doesn’t respond and Hansol takes this time to sigh deeply and toss his head back. Things were easier when posting a YouTube video wasn’t so…meticulous. At the beginning, just over eight years ago, Hansol had posted a video on social media that had gotten quite visibly viral. He had over a million views in just fourteen hours, breaking records somehow, making it to meme accounts and Vine compilations. Stupid as it could get, it was a video of Hansol wearing a swimming hat and those aesthetic sunglasses that resembled John Lennon’s style, with Jeonghan zooming in on the frame and him saying: ‘bitch’ before the video came to an end.

It had literally no context, but he made a living out of it.

That’s how he launched his career, changed the name and created an online persona. He called himself Zach, sporting bright and quite frankly unfitting outfits and making meme weekly recaps. He spoke about what was new on the Internet, made fun of some videos, never quite made it to the commentary channel spectrum but became a voice that over ten million people had subscribed to. No one knew that his real name was Hansol, or that he wasn’t as outspoken as he was in his videos. Never an opinion that breaks or makes a room.

Jeonghan grabs the coffee mug from Seungcheol’s hold, ignoring the man’s complaints to take a sip. “I think I have a topic we need to add to this week’s review.” He finally pulls away from his original position, biting down on his lip like he does when he has an idea that he can’t keep on the depths of his chest. “Have you heard about the newest drama with Jay Lee?”

Hansol crosses his arms across his chest, sitting on the edge of the desk that holds his computer, always in front of him in his videos. “Jay…Lee? Doesn’t ring a bell for me.”

“You know, the TikTok guy who makes POV’s videos.” Jeonghan urges on, tossing a glance towards Seungcheol who finally snatches his drink before giving a curt nod.

“Even I remember who he is.”

“How many guys don’t make ridiculous videos on TikTok?” Hansol prompts, only to have Jeonghan sighing.

“He was known on YouTube for his music videos and parodies. You know how that went a little bit downhill lately, so his niche has changed. Makes videos every once in a while.” Jeonghan includes in his narrative, turning his phone around to show a picture of a man he now recognizes. Damn, even in his beginnings as a YouTuber, Jay Lee already had a bunch of people under his name. With long, tossed back black hair, tattoos that scatter across a slim, tall body and a pair of glasses that always rest on the brim of his straight nose. He was of interest for a bunch of people on the Internet, even to this day.

“What about him?” Hansol questions, only to have Jeonghan clapping his hands once.

“He’s burning the Internet with his latest allegations. He was dating a commentary channel YouTuber, though they never accepted it, but he’s making the allegations that she cheated on him and has announced that he’s releasing a diss track to explain everything.” He’ll never understand how the world revolves around drama, but Jeonghan gives more explanation by saying her name and giving him the phone once again.

The picture shows a couple together with a fan, and he recognizes her with far more ease. He remembers last summer, when he would spend most of his afternoons laughing about her videos with the graphics she made. Very rarely does her face show on her videos, but she draws a little character that speaks, through her commentary, about the topic at hand. Always a show. A video. A meme. Hell, he thinks that she once talked about him on a video years ago.

Jay is much taller than her, with his arm wrapped around her shoulder, squishing their cheeks together as they hold peace signs, her hand interlocked with the young fan’s. They didn’t look necessarily in love, but close enough to it. Like the beginning of a love that had just started to flourish.

“What has he said?” Seungcheol questions, now interested in the topic.

“What hasn’t he said? He has spent the past three days creating a YouTube war. He has even dropped her name a few times, tagging her, asking her to be upfront because she has escaped the internet. MIA and all.”

Hansol can’t imagine how tough it is to go through a break-up where the other person is trying to plot everyone against her. Sure, he’s not certain if she cheated, but he takes his own phone to look through Twitter, seeing him post pictures of the two of them together—clearly personal, never seen by anyone but them—, adding thread after thread of how in love he was with her and how badly she broke his heart. It seemed like he was bleeding through a wound that was never quite as open as he made it out to be.

“What an asshole.” He mutters, getting closer to the computer and writing something down on his script. “I think we can add it to this week’s episode. The last bit. Just for a few clicks and because…he’s really getting out of control.”

“And everyone is supporting him.” Jeonghan adds, shrugging his shoulders. “Would be nice to give an opinion that isn’t sided one way or the other.”

“…That’s putting Hansol against a man that has just about the same following as him. Including him in the war isn’t going to do the channel any good.”

Hansol looks up at that moment, raising his eyebrows and weighting the options. Seungcheol isn’t wrong, but he knows this is a topic that needs to be talked about. Break ups on the internet. Where some people post videos crying and hugging for the last time, while others take their following to side with them as if it was a parent going through divorce.

“Yes, but this whole Zach character is about that. Speaking about what I think is wrong, right or funny…and these tweets? Stupid, borderline funny, over-line worrying.”

Seungcheol takes a sip of his macchiato, bringing a shoulder up in nonchalance. “I’ll have to take care of the mess after, but if that’s what’s going to bring the views, go for it.”

Is he really doing it for views, though? Or maybe, he just thinks it’s inherently wrong to destroy someone’s career that way, until they are too afraid to go on the internet because of hate. Jay Lee will have to learn a lesson about being made fun of.

@notthatjay_lee: glad to know the mystery’s resolved. @chwethatzach you’ve cleared the rumors up. song coming in three days!

Hyeji had said it seven months ago when she started liking Jay, as she flipped on tarot decks, spread them neatly on the coffee table between them, speaking through a cloud caused by the blunt between her lips. Jay Lee’s an imbecile, he’ll break your heart. She didn’t listen, because in her mind all men go through a phase of being overly-confident and, quite frankly, assholes. She opted to believe that Jay was willing to change and talk, venturing into a friendship and then, into whatever kind of relationship they had held that now is a complete disaster.

Her best friend, Moon Hyeji, runs her fingers through her dirty hair after showing her the tweet that Jay had just posted. Tagging her after, nonetheless. Hyeji, as wild as she is, with long locks of wavy hair and a rose tattoo on the column of her neck, had called Jay just a day ago, telling him to back off before she took legal actions. Taking it from the woman who is the daughter of one of the richest men in the country, a businessman nonetheless, Jay should have taken it a little bit more seriously. Hence, he doesn’t.

“What the fuck do I even have to do with that dude?” She questions, finally standing up from her position on Hyeji’s lap. Ever since this issue went to absolute hell, with the diss track incoming and a handful of people making drama videos about the timeline of their very short-lived relationship, Hyeji had travelled all the way from London to get here and eat piles of ice cream while bad-mouthing Jay. Only that it didn’t help her the slightest.

She wants to talk, but she doesn’t know how to go on about the issue. Fueling the problem even more if just going to have his fans speaking with more fervor, and just like how he doesn’t have proof of her cheating, she also doesn’t have anything to defend herself with about not cheating.

“There’s a video, apparently…” Hyeji roams through her phone with long nails before she displays her screen on the TV in front of them. The image that loads is of the start of a video of someone she knows somewhat well, for she really likes Zach Chwe’s videos, or at least, she can catch up on them every once in a while.

Zach has always been a little different than most. He feels like a true friend that one can talk with as he launches in that green chair of his, always wearing clothes that leave everything to the imagination and would have everyone talking about him. He’s wearing a tie-dye hoodie, as per usual in some of his videos, with an apron on top of it that reads ‘the chef’s dead’ and a pair of sunglasses that rest on top of his brown hair. His soft eyebrows move with each of his words, firstly greeting his audience, then speaking about the newest memes found on the internet.

“He must have spoken about your issue with Jay.”

“How so? He never talks about drama.” She asks, getting a look from Hyeji who clears her throat soon after.

“People believe he’s the one guy Jay is saying you cheated with.” Her best friend whispers, moving through the video, getting fast glimpses of Zach laughing, tossing his head back, speaking through slim lips and using his ring-cladded hands to express his points. Only three minutes before the video ends does the image of Jay with her and a fan comes on the screen, earning Hyeji a few taps on her shoulder.

“There! There! Stop the video there!”

The darkness of her room, reeking the smell of orange chicken and diet soda, is bathed in the light of Zach Chwe as he rolls on his chair and says: “There’s a reason us men are called assholes and I think it’s because Jay Lee exists. Okay, I’m not anyone to be putting my opinion here and I usually stay away from these things, so I’m not sure if she cheated or not…but isn’t it, at least, the best thing you can do to spell correctly as you’re dissing your ex?”

Then, the screen shows screenshots of Jay’s tweets, bathed in hate, writing in the worst possible way and yet, with a few errors.

She hadn’t noticed that as she got drowned into the drama that he had created, so she smiles for what feels like the first time this week.

“You don’t even spell that well, Zach!” Someone shouts from the background, and she knows Zach Chwe normally has his friends putting in some words for spice on his videos, but she actually laughs along with him.

“More of a reason to critique, I guess.” He shrugs his shoulders. “But hey, remember those Facebook videos we talked about a few weeks ago? If you haven’t checked it out, I’ll leave the link to that video on the description, but we were making fun about those mom videos where they make their daughters fearful of sending nudes because some creep will post them on their Facebook page. I thought men like that didn’t exist, until I figured out this whole Jay Lee thing. He’s a hair away from posting a picture of her feet, I tell you so.”

The video doesn’t last much long after that, with Zach making fun of Jay’s tweets and then, the camera zooming in on his face for an outro recalling his beginnings online. However, Hyeji has fallen silent, with her knees propped under her chin, using her free hand to caress the column of her ear, as always, seeking for a way of making her feel better through touch.

“This sounds…like the internet is going insane.” Hyeji then reaches for her phone, shaking in the air. “Come on, unlock it and turn on your notifications again!”

“What? Why?” She is not sure she’s ready to lurk through social media once again, Hyeji has been doing that for her instead, like her little manager, blocking the hate that gets real and personal.

“Jay is playing it off as if Zach Chwe is the one that you’re dating, or the one you cheated on him with.”

“I didn’t cheat on him—

“I know, but he’s trying to get views and I need to know if Zach’s team contacted you, so open that phone and get a pair of balls for what we’re about to face.”

A pair of balls would be little to what she needs once she opens Twitter and Instagram.

On Instagram, she has been tagged on a bunch of pictures. Headlines that include her profile picture on YouTube and Zach Chwe’s picture. Titles that go on the rampant lie of ‘YouTube Stars Zach Chwe and OfDrawingsAndWords on a relationship!’ scattering across her vision on every platform she comes across of.

“I’m doomed. Jay keeps winning no matter what I do—”

“Because you haven’t said anything. You’re protecting him even when he’s trying to destroy you.” Hyeji advices, pushing on her Instagram notifications until she sees it, a direct message from the YouTuber who is implicated on this drama with her, nonetheless. “So, you either take the reigns right here, right now or Jay Lee is going to drown your career before it even reached the shore.”

Shaking fingertips reach for the Instagram message, closing her eyes tightly until she opens it.

“Read it.”

“Come on…” Hyeji trails, clasping the phone in her hands. “I know it’s been tough, but I don’t need you hiding away.”

“I’m scared! This guy has nothing to do with me!” She screeches, slapping her hand on her shoulder only to have Hyeji looking at her. With that softness that characterizes her under all her strength.

“Alright…” Hyeji whispers, soon after reading out loud. “Hey, it’s Zach Chwe. I’m sorry that my comments involved us in a mess bigger than what you already had going on and my team and I want to make mends on the issue I just created. Do you mind talking about it, in person or with my PR team getting in contact with you? Sorry for the inconvenience once again.”

Hyeji takes in a deep breath before tossing herself onto the half-done bed.

“We’re talking about it in person.”

“…Uh, we’re not.” She finalizes, trying to snatch her phone back but Hyeji isn’t relenting. Though, she’s not as rude as one would imagine, she still consenting by looking her way and expecting her to change her mind. “Hyeji, I don’t want to see anyone right now. Jay’s blowing everything out of proportion—”

“Reason as to why you shouldn’t hide. Zach Chwe can be a great person to have on your side right now. The internet loves him, and now they’re not as cruel. You have to see the comments, people are torn just because he is involved.”

That makes her ponder, inspecting every portion of Hyeji’s face to find some fun or joke in her features, but she’s full-on serious. Not a drop of insecurity in those quirked eyebrows. She sighs deeply, taking the phone in her hands and seeing the sign that reads ‘you follow each other’. Why is it that people naturally gravitate towards what a man can say or not, even when she has been expecting to be trusted by anyone online and no one seemed to be by her side?

No one but him and a few people. Even the friends that she had collaborated with several times had taken his side.

Hence, she starts typing, not caring about the consequences of fueling the fire a little bit more, because she’s already getting burned, but she won’t relent without a fight.

“I’m down with meeting up so we can sort out how we will go on about this. You select the place and the time. Thank you for getting in contact, by the way!”

Hyeji places a kiss on top of her head, squishing her slim cheek against her scalp.

“We will get past this, love. I swear we will.”

She doesn’t think this unreasonable love war is anywhere near over, however.

“I sure hope we will.”

Hansol thinks making ramen is an art form. He does it when he’s nervous instead of nibbling on his bottom lip or tugging his black beanie down his ears for the umpteenth time. Only he would think it was a great idea to meet with one of his favorite social media creators on a fucking convenience store, but he feels protected by the quietness and the sweet buzzing of the microwave as he wishes upon a start that the stacks of cheese that he poured on his flaming hot noodles becomes a puddle at the bottom that relishes its exquisiteness.

So, maybe, he’s a bit nervous. Reason as to why he had lost his grip a bit when pouring the cheese on the ramen basket.

It passes him how she has been able to spend weeks receiving the messages she does, but the moment he posted that video, the narrative took another turn. Hell, he even thinks he has seen some edited videos of the two of them as a supposed ‘couple’. The song has been released, heard by thousands, even more news coming up about them and he’s…surprised. About the sheltering that came from his pseudonym and how the world is torn. Now, Jay shines as a real villain and people ponder if leaving him for Hansol was the right choice.

How in the hell he got in this situation is misunderstood by him?

However, he rubs on his eye after grabbing the ramen noodles and plopping them on the nearest table, he hears the bells by the door ringing, the worker too occupied in organizing the strawberry milks to even care about her, but he does. None of her pictures online would ever compare to how she looks in real life. With a gray turtleneck for the weather, face ridden of any makeup, sweater half-tucked into her pants and yet, as her sunglasses rest on the brim of her head, she looks like a whole…dream.

She reminds him of the warmth that comes from a gust of breath on top of freezing hands when winter drops around. They are just barely reaching fall, but the weather has fallen significantly. She stands in front of him, looking away from her phone before a small smile reaches the corner of her eyes, not adding a small ‘hi’ as he does with a wave of his hand, but something to the air between them nonetheless.

“You look different when you’re not mumbling ‘bitch’ into the camera.”

Breaking the ice, warming the air, significant matters that only she can do and does in the brink of a second. Hansol plops the two bowls of ramen on the table, watching as she scrunches her nose at the cheese to stir it within the mixture, but he tries not to think too much about his decision. Maybe, she’s just not fond of cheese.

“I take that as a good thing. I don’t call anyone ‘bitch’ unless I get a really good check out of it.” Hansol jokes around, soon after widening his eyes when she quirks an eyebrow at him, the corner of her mouth barely lifting in a smirk. “Not that I’d call you anything of the like. Gosh, I’m being stupid. Uh…hi, I’m Hansol.”

“You’ve already said hi.” She prompts, picking up some of the noodles and unlike him, who has already burned the bridge of his mouth, she twirls them on the chopsticks, blows on them and munches on the cheesy treat. “But I didn’t know you were called Hansol. I would’ve sworn on my life that your real name was Zach.”

He shakes his head. “I want my real life nicely divided from who I am as a person online. Not that I am much different, but Hansol’s the name that I have on my ID and that I use for personal matters, so I don’t want to mix the two.” He shrugs his shoulders soon after, saying her name and earning a nod from her. “Okay, so, uh…to the matter at hand, right?”

“Straight to the point.” She clears her throat, giving him a smile before reaching for the diet soda Hansol had brought. “So, half the internet thinks we are dating…and that you’re that supposed side guy that I had while dating Jay.”

He shouldn’t ask. Shit, this is Jeonghan speaking in his brain, telling him to fucking ask, but he’s curious. He heard the nonsensical beat that Jay released in the form of a diss track that now has fifteen million views, so… “Did you really cheat on him or is he taking everything out of context?”

She spreads her hands across her chest, defending herself. “Here’s the thing, I am a woman. Me breaking up with a guy just because I was unhappy in a relationship directly has to mean I cheated on him. For starters, I didn’t. I liked Jay even after the break-up, obviously until the moment he decided to blow everything out of proportion.” She explains, sighing deeply after. “I didn’t, for instance. I’m sorry that you got involved.”

“No, I am the one that should be sorry.” Hansol shakes his head, rubbing his eyebrow as if something was bothering him. “It’s just—No, I’m sorry but I don’t regret it. I had to talk about it. Part of it was because obviously, it’s a trending topic, but also because…no one deserves to get the hate you’re getting right now.”

She remains silent, playing with the straw in between strawberry lips. Not an ounce of makeup and yet, the inside looks as if they were bitten to utter perfection. Hansol’s embarrassed that he has liked every picture of hers on social media ever since they started following each other.

Things that the public had sadly taken account of and had completely used against them to prove a supposed relationship.

“I don’t regret it either. That you did that, I mean.” She counterparts. “Sure, I shouldn’t be thinking about revenge, but Jay has been so distraught and the public has turned against him, while also not being on my side. They are just on your side.” With a mellowness that, somehow, he thinks should never belong to her, for the twist of her lips on a downwards motion is a terrible contrast to the smile he saw earlier. “Reason as to why my friend got in contact with one of the people from your team. I don’t have a team myself—”

“I’m surprised I even have a team, so I don’t judge you.” Hansol’s eyes twinkle, remembering the words he had shared with Seungcheol earlier. After all, he’s the manager and the one—technically, for Hansol still has his input—in charge of what is posted on his channel or not. “Seungcheol, my manager, talked to me about what your friend and mine talked about.”

