#skz angst Tumblr posts

  • pesiko
    24.07.2021 - 11 hours ago


    ⇨ ongoing | ✔ completed

    Clumsy (sns AU) {8} ⇨

    You were a klutz, that wasn’t news. But maybe your clumsiness finally did you some good when you accidentally poured your banana smoothie all over Hwang Hyunjin. Hey, at least it got him to acknowledge you, right? @hyuwujin

    I Choose You (sns AU) {21} ✔

    Y/N has to deal with Hyunjin's annoying girlfriend because she doesn't want to ruin their relationship. @3rachasaucy

    Jackpot M {3} ⇨

    College is a matter of working hard and playing hard. It’s an opportunity to start fresh, to grow as an individual and to blossom with those you befriend. People come and people go, leaving their mark on your life and showing you all the parts of becoming an adult. Some, however, do more than leave their mark. Some take just as much as they give. Things become complicated once they take the entirety of your love because you outright offered it to them. @wonderlustlucas

    Just a Fan (sns AU) {8} ⇨

    Y/n’s a huge fan of Hyunjin, a famous model. What happens when she gets herself tangled up in his life after an incident at the airport and now the media thinks she’s his girlfriend? @hyunjizns

    You’re my Best Friend (sns AU) {17} ⇨

    College is supposed to be the best few years of your life, but it hardly feels like that for Hyunjin. He should be thrilled to be on the school’s elite dance team, and yet he’s more concerned about his best friend falling in love with another member. He only cares so much because he wants the best for her though, right? @panickedmarklee


    [main masterlist] [stray kids masterlist] updated 7-23-21

    #hyunjin#hwang hyunjin#stray kids#skz #hyunjin fic recs #stray kids fic recs #hyunjin series #stray kids series #hyunjin fluff#hyunjin angst#hyunjin imagines#hyunjin scenarios#hyunjin fic#hyunjin fanfic #hyunjin x reader #stray kids fic #stray kids fanfic
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  • 2minfilms
    23.07.2021 - 21 hours ago

    kingdom of wolves. bc — prologue

    pairings — prince!bangchan x fem!reader

    genre — nsfw, royal au, werewolf au

    warnings — smut, swearing, mentions of blood and death

    notes — please read play with fire and the portrait of you and me before proceeding to chan's au. this is part of my royal au series so better read those two just in case you get confused by some parts of the story. but if not, it's up to you ^^

    — kingdom of wolves full version.

    — check masterlist for the series.

    seeing how seungmin would sing and be affectionate towards his half-sister, he remembered how he fell in love towards someone. and it all happened ever since he came back from targarhyun, no, it was actually 3 years ago.

    in the midst of the dark forest, he was found wounded and unconscious by a maiden who happened to seek herbs for her small clinic in town. you knew it wasn't really a good idea to bring home a stranger but if that person needs help, you are delighted to do so. you learned that he is the prince of the kingdom of wolves, chan of christark. he has fine fancy clothes but ripped, scars and wounds on his bare skin and tattoos, but it all faded after he became normal as you healed him.

    christark is known of having werewolves as ancestors. but not everyone could shape-shift, just like you, yet the blood of werewolves flows in your viens. and chan learned things about you, became friends, fell in love and made love without anyone knowing... until he fled to targarhyun, leaving you behind.

    you tried to wait, but it took him so long to come back. and when he did, you were gone. “find her! no kingdoms remained unturned until you find her!” he said. until one night, in a full moon, he went to a stroll in the forest near hanratheon as he heard a howl and thought it was just another werewolf he would want to meet.

    but then, it was really a werewolf he wanted to meet. torn dress, red eyes, sharp claws and fangs. that woman smiled at him, “hello, christopher.” she smirked. then suddenly, chan was dumbfounded on how she turned in to one, if some of his people can't shape-shift.

    it was you.

    taglist: @wolfchanchan @inseonqt who want to be added in the taglist when this gets posted?

    #stray kids #stray kids imagines #jyp stray kids #stray kids scenarios #stray kids blurbs #bang chan #stray kids angst #stray kids royal au #stray kids smut #stray kids fluff #skz angst#skz imagines #skz royal au #skz one shot #stray kids one shot #skz bang chan #stray kids bang chan #stray kids chan #skz chan imagines #skz chan #bang chan imagines #chan imagines #bang chan angst #bang chan x reader #christopher bang #stray kids chris #chan smut #bang chan smut #chan
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  • dalamjisung
    23.07.2021 - 22 hours ago

    habits of my heart ❁ lee minho

    genre: p u r e  a n g s t

    word count: 2269

    pairing: reader x lee minho

    description: he becomes a habit that it’s just too hard to break, even it means breaking yourself. 

    Okay, so… what you’re telling me is that you want something casual?
    Yeah, I guess that’s what I’m saying… we can have some fun :) but otherwise I don’t have the time.

    And there is something about that smiley face in the end, laughing at you, mocking you, that completely sends you over the edge, and your knees buckle. Through your tears, you look mindlessly at the ugly, brown carpeted floor, fingernails digging into its somewhat soft, somewhat prickly surface, and you think about the six months that were just thrown in the wind, all under the excuse of ‘having some fun’… wasn’t it fun before? Wasn’t it fun when you two had a picnic in the park until it turned dark, and then walked around until he gathered the courage to pull you by the sleeve of your jacket, sly smile shinning under the dim lamppost and you knew– you just knew that he was going to kiss you, and when he did it was awkward, and fun, and new, and exciting… wasn’t that fun? Or was it fun just for you? Were you the only one laughing, teasing, touching? Was it all just you?


    You stop yourself before you spiral– it’s a dangerous thing allowing these thoughts to roam free and you just don’t have the time, not for self-pity. You did have time for him though, because for Lee Minho, you’d make time. But right now, as the carpet finally starts to irritate your skin, and the tears dry, and the sobbing eases… yeah, right now you don’t have the time. You have a Masters dissertation looming over your head, dangling like a noose, taunting your already broken confidence. You have a friend moving countries in three weeks, a graduation in four, and a desperation for a job that trumps all of the above. Right now, Minho will have to wait, and you will have to stop feeling guilty about making him wait.

    So you don’t answer. Not yet. You get up, gently rubbing the wet trails off your cheeks in a futile attempt of hiding the pathetic mess you’ve become from your flatmate, and march down the hall to the bathroom, where your untouched concealer will finally serve its purpose. Getting dressed is a bit harder than you thought it would’ve been; clothes reminds you of moments and moments reminds you of him and he just reminds you of how much of an idiot you were. Still are. But you manage a simple shirt and jeans and out the door you are, backpack bouncing with the forced pep on your step, and you start relaxing as you walk to the coffee shop you normally work from, the chill in the morning air doing wonders for your stress. Unfortunately, the walk is short. You get the a bit too quickly, a bit too frazzled still, and you sit down, hurriedly setting up your workspace, anxious to occupy yourself with anything besides thoughts of him. It hits you like a brick once you realize that your phone messages are synched with your computer and the first thing that greets you is–

    …we can have some fun :) but otherwise I don’t have the time.

    A frustrated groan leaves you almost like you are in pain– physical pain. Like your heart breaks a bit more every time you read that message, and like you are slapped in the face again and again and again and. Digging the heel of your hands in your eyes and taking deep breaths, it’s hard not to remember when he did have time. When he messaged you everyday just to say hello I’m still here; when he sent pictures of him and his friends and asked for pictures back; when he asked you out, time and time again, until it worked with your hectic schedule. When you had your first date in the park, when it was warm and cold at the same time, and when it was sunny until it started raining and you two had to hide under a tree, laughing, a bit shy, a bit excited. He called your name in the most soft of ways, back then, with a smile that hid thousands of meanings and now you realize that in those thousands of meanings, there was this one– this having fun thing. Just having fun and nothing more. Because you’re a good time, he told you, many times, you’re funny and slightly chaotic and so, so similar to him, it’s actually crazy. And it is actually crazy how alike you two are and yet, just how different you two were.

    It’s the loud ping! coming from your computer that brings you back to the coffee shop, and you hold back nostalgic tears for that specific park on that specific day.

    Don’t leave me hanging haha I’m getting nervous!

    You close the message window before you do something you regret and you go back to your dissertation, trying to focus on the inequality of gender in the workspace, and how women are perceived in society through the lenses of the oppressing patriarchal system, but even that reminds you of him; of your third date when, over a pint of a random draft beer in a random pub that you now can’t be bear to even look at, you told him about your final dissertation, and he looked at your with what you thought, at the time, was pride and admiration. He spent at least an hour of that date trying to convince you that yes, you are smart enough to tackle such complex and widespread subject, and that yes, you are more than capable to be where you are, because how many people from back home managed to get here, and better yet, how many of them managed to work for renowned professors like you did back in undergrad? You remember shaking your head in hopes that your hair would cover the red on your cheeks, but he is quicker and grab your face with both hands and he gives you that same sly smile, and you eagerly wait for the kiss that follows, leaning over the table in a bar full of people, and for the first time ever, you don’t care about PDA, you don’t care about being judged– Minho’s got you, with firm hands sliding to your hair in hunger for things reserved for the future. The only things reserved for the future, apparently.

    Later that night, once the pub closes and kicks you two out since it became clear that you wouldn’t leave by your own will, he walks your to your bus station with stealthy kisses and sneaky hands, and you miss three buses before you can pull yourself away from his addicting embrace. On the ride, you check your phone to see three messages from your flatmate, five from muted group chats, and one from him. Let me know when you get home ;) and you smile, because letting him know you are home means talking to him and if you could talk to him forever, you would.

    It takes him shattering your heart for you to realize that when Minho talked to you, he didn’t really say anything. He asked a lot about you– he wondered about life at home, about life here, about childhood memories, about ex lovers; but he never answered when you asked back. And the little he did say, the superficial pleasantries about a perfect life that, if inspected a bit closer, wouldn’t be that perfect, made you smile in false pretense, nodding along as if you understood what it was like to have the perfect parents that still love each other; as if you could relate to having a normal relationship with your sibling, in which you still talk and update each other on your respective lives; as if you knew exactly what he meant when he shrugged and talked about his ex-girlfriend of four and a half years being a good friend still. So you listen, and you don’t tell him about how your parents hate each other, and that you being somewhat successful in your academic life fuels your brother to hate you even more then he already did, and that your ex used you for reasons that no one should be used, and that you’ve never even had sex before because intimacy makes you shake and stop breathing and feel like the walls are closing down on you and suddenly your trapped and you want to get out. No, you don’t tell him any of that; because you know, on an unconscious level, if you don’t want to admit the thousand red flags you’ve ignored, that that’s not why he’s asking. That he doesn’t really want to know you, but want to know an idea of you that is quirky, and funny, and loves music as much as he does.

    So for six months of your life, you got to pretend to be this someone. And goddammit, did you enjoy it. It felt good to pretend to not have to worry about anything else besides getting a job like a normal adult, or finishing your masters. It felt good being normal for a while. Until it didn’t anymore and all the problems you left behind caught up with you and you wanted to share it with him, you did but you couldn’t, and then you’d disappear for a couple of days. When you were back, though, he’d still be there, sly smile and jokes galore, ready for when you want to go back to your new default version of yourself.


    You shake your head, unaware of how frustrated you are, and you continue to try and write about a theory that you don’t even understand anymore, too caught up in the whirlwind that is your mind.

    “I have to leave,” You mumble to yourself, disappointed at how fucking weak you are being but needing a day off to simply mourn. There is a park a bit north, and you think that it is far enough from the pub that haunts you close-by, and far enough from his house even further north. “It’s a weekday, anyways… he’s probably working.”

    Something about the way the universe works– always against you, it seems,– makes you want to simply give up; just lay down on the green grass of the park, where you know is greener than someone else’s grass patch and you swallow that guilt, too, and stay there. Because when you hear a familiar voice calling your name right as you step into the subway, it’s too late to turn around and leave. Doing the next best thing, you pretend to not hear it, fast-walking straight into a subway cart, almost getting nipped by the door in your hurry. You don’t think he manages to catch this ride and you visibly relax, delaying the moment you’ll have to deal with Lee Minho as much as possible, because if it’s up to you, you don’t think you can say that it is over.

    People come in and out of the cart and when it’s finally your turn to get out and breathe, you can’t seem to move. It’s something beyond you that pushed you out in the nick of time, as the doos close, and to the park you go, moving on automatic, just moving, because if you stop, it will all catch up with you. You think that hearing him, calling your name so casually– and that word makes you cringe, now,– is what has you absolutely livid right now.

    “Stages of mourning, right?” You scoff to yourself, face heating up in pure anger. “Fuck this shit, I don’t need this right now– no, fuck that too, I don’t need this ever.”

    It makes you feel powerful, all this cussing; all the pretending not to care and to be completely untouched by the recklessness of his actions. But that’s not you, not really, and you are tired of being someone you’re not, so once you sit down, you allow yourself to pass onto the next stage, and you are back to crying.

    “Six months,” You lament. “Six months of my life wasted… but not really, because I still had fun, even if I was the only one.”


    “Goddammit, Lee Minho,” You groan, checking your phone. “You have absolutely the worst timing ever?”

    Was that you in the subway?

    And you take a deep breath. You’re not ready yet, but he clearly doesn’t care, so why should you.

    I’m not really a casual person, Minho…
    Oh… so where does that leave us?
    Don’t ask me that. I don’t want to say it’s “over” cause I actually liked you , so…
    But you want this, I want that. Unless one of us budges, we’re screwed :)

    “I’m screwed regardless,” You whisper to yourself, frowning as you drown in your defeat. “Fuck you, Lee Minho. Fuck you and your smiley face…”

    Yeah! It could be fun.
    Yeah, come on :P we always have so much fun together!

    And as you sign your youth away with a single text, to a man that lives his to fullest, you feel like a shell of yourself– empty and used. You feel defeated.

    Okay. Yeah, let’s have fun, then ;)
    Ah, you never disappoint ;P come over? I have the day off.

    You cry on your over, but you go nonetheless. Because having Lee Minho like this, is better than not having him at all, even if when looking for yourself, you don’t even know where to start anymore.


    aaaaahhhhh I’m officially back with imagines! I apologize for disappearing, but college takes up most of my free time :( sorry for dropping this massive angst on you all, but I needed to get it out of my chest lmao let me know what you think!

    #Lee Minho#lee know #lee minho x reader #lee know x reader #lee minho stray kids #lee know stray kids #lee minho skz #lee know skz #lee minho angst #lee know angst #stray kids angst #stray kids x reader #bang chan#seo changbin#hwang hyunjin#han jisung#lee felix#kim Seungmin#yang jeongin #lee know imagines #lee minho imagines #lee know imagine #lee minho imagine #imagine#imagines#stay #stray kids imagines #stray kids imagine #stray kids#skz imagine
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  • allinskz
    23.07.2021 - 23 hours ago

    — corre, amor ; hhj (m)

    tú que eres fogata y el tan frío..

    — author: maya (allinskz © 2021)

    — genre: established relationship au ; break-up au; smut ; angst ; fluff

    — word count: 8.7k (on the dot!)

    — rating: 18+. nsfw.

    — summary: x fem!reader ; hwang hyunjin is like a burning fire — dangerous, passionate, and at times, hard to dissipate. but when you are his polar opposite, shouldn’t it be easy to have to melt in his fingertips?

    — warning(s): swearing ; one-sided pining ; heavy petting ; heavy make-out session ; handjob / semi-oral (m. receiving) ; nipple play ; cum eating ; hyunjin has nipple piercings & belly piercing (i had to, you know i did) ; that’s it i think lol

    — listen to: eres mía - romeo santos ; do it for love - thama, george ; play with fire - sam tinnesz, yacht money ; know me - dpr live, dean ; different - woodz

    — a/n: welcome back to our lovely lovestay boy, we have missed you dearly, baby. also this is my first fic in a fat minute so i know i’m lookin a lil rusty — mind ur p’s and q’s LOL.

    Everyone was convinced that your relationship with Hyunjin was one-sided. From the outside looking in, you could understand why. Oftentimes, it was him scouring the University in search of you, and yes, he had a photo of you in his phone case and his car dashboard. The boy you’d come to adore was nearly six feet of pure love for you — he even dedicated his showcase stages to you, choosing only the most sensual of love songs to show the student body that he was a burning fire.