Seungcheol was not that happy about the exposure that Hansol got, but after a while, Jeonghan weighted the options and became a mastermind for what the internet was aiming to see. They wanted to learn the other side of the story, just because it would be told by one of the most liked characters in YouTube as of now. Zach Chwe, venturing into the world of a person that no one would have ever thought he’d be compatible with. To break all the rumors with a show, a mini web-series for the world to gnaw at while both teams earned money.

“For the record, I know it’s a difficult thing to think about. I wasn’t in for it at first.” Hansol explains, and he’s not sure he’s ready to have a different light casted on his channel, but Jeonghan was clear to say that he wasn’t intending on a dating show or a couple’s channel. Instead, he wanted something…vague. “They just want us to work on a challenge mini-series. We’d do stuff like go to haunted houses or anything of the like. To make people wonder if we really did date or we were just in it for the show. They’d give us views, hoping to find something or any clues, and we’d leave with a good paycheck and a big question mark after what we were.”

She continues eating, pondering with fluttering eyelashes and a sigh that gets trapped on her throat. “Yeah…I’m okay with it. I don’t think it’s a bad idea.” She responds, and Hansol thinks the deal is almost over, but she continues: “You’ll have to keep in mind that while there may be a huge wave of people loving our series together, you might also get a lot of hate. Jay did a great job at—”

“I don’t care.”

“Huh?”

“You’ll come to learn I don’t care about a lot of stuff. Hate? I don’t care.” Hansol explains, giving her a soft smile. “A wanking old man can tell me I’m the worst YouTuber he has ever seen, and I won’t take it to heart. I’m not a plate to be enjoyed by all.”

“Whoa…” She whispers, plucking a lot of noodles up to show it to him. “Not only are you the antonym of a lactose intolerant person, but you’re also awfully wise.”

“You’re welcome for the visit to the bathroom later.” Hansol comments, earning well-heard laughter by her. She tosses her head back and the laugh comes out in spurts. Odd and yet, cute.

“I’ll have to get used to those comments, Z—Hansol.”

“We’ll get used to each other. We have a whole season to plan, after all.”

WE VISITED A HAUNTED HOSPITAL? | EP. 1 S1 | ZACH CHWE

She’d kill Hansol for thinking of visiting a haunted hospital as the first topic of their new show, but she’s too scared to actually want to murder him right now. What if he came back as one of those ghosts who were supposedly here? She can’t risk it.

Drops of petrichor build on forgotten walls, where once were supposedly patients that needed help but were abandoned to a beckoning fire. Hansol said on the way here that he truly doubted the events happened. If the hospital was burned down to its core, why was it still standing and why were tickets sold for people to go through it like tourists in Sydney? She doesn’t have a clue. All that she knows is that they were placed on opposite ends of the hospital, bound to meet through clues, but she hasn’t been able to move from her position under a table.

She was aware that Hansol’s team and hers, which only includes Hyejin, had insisted on having jump-scares all around. One of those jump-scares could be Jeonghan in a clown uniform, but the moment she saw it, the moment she sprinted away. Now, she has been seated there for more than thirty minutes, ignoring her next mission and the door in front of her, with a beating heart and her knees pressed to her chest.

Great, she’s about to ruin their first episode.

Beheld with destiny, she thinks she’s about to shit her pants the moment she hears that old, wooden door creak under the weight of someone entering. Caught, she’s imagined to be, unable to discern between the group of people there to add spice to the video and the actual ghosts that are supposedly in this hospital. However, the first thing she sees are a pair of converses in light green and soon after, someone is kneeling in front of her.

Hansol’s long hair is clouded by a hoodie so thick his earlobes are red, or so she thinks that’s the reason, because his hand pats on the expanded leg of her jeans. Bell jeans were in once again, and she had opted to have them on her outfit. However, Hansol’s high cheekbones lift in a smile when he counterparts:

“If you’re really trying to hide from ghosts, having half of your leg out from underneath the table is not the way to go.” Hansol spares a look at the corner of the room, perhaps pinpointing where the camera is, before she shakes her head at him. She’s still a little shaken, letting out in a trembling tone what must be the most pathetic thing he’s ever heard.

“What if this place is actually haunted?”

“I don’t know percentages, but I am sure someone has died in every possible place on earth. Here, if it’s haunted, or anywhere.” Hansol drags himself under the table, sitting down next to her and taking up the same position she has, though he presses his cheek to the upper portion of his knees. “So, as a matter of fact, every place should be haunted.”

“You’re not helping.” She adds, turning her face to look at him and my God, is Chwe Hansol actually very handsome. He’s different from Jay, with higher cheeks, rounded eyebrows, and a color that resembles honey on tea in his irises. She should look away, not feed into the idea that people have of them being together, but they were meant to act as natural as possible for this show, and looking away has never been more difficult.

“…Said my mom as I helped with the dishes, and my sister after I met her first boyfriend. Helping is not really my biggest forte, but I try.” Hansol shows a full row of teeth when he smiles, like he does it without a care in this world. He probably does. Something about Hansol tells her that he doesn’t really care what people think of him. “But I found you, so I think that’s us winning the game, isn’t it?”

“Is this a park ride for you or something? You’re all smiley and shit.” She tells him, mimicking his smile though hers is a bit more crooked, like she’s trying to push it away so it doesn’t reach him as the most dumbfounded, surprised expression.

“I like this place.”

She feigns a ringing cellphone with a purr of her lips, folding her hand to mimic a phone only to be caught in between his digits, pressed to his ear as if he’s picking it up.

“Yes, hello?” He asks, fluttering eyelashes in between sweetened laughter. One would think that someone like Chwe Hansol was a punch of pink lemonade, but knowing he’s more like a very sweetened soda is a new occurrence.

“It’s your psychologist. He’s asking for another appointment.”

Hansol chuckles at her words, putting down her hand and yet, leaving her with a tingle that awakens in the pit of her stomach and blossoms like butterfly wings across her chest, filling her in with a breath so profound that every single one of her ribs expands with glee.

“They should.” With that, he stands up,extending a slim hand that wavers its fingers for her to grab. Once she does, she’s up her feet, chest to chest with a man who looks at her with pink lips closed together, hiding the row of teeth that she had grown so fond of in just minutes, for how beautiful and calming his smile could be. “I think we should get out and get to the exit—”

What they don’t expect is for the door to bang open, irrupting on their fort and creating a tense atmosphere when they come face to face with a clown, much of the like of what It could look like. And while Hansol laughs from the moment he sees it, she doesn’t. A shout trips from the back of her throat, much like herself, as she jumps onto Hansol’s back and feels his hands contracting against her thighs, catching her just in time. Her eyes, hidden by his neck, are barely touched by the long hairs on his nape that don’t get to be trapped in his beanie, and when she mumbles for them to leave, Hansol starts sprinting like his life depends on it.

Never does he stop laughing, though, as whoever is dressed on the clown outfit follows after them. He’s secure, for some reason, even when they don’t know each other very well, something about Hansol makes her feel as though she is protected. Sheltered from a world that had always been so tough, but with him is just a tiny bit more complex. And for Hansol, that’s okay.

Something tells her that Hansol doesn’t push himself to understand the majority of things. The reason why the world goes around the sun, or why so many people choose heartbreak. He knows he’s a particle, a mere second in a clock, a reason to laugh or a momentum to flee. While she lives through memories, Hansol relishes on breaths. On moments that are here and now, enjoyable and yet, somehow dreamy in the way that they go by so fast.

She doesn’t know him much, but when they reach the exit and the sun bathes them through peaks in between gray clouds, he is still holding her. Even when Seungcheol points Hansol’s camera at them and he’s talking, he still doesn’t let go of her. She hears a faint joke, a reason to part from his neck, but lord does she wish she would not have looked away.

For his face is too close and that mole on his temple is right there, valuable enough to catch her attention.

So, she drops herself to the floor, falling on her knees and raising her hands in the air before shouting to the camera:

“Good fucking Lord, we made it!”

And Hansol laughs, like he does in these situations, but how she wishes that laugh would not feel precisely like home should feel like.

Thirteen million views and just the third episode of the series has been posted. Now, that is breaking records.

She would have never believed the world would become a big number for her. Flop or not valued by the amount of people seeing you; regardless of interest or not. She seeks for that validation—much more after the break-up—. From people who don’t really know her, but love to give conspiracies about how Hansol and she met. They say they are together, and they don’t really deny it. The closer they get through episodes, the more people seem interested in it, and while she’s in the thrive for more—fame, success, whatever the fuck it is that is sedating her, Hansol stays…the same.

He invited her over to his place. So unorganized, just like his thoughts. He leaves his coats hanging on his poor couch, picking them up per demand, with splashes of coffee on the coffee table from early this morning still forgotten. Tonight, on this Saturday night, Hansol has brought soju with himself, licking off the remaining bits of his black bean noodles from his chopsticks. She still has a bit left on her place, but she has opted to sit with her head hanging from the sofa, looking at him from upside down, maybe a bit boozed because of the alcohol he had prepositioned for ‘idea organization’.

“What if we ate noodles on a rollercoaster?” They have planned up to episode ten. The end of the season, after all. But people have been asking for another season, and while it’s not confirmed, a company had ventured into the hardships of wanting to promote them for a second season and that meant giving them ideas on a silver platter in hopes of them liking it enough to support it monetarily.

“You want a POV of us vomiting on a camera. Got it.” She drags, inspecting the way his cheeks turn maroon and how he puts his bottle of soju down, giving her a smile that, if she had to describe, would call it extremely dumb.

“When you put it that way, sounds incredibly hot.”

“Ew, Hansol.” She has gotten used to calling him that name now, a month into their venture and almost four episodes in. Her head starts thumping and with four bottles of soju, she can’t stop thinking. Hansol has almost been like a bubble; he lets her see on the outside and still, protects her in some way. She knows that the death threads are still there, as well as the ongoing rumors with Jay that include her in a love triangle, but with him, recording and a new group of people around them, she has managed to lose herself a bit more. “I can’t think straight at this moment.”

“Probably because you’re losing blood flow.” Hansol drags himself closer to her, never lifting his butt of the ground, twisting her hair in a bun that falls the moment she sits up straight. Not because he told her so, or because she was afraid of losing oxygen in her brain, but rather the reason behind it was that Hansol was a little too close to her. Enough for her to see those beautiful speckles in her eyes.

Yes, so that’s the thing…Hansol is extremely pretty.

Awfully so.

In a drunken state, that’s multiplied by a hundred.

“What if we made a ‘Show Me The Money’ parody?”

Hansol shrugs. “I’d eat you up.”

“You think so?” She slurs, pressing her cheek to the edge of the couch and almost twitching when Hansol reaches for the corner of her joggers, pulling them down where they had bunched at her ankles. That’s when his skin comes in contact with hers, wrapping entirely around that portion of her leg and letting his thumb caress the joint behind it. “Mm, don’t do that.”

“S—Sorry.” And Hansol pulls away at that moment, cheeks even more flushed with the alcohol, eyes widened. “I—I didn’t…”

“It just feels nice.” She tells him in a whisper, dozing off and letting her eyes close as the only thing she can hear in the background is the faint sound of Drake’s latest record and, of course, his calm breathing. “…And I don’t like getting used to it. You don’t know how many times I’ve gotten used to things only for them to hurt me…after…”

It’s the alcohol talking and the sleepiness losing her, because she doesn’t remember what else she had said or why she falls asleep so fast. What she does remember is what she dreams. She sees Jay in dreams, remembering the way his palm fit so snugly around her knee, and how he’d trace the underside of it with how big his hand was. Now, she sees it in third person, in some cramped-up party of the like of those he went to, with his lips spread around another woman’s, doing the same thing he did to her, and somehow breaking apart the little threads left in her heart. Because that’s what men have always done to her—hurt her until she couldn’t recognize herself.

She awakens with sweat pooling at her neckline and breaths unarranged in a manner that has her clasping the first thing she feels. Hansol has turned down the lights, his back pressed to the edge of the couch, head lulled back in a way that will probably have him aching in the morning. His brown hair spreads on top of his forehead like vices, eyelashes straight and long, jaw squared yet somehow relaxed as his lips part. He’s snoring softly, barely audibly, laying there like he wouldn’t move even if the world ended.

So, she drags her hand across his forearm, feeling every bump and mountain of slim muscle until she reaches his knuckles and touches them, shaking his hand in hopes of getting him to open his eyes.

He doesn’t, but he does hum at the mention of his name.

“Hansol…I had a nightmare.” She has them often. Each time, she looks into the shadows of the night hoping for the real monsters to appear. Not the ones that make their guest appearance in horror movies, but the ones that actually hurt her. People that tarnished her heart in ways that now has it stopping from time to time. “I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable, but could…could you please hold me? When I’m held, I can fall back asleep.”

“Yeah, sure.” He rasps out, dragging himself towards the couch as she makes him some space. He doesn’t talk about his room or taking up the bed, because he’s probably too sleepy to even care, when he places an arm under her head and lets him square a leg in between his just to make room for the two.

“I’m sorry for getting so close.”

He drags her until her face rests on his collarbone, humming what she can imagine is a ‘no’. “You’re not doing it for anything bad. It’s okay.” He whispers. “Is this tight enough?”

She looks up at him, eyes still closed. So naturally peaceful and yet, somehow blaring war noises inside her head. Ready to flee away just in case her stomach drops to the ground at the mere sight of him. “It’s perfect.”

Hansol shouldn’t feel perfect. Not if season two is ever going to happen.

Usually, the one with the cruel ideas is Jeonghan. Hyejin has finally met up to that standard. Her friend, not his, and that’s surprising. Hansol has to give her some props for the idea of the ninth episode.

‘Never Have I Ever’. He doesn’t think he has played the game since that one moment he joined college. Only recently did he get his degree, and the engineering degree normally doesn’t get invited to the kind of parties that have drinking games, but Hansol was friends with a bunch of people who would take any kind of game as a reason to drink. This one doesn’t include drinking, but it’s either eating something really nasty, laid in front of them on a picnic cloth—there are testicles in there, as far as he knows—or answering.

Hansol should be concentrated on making her eat the five meals that are meant to be eaten by her, but he is tranced by her. Has been since two weeks ago, when he decided that sharing a couch with her was a good idea. Not only did he have to walk away before she noticed that he had accidentally wrapped a hand around her waist while asleep, but he also had to fight off the thoughts that ventured into his head. He didn’t want to be the rebound, but that’s precisely what he would be if he tried to get with her. If he played the cards he does sometimes, when life is a little simpler, of rubbing the back of his neck and buying someone’s favorite Pokémon cards.

It doesn’t help that she has decided to look absolutely gorgeous while they sat on a bench, in a secluded park that Seungcheol had found fitting for filming. Roses scatter around them in the same color of red that splashes on her dress. A loving heart neckline that has him looking down and—fuck, Hansol, don’t be stupid. She’s way out of your league—

“Never have I ever…” She drags her voice while reaching into the hat that was placed nearby for them. He looks at the shape of her mouth, the length of her eyeliner and he wants to punch himself for a second. For staring with that intent, even with cameras around them. For feeling a bit protected in front of them just because everyone thinks they are dating. Or so. “Eaten or tasted earwax.”

“Do I have the face of a man that has tasted earwax?”

“Yes.” She responds, chuckling at him only to have him scrunching up his nose. He looks down at the plate that is served in front of him, this round’s beverage for anyone to enjoy. “Hansol, don’t tell me you have.”

“I’m not sure, but I was a weird kid! May have!” He tells her, picking up his chopsticks and biting into the testicles that he had repulsed from the moment the game started. She throws her head back, laughing like the child in her had awakened at his response, before she’s shaking her head and tossing the card to the side.

“You’re so nasty.”

“Tell me you haven’t done it.”

“Just because I am sure I did it as a kid as well, I’ll help you out with those testicles.” She picks up the chopsticks from his hands, giving it the slightest of bites before sticking out her tongue and dropping it to the ground. “Gross! Jeonghan, where the fuck did you find this stuff?”

“It was Cheol!”

The game continues, with the two of them a point away from either losing or winning. She has her legs spread in front of her, crossed by the ankles, waiting for him to read the card that he’s just opening when his eyes widen for a fraction of a second. Oh, this wasn’t Seungcheol. This has Hyejin’s name written all over it. He knows it because she has been wriggling her eyebrows whenever he makes his way past her, opting to tease him about the ‘obvious crush’ he has on her best friend.

“Never have I ever liked the person across from me.”

Hansol doesn’t move, and he should be drinking the broccoli lemonade that the team prepared, but she moves with a little more precision, as if her anatomy was made to act in cue. His heart stops when she grabs the glass and brings it up to those lips that had been burgundy red at the start of the recording to drink. She closes her eyes, tosses her head back, and gags at the taste, but Hansol is far too lost.

…She had liked him? Then? Now? When?

“Confessions, confessions. Always coming up from these videos.” She is more of a natural in front of the camera, taking his hand and bringing it up in the air as per a champion from a boxing fight. She has won him over, if only if she knew. “We’ve got ourselves a winner. Give a round of applause for Zach Chwe, everyone!”

Hansol can’t even smile. He’s dumbfounded, staring at her profile and seeing her grin in such an easy going way. Though, the moment they say their goodbyes from the video, she pulls away from him, clearing her throat and looking at him as if she expects an answer. One that never comes and leaves him just to stand up, excuse himself out of the park and lock himself in the nearest bathroom.

Being the rebound is not what he wants, but God, would he be lying to himself if he didn’t accept he has liked her for longer than he’d want to admit.

Two months pass by. The first season becomes a success and still, not a word has been uttered about that episode. The subscribers’ favorite episode, but the forgotten episode for those who were involved.

No one asks questions when they come together for VidCon. It feels natural, actually. She doesn’t think she would have been able to just go on her own anymore. As some kind of way the world had planned it, Hansol feels like her counterpart in whatever this is right now. Friendship, work, whatever they have garnered together that people seem to love enough to have a panel for them, where they speak to fans and take pictures together. She notices then that she’s not the only person awestruck by Hansol’s beauty, even when that’s obvious at this point. He looks like a daydream in his black t-shirt, rounded glasses and skinny jeans, smiling in pictures and even joking around with fans.

Sometimes, she just looks at him from the side and blames him for it. For letting things slide so smoothly in between the two after that forbidden episode. He never said a word, neither did he try to clear her head with a kiss to her lips or even a strict ‘no’ that would have her moving on. It’s his fault for being likeable; for giving her a necklace with her initial as a celebration when their first season became a success. For him to receive her with a bowl of noodles for every recording they had each week. For him to tag her on stupid memes on Twitter, not giving a care what anyone could say.

The venue is packed and Hansol gets a little too lost on conversations with a fan that is talking about his beginnings as a gamer—that wasn’t really good to start with—when she feels someone tapping her on the shoulder. Her hips move from the edge of their table, where an enormous poster of the publicity image for the first season of their show spreads in the background, to turn around and respond to the subscriber that was trying to get her attention. Nonetheless, like a clashing thunder in a summer day, Jay stands there looking like the oddest thing she has seen in the past three months.

Because she’s not used to him anymore. Neither has she felt like she was truly comfortable with the idea of him. He’s a few heads taller than her, with his black hair pushed back and the sleeves of his shirt dragged up to showcase his tattoos. He’s smiling when he greets her, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and hugging her briefly before he pulls away. They are lucky that is not peak hour and most people have scattered to look at the music presentation that was taking place.

“Jay?” She questions, only to have him smiling proudly, like he would do whenever he got recognized in public.

“The one and only. I had to pass by when I heard you were making it to this year’s convention.” His dark brown eyes splay across the poster behind them, trailing after every detail of the image of Hansol wrapping an arm around her shoulder, both smiling at the camera as they spread their hands in peace signs, smiling gleefully. “Haven’t watched a season of the show, but I might start. It’s fucking everywhere.”

She should not talk to him, but she scoffs at his words, rolling her eyes and crossing her arms across her chest to portray just how closed she is to him, but she doesn’t miss her sarcastic smile. Not an ounce of hate is within her chest anymore, but she recalls the wounds he opened just to make bigger ones. “…Mhm, it’s not the type of show you’d watch. Too much of a big brainer.”

“Oh, come on, you know I’m smarter than I look.”

For the way he plotted the entire internet against her, she knows for a fact Jay could very much be a lawyer or an astronaut if he wanted to. Misspells or not. “I’m certain. I’ve never doubted you’re a cunning, smart little shit.”

“I like that. Might make it my new motto.” Before Jay could venture into more of a conversation, her waist is grounded by a pair of thin arms wrapping around them. Soft skin connecting with her through the fabric of her pink hoodie has her looking back to see that Hansol is hugging her from behind, hiding his hands on the pockets of her hoodie and pressing his chin to her shoulder before whispering into her ear.

“We’ve got stuff to do, remember? Like organizing our things at the hotel and sign some posters for tomorrow…” He never rushes with those things, but at the presence of Jay, Hansol’s a bit more masculine and selfish with time. When she tries to answer him, far too lost in the beauty of him now that he has pushed his sunglasses to the top of his head, pulling the strands of his hair back, his golden eyes have settled on Jay, not even sparing him a grin out of courtesy. “I’ll have to snatch her away from you.”

“Wouldn’t surprise me.” Jay adds, aiming to hurt and taint, but Hansol doesn’t let him. Instead, he pulls her by the strings of her hoodie, interlocking their hands together before speaking closely to her face.

“So, are we going?”

It’s not a doubt that she says ‘yes’. After all, if her heart had grown a bond for Hansol without him touching her that way, having a glimpse of what it could be like to be with him has her brain going feverish.

Hansol is certain about many things. That he likes the color green. He loves tie dye hoodies. That he would die in a beanie if he could. He enjoys weird scary shows, and he would marathon the entirety of Scream in a minute. He is also certain that he doesn’t want to talk to her, as they sit across from each other in his hotel room. Not just because, but for the matter that she was talking to the ex that had done anything in his willpower to push her to be absolutely nothing.

He sits on a brown leather couch, working diligently on signing posters while she has opted not to do so. For the past ten minutes, she has ventured into all the possible conversation topics in order to get him to look up, even smile, but while Hansol likes living his life in tranquility, he also has his angered moments. His blood felt like it had rushed to his knuckles from how tight he was holding them closed when he saw Jay. He couldn’t bear but admit to himself that, while he had opted not to think about her in that light, the idea of her going back to Jay and not with him infuriated him. Sure, she wasn’t his—neither was she anybody’s, for that matter—but if someone had to have her as the person by their side, it had to be him. Right?

Anyone but fucking Jay Lee.

But preferably him.

Yet, she knows how to get the world to look at her with eyes that had been rose-colored by her voice and eyes alone. After ten minutes, she knows that he won’t talk to her and when the beads of silence surround the cream-colored room, he almost imagines that she has left. Only that he gets to see her jean-cladded thighs standing in front of his knees, his eyes darting to her face for a fraction of a second until he sees her. The closeness, the little smile that splays in the corner of her mouth, and that wave to her eyebrows that tells him that she’s a bit confused, amused, but also a tad annoyed.

“Why are you angry at me? I haven’t done anything to get the silent treatment.” God, she’s one of the smartest women he has met. With the way she can think of matters in the spot and make a drawing on the screen the most interesting thing in the world. He knows her commentaries on movies are the most precise, intelligent words that could be said, and yet, he wishes she could wake up and realize that he has been here, all along, for three months and even a bit more, liking her like a complete fool. “Hansol, you either talk to me or you talk to me. I’m not giving you another option.”

“That man was…okay, I’ll talk to you.” Hansol stops himself when he hears just how mortified he sounds when he starts talking, putting the poster he was signing to the side, laying on the table next to him with the other pile of posters. Soon after, he’s spreading his hands on the armrest, leaning back on the couch. “Jay has done nothing but make your life an absolute hell and there you go, just being nice to him, letting him hug you and talk to you—”

“Hold up,” She interrupts him, spreading a hand on her waist. “If I just ignore him or treat him like shit, I’m giving him even more of a reason to talk. I’ll be the first to admit to say that the stuff Jay put me through wounded me in ways that will take more than a few months to work through, but I also don’t want to give him the benefit of being aware of how much he hurt me.”

Hansol can understand that, but he also knows what men like Jay think. He runs his fingers through his hair, groaning through half-parted lips. “He probably thinks he still has you on the palm of his hand.”

“He doesn’t.” She shrugs. “So, what’s the problem?”

“I don’t want to see you with him. That is the problem.” Hansol says, standing up and staring at her, face-to-face. “I know you won’t go back to him but it makes me angry to think you ever thought of being with him. Not only doesn’t he match up with you on looks, but he never deserved you. You could put him on a pan and drop an entire bag of salt on him and Jay Lee would still be flavorless. The biggest mistake you could ever make, and the thought alone of him wanting to be with you—”

“I don’t want to be with him.”

“Yes, but…” You also don’t want to be with me, he completes for himself. Sure, she had once said she liked him, but what reassures him that it wasn’t just for the camera?

“You’re making a big deal out of it!”

“I fucking know!” He exclaims, widening his eyes.

“Then?”

“I will make everything that happens to you a big deal because I care for you. I’ve liked you for God-knows how long. Sorry for getting jealous, but I don’t regret it one—”

She interrupts him before he could say anything else, with her lips spreading across his, savoring the tremor of his mouth before he opens it to the granting touch of her tongue. His bottom lip fits between hers as if they were made for her, her hands gravitating to his waist and pulling him closer, though the fact that she was the one to make the first move did not stop Hansol from adding his own motions. His hands spread on the back of her neck, thumbs coming in contact on the column of her throat and dragging a sweet stripe down, rising goosebumps all over her skin. Hansol tilts his head to the side, a cloud of humidity building from the breath he lets out before kissing her lazily, albeit strongly, like he knows he doesn’t have to do much to do it right.

She would like to punch him, ask him why he never did anything when she confessed to liking him in that video, but Hansol has seated back on the chair, hands landing on her hips as he continues to kiss her, and her thighs part to settle comfortably on his lap. When she pulls away from him, lips tainted in that romantic shade of pink that he leaves everywhere he goes, she traces the outline of his mouth with a peck before she goes down to his neck, hiding in there for a second.

“You had me guessing for so long, Hansol. That’s what assholes do.”

Hansol’s hands rub at her hips, one of the portions she’s more insecure about, but with him it just feels right. “I don’t want to be your rebound.” He tells her, grabbing her by her chin before pushing their lips together once again. He keeps his eyes closed when he speaks against her mouth, just minutes after biting on her bottom lip. “Please, don’t let me be a rebound. If I am, stop me now.”

She’d be crazy to stop him. Not when his mouth looks like a rose petal and her heart feels the more at ease she has felt in a while. Sure, this is always the start of every romance. She knows that men feel comfortable before they destroy her heart even worse than the last time, but something tells her that this is not the case with Hansol. She closes her eyes, venturing into the shape of his mouth to trace it like the map she should have followed a long time ago.

For now, she’ll get lost in him, in the way he makes her feel like she’s the newest star in the sky and he’s drawing it himself. Calling her something that goes unnamed for now.

The word ‘for now’ is so funny. It prolongs in time, so much that three months turn into six, and then, an entire year.

She had said that Hansol’s idea was a ‘for now’. That him, as a person, was temporary as it gets, but the clock was making fun of her as she rushes to his car, holding onto the coldest coffee she could get at this hour of the morning. Some people feel comfortable, not because they are colored certain way or how they make you feel, but what you two make together. Blue and green are colors on their own, but together they make something different. The creation of new matters is what makes the world a little bit more interesting.

Hansol doesn’t enjoy mornings, not after a short night of sleep, and that may be her fault, but with the way he smiles at her when she opens the car’s door, she’s sure he has forgiven her. For how great they felt last night, she’s sure that there were no grudges held. A camera is pointed her way, though she knows that the second season of their show is still being published on her channel and, no way in hell, he would ever post the videos he takes of her. Little vlogs to remember what it was like here, now, forever. God, forever sounds amazing with Hansol.

“Here we have a whole coffee addict, making her way to my sick Porsche.”

“It’s a Toyota, Hansol. Sit the fuck down.” She completes, entering the car and pushing her hair over her shoulder, leaning over the seat to let him taste the coffee. That makes the camera a little too close to her face, laughing and pushing it to the side the slightest. “I’m sure I don’t look that good in that angle.”

“You don’t, but real love will make me say you do.” He completes, sipping a few more times into her coffee before giving it back to her. He has the hood of his shirt all the way over his dark hair, turning off the camera and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before he starts the car.

Talking about their relationship in public was forbidden, for she doesn’t want to blur the line in between the faux relationship and what became real. In fact, it happened with its bumps along the road. She can’t say that everything has been easy, that sometimes her nightmares don’t wake her up with the idea of Hansol leaving one day, or not precisely leaving her, but stomping on her heart before he flees away, but that idea alone is pushed away with a served kiss and a few words that save her from doubting. Hansol is not much of a talker and yet, when he opens those lips of his, he always seems to say the right thing.

So, while the subscribers have never gotten a real video of them admitting to their relationship, it’s almost public notice. She sips on her drink, looking at his profile and the tranquility of him before asking.

“So, I saw a Tweet not too long ago. As I was waiting for coffee, actually.”

“From who?” His voice grows serious, expecting to hear anything from Jay or anyone else on the internet, but she calms him down by interlocking their fingers together, tracing the small promise ring on his finger with her thumb.

“From a subscriber that wanted to point out our supposed beginnings.” She likes looking at those conspiracies from time to time. They are so ridiculous that she can’t help but be amused by how close and obsessed people can get from someone they saw on the internet. Well, as long as it’s kept like a good momentum on someone’s life, and they know not to blur the line, she’s sure it’s okay. “The first picture you liked of me was on April 18th, three years ago. It was a picture of me on my desk, looking down at my I-Pad as I drew, working on my next video.”

Hansol twists his head to the side, laughing to himself a bit before nodding. “I remember that picture.”

“You do?”

“I do.” He looks at her for a fraction of a second before bringing their interlocked hands up, giving it a soft kiss. “Your hair was shorter then. Way shorter. I thought you were pretty.”

“Sometimes, I wish I had met you earlier.”

“Huh, earlier wasn’t our time, I guess.” Hansol responds, letting go of her hand to grab her coffee.

Holding her breath, she looks at his sleepy profile. At him as a person. It has been so long and yet, the words don’t weight on her mouth when she opts to mumble it for the first time:

“I love you, Hansol.”

His eyes twinkle when she says those words, spreading a smile into his face that show all his teeth before he gnaws at his bottom lip.

“I love you, too.”

#vernon scenarios #vernon x reader #seventeen scenarios #seventeen x reader #kpop scenarios #seventeen #vernon #writing #vernon au #vernon fluff #vernon angst #seventeen fluff #seventeen angst #seventeen au

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jebewonmorelike · 1 year

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I Didn't Think You Had It In You

(part one - "devil by the whiteboard") wc: 5k (i'm so sorry, longest one yet i've gotta chill but it's WORTH IT I PROMISE) pronouns: none used; n/a warnings: angst, fluff, swearing, some mean!hanbin and some infatuated!hanbin :) also this one's funnier than the last one warnings for alternate ending: suggestive/mature content - minors dni!! (link to it is *in* the fic for proprer conext/placement) summary: studentbodypresident!hanbin is majorly regretting the grief he's put introvertedrival!reader through for their entire academic career. i wonder how he'll try to make it up them... ~masterlist~ ♡ ~kofi (no pressure at all)~ *edited to say that... i edited this haha and it should be free of errors now* FINALLY DONE. PART TWO OF MY MASTERPIECE. lmaoooo. omg super secret surprise ending; my first attempt at such. hope you read both endings tho bc i really like them both :) love y'alllllll gonna go to bed now that i've marathon wrote this for 5 hours!

“WHAT!?” You shout, the shock of the words that just echoed through the hallway nearly knocking the air out of your lungs as you whip around to face the boy who uttered them.

You expect to see him smirking back at you, eyes taunting and mean. But what you find instead appears to be a look of surprise somewhat mirroring your own.

"You heard me that time, too," Hanbin responds quietly, averting your gaze.

You stare at the boy in front of you for a while, desperately trying to fill your lungs back up with the air you had lost. But the more oxygen you take in, the more anger you feel brewing in your blood. Abruptly, you start to walk back to where Hanbin stands in the middle of the hallway and the closer you get, the wider his eyes grow.

Only a few inches away from him now, Hanbin is staring back at you unblinkingly and you swear his cheeks are redder than they normally are. Without thinking, your hands reach up and connect with his chest--

Hanbin stumbles back as you push him, lips parting in surprise despite the lack of force behind your shove. Your hands remain on his chest as shock at your own actions suddenly renders you immobile.

Your face is mere centimeters from his for the second time tonight, both of you staring at each other; unsure what to do next. Hanbin coughs first, the tips of his ears now matching the scarlet of his cheeks. He places his hands on top of yours and removes them from his chest wordlessly.

You're positive that your cheeks are heating up now, too. You take a shaky breath before managing to clumsily demand, “What’s... What's wrong with you!? Why would I ever go out with you!?”

You watch as Hanbin's expression suddenly shifts, the condescending look returning to his eyes. “Maybe so you’d finally have someone to eat lunch with other than the collector’s edition of Jane Eyre.”

You frown, suddenly uneasy that Hanbin must have seen you alone in the library during lunch before. You wondered what other observations he was sitting on until it was the right time to shame you with them. Quietly, you lie, "I have people to eat lunch with."

"The Bronte Sisters don't count," he says with a smirk.

You swallow the lump in your throat that's starting to build. "I don't need anyone to eat lunch with."

"Hey, it's okay," he coos mockingly. "No need to cry. You cry enough during lunch as it is."

"You are such a bastard," you spit, watching as Hanbin's eyes seem to light up at the fire igniting in you once more. "Even if I wanted someone to eat lunch with, what gives you the audacity to suggest that that someone should be you!?"

He's just staring at you again, but his expression now seems to be one of awe rather than blank shock— though it's unrecognizable to you with white hot rage clouding your vision.

"You are a despicable human being, Hanbin. You're a liar; you're a phony. And now you've even become a cheat! You have never caused me to feel anything other than annoyance, anger and, tonight, disdain. But now..."

Hanbin's eyebrows raise slightly as he waits for you to continue.

"Now I can't help but pity you, too. Would it really have been so bad if my team won the Decathlon? Is your ego that fragile that you'd rather sabotage all of your integrity than to fail publicly? I feel so bad for you that you'd risk ruining your entire reputation in some misguided attempt to save it."

"I wasn't--," he says quietly, but you cut him off and he doesn't protest.

"I let you push me around, because I thought it was in everybody's best interest. But now that I've watched you stoop so low, I'm not making excuses anymore," you say, determinedly. "So, after I've said all this, I'll ask again: why would I ever want to go out with you, Sung Hanbin?"

It takes awhile for a response to appear on Hanbin's face and, once it does, you're a bit shaken at how unrecognizable it is. He seems to notice how you're looking at him and clears his throat before forcing himself to laugh in offense.

“I was just joking! No need to be so—… Why would I ever want to go out with you? Like I'm not way out of your league," he rambles haughtily, shaking his head in disbelief. "I just thought it might make joining my team seem like a better idea by comparison.”

"Well, it didn't," you declare, knowing there had to have been a motive behind Hanbin's words but still feeling a bit foolish for having almost considered believing them. "I'm not joining Blue Team next year. And now I don't think I'll be joining any team next year."

"What!?" Hanbin exclaims, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. "What do you mean you're not joining a team next year? You love Decathlon!"