    And yet, as much as you loved Hwang Hyunjin, you remained solid. Unmelted was your icy form, and as the time went on, people had begun to notice. Slipping away from crowds after his showcases and losing Hyunjin in them became a regular thing, and the apartment was often empty because neither of you were ever really home. Much like your eyes when you looked at him these days, what used to be the world to you now reflected a beautiful blonde man with the prettiest lips this side of the Han River. You still loved him, you’d convinced yourself of such. The only question left was, was it in the way he did?

    Once upon a time, all your poems screamed his name. From long winded monologues to neat, tight haikus, your words were stringed together to recreate the man you woke up next to every day for the past three years. Exasperated sighs during your poetry slams showed the way your feelings for this man ate you up inside and God, you just couldn’t believe you’d finally found a good guy. A man that was the healing of the past and the brightening of the future, the man who truly made your days enjoyable.

    “Good morning,” Hyunjin was stretching in the living room as you allowed your sleep-deprived body to practically float through the apartment. Lack of sleep due to the endless thinking and stress over school made you a zombie — one who didn’t have much of a knack for social interaction. Nonetheless, you returned the sarcastic greeting, seeing as it was two in the afternoon on a nice Sunday. The coffee in the pot was cold as you poured it, and you scowled as you grabbed some ice cubes but you couldn’t complain. Had you been up on time, it would’ve been hot, you can hear Hyunjin now.

    “Mm, you look nice,” You murmur as you slide onto the couch, watching your boyfriend’s shirt ride up slightly on his waist, exposing the sliver of skin you ran your fingers down before bed. He simply chuckled at your comment, a faint blush dancing across his cheeks as he continued his hip warm ups. “You’ve got rehearsal tomorrow after class, right?” Sipping your coffee quietly, you saw Hyunjin nod softly as he laid down on his mat. “Yeah, unfortunately. I have to rain check our dinner tomorrow night, m’sorry doll.” He closes his eyes as he rests his arms on his torso, and you slip off the couch to run your fingers through his soft hair. Admiring him, you stroke his cheek gently as he opens his eyes, placing his hand above yours.

    “Your big showcase is coming up. Dinner can wait, I’m always by your side.” You assured him of things you weren’t so sure of yourself, but what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. His eyes changed as you said that, but he nodded reluctantly as you placed a soft kiss on his forehead. “Don’t practice too hard, my love. You know it worries me. I’ll be in the office if you need me.”

    “‘Course, honey. Don’t type your fingers off,” He’s muttering to himself, and he knows how much it bothers you but even the people who are supposedly perfect have bad days. A nice guy, really. “I heard that, pipsqueak.” You call back, placing your coffee cup on your desk, leaving the door slightly ajar to hear his recital music. As soon as you hear the first notes of the remix Changbin made for him, Minho and Felix, you ease into your desk chair. Closing your own eyes, you can see his movements in your mind from hours of watching them practice this routine, specifically two years ago when the dance team uploaded it to YouTube. They planned on recreating it to see where it could take them, as a trio — seeing as the fluidity of the boys raked in millions of views, and thousands of dollars in donations to the school and the dance team.

    None of which hit the creative writing and poetry department, but hey, the poetry slam videos didn’t do as well. To be fair, the Poetry Slam Club didn’t do much to raise money but turned around to ask mommy and daddy — whereas, you worked for your fifty cents. Unfortunately, your major had a huge influx of people who didn’t quite really appreciate the time and effort that it took to make your art — and a lot of them were actually there to please their parents, to say they went to college. As sad as it was, you realized your freshman year that you were surrounded by maybe a third of your class with an actual passion for writing, and even then, you would hear them mouth off about your classes being an easy A.

    It sometimes made you wish to have picked a different field, at a different university. Maybe even if you had pursued journalism like you had intended..maybe things would be different. You often notice your mind wandering off to these places, and you remind yourself you wouldn’t have met Hyunjin. So, maybe things worked out in the end — even if you did watch your old friends travel out of the country on externship to major news companies and even land jobs before graduation. Jobs you couldn’t pay to get, and so, you worked part-time at the Italian restaurant down the street and hid from any possible peers that may come your way.

    Maybe things wouldn’t have been so bad if you had kept your promise.

    “Y/N-ah, you promised me I’d score some free breadsticks if I brought you the coffee!” Jisung was whining as you bagged up his order, missing the way you shot your coworker a knowing glance, chuckling to yourself. “Yah, Han Jisung! Did your mother not teach you manners? I said I would throw in some free breadsticks, now keep quiet while Minho gets them.” You give him a pointed look, and he scowls as you take the warm bread bag and slip it into his bag. “Love you, bud. Take it easy, I know that ankle is killing you.” You pat his shoulder, and he smiles inwardly as he takes the bag shyly, whirling out of the shop with a soft call of goodbye.

    “How’s Hyunjin?” Minho inquires, pouring some olive oil into his calzone dough mix. You watch as he turns the mixer on, leaning your cheek on the heel of your hand. You gave your friend a sad look, and he sighed as he took in the atmosphere. “I take it you’re feeling detached?”

    “And I hate it. Hyunjin is literally my best friend, he is the absolute love of my life! I don’t know what’s going on anymore.” You bury your face in your hands, letting out a groan of frustration. Only Minho knew of your inner turmoil, and that was because you knew he’d understand. He too, was in the same situation. The only difference was that he could give you a Hyunjin perspective — because it was Jisung that felt the way you did. But if you told Jisung, there was a small possibility he would spill the beans — not on purpose, but it would happen eventually. Minho was like a steel safe enclosed in another one that was bolted into the ground.

    “You need to talk to him before he starts prying. Why do you think Jisung left without a word to me?” He’s kneading the dough angrily, and you wince at every harsh smack that lands. “Do you think I enjoy coming home to an empty bed, while Jisung is out late with Chan-hyung and Changbin? Do you think I like opening my Hulu account to see he’s watched seven episodes of How I Met Your Mother without me? This is fucking ridiculous,” He was now rolling out the dough, the warm container of fresh marinara sauce nearly being split with the vigor in which the table was shaking.

    “You seriously need to talk to him, babe.” You turn as the doorbell dings, and you’re met by the prettiest soul this side of the Han River — Hyunjin. Feeling a small smile slip onto your face, you return to the register to see him smiling back at you. “Why hello, how may I help you?”

    “Actually, yes you can! I’m looking for a certain Y/N, I’ve come to whisk her away for supper.” He’s holding a brown bag, and you just know there’s a steamy bowl of soft tofu stew waiting to be devoured. “I adore you, Hwang Hyunjin.” You skirt around the counter to kiss his lips softly, hands resting on his cheeks as one of his own comes to your wrist.

    “Minnie, I’ll be back in thirty!” You call out, and the boy waves you off with a chuckle. Despite the obvious problems that you were skirting around, Minho knew that you would always adore Hyunjin, boyfriend or not.

    Physical attraction was also not an issue — he was gorgeous, but you hated reducing him to that, and anyone who did was immediately on your hit-list. Hyunjin had talent, skill, and one of the kindest hearts you’d ever had the pleasure of meeting. Hyunjin was what you could call an all-rounder — he was efficient in every area of his life, including his relationship. Which made you realize that perhaps, it was your lack of experience in relationships, in being treated nicely.

    “I love those jeans on you,” Hyunjin says as you walk hand-in-hands towards the back parking lot. “You say that because you bought them for me, even after I said I didn’t need them.” You roll your eyes as Hyunjin lets go of your hand, instead using it to open the backseat door for you. This was routine, on days that Hyunjin didn’t have practice or managed to leave early — he would buy something you both loved, drive to your workplace, steal you from Minho for a bit to grub, and then wait at home for you until you called to be picked up. Sometimes you even drove Minho home. However, Hyunjin’s hand on your knee as he slid in after you gave you a warm sensation throughout your chest.

    You sighed contentedly, letting Hyunjin get everything out of the bag. You began slipping your white jumper off, seeing as if any of the stew got on it, you’d regret blowing fifty dollars on it. You soon realized that the jumper was exactly why Hyunjin offered to manage your finances. “Spoon, napkin,” he was handing you things and you quietly took them, waiting as he began to lower the cup holder to place the stew between you.

    “Hyunjin, do you remember our first date?” You looked at the sun, hanging low in the sky as the nighttime approached. You had been sitting in this very backseat, your hands tangled in his hair as he showed you a song he loved at the time — and continued to, to this day it blasted through your speakers at home. It’d sort of become your song — but you shared many things with him that night. “You mean how you kissed me after you had texted me earlier that day that there would be no kissing? Not saying I didn’t enjoy it,” He snorts as you wack his arm lightly.

    “Yah, it was a moment of weakness. The timing was perfect, you were perfect.” You lean against the door, leg propped up on the seat as your fingertips tracing the spoon in your hand. You feel a bit of emotion hit your eyes, but Hyunjin softly pats your leg. “Hwang Hyunjin, how did I manage to find a man like you?”

    “You didn’t, there’s nothing all that special about me,” You’ve both seemed to forget about the early supper as Hyunjin lifts the cup holder up, and scoots closer to you, resting your legs atop his thighs. Drumming his fingers along your shins, he smiled at the fond memory of the date. “If anything, I think it was a moment of rose-colored glasses. All I did was slide you a book from the top shelf.” It was true, you’d met Hyunjin at the campus library. Granted, it was your first time in there, and Hyunjin had been a bit of an overachiever his first year — so he was in the right place at the right time as you groaned about the library stacking ten shelves high.

    “I still can’t believe we had sex in that bathroom,” You shudder playfully, letting out a laugh as Hyunjin gasped. “You suggested it! I just granted your wish!” Laughing harder, you notice Hyunjin admiring you softly. “Yah, you’re making me shy.”

    “You’re beautiful,” His thumb caresses your cheek, and you glance at his lips before he slowly closes in. The softness of them, something you often envied, had always been enough to make you feel hot. The technique, his hand placement as he kissed you sweetly, always made you feel giddy. Hyunjin was like a really good amusement park — you wanted to go on all the rides. Without breaking the kiss, you adjusted yourself to sit on his lap, relishing the way his hands snaked to your belt loops to pull you closer. His tongue expertly slides into your mouth, a small gasp escaping your lips as his thumbs rub circles over your covered breasts, the flimsy tank top hiding your sensitive nipples but heightening the sensation.

    Subconsciously pushing your chest into him, your own hands struggle to find home as you slide them beneath his own shirt, feeling his softly chiseled muscles under your fingertips. The soft whine that emits from his lips as you brush his nipple accidentally, a gentle reminder of the small metal bar that he pierced in on a drunken night. If there was anything you and Hyunjin shared, it was sensitivity.

    His hands immediately pulled down the straps of your shirt, the material sliding off your breasts as he broke the kiss — lips dragging all over your chest, nipping and biting in all places. “Wait, wait. Take this off,” You pulled on his own shirt, and he obliged almost furiously, tugging his cardigan and shirt off in one go — pierced nipples and belly button on display. God, he was fucking gorgeous.

    “Mm, I like these.” Your voice was low as you gently stroked them, adoring the soft rutting of Hyunjin’s hips against your own. “Be nice to me tonight, baby. I’m sore from practice.” He tucks a strand of his hair behind his ear, and you look at his swollen lips. A shy blush coats his cheeks as he looks away, your hand grabbing for his jaw to make him look at you, your eyes boring into his own. “Fuck, you’re beautiful. You’ve always been so beautiful.” He whines, his hand at the nape of your neck and pulling you in for another kiss, rougher this time. His free hand circles around your waist, holding you in place as your lips connect again, but briefly because you begin to kiss down his jaw, stopping to nibble at his earlobe. Adding to the sensation, you grind your hips down, and you take a small nip near his jugular, a whine of your name leaving his mouth.

    “You sound so pretty, so, so pretty baby. Do it again.” You suck on the skin softly, and with your hands pressed against his chest, he allows another murmured whine to ring in your ears, his skin hot to the touch. “Fuck, Y/N.”

    You find yourself tracing his stomach and waist, trailing kisses down his chest — and a welcomed sensation to him when you teasingly flicked your tongue on his hardened nipple. His hips bucked up and you chuckled, his fingers carding through his hair as you swirl your tongue around his nipple, heart beating against his chest insanely fast. “Your heart is beating so fast.” Whispering, you place a chaste kiss right above it, before trailing down slowly, maneuvering your back and legs to kneel before him, carefully so you’d fit nicely. Hyunjin looked at you as you did so, following your every move with glassy eyes.

    “Take off your pants.” Slightly hoarse, but he slipped his hands under the band of his sweats, shoving them down as you’d instructed. You watched like a hawk, the way his thigh muscles flexed deliciously as he shoved them down carefully. Springing free, his cock was beautiful — not too thick, maybe two inches above average, leaking precum any time he let you get your hands on him. Glancing up at him, you notice the soft love bites blooming across his chest and neck, smiling to yourself as you hover above his cock. Running your forefinger along the underside, you relished in the power as Hyunjin shivered under your touch. Leaning down slightly, you give his tip a kitten lick, gathering a bit of his precum on your tongue — and you rest your hands on his thighs to hoist yourself up towards his lips.

    Taking your tongue in first, Hyunjin kisses you slowly, allowing the taste of himself to marinate in your mouths. You gently drag your nails on his inner thighs, noticing the goosebumps trail along your boyfriend’s skin before you grab his shaft snugly. A surprised gasp disconnects your lips, and you take the opportunity to spit directly on his swollen tip, taking it into your mouth shallowly as you softly spread your saliva with his precum. All is calm as you begin sucking towards the underside of his tip, your tongue running along the thick vein of his length.

    Practically drooling a river, you push yourself to sink down a bit more, allowing his tip to barely brush the back of your throat — his dull nails are digging into your shoulder as you swallow around him, the pace of your movements excruciatingly slow as you pull off with a pop. A string of spit connected you to him as you pulled away, your lips swollen lightly as you took hold of his thigh, pumping his erection in one hand, kissing his lips chastely as you whispered sweet nothings. “I want you, so bad, baby.” He whines against your lips, and you almost feel bad as you sadistically smirk. “You always do, don’t you?”

    You can feel his thigh quivering as he tries to hold back, but the overwhelming feeling of your lips dragging over his upper body and the tight, rhythmic stroking of his cock in your hand was all too much. You can tell because he’s beginning to look away, his eyes fluttering as you continue to murmur filthy words in his ear, his hips swiveling in light circles into your hand. “Does the little slut want to cum?” And without warning, Hyunjin was orgasming, his cum shooting out in warm spurts all over your chest. His eyes screwed shut as he trembled under your touch, and you simply smiled as he exhaled a breath you were sure he wasn’t aware he was holding in.

    “Found a new word for you, baby. You did so well for me, my love.” You laugh softly as you begin to wipe your breasts off with your finger, not noticing the way Hyunjin’s tired eyes still held a bit of lust in them. Taking hold of your hips, Hyunjin pulled you up into his lap once more, leveling your chest with his mouth. He slowly dragged his lips over every open part, collecting his cum as he swirled his tongue over your breasts, nipping softly. Appalled, you watched him through hooded eyes, an absentminded hand tangled in his hair leading him to your nipples every now and again. “Kiss me, baby.”

    His hand quickly finds home on your jaw, guiding the slippery kiss full of passion..when you hear a knock on the window. The sudden sound causes you to hit your head on the roof of the car, in turn making you bite down on Hyunjin’s lower lip. Not that he cared, it was hot.

    “What the fuck!” Hyunjin throws his shirt over you before tucking himself back into his sweatpants, and you panic-wipe your face and his, realizing just how foggy the windows had gotten. He takes a shaky breath before rolling down the window, only to see Minho standing there with his arms crossed. “Y/N-ah, you said thirty minutes.” He’s not happy, but hey, it could’ve been worse. You sigh in relief, dropping Hyunjin’s shirt, not caring that Minho has now seen your boobs as you tug your straps back up. Hyunjin’s stomach felt like it fell out of his ass, but Minho grimaces as he watches his younger friend wipe his face once more. “In the parking lot? Really?”