You smile sadly. "I do. It's too bad you had to go and ruin it."

"I didn't know that you wouldn't--," he starts, fumbling his sentence and starting again as if he's panicking. "I didn't want you to quit! (Y/N), that's not--."

"I really hope you're happy now that you got what you wanted, Hanbin," you cut him off, making your way back to the exit doors and throwing them open. Over your shoulder, you call:

"You win!"

“If I had a penny for every time I caught you reading this book…”

The sudden voice startles you, your collector’s edition of Jane Eyre falling from your hands and onto the table. The book shuts closed before you have a chance to mark the page you’re on.

“Oh,” Hanbin mumbles awkwardly. “Sorry.”

You open the book back up, quickly flipping to the page and placing your bookmark in it before setting it back down.

“I guess you would have every page memorized by now,” Hanbin says with a laugh.

You frown at him suspiciously. “What do you want?”

“I don’t want anything except to have lunch with you,” he says smiling ear-to-ear, before glancing at your book. “And Miss Bronte, of course.”

You roll your eyes, picking up your sandwich for the first time since you sat down. “Well we both would rather gauge our eyes out than make small talk with you.”

“Oh, ouch,” Hanbin says as he bites his lip in a smirk. “Should I call your bluff?”

You pick up the spoon for your yogurt, immediately raising it to your eye before Hanbin reaches out in a panic and wraps his hand around yours. He lowers your hand that’s holding the spoon back down to the table with a nervous laugh.

“You’re a funny one, aren’t you?” Hanbin asks rhetorically, nodding as he pops off the lid to his soup and spoons it into his mouth. “This is nice! Why haven’t we done this before?”

Your face scrunches up in confusion. “Because I hate you.”

“No, we hate each other,” he corrects, eating another spoonful of soup. “Friendship is a two-way street.”

You choke a bit on your sandwich, coughing to clear your throat before exclaiming, “We are NOT friends!”

“But we could be,” Hanbin muses far-too happily. “Wouldn’t that be great?”

“No,” you answer plainly.

“It would be better than what we are now, right? Think about it: we would be a pretty unstoppable duo!”

“I wouldn't be your friend even if you paid me,” you spit. “And I know you’re really into paying people to get what you want lately.”

“Oh please, that was so three days ago,” Hanbin sighs exasperatedly. “Things were so much easier when you didn’t have a backbone. I pay to win one competition and you’re suddenly acting like you didn’t used to do everything I told you to?”

“I told you I’m not letting you push me around anymore,” you say definitively.

He smirks. “I just don’t really believe you…”

Your hand wraps around your spoon again, hurtling toward your right eyeball as Hanbin’s eyes widen in sudden fear. His hand reaches out to grab yours again, bringing it back down to the table in awkward silence.

“Please stop trying to impale yourself at the lunch table,” Hanbin requests quietly, attempting to steady his breathing. "I'll do anything you want, just do not make me have to carry your eyeball in my soup cup to the nurse's office."

You blink back at him. "Anything?"

"Oh, uh..." Hanbin says, clearly surprised that you clung onto his plea. "Did you want something... from me?"

You sigh, eating another spoonful of yogurt. "I have a proposal for Student Government."

"Oh sure, if you send it to me I can put my name on it and sign it," he says with a nod.

"No," you respond quickly.

"No? What do you--?"

"It's mine," you announce, placing your spoon down. "It's my proposal and it really means a lot to me and... I want everyone to know it's mine."

Hanbin looks at you curiously for a moment before a small smile graces his lips. He blinks at you as he whispers, "Cute."

"What?" You ask, one eyebrow raising in confused shock.

The boy in front of you's eyes widen for a moment before he shakes his head nonchalantly and looks down into his soup. "I meant, it's cute you think you'll be able to pitch it without puking..."

"I want you to pitch it," you respond, glaring back at him. "I know I can't make a speech to save my life. But people always like my words best when they come out of your mouth anyway."

Hanbin's eyes are doe-like as his lips form into a little surprised pout.

"So, could you pitch my proposal to the Student Council for me?" You ask, chewing your cheek. "All I want this time is the credit. It's really important to me so... I just..."

"Okay," he agrees, nodding gently. "I can do that."

You blink back at him. "Really?"

"Sure, I can help you," Hanbin says, before adding with a smirk:

"We're friends now, after all."

You take your seat at the far right of the Officers’ Table, adjusting your name plaque after neatly tucking your bag under your chair. It’s been two weeks since the last Student Government meeting and you are incredibly excited about the new proposal you’ve drawn up in support of increased mental health services on campus. You have to admit you’re glad that Hanbin had agreed to make the pitch speech for you.

“I’m excited to hear your proposal!” Stephanie, the Student Council Treasurer, says as she sits down next to you. “Are you nervous to pitch it? I know that public speaking is not your strong suit.”

Your eyebrows furrow confusedly at her question. “What do you mean? I’m not pitching it. Hanbin is.”

“Oh, um…” She smiles at you awkwardly. “Proposals can only be pitched by the member that created them! Those are the rules. I thought you knew that.”

“But I write Hanbin’s—…” You cut yourself off before you expose the Student Body President to the Treasurer. Your proposal is something you are terribly proud of and you want everyone to know it’s yours! But to find out now, only minutes away from the beginning of the meeting, that you’d have to be the one to present it to the entirety of the Student Government… Your vision is already burring with anxiety. All you can muster in response to Stephanie is, “Oh, okay.”

Completely frozen in fear, you’re only pulled out of your dissociative state when Stephanie taps you on the shoulder. She nods at you, gesturing with her hands for you to stand up. You scan the room, surprised when you realize it’s filled with the members of Student Government and that you must’ve zoned out for the entire first half of the meeting.

“Wait—,” Hanbin interjects from where he sits on the other side of Stephanie. He frowns at you confusedly, continuing, “I thought I was reading (Y/N)’s proposal…”

Hyungjun, the Vice President, laughs on Hanbin’s left. “Pretending he doesn’t know the rules. This guy!”

Hanbin’s eyes widen as he glances at the other Officers, unsure of how to react.

“It’s (Y/N)’s proposal,” Stephanie thankfully elaborates. “So, obviously, (Y/N) has to pitch it. And breaking that rule is immediate grounds for a dismissal vote.”

“Oh,” Hanbin mumbles, slowly nodding as he must be considering— just as you had— how many times he should’ve had a dismissal vote called on him by now. “Obviously.”

“So, (Y/N), if you’ll please,” Hyungjun prompts, nodding his head for you to stand up and recite your proposal. You're positive that all the oxygen has left the classroom as you shakily rise to your feet.

Gathering your proposal paper in your hand, you stare at the words on the page-- suddenly rendered illiterate by the amount of fear coursing through your body. Your breathing is shallow and thin and you wonder how long it will take before you've fainted from the anxiety.

"Um, the--... the, um, proposal I am sharing today," you begin; the nervous stammering you always developed when forced to address a crowd rearing it's ugly and reliable head. "Is about--... Or, well, it's to address... It's to help fix the campus's lack of rental mealth hesources."

"Oh god," you hear Hanbin whisper under his breath as you completely flub your words. All of the Student Council members are now chuckling at your mistake as you shake your head quickly, trying to refocus yourself so you can continue.

"There's--... Um, there's plenty of evidence that," you say, eyes locked on your paper as you attempt to make sense of the proposal you'd written which now appears as nothing more to you than a page full of gibberish. "That... That this school... That it's--..."

"Is this a joke?" A Student Council member shouts from the back of the classroom, as you resign yourself to a mere dear in headlights. "Aren't you embarrassed? You're the Student Government Secretary and you can't even form a coherent sentence?"

"HEY!" An angry voice booms to your left as you try to force down the bile that's currently stinging your esophagus. The sudden shout jolts you back to awareness as you look to see who it came from.

"Do you want to leave?" Hanbin threatens, jaw set in an uncharacteristic public display of fury. "Would you care to explain how bullying a Student Government Officer is at all in line with your duty as a Council Member?"

The student's eyes widen as he stares back at the Student Body President in shock. "I--... I--..."

"Look who can't form a coherent sentence now," Hanbin says with a smirk. A few moments pass before Hyungjun clears his throat, causing Hanbin to remember where he is. He looks around at the room apprehensively before standing and bowing sheepishly to the rest of the Student Council.

"I'm so sorry for the disrespectful outburst," he apologizes, voice returning to its usual "perfect" tone and the dimples beneath his eyes cratering as he smiles embarrassedly. "But as Student Body President, I simply can't condone bullying. Especially of one of our Officers, who is..."

Hanbin finally looks at you, his eyes suspiciously genuine. He averts your gaze awkwardly after just a moment, turning back to address the rest of the Student Council members. "Who is the best Student Government Secretary I could've ever asked for. And whom unfortunately, has a terrible fear of public speaking."

You watch as the crowd of students begin to look down at their hands and their laps guiltily.

"(Y/N) has had incredible ideas for this school," Hanbin starts, his eyebrows raising when he remembers he can't actually mention all of the ideas you've had for this school-- as he had always been the one to pitch them and, in turn, pass them off for his own. He recovers, "That have never been heard by us before due to (Y/N)'s fear of public speaking! And it's a shame that on (Y/N)'s first attempt to show them to us, you responded with bullying and ridicule."

The students in the classroom are now all doe-eyed as they take in Hanbin's words and, as you realize what's going on, you have to suppress a laugh.

"Incredible," you whisper, shaking your head in disbelief at the boy that is Sung Hanbin.

"I think we should all treat each other with the utmost respect and kindness-- especially as members of the Student Government. And this, coincidentally, plays into (Y/N)'s proposal about mental health resources at our school," Hanbin continues, doing what he does best. "I think we should move to vote on this proposal immediately."

"You're right, Sunbaenim!" The same student that had hurled insults at you earlier agrees enthusiastically as he stands up from his seat, eyes practically turning to hearts as they gaze upon Hanbin. "We need to provide more anti-bullying and mental health resources for our students. I'm so glad you came up with this brilliant proposal!"

"Oh, I didn't! I--," Hanbin starts to correct, but you already know how this ends as you sit back down in your seat with a heavy sigh.

"What would we do without our shining Student Body President?" Another student calls, starting a round of applause for Hanbin.

You observe him quietly, watching as any signs of protest slowly leave his face. He smiles resignedly back at his peers, clasping his hands together to nod graciously at them as the other Officers join in on the applause as well.

Even when Sung Hanbin tried to help you, it all ended up falling perfectly back into his lap anyway.

"What page are we on now?"

You groan, slamming your book down on the table. "Is this going to be a pattern? Do I have to eat lunch in the bathroom from now on?"

"Not my ideal place to eat lunch, but," he pauses, placing his hands down flat on the table with a smile. "I'll brave it for you."

You pick up your collector's edition of Jane Eyre and drop it on his right hand.

He presses his lips together firmly, looking up to the corner of the room as he tries to ignore the pain. "Okay, I know yesterday didn't go like we'd hoped, but--."

"Like I hoped," you correct, shaking your head in disgust. "I asked you to read my proposal for me. And everyone just ended up pretending like it was yours anyway. And you went along with it!"

"Well--."

"Where is the 'we' in any of that?" You cut him off quickly, watching as his brow furrows. "There is no we. You stole my proposal; just like you stole the Decathlon."

Hanbin stares at you silently for a moment, before responding softly, "I'm sorry."

"Sure you are."

"I am!" He pleads and you hate to admit that he appears earnest. "Really, I didn't mean for that to happen. I stuck up for you when that asshole made fun of you! It's not like I didn't do anything at all."

You stare back at Hanbin wordlessly. He had stood up in front of the entire Student Council to scold that stupid kid in your defense. You'd never seen him get angry in front of people like that before. He'd always cared too much about his perfect, clean image.

"I want to make it up to you," he says with a nod. "So I have a proposal for you."

"Is it the one you stole from me?" You deadpan.

He sighs exasperatedly. "Shut up and let me tell you I have a spot for you on the Blue Team for the rest of this semester!"

You blink back at him in surprise. "What?"

"You deserve to win Scholastic Decathlon at least once, (Y/N)," Hanbin says with a smile. "And if you're really not gonna compete again next year then let me make it happen this season."

"Hanbin..." You falter, brow furrowing suspiciously. "Y-... your team is full."

"I told you there's always a spot for you," he rebuts quickly. "Ilsung's been pretty annoying recently anyway. Didn't you hear what he said about you at Regionals?"

Sighing annoyedly, you take a sip of your iced tea. "Hanbin, I can't join your team."

"Why not?" He whines, folding his hands on the table and resting his chin on them. "You'd be doing me a really big favor!"

"Aren't you the one whose supposed to be doing me a favor?"

Hanbin blinks up at you, pouting in a sickening display of cuteness. "Pleeeeaaase..."

"If you don't stop that right now, I will shove this entire bottle of tea UP your--."

"I'd like to see you try."

It's been a week since Hanbin had asked you to join the Blue Team for the remainder of the season. Since then, "Hanbin's" Student Government proposal regarding mental health resources on campus has passed three student votes and, today, a school-wide assembly is taking place to celebrate the proposal and the Student Body President's exceptional efforts.

Your moral obligation to your Secretary duties coming before your feelings, you had written Hanbin's speech for this afternoon just like you always did.

It has also been a week and a day since Hanbin started eating lunch with you in the library. No matter how hard you tried to bully him into leaving you alone to your collector's edition of Jane Eyre (or how hard you smacked him with various items from your lunchbox), your efforts were in vain.

Hanbin had no intentions of ceasing your "lunch dates", as he called them (always prompting you to hit him once more). He'd flinched at first when Hyungjun and Stephanie walked up to the both of you last Friday, face flushing when they asked him what he was doing eating lunch with you.

But just as soon as that fear of being perceived as imperfect appeared, it subsequently faded away.

"A President and his Secretary notoriously make a pretty good duo, don't you think?" He'd said with an innocent smile.

Hyungjun and Stephanie looked at each other confusedly, of course interpreting Hanbin's words to imply something different than he'd meant.

"Oh! Oh no," Hanbin had clarified quickly, raising his hands in defense. "I meant, as... I meant as friends!"

Hyungjun and Stephanie had nodded quickly before excusing themselves and running out of the library.

"This is why I have to curate all of your words for you," you had said, rolling your eyes at him.

But no matter how much you outwardly displayed your dislike of Hanbin's presence during your lunch period... you'd be lying if you said you hadn't started to get used to him bothering you with his company.

Perhaps you'd even started to like it.

So now, as Hanbin stands behind the tall, wooden podium in the center of the gymnasium delivering the speech you wrote for him, you stand at the back of the gym and observe him carefully. He really is a great public speaker-- every word you've written for him coming to life on his tongue.

But there's a sentence he utters that suddenly catches your attention as you realize he's no longer referencing the paper in front of him.

“The truth is… I didn’t write this proposal,” Hanbin confesses, a wave of confused and shocked whispers sounding across the room. Your stomach churns as you hang onto his every word.

He swallows nervously, before continuing, “And, furthermore, I also haven’t written any of the proposals or speeches that I’ve given during my time as Student Body President. Secretary (Y/N) has written all of them.”

Horrified, you look around the room as everyone’s eyes come to rest on you. Desperately resisting the urge to curl up into a ball and die, your focus remains locked on Hanbin.

“I'm so sorry to disappoint all of my peers and teachers, but I needed to tell the truth as it's the right thing to finally do,” he continues, nodding affirmatively. “And I also have something to say about the Scholastic Decathlon. The only reason the Blue Team won Regionals this year is because—.”

“Because you’re such an incredible team!” You shout, standing up suddenly and instantly regretting it. Hanbin’s eyes meet yours immediately, his eyebrows raised in shock at your sudden outburst. But there’s no going back now.

Walking up to the stage quickly as you do your best to dissociate, you push Hanbin aside when you reach the podium. “Hi, everyone. I’m so sorry for the confusion, but Hanbin is actually quite under-the-weather. He’s so dedicated to his role as Student Body President that he still wanted to deliver his speech today even with a fever. We pumped him full of ibuprofen, but…”

You turn to Hanbin, who is staring at you as if you have two heads. You touch the back of your hand to his forehead and put on the performance of your lifetime as you dote over him. “Oh my gosh, he’s burning up! You poor thing.”

“What are you doing? I was gonna—,” Hanbin protests, but you cut him off by stepping on his foot behind the podium. He seethes at the pain, glaring at you as you continue to save his ass.

“Unfortunately Hanbin is very sick, so he’s not really making much sense. I’m sure he will apologize for the confusion when he’s feeling better,” you conclude, grabbing Hanbin by the arm. “I’ll bring him to the nurse’s office now.”

As you drag a flabbergasted Hanbin through the crowd and out the gymnasium doors, you march down the hallway and into an empty classroom. Pulling him inside, you lock the door behind him quickly and shove him up against it a bit more aggressively than you’d intended.

“Are you CRAZY!?” You shout, hands balled up in his dress shirt as he gawks back at you wordlessly.

“Are YOU!?” He shouts back, eyes nearly popping out of their sockets. “(Y/N), what are you doing? I was trying to tell everybody the truth!”

“WELL, STOP IT!!”

Hanbin’s cheeks flush pink as he looks at your hands fisted up in his white-button down. He’s entirely flustered by your uncharacteristic display of force. “W—… What?”

Dropping your hands to your sides, you repeat, “Stop it before you ruin your fucking life, you absolute moron!”

“I—… Isn’t that what you want?" He asks confusedly. "I was terrible to you. Don’t you want me to pay for what I did?”

“What I wanted was to finally win Decathlon fair and square. And to have my name on my own stupid proposals and speeches for once.”

“But… I’m the one who made sure none of that happened. You even said you were gonna quit Decathlon next year because of me," Hanbin protests. "Come on, you have to want me to face some sort of serious consequence!”

“Hanbin! What’s… Why are you doing this!?" You exclaim, stepping back from the boy. "Do you want me to join the Blue Team that bad? You won't even be allowed back on it if you tell everybody the truth.”