    “Listen, sometimes you gotta make do.” You smile, kissing your boyfriend’s cheek apologetically. “I’ll see you at home, baby. Promise.” Kissing his lips gently one more time, you wave to him as he tries to catch his breath. Slipping away with Minho, you try to hide the sweat on your face from riling yourself up in a hot ass car just to get your boyfriend off.

    “I expected more from you, Y/N. You were gone for forty minutes,” Minho scoffs as he wipes a tissue across your chest, and you feel your face heat something awful when you realize you still had some of Hyunjin’s residue on you. How embarrassing. Nonetheless, you scowl at your friend. “That’s barely ten minutes over!” You want to be mad at Minho, but your mind can only drift to Hyunjin as your empty stomach growls for the last twenty minutes of your shift.

    “Yah, Hyunjin-ah. I’m home!” You call out as you slide your backpack off, noticing his favorite boots abandoned by the door. Rolling your eyes, you pick them up to place on the somewhat empty rack (it was usually full of shoes stacked upon each other), and it is only then you hear the lo-fi beats coming from your bedroom that you realize he may have fallen asleep. Smiling to yourself, you tiptoe into the kitchen, finding the soft tofu stew in the microwave and you grant yourself permission to heat it up while you get ready for bed. Popping the lid off, you slide it back in and quietly walk towards your bedroom, seeing your boyfriend bundled in the duvet like a burrito. His eyes were shut, lips parted softly and he was beautiful.

    Leaning against the doorframe, you admire him quietly, his light breathing drowned out by the music coming from your television. You take in the purple-tinted atmosphere, ignoring the backpack and duffle bag hidden in the corner of the room.

    “Stop staring at me,” You hear him mumble, and you let out a laugh. “I thought Hwang Hyunjin was sleeping, sorry Hwang Hyunjin.” You chuckle, moving to turn on the desk lamp to remove your makeup. He grunts in response, before sitting up and leaning back onto the bed frame. “Yah, Y/N. I need my beauty rest.”

    “Yeah? Do you? You also need to study, you’ve got a fat ass final coming up in that anthropology class.” You tap your shared calendar, and sure enough, he had a test in two weeks. “Honey, I deserve a break.” He groans, and you simply shake your head as you wipe off your lipstick, that had somehow managed to stay intact during your...earlier endeavors.

    “Yeah, baby. You do.” You smile at him through the mirror, noticing the way he seemed a bit...drained. “Ah, I don’t like it when you look like that, Hyunnie. What’s nagging you?” You say, slipping off your jumper and tank top, rustling in his drawer for a shirt, which felt surprisingly less full. His silence makes you rush, grabbing a random shirt you were sure belonged to Changbin at some point but you shoved your head in anyway.

    “I just...I’m feeling a bit cold.” He says quietly, and you freeze. “Cold...cold meaning sick, cold meaning temperature, cold meaning—”

    “You feel far away, Y/N. I feel cold.” He reluctantly turns to face you, his hands in his lap. Frowning, you tug off your jeans, grabbing a pair of his shorts to slide on. “Baby, I—”

    “No, Y/N. Don’t ‘baby’ me, you always do this. Anytime I want to be closer to you and I want to show you off the world, you hide from me. Every time I want to go do cliché couple things, like matching sweaters or something, you brush me off. Am I a joke, Y/N? Is this funny to you? Do you get off on being cruel to someone who loves you more than anything?”

    The outburst is unexpected. You feel your chest heat with embarrassment, and you back away from the bedside where you had been standing. You feel your eyes well up with tears but you know there is no excuse for the way you’d been acting, and that he wasn’t wrong — and you couldn’t brush it off this time. Looking down, you fiddle with your rings as you let his words sink in.

    “I’m sorry, Hyunjin. I wasn’t aware you felt this way,” You feel a lump in your throat and you wonder why — maybe after so long of hoping he would mess up in order to break up, you realized you didn’t want that. You look at him through blurred vision, the purple love bites you left now fully bloomed and an eyesore. “I know you weren’t, Y/N. You never ask me how I’m feeling any more, much less have you ever. I understand we get caught up in our lives and I know that all this ‘other half’ stuff is bullshit, but you would make time for me, Y/N. You were melting, and now you’re just back in the freezer.” He sighed, throwing the comforter off his legs and standing before you. Wiping tears off your cheeks, Hyunjin pulls you into a tight hug.

    “I just want to know what I’m doing wrong.” And you break. “You’re not doing anything wrong, Hyunjin. It’s me, it’s always been me. I’m just this broken piece of ice that’s been floating over the ocean for decades, hoping someday the sun will melt me down and I’ll become one with the water. I’m tired of not being able to give you the benefit of the doubt and realize that you won’t hurt me like everyone else has. It’s been three damn years, Hyunjin. What am I doing wrong?”

    “Maybe you’re not ready for a relationship, Y/N.” His voice is calm as he strokes your back, and you feel your heart start racing at the thought of losing him. Regardless of what you’d thought before, the panic of being alone has now set in and you can’t imagine your life without him — and that in itself is a toxic mentality. You were not incomplete before you met Hyunjin, and you would be fine if and when he ever decided to step out of your life.

    “No, no. I am, I am ready. That’s why I’m here, I swear I’ll fix it—” Your panicked hands stroked Hyunjin’s face shakily, and you noticed tears in his eyes as he grabbed your wrists, cupping your hands in his own as he stood. “Y/N, you’re not ready. For the past three years, I’ve felt alone in this apartment, no matter how many times you walked through that door. I felt you try to warm up, I felt your effort but slowly, you just kept pushing me back. Ice is meant to melt at some point, my love. Maybe you are something far more solid.”

    And that is when you notice that he is fully dressed. His jewelry is still in, and he’s in a different jumper and sweatpants. His feet are covered with the cactus socks you snagged at Target for him, and you suddenly feel your stomach do a backflip. Suddenly, the less-crowded shoe rack, the organized drawer, the bags in the corner...they make sense.

    “Are you...Are you leaving me?” Your trepidation is clawing at your throat, and you can feel your nails digging into your palms. “No, Y/N. You’re leaving me.” Hyunjin wipes a tear from his face, holding one of your poetry books in his hand. He must have hid it under the blankets, and he hands it to you. Opening it to the bookmarked page, you now see your world crumbling before you.

    On this fine day,

    Made of rhythm and grace

    I watched Hyunjin dance

    In the light of this April,

    Or is it May?

    May day, mayday

    I watch him dance until I can watch no longer,

    For I know that though my mind is stronger,

    My heart cannot bear the sight of another day

    Watching him dance the world away

    His dreams become mine as the time goes on

    But barely have mine, they’ve come and they’ve gone

    Hyunjin is a sight for my sore, uneasy eyes

    My soul is at peace with his sovereign-like mind

    He is confident, intelligent and kind

    He knows what is good for him, he knows that..

    I may not be anymore

    Hyunjin is the light he deserves,

    And I feel like a rain cloud,

    Because on this fine day, of April or May

    I realized, I no longer see Hyunjin

    I have lost myself in him.

    “You read my work.” You let the book slip onto the floor, landing on the carpet with a soft thud. “It’s the only way I’ve even made it this far, Y/N.” You feel betrayal rip through you, and you hate that the only thing you ever asked him not to do had been done. You didn’t care about hiding anything besides this flimsy book of poems that you hid beneath your bed every single time you wrote something new.

    “Get out.” You mumble, and Hyunjin opens his mouth, only to press it in a tight line. He grabs his bags quickly, and you’ve seen now that he even cleared his own cosmetics off your vanity. You would miss dolling him up for his showcases. “I’ll see you at my showcase. I hope you’re still coming.” He said quietly, before padding silently into the living room, and eventually, you heard the jingle of his keys and the slam of the front door. Hearing the lock turn, you felt the tears roll down your face uncontrollably.

    And slowly, but surely, you’ve fallen asleep with your face buried in Hyunjin’s pillow, the soft tofu stew long forgotten.

    Things had always been so neutral with Hyunjin. He didn’t like fighting but he was petty as hell, so that canceled out. He didn’t like cooking but he was great at it, which also canceled out. He didn’t particularly care for shower sex, but when you did indulge, it almost made you angry how well it went down.

    Sex with Hyunjin was quite the opposite of neutral — it was filthy, wet, slippery even. It was hot and heated and you loved every moment of whatever was happening — whether he had been pounding you into your mattress, or his face was buried between your thighs, everything was euphoric. And what made you furious was that whilst you had let yourself wallow in your sudden heartbreak, you didn’t realize that you craved the skinship you shoved away.

    You missed waking up to his hand literally dangling in your face, his leg thrown over your hip, or his cold ass feet tucked onto the back of your thighs. You missed holding someone’s hand as you walked around campus, being kissed goodbye as he dropped you off for class while he was headed to practice. You hated seeing Hyunjin across campus and not being able to call out his name and hand him the milk tea that you’d mistakenly bought for him ten minutes ago, having completely forgotten that you were broken up.

    So you felt like an idiot holding two medium wintermelon milk teas as your ex-boyfriend walked closer with his entourage. You looked at Minho, and as if sensing your eyes, he glanced up. Meeting your gaze, Minho’s jaw dropped as you trashed the drink, tossing it in the nearest garbage can — an action not missed by Felix and Hyunjin. “Hey, Y/N.” Minho tried, and you glared at him as you walked past, nearly slamming into Changbin and Jeongin as you did so.

    “Woah, woah. Little lady, what’s going on?” Chan asked as you stormed into the study room you’d rented out for finals week, which was unfortunately, this week. You throw your bag on the table, angrily uncapping a dry-erase marker with your teeth. When you step back, Chan raises his eyebrows at what you’ve written.

    “‘Pros and Cons of Dating Y/L/N Y/N?’” Chan leaned back in his chair, crossing his muscled arms across his chest. “Did you guys fight or something?” You nod, rubbing your eyes roughly. You feel the burn of tears but you can’t let Chan see you cry — he was like your rock, he was the one who motivated you to do anything, honestly. Without him, you’d be a little lost roaming this great, big world of confusion.

    Following your silence, Chan seemed to understand as he stood, enveloping your limp form in a hug as you broke down for the third time that week. Trying to hide your emotions from your friends was always easy, but you’d never felt defeat like this. You’d never allowed someone to see your heart and learn its ways, so knowing now that you had seen Hyunjin’s and ignored it simply showed that you had taken him for granted.

    “Haven’t you got any faith in yourself, Y/N?” He mumbles as he wipes the board off, taking the uncapped marker from your hand. “Being single is the least of your worries, baby girl. Let’s just cool off a bit and focus on this dumbass final that we’ve got to ace tomorrow.” Chan began writing up practice equations that your professor had assigned earlier that week, and though you wiped your tears and whipped out your calculator — you regretted renting the study room across the very library you met Hyunjin in.

    The boys had wound up dragging you out of the apartment on the night of Hyunjin’s showcase, making the coping process much harder — but you looked fabulous. A wine red, long-sleeve, backless dress that showed off the girls, covered in small glitter and paired with a nice pair of black heels that Hyunjin’s mom had gifted you for Christmas last year. Thanks to Seungmin, you would be strutting your stuff at this stupid showcase. And no, you would not stop being petty.

    Yes, your eyes shot daggers at the dancers in your group that would be performing with him, but you also knew deep down that you couldn’t pin everything Hyunjin had a passion for on a negative base.

    However, the carpool was just a bit more suffocating as you turned into an unfamiliar neighborhood to pick up the soloist for the night, Hwang Hyunjin. You looked at the houses on the street as Chan cruised forward, only to stop in front of an old townhouse with a nice vegetable garden. You quietly looked out the window to see your ex-boyfriend kissing someone’s cheek goodbye, and by the sound of Minho’s low whistle, you knew it would hurt you to pry.

    “Hey, scoot.” He opened the door and you reluctantly scooted over, realizing now why the boys asked if you wanted the passenger seat. Hyunjin’s freshly dyed black hair would definitely be a show-stopper, and paired with the dance he’d prepared, you knew he’d steal some hearts. “Nice hair.” You mutter, and you feel Hyunjin sigh softly, pulling out his phone.

    A minute later, you feel your phone vibrate in your clutch. A small lump in your throat forms as you see you’ve forgotten to change his contact name.

    [4:54P] baby ♥︎🩰: would you be willing to do my makeup for the showcase..?

    Glancing up, you grimace as you see Hyunjin staring out the window with flaming red cheeks. Scowling, you type back a short ‘yes’ and stare at the bouquet in your lap for the rest of the drive.

    Backstage was crawling with dancers and makeup artists, but Hyunjin had managed to convince the stage manager to get him and the boys off in a green room in the concert hall. Seeing as the stage manager apparently owed Hyunjin for some favor years ago, he’d snuck Hyunjin the key as you strolled quietly backstage with the boys. Minho and Felix just needed to get dressed, they would be waiting in the audience for their turn on stage for the group performances. You feel set up, somehow.

    You waited quietly on the sofa, scrolling mindlessly through Twitter as you let the boys rustle around getting into their outfits. Seeing as Hyunjin had a solo and a group dance, his bag was twice as heavy. “Yah, I’m going out. We’ll be up third.” Minho was buttoning his shirt as he started walking out, Felix trailing behind him as he smoothed on some chapstick. The room felt thick with tension, yet you pushed past it to set up Hyunjin’s makeup on the vanity table. Concealer..powder...a bit of blush..lip tint…eyeshadow..

    “These are for you,” You set the bouquet down on the vanity as you allow him to finish getting dressed. A bouquet of mixed flowers, bold and colorful — daisies, cornflowers, honeysuckles, red tulips and carnations. An eyesore that you adored. You knew you wouldn’t be around after the performance, so you simply slipped your note into the bouquet when he silently clipped in his jewelry.

    “Why are you being so quiet?” Hyunjin asked as he came up behind you, buttoning his shirt quickly. “Yah, I’m not being quiet. I feel awkward, I want to get this done and over with, Hyunjin.” You say, moving out of the way so he can sit down, and you sweep his hair off his face, ignoring the temptation to kiss his forehead like you usually would. You know, for someone who had had a hard time melting to form into what Hyunjin ‘needed’, you sure had no trouble being what Hyunjin craved. He hadn't realized that until his first actual night without you.

    He was freezing.

    “Be gentle with me.” He said as you patted moisturizer under his eyes, listening out for the start of the first performance. “I always am.” You whisper, not allowing the tears building up to escape as you blink them back. Hyunjin’s gaze on your face was intensely intimidating as you carefully blended a muted terracotta shade on his eyelid, and you think you imagine the pout on his lips until you go back in with a brown pencil liner. “Yah, Hwang Hyunjin! Why are you pouting?”

    He looks down at his hands, toying with the loose strands on the holes of his jeans. You frown, dusting on an easy amount of blush before grabbing his lip tint. “Give me a kiss,” You mumble, and his eyes widen, but you shake your head. “Do the face, dumbass.”

    “You’ve gotten so mean,” He mutters as he puckers his lips, and you feel a smile sneak onto your face as you dab the tint on lightly. “You’ve always liked it.” You almost kiss him, out of routine, but the cold air in the room reminds you of what can no longer be. A sad feeling washes over you as you spray his face lightly with a setting spray, and wave your hands around him to dry it.

    “You’re going to do great out there, Hyunjin. I know it.” Holding his arms, you rub them gently one last time before hearing the second song start for the next group, starting your brisk walk out of the room. “Wait.” Stopping in place, you don’t turn as you hear his feet patter behind you, and you feel his presence on your back as his hand takes hold of your wrist. Slowly, he turns you around and your eyes are closed, not wanting to know what the next two minutes may hold. You don’t realize you’re backing up against the door until you’ve hit it, and your eyes open to see his face ghosting over yours. His breathing is shaky, and you can’t help but feel tears fill your eyes as you brush your lips against his.

    Kissing you back softly, his hand finds home on your waist — and you feel a tear roll down as you wrap your arms around his neck. Your lips are burning his skin but he relishes in the warmth he’d been missing for the past two weeks. Your skin is hot to the touch and he realizes…

    Maybe it was him that needed melting.

    “Good luck, Hyunjin. You’re gonna be fine.” You sniff as you push him away, exiting the green room as quickly as you could, hearing the second song coming to an end. You’re sprinting towards the auditorium at this point, nearly crashing into Minho as he and Felix are rushing towards backstage to set up in the thirty seconds they have. “First row, fourth seat!” Felix yells as you open the auditorium door, and you nearly bust a lung trying to catch your breath while sliding into the seat next to Jisung.

    “Hey, Sungie.” You take a deep breath and Han Jisung simply shakes his head — his hand taking hold of yours as the curtain rises with the boys in position. Of course, Hyunjin is front and center as the spotlight catches him directly, his hands crossed across his face in a gesture you’d memorized from his practices. The music begins, and once more you’re drawn in by the fluid movements of his body, the body control he carried on himself was something many dancers would die for. Suddenly, it’s like there’s no one else in the room but you and him. You’re locked on his swiveling hips, the flow of his arms as he melted into the music.

    And you fall in love all over again.

    “Our last soloist for the night has been well anticipated in many ways. The star of the show, the one and only man of the hour — let’s hear it for our very own Hwang Hyunjin!” The announcer is far too excited in your opinion, and you roll your eyes as the entire auditorium goes up in screams, joining them in their clapping. The crowd dies down as the curtain rises, and you hold your breath as Hyunjin steps into view, a familiar piece of white ribbon in between his teeth as he looks into a gold-framed mirror. He ties his hair back carefully as he stares into the mirror, and as the beat drops in, your jaw locks. His hand wraps around his neck lightly, before looking back with a finger in his mouth.

    He rips off the veil-like cape and before you know it, he’s on the ground and you understand now why the entire crowd is entranced as his knees alternate, the way his hand covers his Joker-like grin and the way he’s sliding around the floor is simply delicious. Fan service, you think reluctantly as you hear a group of individuals screaming in lust-filled dreams.

    The silver details make him glimmer as he releases all his emotions on the stage, and you feel your thighs clench as you catch a glimpse of the belly piercing you adored. Your nails are digging into your palms as you realize how high the shirt has come undone, and it is only now that you recognize the song playing in your ears as Hyunjin’s performance comes to an end with his hand around his neck once more, the lights dimming as the last line rings in your mind.

    I’ve always liked to play with fire.

    You feel your heart stop in your chest as Hyunjin throws the rose he’d held in his mouth in your general direction, and the crowd screams once more as he leaves the stage, pulling the ribbon out of his hair as he exited. You ignore all the screams as you feel the urge to get up and leave the premises like you have every single time Hyunjin had a showcase. You want to run out the doors and run home to a pillow that doesn’t smell like him anymore but you pretend it does in hopes of some sort of manifestation that he’d show up in your dreams again.

    You can’t help but slip your heels off and bolt for the exit as the dancers come back on stage for their final bow. You see Hyunjin in your peripheral view and like always, you ignore it. You ignore the beet red blush on his face as people throw flowers at him and scream his name, and you ignore the way he pushes through the crowd to find you in the parking lot. You ignore the cold on your back as you manage to hail a taxi and slip in, giving the driver your address in a hurried sob as you see Hyunjin exit the building behind you. You ask her to step on it as you feel the lump in your throat grow, and she gives you a pitiful look as she steps on the gas. You feel bad. You always do when you run away from what is best for you.

    “Trouble in paradise, honey?” She asks quietly, and you nod as your phone vibrates repeatedly, surely spam calls from the boys. “He loves me far more than I could have imagined. It is sad that I am simply not enough for him in my own eyes.”

    “Oh my, dear. You will always be enough. Look at you, you’re young! You’re full of life even when you look like you’re having a rough time, you look like what I wish I looked like twenty years ago! You’re the It Girl, baby. Cherish it.” She sighs as she stops in front of your apartment, and you dig through your clutch for some cash. “Don’t worry. This one’s on me, but I think you could make it work.” She looks into your eyes and you feel your soul ache as you nod.

    “I will, Auntie. Thank you.” You exit her cab, scurrying up the stairs to your apartment quietly. You feel winded as you unlock your door, and you throw your heels onto the empty rack. You wander mindlessly about your apartment, standing in front of what once held photos upon photos of you, Hyunjin and all your friends. Memories that were once stuck to the wall were now stacked up on the dining room table, and you sighed as your fingers touched the thumbtack holes.

    “In this maze of memories, where did I lose you?” You whisper to yourself, sighing as you trail towards your bedroom, plopping face first onto your bed, ignoring the sudden whiff of Hyunjin’s scent coming off your pillow. “How cruel it is to live in a world where you’re not even in my photo albums anymore.”

    Hyunjin had started to distance himself more, and last you’d heard, he was offered to study a year abroad in France with Minho and Felix. Good for him, I wish him well, you’d told Jisung when he shared the good news. Minho and Jisung managed to work it out, with Jisung having been offered a year abroad as well for music production with the dance team, they realized it was time to figure out who they were to each other. You find out the person Hyunjin kissed a few months back before the showcase was an old friend, meaning his grandmother — she’d recently moved into that old townhouse

    You couldn’t really swallow down the pill that Hyunjin wasn’t yours anymore, but the universe didn’t give you much of a choice as it kept turning. You’d lost your passion for poetry, and the dream to be a huge name in journalism in the months after. You’d given your poems to be displayed in the Creative Writing hall at your University, and you realized that nothing you wrote was ever about anything besides Hyunjin. Everything was connected back to him, and it seemed the world knew that as you dropped your major entirely, and when your advisor questioned what you would be changing it to, you simply shrugged and told her you didn’t know. I want to see the world, you said. University is tying me down.

    Seeing as you had officially finished the year, you had no loose strands to burn besides packing up and moving out of your student apartment. You’d sent Hyunjin his things via Seungmin and Jeongin, who were kind enough to help you move out and get a moving van back to Seoul. You were going to spend the summer with them, seeing as they simply planned to go all around Seoul auditioning for companies.

    You were taping the last box when you heard a soft knock at the door.

    Looking up, you see Hyunjin. Back to his blonde hair, glowing in all his glory. You give him a tight lipped smile, and stand up to greet him quietly. “Hello. I heard you got offered a year in France. Congratulations.” You mumble as you stand in front of him, and he nods silently. The tension is thick as he shifts from side to side, before clearing his throat.

    “I saw your poems in the hall.” He whispered, and you scoff, scratching your neck shyly. “Yeah, I decided to say goodbye. Sort of lost touch with that dream.” He doesn’t say anything, but you look to see his eyes screwed shut as he leans against your doorframe. “I didn’t know you wrote so much about me, Y/N.”

    “Everything I’ve ever written has been about you, Hyunjin. You were my lucky star, the one I talked to every night. You hold all my creativity, because you are my only inspiration.” You shrug, and Hyunjin simply stretches his arms out. “Come, let me hold you.”

    And for a moment, this is okay. You’re okay, feeling the warmth of his body against your own and hearing his soft heartbeat. You’re okay, realizing that you will never stop loving Hwang Hyunjin, no matter how far he is. You’re okay, knowing that he also loves you, and you’re okay with the soft kiss he plants on your scalp.

    “I turned it down. I got into a company,” He murmurs, and you gasp. “And even though I’d be under a dating ban, I figured I’d let you know that I miss you and that I’d override that dating ban for you. I miss waking up with you and I miss walking to class together. I miss you, and I love you. I hope that we can be together someday, again. Whether it’s tomorrow or in ten years, just know my heart belongs to you.”

    You can’t begin to explain why he should run. So you won’t. You won’t crush him with your fears, or your doubts of what’s to come — because in the end, the love you fear you don’t deserve has already begun.

    You deserve to be loved. You are worthy of love and happiness.

    #aiskz:hyunjin#aiskz:my fics#hwang hyunjin #hwang hyunjin fic #hwang hyunjin imagine #hwang hyunjin angst #hwang hyunjin smut #hwang hyunjin fluff #hyunjin#hyunjin fic#hyunjin imagine#hyunjin angst#hyunjin smut#hyunjin fluff #hyunjin x reader #stray kids#skz#skz imagine#skz fic#skz fluff#skz smut#skz angst #stray kids angst #stray kids fluff
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  • sunnyville36
    23.07.2021 - 1 day ago

    Put it on me

    Requested from anon

    Pairing: Lee Felix x fem reader

    Themes/warnings: idol!verse Felix, light angst/argument, make-up sex, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected sex (stay safe out there folks!), slightly rough sex

    Word count: 1.6k

    As always, happy to hear your thoughts, and thank you for reading!


    You’re staring at the half eaten meal on your plate when you hear the door open.

    You and Felix have barely had 2 seconds to spend with each other the past few weeks with Stray Kids working on their upcoming comeback, so you thought you would surprise him by making your signature chicken carbonara that he’s been dying to try.  You had texted him earlier to tell him your plans and he had sounded super excited.  He mentioned dance practice might run long, but told you he would come straight over to your place when it ended to spend some time with you.  So you put his portion in the oven to keep it warm and waited for a text saying he was on his way, but it had been over 3 hours since their practice should have ended and you hadn’t heard anything from him.

    Your boyfriend comes around the corner into the kitchen, and you can immediately tell he’s not in a good mood, but you hope some food might lift his spirits.

    “Hey Lixie,” you say, standing up and crossing the short space to give him a quick hug.

    He wraps his arms loosely around you, trying to keep his sweat-stained tank top from ruining your shirt.  “Hi Y/n.”

    “How was practice?”

    “Fucking exhausting,” he sighs, plopping down in a seat at the table and letting his head fall into his hands.

    “I can only imagine,” you respond, making your way over to the oven.  “Maybe something to eat will make you feel better?”

    “Oh, I-I’m not hungry, baby.”

    You turn back to him, see his head is still in his hands.  He’s trying too hard not to interact with you, and you feel like something’s up.

    “After that insanely long practice?  You must be.”

    “I uh… I ate with the boys.”

    You feel a knot twist in your stomach, but try not to jump to conclusions.  “Lix, dinner must have been hours ago by now; come on you should eat something, I kept your pasta in the oven - “

    “I just came from eating,” he interrupts, looking anywhere but the spot where you’re standing with one hand on the oven door.

    “You what?” you ask, voice quiet.

    “After practice ended, we all went up the street to that 24-hour ramen place.”

    His head is bowed, eyes looking at his lap, and you can tell he’s feeling guilty.  And you know it’s petty, and you should really just brush it off and move on, but you find yourself feeling more hurt than you thought you would.

    “But I… we said we were going to spend some time together tonight, and I made this special just for you…” you trail off, trying hard to stem the tiny drops of tears threatening to spill down your cheeks.

    “I know but - look, the members were at each other’s throats all night and it was such a tough session and I didn’t wanna just bail on them when Chan suggested we all grab food to sort it out - “

    “So you decided to bail on me instead?” you scoff, anger rising in your chest.

    “No, it wasn’t like that, I’m still here aren’t I?”

    “You could have at least texted me about the change of plans.  I’ve been waiting here for hours thinking you’d walk in the door any minute when you might not have even shown up at all!”

    “Well I’m sorry my life doesn’t revolve around how you spend your time sitting around!” he snaps back, throwing up his hands in an annoyed shrug.

    “Right.  Because all I do with my time is sit around pining after you.  You know, this was one of the only free times for me too, and now it’s wasted.”

    The air is tense between the two of you.  You’re rapidly moving towards a full blown fight, and this is far from how you wanted your evening to go.

    “So I’ll just go then, if your precious plans are ruined,” Felix mumbles, standing to grab his jacket from the hook by the door.

    In all honesty, it’d be better if you let him leave, give the both of you time to cool down.  But you’re too upset to think rationally, and all you can see is him not even caring enough to stay despite your disagreement.

    “So you’d rather walk away than talk about this?”

    He turns back, fists balling at his sides.  “We’re not talking, you’re just yelling at me, and I didn’t even do anything!”

    “It’s not what you do; it’s what you don’t do.  You never even want to spend time with me anymore!  I feel like you only want me around when it’s convenient for you!” you shout, voice wavering.

    Something shifts in his eyes then, as he stares at you from across the room.  He looks hurt, offended almost, more angry about what you just said than at any previous point in your argument.

    “That’s not true.”

    “Really?” you press, enthralled by his aura, his usual lighthearted demeanor being replaced with one oozing with dominance.  With desire.

    “Of course I want to be with you.  Always,” he says, voice low.  Assertive.  Sexy.

    “Then prove it.”

    He’s on you in a matter of seconds, hands grabbing your face and lips crashing against yours.  Your own hands find themselves on either side of his slim waist, still sticky from sweat and exertion.  He pushes you up against the counter, melding your bodies impossibly closer as his tongue slips into your mouth.  The kiss is messy, filthy, nothing like the two of you normally do during your lazy makeout sessions.  His leg is slotted between both of yours, and the tensing of his thigh against your core as he moves to lean over you makes you heady with want.

    Suddenly, you’re turned around in his hold, your back flush to his front, hiding nothing from you as you feel the hardness in his pants growing against your ass.  He’s frenzied, his normally delicate touches replaced with rough grabs, one hand sliding up to cup your breast, the other dipping below the hem of your skirt to run along the damp folds of your panties.  He brings his lips to your ear, his words sending a shiver down your spine.

    “Want me to show you what I never get tired of tasting?”

    “Mmhmm,” you whimper, letting him half-drag, half-carry you over to the living room and ease you onto the couch, the first gentle touch from him since this whole thing began.  That turns out to be short lived, as the next thing you know he’s on his knees in front of you, flinging your legs apart and waiting for your almost imperceptible nod before moving your panties to the side and bringing his mouth to you.

    He devours your pussy, licking up and down your center and sucking on your clit.  You moan his name, and you can feel him smile against you as he focuses his tongue on teasing your clit with little kitten licks while ramming two of his fingers inside you.  Normally it takes you begging to get him to be this rough with you, but something about your fight must have got him really riled up, and you weren’t about to complain.

    After bringing you to the brink of your high a few times but never quite enough to send you over, he lifts his head from between your legs, mouth dripping with your essence, and moves behind you on the couch, gently positioning you on your hands and knees.  He leans his whole body over yours, again whispering his question in your ear.

    “Can I fuck you like this?”

    You rarely do it from behind, but every time you have you’ve loved it, so you nod your head eagerly, letting out a breathy “yes.”

    He’s ready as soon as you say so, pushing into you with such force you jolt forward slightly, your laughter-tinged gasp giving him a sign of just how much you enjoy it.

    “Oh, you like that, don’t you, kitten?” he purrs, lifting you up off your arms so your torso rests on his chest.

    “Yes… fuck... Felix, please more.”

    He draws out then pushes back in, picking up the pace each time.  Soon he’s pounding into you, his left arm supporting your hip and his right arm wrapped loosely around your neck as you lean against him.  The way his cock is angled is causing him to hit you perfectly each time, and you’re moaning his name again as you feel his quick hot breaths next to your ear.

    “You promise to never doubt how much I want you?” he growls out, voice strained from the effort not to release just yet.

    “Yes, yes, Felix I promise, please let me cum, please.”

    “Let go for me baby.”

    You reach your peak at the same time, his groan in sync with your high pitched scream.

    When you’re both aware enough to speak again, Felix pulls you down to sit between his legs, leaning you against his chest.

    “You were right,” he starts, voice sincere, “about - about earlier.  I’m sorry I didn’t tell you where I was all that time and I’m sorry for leaving you alone when I promised we’d spend the evening together.”

    You look up at him, wanting to apologize as well.  “I’m sorry about what I said.  I know you’re not intentionally neglecting me.  I’ve just been upset recently that we don’t have a lot of time together anymore.  But I should have told you that earlier; I shouldn’t have brought that up in an argument.”

    “So we’re even then?” he asks, a mischievous glint in his eye.

    You give him a playful punch to the chest, smiling.  “Yeah, we’re even.”

    “Then I think it’s time for round two.”