He shakes his head quickly. “No, of course not!”

“Then what’s the deal, huh? I know it’s something. Do you seriously expect me to believe that you really just feel sorry for everything that's ever happened between us all of a sudden?”

“It’s not… It’s not all of a sudden. I—…” Now Hanbin is giving you a run for your money as the worst stammering mess. “I’ve been sorry ever since you said that you…”

Growing impatient, you demand, “Since I said that I what!?”

“That you were disappointed in me!” He shouts under pressure— his lips parting slightly as he sharply inhales at his own words.

You blink back at him, eyes just as wide as his. “I said that?”

He nods slowly. “You—… you leaned towards me and with all of this fire in your eyes, you told me that you were disappointed in me. I didn’t think you had it in you.”

"I don't remember," you say as you swallow nervously-- the tone of Hanbin's voice almost daring you to think he might’ve meant something more. “To be honest, I was so mad that I… I sort of blacked out.”

He smiles now, genuinely and the cute under-eye dimples that are reserved for public events are now on display only for you. You’d be lying if you said they didn’t make you feel some type of way in this unexpectedly intimate moment. “I’m not surprised. You also called me a ‘cheating asshole’ and a ‘self-righteous prick’.”

You press your lips together, slightly embarrassed before mumbling, “You deserved it.”

“I did!” He agrees a little too enthusiastically. “I deserve worse, actually.”

“Hanbin…”

(super secret spicy alternate ending 🌶️ HERE 🌶️-- minors do not view/interact; just continue reading below!! also pls read bothhhhh if you are of age hahaha if you want no pressure but pressure)

“Come on, (Y/N)— I’m everything you said I am and more,” he says, biting his lip. “So why shouldn’t everybody know what you know?”

“Because I already forgave you, you dumbass!”

Hanbin’s mouth is already open to protest, but when he actually hears your words it shuts tightly. His head tilts to the side innocently in a questioning gaze. "You did?"

You sigh. "Yes. I mean, you've done a lot to try to make everything up to me. And I let you keep eating lunch with me, didn't I?"

The boy in front of you's lips part in surprise before he finally grins. "I knew you liked eating lunch with me more than Jane Eyre!"

You roll your eyes, trying and failing to hold back a grin of your own. "Any more unkind words towards Jane and we're kicking you out of the lunch club."

He laughs and you notice for the first time how beautifully joy manifests on his face. But his expression quickly becomes more serious once again. "I really am sorry, (Y/N). For everything. I've been awful to you for way too long and... I can't tell you how much I regret it. It turns out I actually really like you!"

Your jaw drops at his sudden confession and... so does his.

"As a person!" He exclaims, holding both hands up in defense as he laughs awkwardly. "I meant, as a person. You know phrasing's not my strong suit."

Cheeks heating up, you nod understandingly though you hate to admit his words had your heart racing.

Hanbin's lips press together in a dimpled smile. "So... does this mean you'll join the Blue Team for the rest of the year?"

You pucker your lips for a moment as you think, before answering definitively, "No. I could never betray my Pink Team like that."

He bites his lip, nodding sadly in agreement at your sentiment. Reaching for the door handle and unlocking it, your eyes reconnect with Hanbin's. In the end, he'd gone through all this effort just to make things right-- more than you'd ever expected him to do for you.

And the tiny frown on his face isn't helping to convince you to leave him empty-handed.

"But if I remember correctly," you add, your hand falling from the door knob to your side as you muster up all of the courage hiding deep within you. "You also pitched me an alternative."

Hanbin's eyes narrow in confusion before they suddenly light up, lips parted in shock.

"So maybe we can graduate from 'lunch dates' to a real date some time," you say, and it's not a question. Hanbin just stands there, grinning like an absolute idiot. "How does that sound?"

"Good," he says, nodding rapidly. "It sounds good."

"Good," you affirm, opening the door of the classroom. "Now let's get out of here..."

Hanbin follows you into the hallway, still smiling like he just won the lottery.

"Stop looking so happy," you say, smacking his shoulder playfully. "You're about to have to go to the nurse's office and fake the worst flu of your fucking life."

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yaekiss · 9 months

Text

꩜ Room Content: GN! Reader x GN! Yan! Sydney the Faithful, no gendered terms used for reader or Sydney, nsfw bulleted point towards the end where reader tops and chokes Sydney, unhealthy relationship from Sydney, worshipping, lmk if I missed out anything ! ꩜ A/N: This is so all over the place my bad LOL anyways some quick thoughts on how yan!Sydney the Faithful would play out, I also have thoughts about how it'd be like once the relationship has corrupted Sydney into their Fallen development but those r thoughts for another day orz...

- Started out as something harmless and cute, you spent so much time with them and you're one of the nicest people they've met in school so far, you’re probably their first crush ever !

- And when you reciprocate their love confession, those euphoric firework feelings never really fizzle out

- As your relationship progresses, you become all they can think about, be it while stamping the overdue books during their morning library counter duties or during mass

- Their eyes wander to where you’re seated at the end of the pew, next to some other initiate. Maybe you’re talking to them, maybe you’re just quietly listening to Jordan, but neither stop a strange new emotion from bubbling up in them

- When they see Jordan push the bread into your mouth, something in them twists. They’re not sure if they want to be the one to gingerly press the bread onto your tongue or if they want you to be the one to do the same to them

- If you took Jordan’s place, would they be able to hold back from enveloping your fingers in their mouth? To stop themselves from savouring you as if you were holier than anything in the temple itself? Sydney has to shake to clear away the thoughts, which catches your eye and, heavens above, what wouldn’t they do to keep your gaze upon them for a second more?

- Also thinking about a Devotion meter that serves as something like Kylar's Jealousy meter

- But unlike Kylar, they're more self-assured in your love for them. If anything, the more you remain steadfast in your relationship with them when others try to steal your attention away, the faster their devotion accumulates. (It’ll be even worse if you had an angel transformation, what’s stopping them from believing you should be worshipped?)

- Both Sirris and Sydney know about your living circumstances so it's not terribly difficult to convince their parent to let you stay over for a night or two when they come to pick Sydney up at the temple. Besides, Danube street and the orphanage are so close to each other, it’ll be no trouble at all!

- And if they take your hand into their clasped ones in the middle of the night, knelt at the edge of the bed while you’re asleep, feverishly praying for salvation for the both of you, surely you wouldn’t mind

- They find themselves rubbing at their holy pendant a lot more these days when they think about you. (When their thoughts stray into more inappropriate unholy territories, they fantasise about you wrapping the cord of their pendant around your hand to use it as leverage while you pound into them, the sensation of being choked by you might just send them to heaven ♡)

- Perhaps they need to bring you to the prayer room to fully show how much they need to worship you + + Devotion

Thanks for reading! Consider supporting me on kofi if you enjoyed this or check out my other works hehe ♡

#📜.qi writings #📜.qi rambles #yandere #degrees of lewdity #dol #dol x reader #yandere dol #sydney the faithful #dol sydney #dol sydney x reader #yandere dol sydney #yandere x reader #not... super sure if I'm happy w this since it's super rough but then again my bullet point thoughts r meant to be rough ig??#maybe I'll string this into a fic one day #anyways my dearest dol mutuals feel free to like add on any yan!sydney thoughts <33 #really wanted to bring out the religious kid's first crush gone wrong (gone yan) kind of vibe #idk if it's clear enough #hmm

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honest-moth-of-silver-grove · 4 months

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Can i ask for the Bg3 main companions (and maybe halsin and minthara as well??) comforting a really depressed reader? like they're not eating or sleeping well? could use some comfort. thank u 💕💕

BG3 Characters Comforting A Severely Depressed Reader

Please consider buying me a coffee, or tipping me via my Kofi, if you like my work! ♡♡♡

A/N: Here ya go! Have some extremely self-indulgent writing here. I’ve been having a really hard time health-wise lately and it’s been making my depression worse, so I feel ya. Depression sucks y’all.

TW: Depression, Thoughts of Suicide, Mentions of Self-Harm

Astarion:

Listen up honey, baby boy could've written the book on depression, okay?

He’s extremely understanding, especially if your depression manifests as anger or irritability. The gods know how angry he can get thinking about how he was abused and subjected to Cazador’s torture for so long.

Astarion knows depression is more than a feeling of sadness- it’s a raging storm of emotions and behaviors that comes from a brain working in overdrive to survive.

He’ll do little things for you, like leaving you a bouquet of freshly picked flowers or a vial of a new perfume for you to try; just a lot of simple things to remind you how he cares about you, even if you don’t always feel like caring for yourself.

He will help you bathe and/or dress on days those tasks feel overwhelming. He especially loves it when you agree to dress in something a little more fancy. He enjoys getting to shower you with extra compliments as well as seeing the cute half-smiles you give when one of said compliments finally reaches you.

If you’re self-harming, he will take it upon himself to steal any and all pointy things from your tent. Nope, you don’t need them, so hand them over, please. He gets why you feel an urge to do such things, but he asks you to please not to. He suggests letting him feed on you if you absolutely must scratch that itch, so to speak. That way, he can sort of supervise it, and ensure you’re properly cared for after. Plus, it doesn’t hurt that it’s a benefit for him. He thanks you profusely, hoping that one day you’ll stop seeing the act as a punishment and instead see it as an intimate gift, because to him, that’s what you are: a gift.

You are the most important person in his life. Your blood, your joy, your life, your everything is worth more than anyone in the world has to offer. Astarion doesn’t want you to think for a second that it’s something you should throw away, or feel the world would be better off without.

He knows it’s hard. Gods, does he know. And if you had asked him months ago if life were worth living, he might have said ‘no’. But now, he’s met you. And since he’s met you, he’s started seeing the wonder in things again. The beauty.

You are Astarion’s sunshine, his reason to keep going. Please, he asks, let him be your reason. Let him carry your weight when you are unable. Darling, he would steal the moon for you if you let him… don't you ever doubt that.

✧

Gale:

Gale has also experienced depression. After being discarded by Mystra, and then cursed with the orb, he thought life wasn’t worth living anymore. He locked himself away in his tower in Water Deep, refusing to speak to anyone but his tressym, Tara.

He’s understanding when you confess how you feel but ultimately hurt as if your pain were also his own. He cares for you so much. And he thinks it’s such a shame someone so wonderful and bright feels as awful as you do. It’s unfair. And he wishes so much to change it, even though he knows he alone cannot.

He will do his best to look after you though. He’ll encourage you to reach into The Weave with him, to feel the force of magic flow through your veins. It invigorates him and grounds him at the same time. He hopes it does similarly for you.

Gale knows depression makes it feel like caring for yourself is a losing battle, one you simply cannot win, so why bother trying? Which is why he takes it upon himself to do the more basic ‘battles’ for you. He’ll cook and clean, and make sure you’re getting plenty of fluids and rest. It’s not up for debate. He’ll even sic Tara on you if he has to. You will do what’s necessary to heal. He can’t stand seeing you in pain. He just wants you to feel better, and as soon as possible.

If you’re self-harming, he’s saddened and confused. He doesn’t quite understand that it’s not reflective of a deficit on his part. He wonders why his love isn’t enough for you to understand how precious you are. You’ll have to explain to him, how even though you know he loves you, your brain doesn’t let the feeling of being loved in. You explain how you hurt so much on the inside… sometimes it’s just easier to hurt on the outside too.

Once he understands though, he does his best to not take your feelings or self-harming personally. He wants you to be stable on your terms, not only stable with him at your side. Gale knows firsthand that overreliance on a partner often leads to heartbreak further down the road. He’ll just have to become confident enough in your relationship to give you the space you need.

He’ll use healing magic to cover and fix any self-harm cuts or scars. As well as spells to help you sleep at night if you suffer from insomnia. Just say the word, and he’ll find the spell that eases your particular discomforts. Or ask for a simple night of cuddles under the stars. He’s more than happy to provide that too.

Gale loves you, quite possibly more than words could ever hope to convey. Your happiness, in some ways, is an additional extension of his own. He will do everything in his power to make you smile. Just seeing you happy is more than enough for him.

✧

Wyll:

Wyll is a tragic hero in every sense of the word. He knows the lows of depression well.

He sacrificed his freedom to save Baldur’s Gate, and in return, he was disowned by his father, and forced into exile, all while having to serve a demon. He’s spent years mentally beating himself up for that sacrifice, and mentally chiding himself for ever having agreed to Mizora’s deal in the first place. On more than one occasion, he’s found himself wishing he could go back in time and choose differently. It’s an awful feeling to get stuck in, and he wants more than anything, for you to be free of such imprisoning feelings.

He’ll constantly remind you of all of your accomplishments: even the littlest ones- like if you’ve made your bed roll, or if you ate that day, or if you went for a walk, or made a successful conversation with a stranger.

He keeps track of your milestones but also keeps an eye out for any warning signs. He knows you are your own person and that he cannot stop you from doing something, not forever anyway. But he asks that you come to him instead of doing things that put yourself at risk. Please. The two of you can talk it out, or maybe he can show you a few moves with a sword to get that frustration and manic energy out. Whatever you wish, even if it’s just spending quiet time together, he’ll do it, if it means you don’t end up harming yourself.

He’s extra protective of you, especially whenever devils like Mizora or Raphael show up. He knows such creatures prey on vulnerability, and he’ll be damned before they ever take advantage of you. If any devil so much as even brings up the whispers of horrible things you think about yourself, he will dispatch them, immediately. He won’t hesitate for a second. How dare such vile creatures speak to you, an incredible and kind person, in such a way? He won’t stand for it.

He also tries to cheer you up and remind you how much you’re loved using the occasional grand romantic gesture. What can he say? He’s an old-fashioned romantic at heart. A candlelight dinner, a nice night by the fire in a private room at an inn… or even an evening of dancing under the stars; no gesture is too grand or too extravagant for the love of his life.

You are beyond special to him. You are his future. In a way, he sees you as a gift from the Gods, proof that in the end, good deeds do pay out. Can’t you see? You’re his cherished partner. Wyll would do it all over again, exactly the same, even his deal with Mizora, so long as he ends up with you at his side.

You brought a sense of family, pride, security, and love back into Wyll’s life. Let him do what he can to bring that back into yours.

✧

Karlach:

Karlach may be a golden retriever in tiefling form, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t know what it means to be sad. She was betrayed by Gortash, her mentor, and sold to Zariel who quite literally ripped Karlach’s heart out of her chest. There was a time when she didn’t think her heart would ever beat again, now that her physical one was taken. But she did what she had to, and she found a purpose amidst her betrayal using the skills she had to bide her time until she could escape.

For Karlach, she’s no longer in a depressive state. She’s overjoyed at the amount of freedom she’s gained- at the feel of fresh air and actual sunshine on her face. She’s so in love with life. She forgot what it was to live joyfully, and now that she’s remembered, she doesn’t ever want it to stop.

She knows you don’t feel up for it, she gets it. But she won’t stop dragging you to events and new places. She knows it takes time for someone to go through an episode, or episodes, of feeling like shit. She’ll gladly wait them out with you. But she won’t let you take those episodes lying down. She’s going to do what she can to put some joy into your life, whether you want it or not.

Karlach will constantly remind you of how lucky she is to have you. She tells you rather bluntly that she adores you, no characteristic or quirk is safe from her myriad of compliments and gushing. She also makes a point to talk you up to the others, especially after you’ve been self-deprecating lately. She makes it clear just how incredible you are. Everyone should know, especially you.

She will physically restrain you before she lets you self-harm. Although she has to be careful not to burn you accidentally herself, she much prefers holding you through a bout as opposed to asking you to stop and simply hoping for the best. She cares so much for you, she couldn’t chance it. The thought of you hurting yourself when she’s right next door is too much, she couldn't bear it. She’d feel awful like she failed you in some way.

She reminds you how much you do for everyone else, even when you don’t realize it. How you play with Scratch and the Owlbear Cub. How you help Gale find magical objects. Or how you always point out any flowers or plant life within Baldur’s Gate to Halsin to remind him of home. Karlach knows you think of everyone- you’re always putting them first. She wants you to know it’s okay if you have to pull back to put yourself first, to take care of your mental and physical health. It’s not selfish, it’s not rude. You’re doing what you need to do in order to survive. Who amongst you can’t say the same?

She ropes everyone in when it comes to looking after you. They all better be nice or they can answer to her and her big smoldering muscles. And speaking of big flaming muscles…

She knows she can’t beat the depression for you, but Karlach’ll be damned if you think you gotta go it alone. Even when you don’t feel up for it, Karlach will be right there, fighting by your side.

✧

La’zel:

La’zel is not familiar with the idea of depression. Githyanki come from a society where any weakness, physical or mental, is frowned upon. It is considered a personal failure to let yourself fall victim to your emotions. As a result, La’zel is often unaware of how she feels about things.

La’zel may not be the affectionate partner, but she knows enough about herself to understand she likes you and admires you greatly. This makes your illness all the more confusing to her. She doesn’t understand how someone like you, someone she views as strong and capable could be all that sad on the inside. Perhaps you are mistaken? La’zel reminds you of how impressive she finds you, assuming that will be enough to snap you out of it. (It isn’t, of course.)

You’ll have to sit her down and explain what depression is; how it doesn’t necessarily have anything to do with how capable someone is. It’s something that happens when the brain doesn’t work quite right, you can’t get the perspective everyone else has. La’zel asks if this is related to the parasite. In which case, it’s just another reason to defeat the Absolute. Once you make it clear, it has nothing to do with the parasite, she seems to accept the idea with less hostility.

La’zel recognizes this ‘depression’ as an opponent of yours. And of course, as your partner, she insists on working to defeat it with you. She’ll ask you to join her in her workouts, insisting that you spar with her only to secretly go easy on you, and let you win. She wants that boost to your ego to remind you just how proficient you are. To her, a victory is one of the highest compliments, and she wants you to feel complimented.