    #stray kids #stray kids fanfiction #stray kids fic #stray kids x reader #stray kids imagines #skz #skz x reader #skz fanfic#skz fic#skz imagines#skz smut#lee felix #lee felix fanfic #lee felix fic #lee felix x reader #lee felix imagines #lee felix angst #lee felix smut #felix x reader
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  • ificouldhelpyouforget
    23.07.2021 - 1 day ago

    Subtle Things Like – Part 11 (Lee Felix x OFC)


    A/N: Sorry this has taken so long to get posted. I've been working on it on and off, but didn't want to push it too much with a few things happening in life. I'm hoping to get the rest of this posted within the next few weeks before I go on vacation though. Let's hope it happens. I hope you enjoy this part even though it's kinda filler and slow. Things will get better. :)

    Summary: Mia's still running away, but she's starting to feel bad about it.

    Warnings: Just Mia being a drama llama over everything.

    Words: 2k

    Tags: @maybedeja

    At the apartment, only Jeongin is around – Changbin and Han were on their way out when Mia and Hyunjin walked in – so the three decide to play some games to help keep Mia's mind off Felix; an impossible task since he's always on her mind. But at least it's enough of a distraction to keep her from overthinking. The overthinking comes later when Minho sends a group text to everyone asking the four busy at JYP to grab food on their way home, which they agree to do.

    Hyunjin and Jeongin note Mia's fidgeting when she relays what she wants to eat to Hyunjin.

    "Are you okay?" Jeongin asks.

    "Felix is going to be with them."


    "I'm not ready to face him yet..."

    Jeongin smiles warmly at her. "That's okay. You can hide out in Chan's apartment and we'll bring your food to you."

    "Maybe you should stop hiding and face this, Mia," Hyunjin suggests. "You might cause a rift between you two if you keep running away."

    She frowns. "Didn't you tell me earlier that it's okay if I can't see him yet? I just need more time to figure out what to say to him."

    "You say, 'Felix, I love you and I really need to know if you love me back because I have to move on.' Easy." Hyunjin sets his phone to the side. "And I did say that, but it's obvious you miss him because you keep looking at your phone. Cute background by the way."

    She glances at the selfie she and Felix took earlier that day. "Thanks? And that's not easy at all! Why would I tell him I need to know to move on? That's too forward."

    Hyunjin shrugs. "It'll make him give you an answer."

    "No, that's so forceful. I want him to tell me on his own."

    "This is assuming he loves you back?" Jeongin questions.

    Mia and Hyunjin nod.

    "It's pretty obvious he does, you know. Maybe you need to give him time to find the right words to say to you instead of giving Felix a timeframe that he doesn't realize he has to say something to you."

    Hyunjin can't help smiling fondly at Jeongin. "You're right. We shouldn't try to push him to say something to you if he's figuring out what to tell you."

    "But are we sure he's going to say anything at all? Especially after what I said?"

    He could tell her what he knows – what he heard on the phone call – but Hyunjin decides to keep it to himself. He trusts that something good will happen between them before Mia has to go home. "I think he will. Felix isn't the kind of person to leave something like this unresolved. No matter what the outcome will be, he'll want to talk this out."

    With a loud groan, Mia falls back onto the floor where she'd been sitting and covers her face. "Why is love so complicated?"

    Jeongin joins her on the floor, his head bumping against hers. "Because Felix is your best friend and you don't want to lose that."

    "And you're being dramatic," Hyunjin points out.

    Mia points at him. "Says the most dramatic man in existence."

    He scoffs.

    "It'll be okay, Mia," Jeongin says smiling at her when she shifts her head to look at him. "Just don't avoid him for long or it'll hurt more."

    "I know..." Mia moves again so her cheek is pressed against Jeongin's shoulder. He sputters when her hair tickles his nose, but Mia doesn't do anything about it. "This sucks."

    "It's going to suck more if you're wanting to hide because they just grabbed lunch."

    Mia jumps to her feet and gathers her things in a hurry. "Crap, crap, crap!"

    "Should we have Felix bring your lunch?" Hyunjin teases before Mia can rush out of the apartment.

    Instead of a sarcastic remark, Mia simply lifts her middle finger to him as she practically rips the door open.

    "How American of you!"

    Jeongin chuckles and sits back up. "They'll work out in the end, right?"

    "Definitely. Felix likes her back."

    "He does?"

    "Yeah. He told Chan when he called earlier. It was on speaker so I heard everything."

    "He only said he likes her though."

    Hyunjin nods. "It's a start. He'll realize he loves her soon enough. I bet not seeing her the rest of today will take a toll on him especially if he thinks she's nearby."

    "This is a mess."

    "Yeah, but it'll be worth it to see the happy ending for them."

    Jeongin smiles fondly at Hyunjin. "You'll make sure they'll be together before she leaves right?"

    "As together as they can be right now." Hyunjin stretches his arms over his head. "I have a good feeling we'll see them officially together by the end of the year. Maybe even public."

    "Do you think the company will allow that if the ban isn't lifted by then?"

    "Yeah because not even JYP can stand between true love."

    The youngest bursts into laughter. "You watch too many dramas."

    "It's why I'm perfect for this mission."

    The moment Mia stepped out of the apartment, she took off toward the stairs just in case her luck was down. Thankfully, it's much easier for her to run downstairs rather than up them, so she gets to Chan's floor easily enough. She gets to Chan's apartment in record time and manages to drop the key once before getting the door open. That's when she takes a moment to catch her breath.

    Mia groans and flops onto Chan's couch, her face pressed into the cushion. "Why am I like this?"

    A moment goes by and she turns on her side to check her phone. The texts and voicemails from Felix stopped hours earlier, but they all sat unread and unheard on her screen. With a breath, Mia brings herself to listen to the few messages he left. She has to restart the first one because at the sound of his worried voice, she has to put all her focus on not sobbing over her immature way of dealing with the situation. She feels even worse hearing Felix voice his concerns because he thinks he did something wrong. Mia has to stop listening and instead moves to check his texts.

    There are a lot of short messages asking if she's safe or wondering if she's lost. A few ask her to call him so he can help her get to the apartments. The farther she scrolls through, the more upset she feels for doing this to him. The worst of them all is the last one he sent before Mia found refuge with Hyungin in the practice room. It's a simple "I'm sorry" as if what she did is his fault.

    With her emotions running wild, Mia stands up intending to find Felix and fix everything, to apologize for her immature attitude, except there's a knock on the door.

    "It's Chris," a familiar voice calls out. "I have your food."

    Timidly, Mia cracks the door open enough to see Chan smiling at her. "Oh, hi, Chris. Thank you." She opens the door for him. That's when she notices he has a bag with two containers in it.

    He catches her staring. "I also felt like you need me to eat with you tonight."

    "You don't have to..."

    "Nah, it's fine. I want to help you feel better. How are you feeling by the way?" Chan sets the bag on the counter and starts unpacking it.

    Mia looks at her feet. "I feel horrible for acting this way... and I miss him."

    "I don't think I've seen you two apart for this long ever, you know with you guys being in the same city."

    "I know..."

    Chan passes her food over and sits at the table, patting the seat next to him. "He was scared you were lost or something when he called me. I told him you were okay, but he was still worried when he showed up at JYP. He misses you, too."

    She frowns and sits heavily in the chair. "I'm the worst person in the world to do this to him. I can't believe he doesn't hate me..."

    "He couldn't hate you, Mia. You mean so much to him."

    "Do you think he'll forgive me?"

    "Without a doubt." Chan smiles after taking a huge bite of his food. It makes Mia giggle a little.

    "Should I see him tonight? Try to talk about it?"

    "Only if you're ready."

    "I don't know if I am... Can you tell him I'm sorry for me, so maybe he'll feel a little better?"

    He nods. "I can do that for you and I think he'll appreciate it."

    Mia takes a small bite of her food. It's good, but her mind is too much of a mess to comprehend it. "Can you also... um... Is it okay if he comes in here in the morning? It's easier to talk in a place I feel kinda safe in."

    Chan smiles, finding it cute that she feels safe in his space. "Only if you actually talk to him, Mia. You have to promise me that the two of you will discuss what's going on between you or I won't let him in."

    "I... I promise."

    "Good. I'll tell him before he goes to bed and if I find out you didn't do what you promised tomorrow, I'm buying you a ticket back home."

    "You wouldn't."

    "Don't give me a reason to and I won't."

    She studies Chan's face, unsure if he's joking or not, but it's unmoving and that makes her too scared to find out. "Fine. I'll make sure I talk to him in the morning."

    "Fantastic," Chan chuckles. "You need to eat. Felix said you ran off before finishing lunch and it's not good to skip meals."

    "Don't you do that all the time though?" Mia teases before complying and taking another bite.

    "Do as I say, not as I do."

    That throws Mia into a fit of giggles, her hand coming up to cover her mouth in case her food decides to make an appearance. "You can't make me laugh while I'm eating, Chris!"

    "I didn't do anything funny."

    "Your face is funny looking."

    "Wow. That hurts, Mia. I can't believe I'm friends with you. I think you've spent too much time with Hyunjin, so I'm cutting that relationship off."

    She pouts. "That's not fair! Hyunjin is my friend and you can't cut me off from friends. You're not my dad!"

    "I know you want me to make a bad joke about your dad, but I'm not falling for the trap."

    "You've gotten too smart."

    "Nah. I just have seven children I've learned from."

    Another giggle leaves Mia before she eats more of her dinner. "With children like Hyunjin and Changbin, I'm sure you're always on alert."

    He grins. "It's true, but it's fun. Never a dull moment around here."

    It gets quiet between them, Mia staring down at her dinner. Chan watches her curiously once he notices she's the source of the silence.

    "I miss you guys a lot. It's always so loud here and that's kinda nice. Once I get home from work or hanging out with my friends... there's nothing. It used to be so different when Felix was around or when you were there, too. I'm going to miss all of you so much when I have to go home."

    Chan reaches over and takes her hand, squeezing it tightly. "Felix will be back in a few months and all of us will get the chance to visit Australia again before too long. We miss you, too, and I know the rest of the guys will miss you just as much."

    Mia manages a weak smile. "I know. I wish we didn't have to be apart for so long."

    "I know, Mia. One day, it may not have to be like this anymore. Just give it more time."

    She nods slowly knowing Chris is right. One day she won't have to spend years apart from the people she loves most. One day she won't have to see their faces through a screen. One day she won't miss Felix as much because he'll be back home... with her... she hopes.

    #stray kids #stray kids fanfic #skz#skz fanfic#lee felix #Lee Felix fanfic #felix#Felix fanfic #stray kids felix #skz felix#ofc #original female character #oc#original character #Lee Felix x oc #Lee Felix x ofc #fluff#mild angst
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  • pesiko
    23.07.2021 - 1 day ago


    An Easy Fix



    Changbin Having a Crush on You Would Include

    Clingy Series: Seo Changbin

    Cuddles with Seo Changbin

    Cupid AU Changbin


    Dating Seo Changbin Includes

    Enemies to Lovers

    Everyday Job AU: Seo Changbin

    First Kiss!Changbin

    Harry Potter AU

    Meeting Changbin for the First Time

    Path of Night

    Seo Changbin as a Boyfriend

    Sun & Moon

    Tattoo Artist!Changbin

    Waking Up with Seo Changbin

    What Seo Changbin Would Be Like as a Boyfriend


    [main masterlist] [stray kids masterlist] updated 7-22-21

    #changbin#seo changbin#stray kids#skz #changbin fic recs #stray kids fic recs #changbin fluff#changbin bulletpoints #stray kids bulletpoints #changbin angst#changbin imagines#changbin scenarios#changbin fic#changbin fanfic #changbin x reader #stray kids fic #stray kids fanfic
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  • heephoriia
    22.07.2021 - 1 day ago

    ❝ 𝙞'𝙡𝙡 𝙠𝙞𝙨𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙤𝙣𝙘𝙚, 𝙩𝙬𝙞𝙘𝙚, 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙣 𝙖 𝙢𝙞𝙡𝙡𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚 𝙩𝙞𝙢𝙚𝙨.❞

    legend says. [ıllıllı] listen to emerald eyes by anson seabra.
    “(夏)” ⸻ hyunjin x gn!reader. 0.270k words. g: fluff. w: none. syn: a little midnight conversation with your lover.
    send an ask to be in the taglist and i hope you enjoy! feedbacks and/or reblogs are worth gold <3
    taglist. @luvvseong @igyus @intokook @leavethemonsteralive

    "Did you know that this little mark right here was where you've been kissed the most in your past life?" you gently swipe a thumb across the single black dot under his left eye and over it. his lashes brush against your skin as he hums.

    "oh really?" his voice carries quietly and you nod, "yeah, it's a legend i heard around a lot as a kid. i like to believe that it's true."

    hyunjin leans in to wrap his arms around your middle and you tuck him in, allowing him to bury his face in the crook of your neck where he places lazy kisses on your skin. the clock continues ticking, the moon keeps its soft light, "i like it, too."

    his dark hair had grown longer, reaching past his jaw length— it resembled a bob cut. it's the perfect amount to languidly run your fingers through the soft locks as he stays in that position, basking in your warmth.

    his eyelids flutter closed, exhausted from keeping awake for hours, tickling your neck. you play with one of the rings on his finger as he doses off.

    "maybe in your next life, a little black mole will appear right here," you look at the back of his palm, right at his knuckles, "or maybe here." your fingers graze over his temple.

    you stay like that until hyunjin wakes up, still holding you close to him and lips pressed against your neck. he wakes up still madly in love, hoping that maybe one day in his next life, he'd get to have a beauty spot right above his lips.

    #stray kids#skz fluff#skz hyunjin#skz writing#skz imagines #stray kids x reader #stray kids scenarios #stray kids fluff #skz x reader #skz scenarios#hwang hyunjin #hyunjin x y/n #hyunjin x reader #stray kids angst #stray kids x you #stray kids x y/n #kpop
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  • hobis-hopeworld
    22.07.2021 - 1 day ago

    loving you was my favorite part

    please like/reblog if you save 🥺👉🏽👈🏽

    #stray kids#bang chan#christopher bang#skz chan #stray kids moodboard #stray kids imagines #stray kids drabbles #stray kids icons #stray kids fluff #stray kids angst #kpop moodboards #stray kids no easy #stray kids comeback #skz hyunjin#skz changbin#skz seungmin#skz minho#skz in#lee know #bang chan moodboard #3racha#skz#skz imagines#skz drabbles#skz au#han jisung#hwang hyunjin#skz fluff#cb97#spearb
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  • jl-micasea
    22.07.2021 - 1 day ago

    I wish to be your rose...

    WORD COUNT: 15k

    DESCRIPTION: Through a twist of fate and a change in the hearts of others, the youngest son of the feared Bang family is set to inherit his fathers’ fortunes. Yet not all is as it seems, when a lady caller visits the stately Bang home... with a rather unexpected proposal. 

    WARNINGS: Strong language, heavy angst, use of flowery language, family conflict and estrangement, themes of and references to past physical and verbal abuse, themes of inferiority, implied drug use and alcohol consumption, explicit sexual content, vampiric behaviour and use of blood as an aphrodisiac, explicit violence and gore, consistent themes of death and revenge, character death, promiscuity, forced marriage and subsequent resistance, adult content and themes of horror throughout.

    PAIRINGS: First person narrative, Bang Chan x original characters

    Sanguis Limerence | Sanguis Limerence: Origins

    © July 2021 by @jl-micasea

    There’s nothing in the world quite as destructive as love.

    I know some say it makes it all go around, gives us a reason to get up in the morning. A reason to smile, a reason to dance and laugh and all that good stuff.

    That makes love sound pretty healing, right? Like it’s a sure-fire ticket to happiness, the answer to all your problems and then some.


    Love doesn’t do any of that.

    All it does is give people an excuse to justify the terrible things they do.

    Some stranger stole all your money, doubled your credit cards and cleared out your accounts? They needed it for a quick wedding – they’re in love, you see.

    A colleague deliberately sabotaged your annual appraisal to make sure you wouldn’t get that great promotion? They needed it more than you, they’ve got someone to impress. They’re in love, after all.

    A friend stopped contacting you, ignored your calls and messages in your most desperate time of need? Look, they have more important things to worry about now. They’re in love.

    See my point?

    People treat love like it’s some kind of omnipotent force, unbeholden to the laws of man or God, or whatever the fuck else you believe in.

    Love destroys. It leaves nothing behind but broken souls, resentment and regret.

    I’ve seen it first-hand, though I wish every day that I hadn’t.

    I lost everything to love. My own, and that of someone I once held dear.

    This is my story.


    "Son, come down here."

    The clear booming command of Cillian’s voice carries through our stately home.

    It reverberates off the polished mahogany panelled walls and grand ornaments he’s pilfered over the years, because I’ve no doubt he didn’t buy them. That would involve actually spending a sliver of the millions he’s accrued.

    His voice used to frighten me as a child.

    Send me running in the opposite direction – usually because it followed a tirade of lecturing that I could never hope to understand at that age, and for that, I’d get the belt.

    Idiot child.

    You’ve more tomfoolery than sense.

    How has a son of mine been born with the intelligence of an ox? Curse your mother.

    Just a few of the wonderfully affectionate things Cillian Bang has said to me over the years.

    Yeah, my childhood wasn’t a particularly enriched one when it came to receiving the tender loving care of a parent.

    Don’t get me wrong, I wanted for nothing. But that’s just what the Bang name means. Opulence, more money than we can ever spend, and a reputation so dubiously murky it’s a wonder our fortunes haven’t been seized by the authorities yet.

    Though they’re probably in Cillian’s pocket too, now that I think about it.

    "Son! I will not ask again!"

    That makes me smile.

    See, here’s the thing about parents. They age.

    Get older and frailer, flaccid in their temperaments. Not that Cillian is any of those things, he’s still built like a brick shithouse with the temper of a Tasmanian devil to boot. His line of ‘work’ demands that he stay in shape, but even he can’t fight off the constant killer that is time.

    But I’m not the weed I used to be. I’d like to see him try and give me a taste of that belt now.

    Puberty was fucking kind to me.

    My growth spurts hit me like consecutive trucks, and even before I’d turned twenty, I was pushing my own body weight in dumbbells. I got real strong, real quick, and the man I’d once been so scared of suddenly seemed like… just that. A man.

    I pull myself from my satin laden four-poster bed, flexing out my arms and back as I move. I’d only intended to lie down for a second before I hit up the chick that works at the grain mill, my regular time-waster-slash-good-fuck, but I guess last nights’ antics caught up with me faster than I’d anticipated. Can’t quite hold my liquor like I used to.

    I grab last nights’ shirt from my tiger skin rug, throwing it on as I head for the door.

    The grand old house is always cold. Doesn’t matter the time of year or day, it’s like living in a permanent fucking freezer. Mrs. Groves, the long-term housekeeper, says it’s because the walls hear the disdain my family has for each other. We treat each other coldly, so the house reflects that.

    Mrs. Groves is batshit insane.

    Good at her job and nosier than most, but still nuts. This house is older than her, built in Christ knows when with Christ knows what shoddy non-insulating materials.

    I saunter down the corridor, to the grandiose red carpeted staircase that descends to the ground floor. The priceless portraits of nobles and long-dead kings hang silently on the walls as I pass. I try not to look at them. They creep me out.

    The crystalline chandelier hangs from the high domed ceiling, cobwebs and dust have settled on it over the years it’s been there. I remember when Cillian installed the thing, the fuss he made about it. The dinner parties he hosted just so people would ogle and coo over it.

    Katrina never would have approved.

    He barely even looks at it now, anyway.

    It’s when I walk through the house like this, that I realise how much I hate it all.

    It’ll be the first thing I destroy when I take over.

    I hear the hushed chattering of voices as I descend the stairs, one I recognise as Cillian’s. The others I don’t.

    The drawing room doors to the left of the marbled entrance lobby are wide open, revealing the scene inside.

    And my stomach churns the instant I see it.

    Cillian’s sat in his plush, thronelike armchair, his expression stern. His thick black hair is greased back, a cigar balances between his worn fingers. His silver-toned eyes are narrowed in thought, the crows’ feet and wrinkles are more prominent now. No laugh lines, of course. He’s wearing a navy two-piece designer suit and Italian dress shoes, because that’s what he flew down the birthing canal in.

    To his right, perched on the cream chaise lounge, are two women. They’re sat politely with their hands in their laps, all smiles and pleasantries.

    Something about them makes my fine arm hair stand on end.

    Cillian sees me from across the space and raises his calloused hand, beckoning with two fingers in that way you would a dog. Because that’s me, I suppose. The Bang mutt.

    "You called?" I sigh, strolling into the room.

    I don’t sit, because I don’t want to. Whatever’s happening here isn’t something I want to be a part of, and I want to make damn sure he knows that.

    "Sit." He commands.


    I bite the bullet and sit on the opposite chaise lounge, slinging my arm over the back of it and hiking my legs up. If I’m going to fucking sit, I’m going to be comfortable.

    Cillian side-eyes me, but says nothing, much to my surprise. Clearly this company means something.

    "So?" I ask. "What’s so important that you had to drag me from my affairs?"

    "It’s so nice to finally meet you," one of the women speaks, beaming at me. "I’ve heard so much. The dragging would be on my account."

    I take the impromptu opportunity to look at her properly.

    She’s wearing her best finery – a pastel pink, ankle length frock that exposes her décolletage just enough to suggest… ample assets. She has white satin gloves on and a grand feathered mesh hat, I can just make out blonde curls beneath it, peeking through. Her skin is the kind of flawless you’d associate with freshly mined marble. Pale in colour, dewy almost, what little I can see of it seems to beg to be touched.

    But it’s her face that draws most of my attention.

    Her lips are a glossy, lacquered red, it almost seems a juxtaposition to the rest of her relatively innocent appearance. And her eyes? Well… I can’t see them properly.

    She has a pair of spectacles on, the lenses are tinted a shade of rose that matches her frock.

    In fact, from here and at this angle, it almost looks like they’re changing the colour of her irises themselves.

    They look… crimson?

    "And you are?" I question, suddenly intrigued.

    "This is Miss. Ailith," Cillian interrupts, making introductions for us. "Daughter of the Domencio’s."

    "The… Domencio’s?"

    I’ve heard of the family, of course. After us, they’re the most powerful lineage around, just turned up one day and made themselves known. Better yet, they made their millions legitimately. Through oil mining and drilling, if I recall correctly.

    And if I recall correctly again – we hate each other.

    "We’re entertaining the competition now, are we?" I muse.

    "Oh, I assure you, Mr. Bang," Ailith places her hand to her chest. "There is no competition to be had."

    I’m not sure if she’s just insulted us or not, but either way, Cillian doesn’t seem all that bothered.

    I glance at the woman next to her, and realise something that really, I should have noticed sooner.

    As opposed to Ailith Domencio, wrapped from top to toe in fabrics that cost more than my holiday home in the Alps, she’s dressed demurely. In a buttoned up black frock with white lace trimmings, her hair neatly brushed back into a tight bun. Her eyes are closed in what seems like polite reverence. A leather bag rests at her feet, one of those oblong doctor’s cases that seem to have no limit to their holding capacity.

    She’s the help, assuredly.

    "Miss. Domencio has come to us today with a proposal," Cillian rasps, puffing a cloud of cigar smoke into the air.

    "Really?" I feign surprise. "She’s doing us an honour then, I suppose."

    At that moment, Mrs. Groves toddles in, carrying a silver tray full of the best China. A warming teapot, teacups and saucers, a tall display rack of small cakes and dainty biscuits that I know for a fact we didn’t have in the pantry. Telling from the flustered state of Mrs. Groves I can only assume he sent her on a fetching mission for the benefit of the uninvited guests.

    That pisses me off.

    I stand from my seat, rushing over to her and taking the tray.

    "O- Oh, Mr. Bang, there’s no need-"

    "Take the rest of the day off," I order quietly. "You’re not needed."

    She looks at me gratefully, her cheeks a blown-out, mottled red. Sweat clings to her forehead, and I give her a reassuring nod before she turns on unsteady feet, leaving the room.

    I carry the tray back to the glass coffee table, setting it down.

    All eyes are on me as I recline back on the chaise lounge, and I dare any one of them to question me on what I just did.

    Ailith is staring at me with an expression I can’t read on her face. Admiration? Confusion? Maybe a bit of both?

    "You were saying?" I turn to Cillian, eager to move things along.

    Right about now he’d be tearing me a new one for that, but present company and all.

    "Our families have been somewhat estranged," he clears his throat. "Which as Miss. Ailith has explained, is a tragic waste of our potential. We could both be so much more if we were to work together, don’t you agree?"

    "Not really," I shrug. "We’ve all just done fine until now. Our business is thriving, as is theirs, I assume. No reason to change what isn’t broken."

    "You’ve always been short-sighted. You must think long-term, son. Times are changing, businesses are adapting and growing. So must we."

    I narrow my eyes at him, and it’s not a stretch to say I’m totally fucking confounded. He has never talked like this.

    "I don’t disagree, but with all due respect, perhaps the long-term thinking should be left to me?"

    "And why would I do such a thing?" He questions.

    "Well, when I inherit, there are several things that I intend to change. Going into kosher business, for example. Imagine not having to pay off the authorities to turn a blind eye to your dealings – it’d save us a fortune."

    All bullshit, of course, but he doesn’t need to know that. The only long-term plan I’m making involves working out how much petrol I’ll need to send the place up like a bonfire.

    Cillian blinks at me, several seconds pass as his face morphs from bewilderment to gradual realisation.

    My stomach drops on instinct, but before I can push it further, the drawing room doors burst open.

    "Father, forgive me! There is no excuse for tardiness but the roads were positively abhorrent with potholes and the like-"

    I feel a prickling of irritation sweep up my spine as my elder brother sweeps into the room unannounced, making a dash straight for Cillian.

    They embrace one another, he presses a kiss to my brothers’ cheek and breaks into a smile that I’ve never once been privy to.

    "Charis, my boy. You are most welcome, sit, be warm. Something to drink?" He booms heartily.

    "No, no please, I am already so late," he shakes his head, turning to Ailith and the help.

    "Ladies, ‘tis a pleasure. Please accept my most heartfelt apologies."

    "Accepted, of course," Ailith giggles, standing and returning the bow he gives. "The pleasure is all ours."

    He backs up to the spot beside me, planting himself there without asking. He smells like he usually does – aged malt whiskey and shoe polish. He’s dressed like he’s just come fresh from horse riding, which I suppose he technically has.

    He slaps his hand to my thigh in comradery, affording a genuine grin my way.

    "Good to see you, brother. You’re keeping old Cillian in health, I see."

    People tell us we look alike, though I’m not sure I see it.

    Charis has a boyish charm to him, a head of thick black hair that he grows out to a frustrating length, as opposed to my stark white blonde. Mrs. Groves says Katrina used to cut it for him.

    He has the same dimples I do; they only appear when we smile. I was blessed with Cillian’s noble nose, while he took on Katrina’s softer features. Or so I’m told, anyway.

    Charis flew the nest early on. Being the elder brother, he was always in line to inherit the Corporation and everything in between, but he forsook that responsibility in rather dramatic fashion after his eighteenth birthday. He made it clear to Cillian that he wanted more from life. Something of his own.

    And so, with a pocket full of Cillian’s fortunes, (he somehow missed that irony), he left to make his own way in the world. I’ve always admired him for that, I suppose.

    But what it meant for me, was imprisonment.

    With Charis neglecting his duties, it left me to pick up the pieces. To inherit what I never wanted. What Cillian never wanted me to.

    I’m no fool. I’ve felt his disdain all my life. Since the tragedy that was my birth.

    As if what happened to Katrina was somehow my fault…

    To be honest, his hatred solidified things for me. Made everything easier, made my choices for me. Either the universe has a sick sense of humour, or Cillian’s accrued enough bad karma for it to come back on him early.

    Because I, the hated son that killed his wife, will get his Corporation. I’ll get his millions and his assets. I’ll get everything.

    All so I can destroy it.

    I’ll burn it all down, back to the ashes it should never have risen from.

    Because really, that’s the only thing you can do with something that’s rotten to its’ very core. The blood money is exactly that, the things we have were dragged from the backs of others.

    It’s all fucking tainted.

    We’ve never discussed the inheritance, Cillian and I. It’s just a silent fact, floating between us, in the tense air of the house we share but no longer love. Never to be addressed or refuted.

    Until now.

    "What… the hell are you doing here?" I mutter.

    "I was summoned," he rolls his eyes. "There’s business to discuss, I gather."

    "And now that we’re all here, we can begin."

    Cillian stands from his throne, tucking one arm behind his back as he paces around the room. The cigar is tucked between his dry lips, the smoke envelops him elegantly as he moves.

    "To secure the future of both the Bang’s and the Domencio’s, it has been decided…"

    He turns to face us, his chest puffed out and his shoulders perfectly square.

    I dread the next thing out of his mouth.

    "… There shall be an exchanging of vows."

    My gut plummets to my ankles, and I feel Charis tense beside me.

    "V- Vows?" I stammer.

    "Marriage," Ailith confirms, staring straight at me. "You and I shall be wed, Mr. Bang."

    You hear about those moments where your world falls in on itself.

    Where reality seems superfluous, and you can’t be sure if you’re dreaming or not. They say that’s why you’re always asked to sit down before you have bad news broken to you.

    Nothing feels tangible. Not your legs or your feet, not the furniture that supports you.

    It’s like the centre of my existence has been plucked from my body, tossed aside to be replaced with bone chills.

    It’s all I can feel now.

    Ice cold, unadulterated dread.


    The shouting downstairs hasn’t stopped.

    Has it been thirty, forty minutes? I’m not sure.

    I’m also not sure how long Cillian has been planning this whole thing, because clearly this isn’t a spur of the moment decision.

    The old prat has been desperately looking for a way to get me out of the fold, I just know it. He must have jumped for goddamn joy when Ailith Domencio knocked on our gilded fucking door.

    I’ve gone over all the ways this can possibly end, and the more I think about it, the more I don’t see how it can be well.

    This is exactly what he wanted.

    Tie me into a marriage that gives me other commitments, into a family that he hates just as much as he does me. In other words, make me someone else’s problem.

    That leaves Charis with no other choice but to take over the family corruption, because as Cillian said at the time, there’s no way the Corporation can be left without an heir. The eldest son has a duty to his name, and if he doesn’t meet it, it spells the end for all of us.

    It’s manipulative. Vindictive and cruel, to take Charis’ dreams of independence from him like that. To take my only chance at revenge.

    I’m sure I don’t need to tell Cillian that I won’t be playing the part he’s cast for me. In fact, I’m rather looking forward to making a show of just how much I detest the whole thing.

    Charis is downstairs with him, cue the source of the shouting.

    I want to tell him his fight is pointless, but he has been away for a while. Perhaps he’s forgotten what a stubborn old bull Cillian can be, how his temper can get the best of him.

    Having said that, Charis was never on the receiving end of his belt.

    No, that privilege was reserved just for me.

    I sweep my hands through my hair, perching on the edge of my poster bed as I contemplate what I could possibly do to get out of this.

    I suppose I’ll just have to do what I do best.

    Drink, fuck, and play the animal.

    Then my bedroom door opens.

    I glance up, expecting to see Charis, and utterly surprised when instead, Ailith walks in without a care in the world.

    "You don’t mind me coming in, do you?" She breezes, closing the door quietly behind her. "I thought it best we have a chat."

    "I do mind, actually-"


    She struts inside, taking up residence on the royal blue chesterfield opposite my bed. She crosses her legs over one another, her pastel dress floats up and parts slightly as she does so, allowing for a glimpse of her surprisingly toned calves. I wonder if that’s deliberate.

    Poor thing. Don’t have the heart to tell her it’ll take far more than a little leg to get a rise out of me.

    She smiles at me expectantly, and yes, it’s awkward.

    Ailith is gorgeous, but she’s also a fucking stranger. In my home. Soon to be my wife, if all goes as she and Cillian have planned.

    "Before you subject me to your three-part monologue concerning all the traits you possess that will make you a worthy wife, I suggest-"

    She stretches out her arms as I talk, removing her elegant hat in one motion. She tugs on a pin at the back, and fair blonde curls fall gently past her shoulders, immaculately preened. It makes her look completely different. Her lips are still a stark crimson red, not a trace of wear on them.

    I swallow, scrambling to find my train of thought again.

    "I… I suggest you leave. Go and speak with Cillian again. Offer him something else in exchange for your partnership."