You are her partner, her zhak vo'n'fynh duj, her source of joy. She thinks the world of you. Even though she is not familiar with your culture or customs, she makes more of an effort to understand them, in hopes they will reveal secret knowledge about this ‘depression’ to her. She wants to know everything there is to know about this enemy. The more knowledge she has, the better she feels equipped to aid you in the fight.

If you’re self-harming, she may not notice right away. However, her suspicions arise when you are ashamed of what she assumed were battle scars. La’zel will not hesitate to pin you down if she catches you hurting yourself and holding you close until the urges have passed. She won’t take away any of your weaponry- she knows how important it is. But she will keep a close watch, and invite you away from your tent and your tools when she senses the urge to self-harm within you is great.

Githyanki do not beg. They are a strong, proud species. So it’s of the utmost shock when La’zel gets on her knees before you, taking one of your hands in between hers. She confesses how much she cares for you. And begs you, to please, please, continue to fight the good fight for her. You are her anchor to this world, to a life beyond orders and discipline, you’ve opened up her world to joy and acceptance. Please don’t leave her alone in it. She may be a proficient fighter, but her heart just couldn’t bear that.

✧

Shadowheart:

Shadowheart may not remember much of her past before Shar, but she does know one thing for certain, and that’s how she feels for you. In the past, she’s found herself overcome by feelings of sadness and anger, so she’s no stranger to having to live with such unpleasant emotions. She’s also no stranger to living with chronic pain, her hand always existing as a constant reminder of what Shar took from her. And despite happy reminders and the sun always shining the next day, Shadowheart knows there is nothing that can change that. Until Shar grows bored, living with pain is something she will be forced to endure.

Having to live with that pain has made Shadowheart incredibly understanding when it comes to the ups and downs of your mood swings caused by depression. She knows the feeling of ‘it's not fair!’ all too well, and will never chastise you or shush you for bringing it up. It isn’t fair how some people go through like okay and other people have suffering planted inside them. It’s life, but it’s not fair, and you don’t have to pretend it is.

Shadowheart will always offer to help you with changing out of your clothes/armor into more suitable night attire. She has a routine every night that helps her decompress, and she’d love to share it with you.

On the days you feel nothing matters, like you can’t even get out of bed, don’t worry, she’ll be right there, outside of your tent, asking if there’s anything she can fetch you if there’s anything you need. And if you have no use for any physical items or healing spells, she’s more than happy to just sit with you, silently reading a book as you lay on your bedroll. It’s comforting, and reassuring, that you don’t have to say or do anything to be able to enjoy each other’s presence. It takes some pressure off of having a relationship.

If she ever finds you’ve been self-harming, Shadowheart will feel angry. Then hurt. Then disappointed. Then hurt again. She wishes you wouldn’t but at the same time, she understands why you would do something like that. A part of her might feel angry that here she is, forced to live with the pain she didn’t ask for, while you go around giving yourself pain necessarily, but given time, she’ll learn to compartmentalize that train of thought. Your self-harming isn’t about her, she knows that.

She will of course, always heal your wounds, unless you persistently ask her not to. In which case, she might relent, but she still insists on checking them to see how they’re healing naturally and at the first sign of infection or spreading, she will use her healing spells as a cleric to deal with them- no ifs ands or butts.

Shadowheart just wants to be able to make up for lost time with you. She wants a life with you beyond the horrors and the trials of the Absolute, beyond the misery of Shar. She wants the two of you happily living in a modest home, maybe somewhere with animals nearby. She wants you and her parents to get along. She wants your friends to visit often. But most of all, she wants you to be at peace, to be content with the life in front of you. It may take some time, but she swears one day, the two of you will get there. You may never be overly happy, but you will have found tenderness in each other.

✧

Halsin:

Halsin is such a sweetheart, but despite his calm demeanor, he has more than his fair share of demons lurking just beneath the surface. Halsin’s lived a long life. He knows what it feels like to get stuck in a rut, and he knows the hopelessness that often comes with fighting an uphill battle. The Shadow Curse was once just a whispered threat before it grew concrete enough to take up much of Halsin’s life. Forced to always take care of others, and forced to put the greater good before himself, Halsin is no stranger to the slow silent depressive undercurrent that often wades into the stream of your life. Unfortunately, as an archdruid and leader of Emerald Grove, Halsin has had to endure such melancholy alone. As such, he wishes you never feel you have to shoulder your burdens alone.

There is a chance, thanks to the degree of his focus and admiration, that you won’t need to tell him of your feelings, that he will sense them before you do. Halsin won’t pry incessantly, but he does make it known that feeling low is nothing to be ashamed of and that he is always willing to lend an ear.

On the days you can not take care of yourself, Halsin won’t complain in the slightest. He’ll simply aid you in doing whatever needs to be done. He’ll carry you to the river to bathe just as he carries you to the table to eat. He’s so gentle with you, his large hands treat you as if you were made of glass as if he’s almost afraid to touch you.

And don’t worry about any emotional outbursts you might have, be it crying or yelling, or a quick succession of both, Halsin does his best not to take it personally. There is very little you could do or say, aside from causing great harm to another living thing, that he would not understand and forgive.

If you self-harm, he doesn’t react with anger. He does his best to look neutral although he is heartbroken on the inside. He sees you as his salvation, and to see his salvation do such a thing pains him so.

If you’re having trouble sleeping, or get frequent aches, he’ll use healing spells or old-fashioned massages to alleviate some of your pain. He’s quite fond of anything that lets him touch you as he cares for you, be it massages, bathing, braiding your hair, or simply holding you close as you sleep atop his broad chest.

If it’s too much, Halsin will understand your desire for space, and grant you it, he won’t force it on you. But for Halsin, that touch is a reminder you’re still here, that he hasn’t lost you yet, just as he has lost everyone he has ever loved previously.

He always encourages you in your self-care, be it eating or sleeping. He will offer gentle reminders throughout the day, and bring you food should he notice you haven't eaten in a while. If he could physically take on your burdens for you, he would. If it meant your happiness, Halsin would gladly suffer.

You showed him what it meant to live again. You rescued him from his depressive enemy- from the loneliness of the Shadow Curse. He sees it as his duty to do all he can to rescue you from yours.

Halsin knows he cannot ‘save you’ from your feelings. But that doesn’t mean he’ll ever stop trying. He cares so deeply for you. Trust that even though his heart may wander, he will always find his way back to you. No one else, not even your depression is enough to keep him away.

✧

Minthara:

Minthara lives in a state of suspended fear, hidden deep down inside. The Underdark is a cutthroat place, full of betrayal and uprising. There is no such thing as ‘love’ or ‘friendship’- only strength and temporary alliances. But then again, that was before she was infected with the parasite, that was before she met you.

Now that’s grown close to you, now that she realizes the strengths of sharing vulnerability with the one you love, she refuses to live without it. You are her first true love. She will not settle for less. And she refuses to go through the rest of her life without you, readily at her side.

She may not be the kindest when it comes to questioning why you haven't been as eager as usual. But once you explain your situation, Minthara comes to regard your condition with respectful contemplation. She tries to put herself in your shoes, so to speak, before making any future remarks. It is not easy for her, but she does her best. You will have to remind her often and explain each symptom of your depression separately.

Minthara discovers through your openness, that she has had such symptoms as well. The only difference between her and you is that she was taught to swallow such feelings, to never let them surface. It makes her all the more tender in the way she interacts with you. And she asks for your continued tenderness in return.

The two of you can express your darkest thoughts, and ruminations much more freely because of that. You know Minthara will not hold those thoughts against you, just as you will not hold hers against her.

If she finds you’ve been self-harming, she asks to watch the next time. It might strike you as an odd request, but it helps twofold: 1) It reminds you you’re not alone at such a time of deep pain, and 2) It makes you feel self-conscious, bringing you out of that self-harm spiral. It’s much harder to keep your blinders on when the person you love most is sitting right next to you. It empowers you to push such urges away, and instead spend time in the presence of the one you love, knowing she doesn’t think any less of you, and that you don’t have to hide any component of your suffering.

Minthara may be cold to others, and she is not one to languish in her depressed feelings, but she will tolerate sitting with you in yours. If having instances of momentary vulnerability will help you heal and make you stronger in the long run, Minthara is more than willing to ride those instances out with you.

✧

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#bg3 x reader #baldurs gate imagine #baldurs gate 3 x reader #baldurs gate 3 imagine #baldurs gate x reader #bg3 imagine #bg3 #hc

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satanicsanity · 1 year

Text

Please remember this is fan-made alternative universe content! None of this is cannon! <3

Sorry about the issues from last night, I'm back! <3 and as usual I've gotten multiple requests for something haha! Alot of peeps wanted to see more yandere wally, and a couple wanted frank helping them to try and escape wally! So here you are!! <3

TW(No nsfw/nothing sexual): Kidnapping, ropes, violence, aggressive behavior, locking up, manipulation, Love sick behavior, etc! If you're triggered by themes like this, please skip the video!

‼️please go support wally's ACTUAL voice actor, @DaFrankiestein!🩷🩷🩷‼️

The art & characters used are by clown/party coffin!🩷Go support them and donate to their Kofi of you can!

Subtitles:

Wally: [distant footsteps & voice] Oh neighbor!~ I know you're here~ you can't run away from me, my Love~

[footsteps begin to fade]

Frank, panicked: Damn it he's close. Okay... Just- just try to calm down, alright?? I've almost got these ropes over and done with. [Frank continues trying to untie y/n] Okay.. Almost there... Alright! Finally! I-

[frank is interrupted by an attack from wally, knocking them out and making them collapse to the floor,

Moment of silence]

Wally: ...Oh neighbor, why must you be so foolish? You know that no neighbor here could help you, especially one like... Well, This. Alright, no more playing around. I really don't want to have to hurt you my love... But if you keep trying to escape me, I think I might have to. [pause] ...Hm. I think maybe we should upgrade from your ropes, clearly that is not going to hold you. Come on, I'm going to lock you in my room for a bit. You're going to stay in there, and you're going to think about what you've done. Understand? Good. [voice begins to fade out] I'm going to have to induce amnesia on this... [sigh] problem, of a.. Neighbor.

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frechiiie · 2 years

Text

alright, so here’s the deal since I need to come clean with y’all

I’m paying off my 2021 year taxes since I owed them money and stuff, I made a payment plan with TurboTax and shit and I’ve already made 2 payments out of 4. I’ve been paying that pack easy and on time; no issues there. However, I got a letter from the irs saying I was 2 months late on my payments (which I wasn’t) apparently I made the payments in the wrong year or section?? I have no fucking clue tbh; I thought I was paying it right but apparently not. BUT luckily the 2 payments I made were still under my name and social but they were unclaimed. I gave them a call to sort it out and got the 2 payments back to the balance of where it should’ve gone! I was firm to tell them I was already in a payment plan (I have them the 2 last dates on the other 2 payments I need to do) and we AGREED to stick by it. All is good, I thought I sorted it out. I got another letter confirming it and everything. Awesome!

Then yesterday I got YET another letter from the irs, basically they want me to pay the full remaining balance (aka: 3.5k) by AUGUST 28th of next month. So uh, I’m a little stressed out and anxious about that because idk about y’all but I literally do not have 3,500 dollars. IF I DID…I WOULD’VE PAID IT OFF.

So now I have to wait for the 4th to pass so I can give them a call and ask them why they decided to fully charge me the rest by that date instead of the payment plan we agreed on. If worst comes to worst; they’re going to tell me it’s all due on august with no exceptions. And if it is, I’m literally screwed. Because I do NOT have that kind of money.

Part of me wants to open comms but I literally can’t, my body will not handle that kind of pressure with what I already have on my shoulders. I would take like maybe 2 comms but I deadass doubt anyone would even pay 100 dollars for my art. It’s not that good enough unless it’s a comic and right now? I don’t wanna be doing comic comms. No way.

And what’s worse is that I haven’t paid for shipping on the other plush orders that are done (sun, moon and teddy Freddy and Gregory) as-well as gotten the bulk order on the keychain plushies finalized because the met amount hasn’t been reached yet. I honestly wanted to cry because I felt like a complete failure,

I am not nor will I ever use the money for shipping to make any other purchases than what they are intended for, that would be irresponsible of me to do so. That money was from you guys for me to ship your orders and that will NOT be touched.

My friends lightly suggested that I upped my princess on the plushies because they cost a lot more to produce and ship, and they’re right but if I charged more then they won’t be affordable and won’t make much sales, I’m thinking after the keychain plushies I should just go back to sticking with chains, pins and stickers. BUT what I will do is charge the keychain plushies from 30 to 40 dollars because I sold my blueberry plush for 40 so it’s only fair.

I wouldn’t be struggling too much if I knew what I was doing as a small business owner but since I’m new to it I practically don’t know what I’m doing. I’ve been suggested to look for other stuff that I can do for me to make a profit while not spending too much. And target stuff I know will sell well.

But right now? I gotta go as planned, so I am begging for help.

Please please let’s try to get the stuff on my shop sold out for me (if possible), you can share to whoever you want and purchase whatever you see of interest in my shop! And if you can leave a tip that’ll help a lot!

And if you can’t buy anything on my shop, that’s okay! You can also buy me a Kofi or two! ANYTHING helps!

I’m trying to prepare for the worst, I just hope that’s not the case but I’m deadass loosing my grip. so PLEASE PLEASE help me in any way you can if you want!

The goal for my stuff is to make others happen with stuff that I create, art is something I love to do and want to make a career out of, and your support would mean a lot! Thanks!

I’ll update y’all on what happens after I give the damn irs a call on Tuesday. In the meantime, im gonna try not to spiral. Links to my Kofi, Shop and even Paypal are down below! Thank you!

https://ko-fi.com/frechiiie/shop

https://ko-fi.com/frechiiie

https://www.paypal.me/Frecher

#txt #i feel pathetic for typing this but I have to come clean #please help me out! it would mean a lot if you want me to continue what I do and wanna support what I do

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wannab-urs · 8 months

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Faulty System

Graphic: Old Friends by James R. Eads

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x f!reader (i don’t really specify gender here, but the reader is afab in prior installments)

Summary: It’s easy to let all the bad parts of being with Dieter obscure the beauty of who he was. You try not to. WC: ~900

Warnings: // in order // drug and alcohol use, Major Character Death (in the past), talking to your toxic mother, excessive cursing bc that’s how I talk sorry, discussion of mental illness, discussions of like idk… physical deterioration due to mental health and drug abuse, implied sex dream turned nightmare, no happy ending, trauma dumping (not in the fic, that’s just what I’m doing)

A/N: Thanks to @theywhowriteandknowthings and @atinylittlepain for reading and discussing with me <3 eternally fucking grateful to y’all. This fic is based somewhat loosely on the song Your Needs, My Needs by Noah Kahan, which is about watching someone you love become a ghost of themselves due to addiction. I know very few people want to read a pairing//x reader fic where the other half is dead, and I really appreciate all of you who read and love my Dieter fics. I don’t know how I can ever describe how it feels to have someone tell you they read the darkest parts of your soul and found something good in it. Love y’all. also i should probably wait to post this but i have no self control :)

Series Masterlist | Dieter Bravo Masterlist | Main Masterlist | AO3 | Kofi

You asked me why I wasn't sayin' a word I'm namin' the stars in the sky after you

A late night walk, something you do to get him out of the apartment. Giggling as you slip the hastily rolled joint from his teeth. You press it to your lips and draw acrid smoke into your lungs, push it back out into the humid air and walk through a haze of your own creation. You’re drunk, maybe. High, definitely. Dieter wraps his arms around you from behind and you awkwardly waddle-walk down the sidewalk, tangled up.

He presses a kiss to the space behind your ear and you scrunch your shoulder up, shrugging him away. “Fuckin tickles!” You squirm away from him and break into a run, tossing the joint behind you, laughing and squealing as he chases you. You skid to a stop behind your usual tree in the park. Press your back into the bark. “I see you, baby. Can’t hide from me.”

You make a break for it. A stumbling, stuttering start and his arms are around you in a flash, pulling you to his chest as he hits the ground on his back. Howling hyena laughter ringing in the quiet midnight air. He kisses you, sucking all the air right out of your lungs, breathing it back into you. You separate only to turn in his arms and crash back into him, hands fisting in his curls, bodies pressed together down to your toes. He makes you dizzy, a little sick, disoriented.

You flop onto your back next to him, staring at the night sky awash with stars as you fight to catch your breath. You get quiet, gazing at the stars. He asks why. “Just thinking.” He waits for you to continue, knows to let you work it out first.

“You burn so fucking bright, Dee. It lights up the whole sky.” He smiles and brings your hand to his chapped lips, pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

You don’t tell him he’s like the stars you learned about from that space documentary you like to fall asleep to. They burn incredibly hot and bright. More than any other star. And then they burn out. They’re quick about it. They light up the night sky for this infinitesimal amount of time compared to something like a red dwarf. And then they’re gone, collapsing in on themselves and taking anything unlucky enough to be caught in their orbit with them.

“Only for you.”

You were a work of art That's the hardest part

A meeting with your mom, a year and change after. She’s sitting in his seat, probably doesn’t even realize. You can’t look at her, your eyes flicking between your untouched tea and the window. So many days spent lying under that tree, just across the street. Tugging each other by the hand into this coffee shop. Curling up in the booth and talking for hours.

“I honestly don’t get why you’re still so upset. You were together for less time than it’s been since…” She trails off, not wanting to actually say the words. Since he died. “He hurt you. He’s still hurting you. He wasn’t good for you.” She says it matter of factly, like it’s common knowledge.

“Don’t fucking tell me he wasn’t good for me. You don’t know that. No one fucking knew him like I did. No one even gave him a chance. I had to watch this brilliant man turn into a goddamn ghost in front of me and no one else even gave a shit.”

“He turned you into a ghost too.”

You drag your palm across your face, smearing tears into your hairline.