    She cocks her head at me, but says nothing. One by one, she pulls on the fingers of her satin gloves, slowly removing them and discarding them to the seat beside her. They reveal neatly manicured nails, a matching shade of red to her lips. Not quite what I expected either.

    "You’re a… Domencio. You’ve no end of resources at your disposal. Why settle on marriage?"

    She smiles quietly, as if what I’ve said humours her in some way.

    But still, she says nothing, instead reaching for her spectacles.

    She bites on her lip as she removes them, sliding them down the bridge of her nose to reveal the irises beneath the tinted lenses.

    It gives me cause to choke on my very breath.

    "What in the name of…"

    Her eyes are a darkened shade of crimson, her pupils a stark black the likes of which I’ve never seen.

    I shoot up from the bed, feeling confusion and fright build in my chest, the same kind I would associate with an incoming beating from Cillian when I was of the mind to take it. It’s not something I’ve felt in years.

    "A- Are you sick? What ails your eyes?"

    "No, Chan," she stands slowly, approaching me with careful steps. "I’m not sick. Far from it, actually."

    I back up in equal measure, around the bed, any direction I can move to create some distance.

    "There are things I can show you, Chan. Things you might not have thought were possible, things you should see for yourself to believe them so."

    "There’s nothing you could show me that I would desire to see," I shoot back. "There will be no marriage, not of any kind."

    "There will be," she soothes, coming closer still. "You and I will rule the families of Bang and Domencio. All will bend to our will."

    I scoff in disbelief, ready to think her mad until she closes the distance between us.

    She catches my hand in hers, my back collides with the panelled wall with such force as to knock the wind from my lungs.

    I gasp for breath in synchrony with the shock of her cool touch, the result is a panicked inhalation of breath that I couldn’t stop if I tried.

    The connection sends a spark of chill up my arm, the hairs stand on end in response as she locks her slim fingers into the gaps between mine.

    "You feel me, yes?" She whispers, gliding her free hand over my shoulder. "Feel the absence of life within me?"

    "A- Absence of… w- what?"

    She tugs my hand to her chest, splaying my palm flat to the surface of her skin.

    It’s just as cold as the rest of her, yet despite it all, somehow comforting.

    She stares at me expectantly, her lips parted and full. We hold still, my breathing slows as I gradually register the sensation that’s missing from her.


    A heartbeat.

    Indeed, any sign of life at all.

    She must see the perplexity on my face, but honestly, my head is running blank of anything that isn’t a question or the need to scream.

    "There’s nothing to fear," she shakes her head. "I’m not a wicked thing."

    "I… I don’t understand-"

    She takes a step back from me, releasing my hand to fall at my side. Her expression is riddled with understanding and sympathy, her crimson eyes soft and knowing.

    "How do you live?" I breathe. "You’ve no heart."

    "In silks and fine fabrics," she smiles. "Just as you do."

    She turns on her heel, sashaying over to the bay window that overlooks the courtyard.

    "And I do have a heart, Chan. It doesn’t beat the way yours does, yet it yearns for what I do not have."

    There’s a nagging at the back of my head, it’s arguing with something that’s blossoming in my chest.

    A nagging that’s telling me this is wrong. That she’s dangerous, even if I don’t know how yet. That she’ll be the end of me if I let her.

    But the blossoming is speaking of potential. Of power and new experiences, things I’ve longed for only too long.

    She looks out at the scenery, at the hedgerows that Cillian had newly cut and shaped only a week past. At the stone creature ornaments that sit on pedestals, lions and gargoyles, quiet and sombre.

    She closes her eyes, tilting her head back to the rays of the afternoon sunlight that seep through the water-stained glass.

    Her skin is near translucent, her thick lashes graze her cheeks with tender care. Her lips are wonderfully tempting, and the longer I look at her… the more I find myself struggling to tear my gaze away.

    I approach her, one silent step at a time.

    "Ailith," I call "Who are you?"

    She turns to me; her crimson eyes catch the reflection of the light.

    They’re infernal, utterly captivating, promising to drown me in their capture.

    "I’m just a girl," she shrugs gently. "And soon, I’ll be yours."


    Suffice it to say, the last few days have been nothing short of chaotic.

    I’ve tried to keep myself to myself, to avoid the line of fire wherever possible, but that’s proved to be distinctly more difficult than I’d hoped.

    Mostly due to the fact that both Charis and Ailith have moved in.

    My brother returned the same evening as the announcement was made, making it a point to Cillian that he wouldn’t back down easily. This, as expected, has resulted in more heated confrontations in the last few days than has been had in this house in the last ten years – not to mention the destruction of property.

    I respect him for not caving to Cillian’s wishes of inheritance, but even I must admit that he’s protesting this whole thing with far more fervour than I’ve ever seen from him. Particularly on the marriage front.

    I’ve considered that perhaps he begrudges my getting married first. Perhaps he hoped to produce heirs first? Or perhaps he simply abhors weddings and all they stand for.

    I’m just as against the whole thing as he is, I keep reminding him.

    Ailith took up residence here the day after the announcement. The horse and cart rolled up outside in the dead of night, positively laden with suitcases and bags, every worldly possession she seemed to have. Apparently the Domencio’s couldn’t get rid of her fast enough.

    Her help moved into the Servants’ quarters; I’ve only caught by chance that Ailith calls her Madre. An affectionate title, I assume. Either way, she’s never too far behind, lurking in the corner of the room or in the corridor outside, that infernal doctor’s bag at her side.

    Since moving in, my wife-to-be has gone out of her way to pander to me. Much to Cillian’s delight and my despair, I might add.

    I wanted for nothing before all this nonsense, but now? I might as well blend in with the light fixtures.

    Breakfast, luncheon and supper are all delivered to me on silver, prepared and cooked by her very hand. My clothes are washed and pressed, organised by matching occasion and colour. My bed sheets are the finest of satins and rarest of goose feather pillows, and now I bathe in water the colour and scent of rose itself.

    Poor Mrs. Groves has been pulling out what little hair she has left with the disruptions to her routine.

    It's well and truly put a pin in my plans to act out, for there’s not a moment of my time that’s not occupied with her antics in some way.

    As for what happened between us in my bedroom… I’ve said no more of it. In truth I’ve no idea what even did take place, for not a second of it makes a lick of sense. I’ve come to the conclusion that her… condition must have been the effect of some narcotic or lotion or potion she had flown in from somewhere or other. It’s incredible what they can make these days.

    Ailith’s tastes are singular, in that they’re refined to the point of insanity.

    I’ve taken to conducting business affairs outside of the estate, wherever possible. Cillian tries to put the kibosh on that any way he can, but I still have those on the inside that are loyal to me. I won’t be pushed out so easily.

    For as much as Ailith is going to every effort to garner my affections, nothing I might feel for her could ever outweigh the hatred I’ve harboured all my life for the name I find myself chained to. And that hatred demands satiation.

    My priority is, and always shall be, the destruction of the Bang name.

    This wedding simply cannot happen.



    Infernal things.

    Even worse when they’re specific to an occasion, such as this one is.

    The stately home has been transformed to accommodate every possible person of nobility from every corner of the upper echelons.

    Sheer cream drapes and satin curtains decorate every free piece of space, streamers and ribbons hang from the beams. Cushioned chairs and several round tables have been moved into the grand lobby, they’re covered with Egyptian cotton cloths, bound with large pastel pink bows to keep them still.

    The cursed chandelier has been polished to a shine; the light fixtures have been graced with new bulbs. The portraits have been dusted and the carpets steamed to perfection – I’d almost appreciate all the effort if it wasn’t so outwardly vapid.

    I stand in the corner of the lobby, glaring at the central staircase where Cillian stands.

    He’s on the second step, greeting the guests as they arrive. Handshakes and raucous jokes with the men, polite embraces and bows with the women. He directs them to the free bar, resetting his expression for the next noble. Rinse and repeat.

    I wonder how many of them even want to be here, and how many of them are attending out of fear or obligation.

    Engagement party.

    The very term makes the knot in my stomach tighten.

    I take an absent sip of my champagne, and eventually my gaze rests on the most abhorrent thing in this whole place.

    Two portraits have been positioned side by side, on the central wall at the top of the staircase. They couldn’t be in a more prominent position. The frames are intricately gilded, small spotlights have been placed above them, just for that little extra emphasis.

    Chan Bang and Ailith Domencio. The powerhouse couple from equally powerful families.

    I’d take great pleasure in telling every person here that this is the first time I’ve seen that portrait since Cillian demanded I get one done. As far as I knew it had been collecting dust in the loft.

    I look pissed off, even on canvas. Can’t say that surprises me.

    Ailith, on the other hand, is the very picture of beauty. Composed and demure, her blonde curls compliment the pale of her skin. She sits with her hands in her lap, her body faces mine.

    I resist the urge to roll my eyes, taking to looking around the room instead. I judge every person here, watch as they clamour to one another and brown nose with the best of them.

    That’s when I witness a rather confusing scene.

    Madre, standing alone at the side of the room in the same black, bland frock she always wears, utterly focused on something several feet away.

    I follow her stare to see Charis and Ailith, tucked away at the side of the staircase. They’re engaged in what looks like a rather heated conversation.

    He seems visibly distressed; she places a calming hand on his jacket lapel. He places his own over hers, and I don’t need to hear what he’s saying to know he’s appealing to her for something. Begging.

    She removes her hand and takes a step away. He follows, to which she orders something that gives him cause to stop.

    I’ve never known Charis to take orders from anyone, much less a lady.

    I tear my spying eyes away before they catch me, but Ailith’s already headed in my direction. Charis storms off, taking his grotesque mood with him. Madre moves along the room like a shadow in tandem with Ailith, but never gets too close.

    I tense up as she approaches my side, a chill sweeps over me. It’s like she’s carrying a blizzard within her.

    "It’s all rather fake, don’t you think?"

    Her voice is like butter, smooth and warm.

    She’s clad in a white off-shoulder frock, trimmed with lace and small sequins. Her hair is pinned in a glamorous updo that highlights the expanse of her long neck; her lips are coated in that shade of red she always wears.

    The spectacles are on too, rose tinted and concealing easily the most confusing thing about her – no doubt induced by the narcotic she must be taking to.

    "I thought you’d be in your element with this," I reply, taking another sip of champagne. "Don’t girls love all the… fuss?"

    She smiles slyly, shaking her head.

    "Girls might," she whispers. "I’m far from any ordinary girl. I thought we’d established that."

    "There are many things we’ve yet to establish. Like why we’re entertaining this charade when we both know it’s not going to happen."

    "You still maintain that you won’t marry me?"

    She cocks her head at me, and maybe it’s just me, but the question almost sounds like a challenge.

    "You’ll recall that I never agreed to it," I sigh. "Nor have I had any involvement in the organisation of this event. Cillian managed that one all by himself. I’ve far more pressing things to think about."

    "Like inheriting the Corporation?" She drawls.

    Something in my chest skips a beat, like she’s read the inner workings of my very mind. But I’m not about to discuss family affairs with her, much less business.

    A smartly dressed waitress crosses our path in that moment, she carries a silver platter tray laden with crystal champagne glasses, quietly fizzing away.

    I step to her, placing my now empty glass down on her tray and stealing another. She smiles brightly, her eyes have that doe-eyed awe about them that girls tend to when they look at me.

    "Thank you, poppet," I flash her a wink, to which she burns a shade of beetroot red, glancing over my shoulder at Ailith, then back to me.

    She scurries off before I can ask her what time she’s here until. I make a mental note to find her later.

    "You’ve truly no shame, have you?" Ailith mutters indignantly.

    "What shame is there to be had in chasing tail?" I shoot back. "There is nothing more natural than embracing desire."

    "In front of your fiancée?"

    "I don’t have a fiancée."

    She looks around the room, smiling dutifully at a random nobleman as he passes.

    "Every person here would beg to differ," she hisses.

    "Every person here doesn’t know I intend to fuck the back legs off that little waitress in about an hour. Do you care to enlighten them, or shall I?"

    Ailith purses her lips, I could swear her eyes flash with something I don’t recognise from behind her spectacles. It’s enough to make me back down, for the time being. I feel I’ve made my point.

    "So what was all that about earlier?" I change the subject, albeit too late. "You seemed to have much to discuss with my brother."

    She seems to relax somewhat, looking around the room once more.

    "It’s nothing for you to worry about. He simply aired some irrelevant concerns."

    "To you…?" I ask incredulously.

    "Of course, why should he not confide in me? We’re to be family soon, after all."

    "I know my brother well enough to be sure that any concerns he has are far from irrelevant, Miss. Domencio."

    "Ailith, please-"

    "What did he have to say?" I ignore her appeal.

    "Nothing of import." She shoots back.

    "Very well," I down the rest of my champagne, resting the glass on an empty pedestal. "I’ll consult with him myself."

    She grabs the sleeve of my jacket as I move away, pulling closer to me.

    "I’d advise against that," she lowers her tone. "There is a reason Charis did not come to you."

    Her words are weighted, but I pay them no mind. Whatever Charis has to say surely won’t be any worse than the situation I find myself in now.

    I tug my sleeve from her grip, marching in the direction I saw my brother disappear.

    I feel her crimson eyes burning to my back as I walk away, a prickling of uncertainty crawls up my spine.

    I won’t let it faze me. Won’t let her faze me.

    I know my brother.


    "Charis? Have you a moment, brother?"

    I poke my head around the door to the parlour, taking in the scent of aged malt bourbon, cigar smoke and gunpowder. This room has never smelled any other way, it’s where Cillian entertains his more… reputable guests.

    Chess tables and plush leather armchairs are dotted around, the sleek mahogany bar at the back of the room is unmanned, but is home to the finest bottles of liquor found this side of the tracks. Grand moose heads and other stuffed critters are bolted to the walls, there’s even a taxidermized grizzly bear on display near the craps table. Not quite sure where the fuck that came from.

    The fireplace has been freshly lit, the flames roar and consume the logs within it.

    A pair of booted feet rest on a cushioned poof before it, a hand clutching an empty crystal short glass is slung over the arm of the elegant chair.

    He’s right where I’d expected him to be.

    "Brother…?" I call again, stepping into the room and closing the door behind me. "Is everything okay?"

    He doesn’t move from his position, but I hear the sigh that parts from his lips.

    "I grew tired of the festivities," he mutters, his voice holds the rasped sting of too much alcohol. "I needed a moment."

    "Already?" I laugh. "The event has barely begun. Not that I don’t agree, of course."

    He sighs again, heavier this time.

    I join him at the fireside, settling into the armchair across from his.

    The bags under his eyes are prominent, there’s a general air of exhaustion to him that I’ve never seen before. Charis is usually so bright, so proactive. Something must clearly be off.

    "I saw you in the lobby," I begin quietly. "With Miss. Domencio. She said you aired some concerns to her."

    He visibly tenses, glancing into his empty crystal glass. A puff of breath escapes him, he stands from his chair and heads over to the bar.

    Grabbing a crystal decanter from the rear glass shelf, he carelessly empties a measure into his glass.

    "Are you partaking?" He holds the bottle up to me.

    I nod in response, and before too long, he’s handing me the drink as he settles back into his chair, taking a sip of the fine malt.

    "How do you feel about this whole thing?" He finally asks, breaking the somewhat awkward silence. "Speak truthfully."

    "The wedding?" I clarify. "You know my disdain for it, brother. I’ve no desire to marry. Not the Domencio girl or anyone else, for that matter."

    "I asked you to speak truthfully."

    "I am," I exclaim. "What would you rather I say?"

    He shifts in his seat, crossing his legs over one another.

    "Tell me… What do you think of Ailith?"

    "What do I think of her?"

    I repeat the question by way of trying to work it out myself. I’ve never really thought about it.

    "She’s… pleasant enough, I suppose. Aesthetically pleasing, certainly. We’ve not had all that much time to get acquainted. But you know that, just as you know of my reluctance to participate in this whole affair."

    "Do you intend to remedy that?" He asks.

    "What? No, brother. I don’t. Have we been engaging in two different conversations?" I laugh.

    He shakes his head in frustration, taking a drown out swig from his glass.

    "Forgive me, Chan," he mutters. "I’m not myself these days."

    "Clearly," I agree. "Share your concerns with me. You’ve always done so before."