“The sad part is – we were fucking gorgeous together. It wasn’t always bad, you know? He made me feel alive and beautiful and fucking… real. Like no one ever had before. He was incredible. He was so fucking smart. Kind, talented. Wonderful. He was wonderful.”

Trace the outlines of your dreams You'll always be a flower on my skin

A dream, a memory maybe. A blur of white sheets, dark curls tinged with blue paint. Gasps and sighs. Lips and tongue and teeth everywhere and nowhere at the same time. Eyes you never quite catch a glimpse of. Every feeling fleeting and just out of reach. Indents of fingers on your skin, dragging rough down your legs. These you feel. Hooking into you and nearly pulling you with him as he slips away. You swear you wake up with bloody streaks down to your calves. God it fucking hurts.

Watching him slowly kill himself, knowing it was happening, and not being able to do a damn thing about it, that was the hardest part. Towards the… the end... Fuck. When lucidity completely escaped him, he was scared. Terrified of himself and everyone around him. In his rare moments of clarity he was always so bitter, so angry at himself for not being what you needed. He punished himself. Didn’t eat, didn’t sleep, didn’t speak. You think you hated him a little, by the end.

Still. You don’t think you’re ever getting him out of your system. There was too much good in him to not forgive him for the bad. The rotten, broken, crumbling part at the center of him that took him from you. You watched him fall in on himself and you did nothing about it. Could do nothing about it. Helpless.

You cross that county line I promise to be there this time, alright?

–-------------------

Series Masterlist

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

Thanks for reading <3

I don't really do tag lists anymore usually but:

@ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @mandoisapunk @amanitacowboy @pamasaur @cool-iguana (and I'll just drop a link to the rest of ya <3)

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro fics #pedro pascal character fanfiction #Dieter Bravo #Dieter Bravo fics #Dieter Bravo fan fiction #Dieter Bravo x reader #Dieter Bravo x you #The Bubble #pedrostories #dieter bravo x f!reader #the bubble fanfiction #Spotify

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finniestoncrane · 1 year

Note

Hi! :-) Can i request a nr. 21, 24 and 28 from the promt list with Victor Zsasz? <3 (21. "You look good with my cum all over your face. / 24. "I wanna fuck you in front of a mirror so you can see how good you take it. / 28. "You talk too much. Maybe I should put my dick in your mouth so you'll shut up.")

Taking You

Gotham!Zsasz x GN!Reader, word count: 500 i'm uh... not shockingly into the idea of him using me so this was good 🖤🔪 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: rough, cum play, blowjobs, facefucking, sub/dom if you squint, degradation kinda

“Tell me then. Tell me what you want.”

“I uh… I want… you. I want you to fuck me, and touch me, and use me. Maybe you could-”

“Ok, you talk to much.”

Victor gripped your cheeks, pressing them tightly together between his fingers and thumb, watching your lips part and pout out, drool spilling from the corner of your mouth.

“Maybe I should put my dick in your mouth, shut you up, huh?”

Gripping his cock at the base, he lined up his head with your lips, still puckered out like a cheap blow-up doll. Sliding it over them, he pressed his cock inside of you, inch by inch. Slowly at first. But he got brutal pretty swiftly. You gagged, loosening your throat and taking a deep breath through your nose.

“Oh, very good.”

Hitting the bag of your throat, enjoying the way your throat tensed and moved as you coughed against him, he threw his head back. With a deep chuckle, he let his hands fall to your head, gripping the back of it and forcing you to take in more of him with each movement, swallowing him, letting his head disappear down your throat.

“Ok, get up. Move over here. I want to fuck you in front of the mirror. So you can see how good you take it.”

He tugged your hair, lifting you from the floor in front of him. You shuffled on your knees, stumbling as he dragged you, ushering you to just in front of the tall mirror on the floor of his sparse bedroom. Once he could see you, looking to the side to watch you take him, he pulled your head forward again, onto his cock as you sank down the length. Relaxing again, trying to take him as best as you could, you still gagged. Victor thrust his hips forward, fucking you, using you, as you gagged against him.

Raising your hands to his thighs, you tried to steady him, but he slapped them away. There was nothing that was going to stop him from using you exactly how he wanted to, but luckily he was close to the edge.

“Open your mouth and your eyes.”

You leaned back, his cock freed from your mouth with a sordid pop. He took control of it again, rubbing the length hard and fast, aiming his flushed, slickened head over your open lips. Despite the efforts he went to, as he shuddered into his orgasm, his cum spilled in ropes over your face, very little going into your mouth, instead coating your lips and cheeks. He wiped it from under your eye with his thumb, holding your face in his hand, surprisingly gentle.

“You look good with my cum all over your face.”

A soft slap against your cheek, he spoke in a mocking tone, sarcasm and cruelty tainting it.

“Very good job!”

Licking at your lips, you savoured his taste as he watched you, eyes wide, cock twitching. You wondered if he had the energy to go again.

#finnie writes #victor zsasz #gotham zsasz #victor zsasz x reader #gotham #gotham fox #batman rogues #rogues gallery #zsasz x reader #victor zsasz fanfic #gotham!verse #gotham!zsasz

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jebewonmorelike · 1 year

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Hao You Like That?

wc: 2.6k (guys i can't stop writing 2.6k words pls send help and love) pronouns: none used; n/a (if u find any that i wrote by mistake, pls let me know) warnings: none? a bit angsty, a bit fluffy... a mention of drinking, bullying/jealousy, food... maybe a swear or two? ricky pops up at the end, but that's not a warning it's a very pleasant surprise summary: oh no, you guys. trainee!reader is zhang hao's arch nemesis... i hope they aren't secretly harboring romantic feelings for eachother! ~masterlist~ ♡ ~kofi (no pressure at all)~ Not ready for eliminations guys. I think all of my top picks are safe (I'm getting so worried about Jay though), but I truly love ALL of those boys so much. I can't wait to see what they all do next. Can't believe we'll have Bep1er in like two weeks...

"(Y/N)!"

You chew your cheeks silently as your dance teacher shouts your name, bracing yourself for the inevitable criticism.

He glares at you a moment, before snapping his fingers and pointing to the center of the formation. “Stand there.”

You glance at Zhang Hao, the trainee that is currently standing at center and who also happens to be your arch nemesis. Zhang Hao had always been the darling of your company, an extremely talented dancer, vocalist and notable visual. But the first day you walked through your company’s doors as a fresh-faced trainee with an enviable skillset, Zhang Hao had suddenly found himself faced with real competition for the first time since he started training.

So for the past year it’s been a constant professional battle between the two of you, but on more than one occasion things had felt quite personal. When you were awarded center and main vocalist in your training group’s number for the company showcase in the spring, you woke up the morning of the performance to a large rash around your collarbone and running up both of your arms. Come to find out, Zhang Hao had exploited your well-known allergy to nickel and switched your costume jewelry for the performance with his.

This offense, of course, called for payback of equal or higher severity. When Zhang Hao was selected to perform solo for investors last fall, you spread a rumor around the company that he still wet the bed. The rumor spread so far that when Zhang Hao took center stage, one of the investors asked the CEO loudly, "Oh, this is the bed-wetter boy you were talking about?"

Hao is absolutely fuming right now and you can tell by the lack of expression on his face. No visible reaction from him always meant you'd be paying for whatever you earned later.

He steps aside as you take center, moving to your previous spot as you run the dance this way for your teacher. You give it your all, but you're admittedly a bit surprised to be considered for center for "How You Like That". You had been up all night for a week trying to finish an essay for your Sociology class and you hadn't stayed at the company past nine for the last three days. Practicing this dance had been low on your list of priorities.

As you hit your final pose, your teacher nods thoughtfully. He always looks so angry that you can never tell what he's really thinking until he says it out loud.

"I think we should put it up to a vote," he says decidedly.

Your eyes find Hao's quickly, a look of surprise on his face mirroring yours. "A vote?"

Your teacher claps his hands together. "A vote. You can practice for 24 hours. And tomorrow at this time, you'll both battle it out and the whole company will vote on it."

You swallow hard. "This is a terrible idea."

"What? Afraid you can't beat me?" Hao challenges with a smirk.

You study him for a second: his stupid (perfect) hair, his stupid (fashionable) outfit, his stupid (handsome) face. You know very well that he hates this idea as much as you do, if not more.

Your status as the top two trainees at the company made you both targets of jealousy and bullying, often leaving you feeling ostracized from much of the group. Funnily enough, Zhang Hao was probably the only person who could really understand how you feel most days, so it was both ironic and a real shame that he hated you most of all.

"No. I'm afraid of what will happen to me when I do," you reply, folding your arms as you turn your attention back to the front of the room.

Your teacher sighs in disbelief. "You two are the most annoying students I've ever had. Talented... But so irritating."

Some trainees behind you laugh while your teacher dismisses the group practice and you quickly gather your things and run out the door to an individual practice room.

You practice for a few more hours, not really wanting to lose to Hao now that you'd challenged him in front of your whole group. Crashing into your dorm around midnight, you work on your essay for another four hours before finally falling asleep. By 5:45 A.M., you're up and ready to walk through company doors at 6.

The day moves so slowly as you phone it in for every practice session and spend your lunch and dinner breaks alone in a practice room, thinking only about the choreography for the showcase number. You will never be able to listen to "How You Like That" the same way after this.

Finally, you reach your last practice session of the day at 8 P.M. and as you make your way to the studio room, you're surprised when you see Zhang Hao sitting in the hallway with his back against the wall.

Approaching the door, you look over at him. "What are you doing?"

He looks up at you and you can swear his eyes are watery. "Nothing."

"Are you crying?" You ask in a less than caring manner.

He looks away and sniffles. "Allergies."

"Did someone... say something?" You prompt reluctantly, knowing that it was a common occurrence for one or the both of you to end your days in tears from a nasty comment from your peers. "I don't know why you'd listen to them anyway. They're just jealous of you. Why wouldn't they be? You're better than them."

You're not really sure why you're offering even an attempt at words of comfort right now. Maybe it's because of your sleep deprivation. Maybe it's because his handsome face looks extra pathetic right now. Or maybe it's because you can't help but sympathize with him.

His wide eyes meet yours in a way you can't remember having seen before, but he doesn't say anything.

"I'd also be happy to say something even worse to take your mind off it?" You offer facetiously as you take into account his non-response.

He checks his watch suddenly and stands up, dusting himself off a bit as he grabs the door handle and pushes it open. "I think beating you should help just fine, actually."

Hao goes first, performing the center choreography and vocals for "How You Like That" to an audience of about fifty trainees that your teacher could muster up. Hardly the whole company, but you were surprised even that many of your peers wanted to watch either of you.

You can't help but notice that Zhang Hao seems a little distracted. Moves he would normally punch perfectly on an accented beat are lagging slightly and his expression is less than enthused. Nevertheless he does well and after he finishes, you hop up to take your turn. Fighting the exhaustion that is consuming your body, you battle to the best of your ability. Your voice has sounded extra good today, maybe because you hadn't let it cool down for over twenty-four hours. Hitting your final pose, you know you've out-performed Hao by at least a noticeable margin.

And from the look in his eyes, you know he knows it, too.

Your teacher stands up and calls for the vote. The trainees all hand in small slips of paper with either your name or Zhang Hao's on them and your teacher counts them quickly.

"Zhang Hao is the winner with... 43 votes," he says, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. "Huh."

You feel your cheeks start to heat up at the embarrassingly large defeat, swallowing the lump in your throat quickly. Your group practice session resumes without fanfare and you work on ironing out your original sub-vocal one and main rapper part for the rest of the hour, scurrying quickly from the practice studio and out company doors as fast as humanly possible.

You hit 'submit' on your essay at 11:37 P.M. exactly, just making the midnight deadline. Rubbing your eyes furiously, you start to get ready for a good night's sleep after a restless week of practice and schoolwork. Your toothbrush is in your mouth when a knock sounds on your door. Your roommates had gone out to drink tonight and said they wouldn't be back until early morning, so you wonder who the mysterious guest could be.

Spitting into the sink and wiping your mouth, you run to the door and open it cautiously to find Ricky, Zhang Hao's roommate, smiling politely back at you.

"Oh, hey (Y/N)... I think this got delivered to our room by mistake. I flipped it open quickly since there was no name on it and it's addressed to you, so I figured it just got mixed in with our mail by accident," Ricky explains, handing you a delicately folded piece of white paper.

"Oh," you say, turning it over in your hands. "Thanks, Ricky."

"No worries," he says with a nod, starting to walk away before adding, "Hey, uh, don't feel too bad about today either. Hao is really good, of course, but he only won by such a big margin because he bought everyone ramen for dinner tonight in exchange for their vote."

You can't help but laugh at the information you should've probably deduced for yourself. "Typical."

"If it makes you feel any better-- I'm upset about it, too. He used my credit card," the tall boy relays with a sigh, turning around and making his way back to his dorm.

You close the door to your room, sitting down on your bed and staring at the strange letter in your hands. You carefully open the folded piece of white paper and read the neat handwriting on the page:

"(Y/N),

Why are you like this? So perfect, I mean. You didn't practice the dance nearly as much as I did, but you were so much better. Why do you have to be a trainee at my company? Wouldn't it be better if we had both signed with different companies? Then maybe you wouldn't hate me so much. Then maybe I wouldn't have to pretend to hate you at all. Then maybe I wouldn't have been staring at you so much during practice today that I had my position as center questioned.

Ugh, this is so stupid. I don't know why my therapist told me to do this. So what if it's not healthy to have an "arch nemesis"? So what if it's even less healthy to have a crush on my so-called arch nemesis? What does she know?

I know I can't ever say any of this to you, but I just feel like you might be the one person who really gets me. How else would we be able to ruin each other's lives so effectively? Is it so wrong to want to turn things around? And it's not like we really have anyone else to talk to. I guess I just don't know how to tell you that I--..."

The letter ends there; a pen mark after the letter 'I' indicating the writer was pulled away from it in a hurry. It isn't signed, of course, but you know there's only one person who could've written it.

Jumping off of your bed, slipping on your shoes and racing down the hall, you knock on the door to his room. Ricky opens the door, smiling at first and then eyes widening in fear as he sees the look on your face.

"Is Hao there?" You ask frantically.

He shakes his head quickly. "No, he's still at the company, why--."

"Thanks," you say, starting down the hall as the blonde boy stares after you. "You should be running too, Ricky!"

"Why?" He asks, brows furrowing in confusion.

Opening the doors of your dorm building, you yell back over your shoulder, "Because Hao is going to kill you!"

Bursting through the company's doors at 12:06 A.M., you drop your phone in the basket in the hallway. A staff member greets you very cautiously.

"(Y/N), are you here to practice? All the individual rooms are currently in use," she says, looking at her watch to see what time it is.

"Great. Where's Zhang Hao?" You quietly demand, walking past her down the corridor to the individual practice rooms.

"Oh, um... Number three," she calls after you've already turned the corner. You're shaking slightly by the time you reach the door to practice room number three, entirely out of breath and sopping wet from running half a mile in the rain to get there in a fit of anxiety and rage.

You spot him now through the small window in the practice room door, perfecting some choreography for the investors' evaluation this weekend. His eyes are closed and his headphones are on as you prepare for a sneak attack, opening the door and stepping inside.

But Hao's eyes suddenly locking on yours through the mirror sends a panic through your system. You're breathing even harder than you were before as he turns around to face you. Taking off his headphones, he gives you a look of concern (or disgust) as he takes in your haggard state.

"What's--... What's wrong? Why are you all wet and gross?" He asks in a very Hao-like way, making it hard to believe he was really the one who wrote you some sort of quasi-love letter.

You stand there for a second, staring back at him as fear temporarily paralyzes you. What in the world are you thinking? What even is the goal of bringing this letter to him? To make fun of him? To break his heart?

... To make a confession of your own?

"Are you okay? Did something happen?" He asks then, his voice noticeably softening slightly. "Did someone... say something?"

You nod slowly, pulling out the folded letter from your hoodie pocket; now dampened from the rain.

"What's that?" Zhang Hao asks, brows furrowed as we walks up to you and snatches the paper out of your hand. He unfolds it quickly, the corner of it tearing off in the process.

You watch his face completely drop as he realizes what it is. If you were questioning it before, you now had no doubt that Hao had in fact written the letter. He stares at it silently, clearly unsure of what to do or say.

"Is it true?" You ask softly.

"Is what true? There's not even a signature on it," he denies half-heartedly, bottom lip finding its way between his teeth.

"Is it true?" You ask again. Did you want it to be true?

His eyes meet yours timidly now, as he seemingly finds himself unable to speak. He shakes his head slowly. Has he always been this cute?

"That's too bad," you concede, stepping backwards. "I might've considered it... All of it."

You raise your eyebrows expectantly, turning towards the door when you feel Zhang Hao's hand close around your wrist. You look at him, his cheeks flushed a perfect rose.

"This is so embarrassing," he squeaks out, looking anywhere but into your eyes.

You nod. "It really is."

"Well, you're the one who ran here in the rain at midnight to see me," he quips.

"Well, you're the one so hung up on me that your therapist made you write a fake letter to address your feelings," you rebuttal.

"Well, you're the one who--," Hao starts to argue, and before you're even fully aware of what you're about to do, you find yourself cutting him off with a kiss. When you pull back, his mouth hangs agape slightly in shock. "… Kissed me."

"Honestly, Hao, you are pretty cute, but you're so annoying when you talk," you explain.

He nods slowly. "And so are you... But you know what I still can't figure out?"

You raise an eyebrow at him curiously. "What?"

"How did you get this letter in the first place? It was in my r--..."

Zhang Hao's eyes narrow menacingly as realization hits him:

"Ricky."

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kiryoutann · 2 years

Text

Before reading, please check series masterlist to read the warning(s), disclaimer, and to make sure you’re on the right chapter. Minors do NOT interact.

I appreciate the likes, replies, and reblogs! Thank you so much. You can buy me a Kofi to give me tip for my writings (no pressure!) I’ll forever be grateful to u! <3

You don't know whether it's too late to find someone or people simply hiding because they don't want to help you. God, you don't ask for much other than them turning on your fire and letting you sleep before morning comes.

These people are really something. You shouldn't expect anything from them.

However, just as you were about to accept your defeat and return to your cold room, you stopped walking when you found a familiar back facing you.

“Prin—Ajax?” You're not completely used to your new way of calling him.

The owner of that name stopped in his tracks, turned to you with wide blue eyes. Just like you, he did not expect to meet his wife in a dark hallway in the middle of the night. You two should be fast asleep in separate rooms instead of standing across while staring at one another like this.

As soon as he got in front of you, he opened his lips to ask: "Shouldn't you be enjoying your beauty sleep?"

"My fireplace went out."

Now that you've answered him, you can't help but wonder what reason he's here. There's not even the slightest hint of alcohol you get from him as an indication he just came back from a bar like he did yesterday.

“It went out? Hmm.. it’s a bit difficult to light the fire again.” Childe rubbed his chin in thought. He looks at you before offering, “Mine is lit.”

Your brows knitted in confusion, “What do you suggest?”

"I suggest you sleep in my room."

You don't know he's being nice or just mocking your bad luck. With his grin and slightly raised eyebrows, you don't want to expect anything from him. However, you’re really sleepy and being under a warm blanket would be really good.

"Are you fine with that?" You asked.

Either you were hallucinating or his smirk did grew wider. “Hmm, what do you mean? Of course I'm fine with that, you are my wife." He replied.

As a thank you, you gave him a half-hearted smile. “Then, what are we still doing here? Morning is coming, we have no time to waste.” You took the first step to leave Childe some distance behind you.

Childe dropped the fake smile he gave you earlier, a sigh escaped him. "At this rate, I’m sure I’m going crazy." He then follows you.

When you get to Childe's room, you're grateful he didn't lie about the fireplace. The big bed tempts you, makes you imagine what it would be like to lie there and then go to sleep. However, you end up not doing it from not wanting to be rude especially when he's being generous.

You turned to Childe "I will take the couch if that’s alright."

Childe looked at you skeptically, “That would be a problem for me. You should sleep in my bed."

It's weird, really weird. You know Childe is not the type to offer kindness with no intention of benefiting from it—he's a far cry from that. Then why is he being nice to you? You wonder what trick he's hiding under his sleeves.

Or..

Your heart is racing without warning. Cold nape even though the burning fireplace provides more than enough warmth for you. You see Childe drinking from his glass, his Adam's apple bobbing as he does so.

Maybe this is one of his attempts to get under your nightgown. Memories of your wedding night come to your mind again.

"Could it be.. could it be that you are trying to bed me?"

Childe spit out his drink in surprise. You saw the liquid run from his lips to his neck and then onto his shirt. He pounded his chest to get the remnants out of his throat before looking at you.

"I'm offended. Do you think I'm the type to take advantage of the situation?”

Yes, you are exactly that kind of a person, you want to say. However, you don't want to risk to anger him and throw you out of the perfect warm room. You shook your head in response to the man who was wiping his wet lips with a handkerchief.

It somehow makes the situation a bit comfortable for you to let out a genuine laugh.

"My apologies, I was just making sure." You smile at him. "I'll sleep on the bed then."

Without further ado, you climb into the soft bed and pull up the covers. You make sure to cover yourself from the neck down from concern about Childe rather than the cold. Your eyes peek at him who is still standing near the dresser before trying to close it. Before long, you have fallen asleep to replace the sleep you had lost.

The grip of his long fingers tightened. Childe glanced at where you were asleep, regretting that it only brought a bunch of unanswered questions to his head.

Why did he let you here? Even though he needs you to carry out his grand plan, he shouldn't have to worry about you sleeping in a cold room and waking up sick in the morning. He put his glass gently on the table, rubbed the back of his neck as he stared at the moon shining outside the window.

"I guess I was trying too hard to make sure everything would go perfectly."

Childe mumbled to himself before bringing his legs to the door, disappearing behind it not caring if he had left you alone in the room.

As soon as morning falls on Snezhnaya, you wake up to your ladies-in-waiting standing in front of the tray that holds your breakfast. They line up while waiting for you rubbing your eyes while gathering full awareness.

"What's this?" You asked about the tray on the bed.

Sasha answered to you, “His Royal Highness Prince Childe told us to bring you breakfast.”

Your eyes scan the room and find no man spoken of anywhere.

"Where is he now?"

"We have no idea, Your Highness." Sasha tells you while bowing slightly.

Of course he had to go and disappear. The mysterious Childe. You don't even know where he went this time from so many places he might go. You're quite used to him treating you sweetly before erasing all traces of it later.

Something reminds you of the reason you were in his room in the first place. With your eyes on Laura, you painted a smile. Curious about her reaction when she found out her plan didn't work. Maybe she didn't think Childe would be this generous to you.

"This isn’t necessary, I will be joining breakfast with the others." You said as you got off the bed. "Let’s go to my chamber."

"Yes, Your Highness."

Your room is still the same as when you left it, cold and lonely. The difference is, the incoming sunlight no longer leaves a place for darkness to stay. You're trying not to glance at where your fireplace is from not wanting to mess up your own plans.

"Should I prepare the bath now?" You heard Sasha ask.

“No.” As you turned around, you smiled at your three ladies waiting for you to continue. “Actually I have something to complain about.”

Silence fell again in the room. Whether from the politeness of not speaking out of turn or the fear of making a mistake, neither of the women opened their mouths to ask. You turned around, opening the box that held your jewellery.

" Laura, can you close the door slowly next time you come into my room at night?" You said, watching how her body stiffened through the mirror.

Of course she would react that way. She didn't think you would know this, let alone talk about it in front of the other ladies-in-waiting. Unfortunately for her, this isn't the end of your game, oh, you still got a lot more to do so you don't have to get your hands dirty for Laura to uncover her own bad deeds.

“M-My apologies, Your Highness.” Laura hung her head lower than usual.

Your jewelry box is left open while you turn to look at your ladies-in-waiting. “Countess Sasha, did you order her to disturb my sleep?”

You never thought you'd see an expression that wasn't the cold face she usually gave you. Her dark eyebrows knit together, showing that she's confused by your question. Your eyes scanned every part of her face and made a conclusion all entirely on Laura.

“I did not, Your Highness.” She said, side-eyeing the younger one. "We ladies-in-waiting are forbidden to enter the royal family's chambers at night without requests."

Laura's hands that were intertwined with each other turned white as she tried to keep them from shaking. You feel a little sorry for her. She should have known better that you weren't the kind-hearted princess like ones in children's fairy tales.

"Ah, then I'd better ask someone else for an explanation." You chuckled as if that would ease the tension.

As you took a step closer to her, Laura was almost flinched in her stiff stance. You looked up at the top of her head which was clear from how low she looked down. The fireplace that you had avoided glancing at became where you stared before returning to her.

"Laura, why did you take my jewelry last night after putting out the fire?"

From what you said, Laura hastily denied it. She didn't take any jewelry—and you know that too. This is just one way for you to get her to confess her sin. After all, people can't help but correct misinformation, especially about themselves.

By bringing up bigger accusations than what she actually did, you know Laura will deny the false one but admit the other.

“Th-that's not true, Your Highness! I didn't steal any jewelry!” She screamed at the tip of her throat, face red from embarrassment.

If only you could compare Laura to a mouse that had been baited with cheese in a trap. You played your part by putting on an expression as if you were hurt by what she had done.

"So you're saying I was right about you putting out the fireplace to freeze me to death?”

In your words, Laura realized that she had exposed herself in front of three pairs of shocked eyes. Miraculously, the defensive words she had prepared disappeared, as if extinguished like the fire she splashed with water last night. She looks up slowly and finds your offended expression.

"I..I.."

“You plan to freeze me to death. Aren't I right?"

Sasha was about to open her mouth after hearing Laura intentions to harm you. However, you first raised your hand to stop her. Your lips are bent into a frown.

“I—I'm—!” Laura lost her ability to speak. So, all she did now was get down on her knees and pull your robe in desperation. “Your Highness! Please spare me!”

As if hurt, you put your hand on your chest. “Lady Laura, I never thought you would do something like that to me.” Your voice is like that of someone who has witnessed betrayal. But the truth is, you never even put your trust in anyone here to feel it.

“Your Highness! Let me teach her a lesson!” Sasha offers.

You ignored her, you were still fixing your eyes on Laura who started to shed tears. If she was this scared she shouldn't have done that. Hadn't she worked here long enough to understand that any attempt to harm the royal family would be severely punished? Even if she was lucky, she would still have to languish in prison for life.

“Bring me a poker.”

Laura gasped at your words, while the other two acted as if they had seen this coming. Even being hit with the firepoker that Ksenia gave you was the lightest punishment though it resulted in bruises on her hands later.

“Your Highness! Please forgive me this once!” Laura hasn’t given up on begging for your forgiveness, kneeling on your feet wet from her tears that keep falling.

"You two, get out." You gave firm orders to Sasha and Ksenia.

Both of them obeyed even though they hesitated. The door closed slowly, leaving you and Laura. She paled from your fingers that had gripped the iron firepoker. If you're going to hit her without warning, she doesn't know how to react.

"Lady Laura, haven't you thought long before you did that?" You ask, watching how she fails to put together the words to respond to you.

To her horror, her dark eyes follow your pacing feet without you removing your fingers from gripping the firepoker . She hopes you find a reason to forgive her. Laura swears she'll thank you for the rest of her life if that happens.

“Apart from the possibility of being in a dungeon for life, can you imagine what my husband would do to you if he found out about this?”

If Childe does something about this, you're sure he's doing it more out of humiliation than worrying about you being harmed. However, Laura didn't need to know that. All she needs to know is that there are many punishment options you can impose on her and yet, you're standing here with an iron stick.

Laura walked on her knees to you “Y-Your Highness, please forgive me! Don't.. don't let His Highness know about this—my God, what would he do to me if he found out!” She has no shame in trying to soften your heart. Oh, this time Laura would risk anything for you to give her a little kindness.

“Why should I forgive you? What can you give me that is so precious for me to do that?”

Laura was back on the verge of despair. What can someone offer to a person who can get whatever she wants with just a few words and a snap of her finger? Even if you asked for the cheapest jewellery, Laura knew her wages would not be enough to fulfill your request.

The least that can be offered to a person that great is their lives.

Laura's grip on the hem of your nightgown tightened as she stammered out: “M-My life! I will dedicate my life faithfully to you! Please, please forgive me, Your Highness. I'm sure I will be of use to you!”

This is easier than you think.

From the start, you have used your mistreatment as a ladder to get what you want—an informant. Countess Sasha will not be able to fill the role due to her aristocratic status among your ladies-in-waiting, making it very possible for her to act as a spy for someone who wants to know your every move. Ksenia on the other hand was too apathetic to immerse herself in gossips circulating in the palace.

Whereas Laura is the perfect one for it. In addition to her status as a commoner which makes her too far for the nobles to reach, she also likes to gossip.

Your face hosts a triumphant smile. You crouched down to take a closer look of her, cupping her small chin so she wasn't afraid to meet your eyes anymore.

"You're going to do that?"

Laura thinks of this as you softening for her. What she really doesn't know is that she stepped voluntarily into your trap. However, there is nothing for her to worry about as you will ensure that whoever stands by your side will be safe from harm.

They have to be.

“Y-yes! I will do whatever you ask! ”

Because you don't know what you will do if they don't.

The iron in your hand you tossed aside, clinking as it hit the floor. You noticed Laura's shoulders weren't as tense as before, her breathing wasn't as heavy as before. She watched you stand up and turn around, stroking your jewelry box.

"I don't think that's a bad offer." You smile at her through the mirror. “Prove how useful you are to me by telling me the latest gossip around the palace.”

You wrap yourself up as a woman who doesn't want to miss the talk around. Even if Laura is your criteria out of your other ladies-in-waiting, you shouldn't be too sure. By placing your trust in someone, it means that you have accepted the fact that betrayal will be as close as a pulse.

“… The latest gossip, Your Highness?” Laura made sure she had not misheard.

Now that she has dedicated her life to being loyal to you, the thing you want is as simple as her supplying you with all the gossip around the palace?

"Surely you can do that, right?"

Laura nodded quickly afraid you'd change your generous offering. “Of—of course, Your Highness!”

"Well. You can try to prove it from now on.”

Your lady-in-waiting's lips open and close like fish, turning her head to think about the latest, most interesting gossip she can give you. While waiting patiently, you noticed every inch of her slightly tattered dress. A frown manages to sit on your face from it. You'll do something about it later.

Laura looked up after finding something she was ready to tell you. “D-Duchess Anna!”

Your brow furrowed, “Duchess Anna?” Another familiar name you can't remember where you heard.

A nod from her before continuing, “She and the Duke are currently in the capital.”

You don't know what's so special about a duke and duchess visiting the capital. Did you miscalculate about Laura? A bit of disappointment crept into your heart from thinking she would give you more useful information.

"Then?"

“Earlier this morning, the maids in the kitchen were talking about Duchess Anna who had just doused her lady-in-waiting with hot water.”

You swear you've heard her name before. The more Laura mentioned it the more you tried to remember. Then, the memory of you, Duchess Rosalyne, and Lumine talking at your wedding reception replayed.

"Why would she do that?" You asked curiously.

"Some say it's because the lady-in-waiting doesn't turn to her even though she's been called twice."

Isn't that too trivial an excuse to hurt people? You didn't even have the intention of hurting Laura though she was planning to harm you. However, there will always be nobles like her, ones to act arbitrarily because they think they have authority.

Laura seemed to have noticed the change in your facial expression as she then added: "Duchess Anna is well known for being a grumpy person."

Grumpy person? More like cruel and ruthless, you think.

"Have I ever met her?" You asked for sure.

“The Duchess is invited to your wedding reception.”

That night, you met a lot of new people. However, you don't remember hanging out with the one named 'Anna'. So far, all you remember is Rosalyne—well, how could you forget her when she gave off that lingering charm when she first introduced herself to you.

Your lips pursed, "I don't think I've ever met her."

Laura nodded approvingly. “Besides being famous for her temperament, Duchess Anna has a husband that women often talk about. Some even said that he was the second most handsome in the aristocracy after His Highness Prince Childe.”

Your smile was almost replaced with a grimace. Of course, you also admit that Childe is an attractive man but, you didn't think people would make lists sorting them out like that.

Only out of curiosity you then ask: "What is her husband's name?"

From the blush on Laura's face before she managed to say it, you wonder how handsome this man is. “Ah, he is Duke Maxim, Your Highness.”

As soon as your ears perfectly caught the name, a chilling sensation struck you. Something fell before it was sucked in your stomach. You're disoriented as the memory of your most recent vision plays in the back of your head.

Duke Maxim. In your prophecy, he will be the one assisting Childe in the weaponry.

But, you have to make sure you don't mishear from hallucination. And so, with eyes watering from unblinking, you looked at Laura about to ask her again.

"Duke Maxim?"

Laura moved her head up and down in a nod. “Duke Maxim is in charge of Krykiye territory—”

"He's in the capital right now?" You interrupt rudely.

"That's right, Your Highness."

The waves of anxiety roll in bringing pain and a churning feeling in your stomach. The palms started to get wet from the sweat that suddenly came out. You feel like pins and needles are being stabbed in every part of you from wondering why Maxim is here.

Will the agreement be made sooner than you expected? Your vision does provide minimal information about when that will happen.

But, you haven't even prepared anything to thwart it.

"Do you.." You hate how soft your voice comes out. "Do you know why they're here?" You're trying to control the urge to pick on your fingers

From the expression Laura showed, you have concluded that she doesn't have the answer to your question this time. “Pardon my ignorance, Your Highness.” She shook her head, hanging her head low again from shame and fear.

This is bad, this is really bad. Laura did give you information but, not enough for you to know what will happen next. Even if Maxim isn't here to make a pact with Childe, that doesn't mean you have a lot of time to waste. You had to do something—you had to make sure in the future they wouldn't join hands.

So far, all you got was the fact that the temperamental and impulsive Duchess Anna was his wife. Secondly, Maxim is labeled as the most handsome man in Snezhnaya after your husband, making him always talked about by women as happened at your wedding reception.

You just realized something.

You realize you have the key that is likely to change everything.

Slowly, your breath feels less heavy. You took a deep breath before exhaling, sweeping away any remnants of your anxiety as you turned to your jewelry box.

"This is enough, you have proved you are useful to me." You take the red gem necklace that is now in your hand.

Laura's dark eyes followed how you turned back to her with a friendly smile. She notices the jewelry hanging in your hand, complimenting it in her heart of how beautiful it is when the sun's rays fall right on it.

You approached Laura. “As a reward, you can have this.” You said, extending your hand to her and watching the surprised look on her face.

"But, Your Highness—”

Laura stopped talking when you bent down to look at her still on the floor. “In exchange, I want you to find out if Lady Lumine of Monstadt is still in Snezhnaya.”

The necklace you handed over to her outstretched hand. Your back was straight before you turned around to close your jewelry box—where you had a chance to see the brooch Childe bought on the night of the Liyue festival. You can't help but taste bittersweet in that.

“I will be waiting for your result to determine if I want to have a tea party tomorrow. If so, make sure you send out invitations to her and to the noble ladies currently in the capital, Duchess Anna included.”

"Yes, Your Highness."

"You can prepare my bath now."

After receiving another order from you, Laura got up and walked towards the door to summon your other ladies-in-waiting. The room was quiet again. You stare at the fallen leaves outside the window even though your mind is elsewhere.

Whether your plan goes smoothly or not, you don't know. However, to find out don't you need to give it a try?

@thelovelydiviner @r0ttenhearts @tsunotaro-san @yguchild @a-random-bored-person @dandelimoonus @cherlynono @deemayaz @xalatus @meiraloves2dmen @bananazzzen @ajaxstar @sugarxbxby123

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