    He pinches the bridge of his nose, and I note the difference in his entire demeanour. Stiff. Unsettled. This is so uncharacteristic of him.

    "If I am to confide in you," he leans over the arm of his chair. "I must have your assurance of secrecy. Father cannot know."

    I nod in agreement, my brain running tens of miles an hour at the prospect of what he could possibly have to say that Cillian wouldn’t be on board with. He normally hangs on his every golden word.

    "Ailith and I… We are known to one another."

    Not a surprise. All the upper-class families know one another, if not by face then by name.


    "Intimately known to one another…" he whispers.


    Now that, changes things. Changes everything, actually.

    "Quite by chance, we met in the city bar," he continues. "The two of us used fake names, unbeknownst to the other. We indulged in a night unlike any other, Chan. She made me privy to curiosities and pleasures I still crave to this moment. She’s an angel in disguise…"

    His eyes light up as he talks, and my mind races even faster.

    "It was obvious we were both of money, that much was certain. But I did not know of her true standing until the day of the meeting."

    "So you pretended not to know her?" I ask.

    "I had to. I recognised her the moment I saw her, but I couldn’t be sure the same had happened for her. I couldn’t risk the embarrassment or exposure, especially in front of father."

    "Did she?" I hear the disbelief in my own voice. "Recognise you, I mean?"

    "Yes. I caught her later that evening and she confirmed it."

    I whistle through my teeth in both shock and appreciation.

    "Perhaps she is better suited to a career in acting than the heiress of an oil fortune," I comment.

    Charis finishes his glass of liquor, hissing through the burn it leaves in his throat. I take a sip of my own.

    "She captivated me, brother. I know it was but one night, but my heart has been at sick unrest ever since she took me."

    "What are you saying?" I press.

    "I’m saying… that I am relieved you are not of a mind to take her hand in marriage." He turns to me, a genuine look of relief on his face.

    I’m not sure what to make of the whole thing.

    On the surface, it looks like one massive coincidence. Like proof that the world is smaller than we know after all.

    But the nagging inside me is telling me it’s far from that.

    "Do you intend to marry her?" I finish my own glass.

    He shrugs, pulling himself from his seat, empty glass in hand.

    "I had not thought about it until the announcement was made," he heads over to the bar. "Never had a reason to."

    I follow him over to it, placing my glass down on the polished surface and watching as he refills the two.

    "And now that you have?"

    "Now that I have… I think marrying Ailith is an impossible dream."

    I finger the rim of the glass as he slides it over to me, propping my elbows on the counter.

    "Why do you believe it impossible?" I ask. "I would be more than happy for you to take her off my hands."

    "I know, brother. And I am grateful. Would that it were so easy."

    "Isn’t it? She would still marry into the Bang fortune; Cillian would still get his arrangement."

    "No," he shakes his head, sweeping his hand through his midnight locks. "Ailith is being somewhat stubborn in her intentions. She is set on taking you as her husband."

    I scoff immediately, finding that harder to believe than anything else he’s said.

    "Whatever for? Surely marrying someone she’s already familiar with would be more agreeable?"

    "I wish I knew," he mutters. "I have tried everything to convince her otherwise. Even gone so far as to plead with father to change his mind, to choose me for marriage instead. His decision would override Ailith’s wants, she’d have no choice but to go along with it."

    "Well, even I could have told you that wouldn’t stand a chance of success. He’s taking the Corporation from me and forcing it back on you."

    "I don’t want the fucking Corporation. Never did," he hisses.

    "And that’s the point of this whole thing. Cillian would sooner die than see it left to me. Even if he has to trap us into our roles, it’ll be done."

    He sips from his emptying glass, rolling his eyes.

    "This frost between you must one day warm, Chan."

    "It never will. You know that," I mumble into my glass.

    "He doesn’t blame you for mother’s death, not really-"

    "Charis," I interrupt, holding a hand up to him. "Please don’t insult my intelligence by feeding me well-intended lies. I made my peace with all of that a long time ago."

    He nods slowly, finishing his glass and reaching for the waning decanter.

    Silence fills the space between us, the crackling embers of the fireplace acting as the only indicator that time is still passing at all.

    "What are we to do, brother?" Charis glances up at me, his piercing eyes blearier than usual. "Are we doomed to the fates other people have carved for us?"

    At that moment, the parlour door swings open.

    And both of us still in our movements, our breaths catch and our hearts react with a skipped beat on seeing who enters.

    Her sheer white frock flows around her legs, the soft expanse of her décolletage and shoulders are exposed above the fabric. The gentle scent of rose permeates the air, a concoction I’ve come to associate with her since our meeting.

    Her crimson eyes are bright and clear, looking over us from head to toe. I feel electricity coarse through my veins in response to her.

    I know why Charis yearns for her so.

    What I don’t understand… is why I do too.


    Dinner is a ghastly affair.

    There’s too much food, too much liquor. Too many people and too tense an atmosphere for it to be anything other than stiflingly boring.

    Ailith and I are sat at the head of the cluttered, solid oak dining table. Cillian sits at her side; Charis sits at mine.

    Silver platters of rare roasted meats and bowls of fresh, exotic fruits cover every conceivable inch of the table. It makes me wonder why they bothered with the Egyptian cotton tablecloths at all. Grand centrepieces of purple lilies and white roses are placed in the centre of every table, Ailith’s already plucked one of the roses for herself, tucking it behind her ear.

    Glass decanters of aged white and deep red wine are passed around, the clink and clamour of cutlery and moving porcelain almost drowns out the voices of the nobles that pander to one another.

    A string band plays in the corner of the hall, the incessant twanging of an untuned acoustic guitar tries to keep up with the comedic tones of a banjo, and I’m halfway to blowing my first gasket with this whole thing when I sight something that gives me cause to smile.

    The little waitress from earlier, whizzing about the room with her arms full of rolled, pressed napkins. She’s placing them systematically around the dinnerware, doing her best to stay invisible.

    "… But I think it’s rather exciting, don’t you agree, Chan?"


    I don’t know what Ailith’s prattling on about. I’ll be honest, I don’t particularly care either. I stopped listening when she started describing sewing techniques.

    I raise my arm slowly, snapping my fingers to get the waitress’ attention. She sees me immediately, blushing that same shade of beetroot she did before as I gesture nonchalantly for her to come over.

    I feel the frost emanating from Ailith as the girl scuttles over, her head hung low and eyes glued to the floor.

    "Y- Yes Sir…?" She stammers.

    Her voice is timid, her whole demeanour so endearingly nervous it makes me want to take her into the pantry and give her the seeing to she deserves right now. What is it about submissive women…?

    "I require a fresh setting," I speak quietly.

    "O- Of course, Sir."

    "What’s wrong with that one?" Ailith cuts in, only to be ignored.

    The girl reaches over me, removing the perfectly good napkin that’s already laid out on my plate. She goes to replace it with a new one, before I stop her.

    "Not there," I shake my head. "Here."

    I gesture to the neckline of my shirt, tugging loosely at the embroidered collar.

    "My fingers are ever so cold; they seem to fail me. Would you be so kind as to help me out, poppet?"

    She swallows thickly, biting subtly on her lip. She glances up at me uncertainly in the same motion, then looks to my left, at my future wife.

    "Pay her no mind," I soothe. "Wives don’t concern themselves with their husbands’ affairs."

    "That’s what husbands like to think," Ailith deadpans.

    The sensation of crimson eyes burning into me, wishing me nothing but ill worsens as the waitress takes hold of the hem of a napkin, unrolling it carefully. She raises it to my neck; her dainty fingers tuck the edges into my shirt collar.

    Her hands are warm. Though they only brush against my skin for a moment, but it leaves me wanting more.

    I must not have realised the depth of my stress.

    She backs away slowly, bowing in gratitude despite the fact she’s the one that did me a service.

    I lean towards her, gesturing for her to give me her ear, to which she complies tentatively.

    "Are you serving for the entirety of this nonsense?" I whisper.

    She nods.

    "Join me for a nightcap… I shall find you. Just ensure you are somewhere you can be found."

    Her eyes blow open wide as I pull away, a faint smile tugs at the corner of her lips.

    I give her another sultry wink, relishing in the way it feels. How her reaction makes me feel.

    It’s not that I don’t find Ailith ludicrously attractive. Far too many times I’ve caught myself pondering how she’d looked beneath me, and that in itself is why I find enough reason to play the wandering fool.

    Charis is fond of her. Painfully so. I would not do him the disservice of betrayal in imagining what she might look like out of that frock, or what she might sound like on the end of my…

    You see my point.

    The waitress is a distraction. A meagre offering compared to the tribute that sits beside me, but she will have to do. Better yet if she is enough to persuade Ailith out of this marriage.

    And with that, said waitress rushes off, back to her meaningless napkin setting.

    "If I witness you wink for another woman again this eve, I shall be tempted to poke out your eye," Ailith seethes.

    "Jealousy is an ugly emotion, Miss. Domencio. I find my winks to be rather enamouring. They’ve always worked wonders for me," I sigh, reclining back into my chair.

    "You’re a pig."

    She stands abruptly from her seat, tugging the white rose from behind her ear and throwing it to the laden table before she storms away.

    "Quite. Welcome to married life, darling."


    "A toast, to the happy couple!"

    Cillian’s voice booms across the lobby space, just like always.

    Noble men and women raise their champagne glasses in unison, cheering and exclamations of congratulations are made in our general direction.

    Ailith stands beside me, on the second step of the grand staircase, front and centre of the enraptured audience.

    She smiles and bows gratefully, ever the demure and approachable young lady. I’ll admit, I’m impressed at just how well she’s handling all this.

    "Do you have plans later?" She mumbles under her breath, still cooing to the crowd of well-wishers.

    Maybe it’s the alcohol in my system, but that sounds an awful lot like an invitation.

    "I do, though I doubt you’re of a mind to hear them," I reply just as quietly.

    If she heard me, she gives no indication. She’s clearly not into playing this back and forth with me, which is just fine. That little waitress still has my name on her backside.

    "Join me in my quarters," she whispers. "I’ve something I’d like to show you."

    "In your quarters? That’s awfully unbecoming for a young lady."

    "And why is that? Because the social conventions of the patriarchal upper class demand women be chaste until such a time as they decide is appropriate? Do I not own my own body?"

    I blink at her in bewilderment, dropping the façade for a moment before I recollect myself.

    "Point taken."

    "Good," she smiles. "When the guests have left, then. When your father has retired for the evening. Find me."

    "Did you not hear me when I said I had an engagement?"

    "I look forward to it, Chan."

    She descends the steps without so much as a glance back at me, mingling amongst the nobles and thanking them for coming. Madre emerges from somewhere in the room, never more than several steps away from Ailith. Ever the dutiful servant.

    Cillian’s watching her from across the space with admiration. Something he’s never looked at me with.

    Charis is leaning over the second-floor balcony, stroking the bottom of his second bottle of malt, watching her with yearning.

    And I’m caught between them all.


    "You’re late."

    She peeps at me from behind the door, one crimson eye is narrowed in disapproval. I see the hint of a red satin robe on her person, and I pray it’s anything but that.

    "Fashionably late," I correct, stepping inside as she invites me in properly.

    I really wasn’t going to take her up on the invitation.

    I searched high and low for the little waitress, even ventured into the servants’ quarters for roughly the second time in my life just to find her. She seemed to have made herself scarcer than the vintage champagne we offered up at the party.

    Ultimately, I caught myself short. I am not in the habit of scouring the grounds just for something to relieve myself with.

    There’s also no doubt in my mind that the disappearing act might have something to do with a certain bride-to-be of mine.

    Either way, it’s done. And I’m confident in my ability to resist Ailith.

    Yes, it would be easier to do that by refusing her invitation altogether, but… Perhaps whatever she has planned to show me will be entertaining. I’m certainly intrigued, if nothing else.

    Her room is as I’d expected it to be. Utterly immaculate and barely recognisable as belonging in our stately home.

    She’s furnished it with her own comforts, sheepskin rugs, luxury sofas and an emperor sized bed with the strangest headboard I’ve ever seen. It looks like leather, yet is decorated with studs and metal rings, almost as though something were to be attached to it…

    "Did anyone see you?" She asks, quietly closing the door.

    I gawp at her in disbelief.

    "I’m sorry, should I have clambered through the window?"

    Her robe is red satin, as I’d suspected.

    In fact, it’s complete with fluffed trimmings along the neckline and sleeves, a sash tied around her slender middle to keep it closed, though that doesn’t seem to apply to her long legs. They’re bare, and horrendously distracting.

    I’m starting to see what Charis saw, albeit through the fog of whiskey.

    "You do realise we’re to be wed?" I add. "A man visiting his future wife is hardly the scandal of the century."

    "Coming from the man who was questioning my virtue not hours earlier, that’s rather comical, don’t you think? Besides, I thought you were only against our union."

    "Depends what kind of union it is," I wink at her.

    She rolls her eyes, but I see the smile on her lips.

    What happened to resistance, Bang?

    I settle myself into one of the many armchairs that are lined with cashmere throws, throwing my booted feet to the ornate coffee table. Perhaps if I act like being here isn’t testing my sanity, it’ll actually work.

    "You had something to show me?" I ask, changing the subject.

    She pouts for a moment, before turning her attention to a chest of drawers beside her bed.

    "You’ll recall our encounter in your bedroom. When you asked me who I was," she rummages around. "But really, that’s not an easy question to answer."

    "I’d have thought it’s the easiest of all."

    She grabs something from the topmost drawer, holding it behind her back and sliding the drawer closed with a motion of her hip.

    "Is that so? Will you not indulge me, then?"

    "Well, I’m-"

    I stop myself, realising I was about to answer with the same thing I always do. Chan Bang, son of Cillian Bang. Heir to the criminal Corporation. Or ex-heir, rather.

    But is that what defines me? Is that what I want to define me?

    A family name I hate? A fortune I intend to destroy as soon as I’m able?

    Ailith looks at me knowingly, her plump lips curving into a smile.

    I wait for the ‘I told you so’, but it never comes.

    Instead, she moves over to me, sinking to her knees at the other side of the coffee table between us. Her robe splays out around her, stark crimson against the pure white of the rug beneath. The colour matches her eyes, I note.

    She retrieves the object from her back, placing it on the table carefully, facing me.

    It’s a small, cuboid box, bound in tanned leather on all sides. A golden clasp sits on the front, locked tightly.

    I watch in fascination as she undoes the clasp, carefully lifting the lid.

    And inside, nestled safely on top of one another, are a gathering of stark red rose petals.

    The scent hits me immediately, it’s the same one she’s always carrying with her. It’s far from overpowering, but it stirs something in me that I’ve not felt before. Almost like relaxation… but with the anticipation of something extraordinary to come.

    "Do you like roses, Chan?" She asks quietly.

    "I’ve nothing against them," I muse. "I like them as I do any other flower. They’re pleasing to look at."

    She rests her sharp chin in the palm of her dainty hand, admiring the petals.

    "They’re my favourite," she mutters. "As old as time, yet perfectly timeless."

    She picks one up between her fingers, gently thumbing over the velvety surface.

    "They were discovered thirty-five million years ago, and have been part of human culture ever since. They’re used as symbols for love, war, beauty and politics. Recognised the world over."

    She drags it softly over her bottom lip, closing her eyes in appreciation of the scent.

    "We use them in celebrations, to make perfume and medicine. Some even declared them legal tender, back when their value was known widespread."

    "I imagine that to be some centuries ago," I half-laugh.

    "It was," she smiles.

    I cock my head at her, unsure what to make of that.

    "My point is, the rose has always been a status symbol," she continues. "They’re coveted. Desired. People hold them close to their hearts, Chan, myself included."

    "I see."

    I don’t, really. I’m actually rather confused.

    "I wish to be your rose… To be held close to your heart, for you to desire me."

    My jaw falls slack at the admission, though it shouldn’t be any surprise. I know of her intentions to take me as a husband, whether I like it or not.

    "… I know that, given time, we would get there. We would build a rapport; you would see in me the values of a wife and companion."

    "I don’t think-"

    "Yet time is a luxury you cannot afford."

    "Miss. Domencio," I choke. "With all due respect, I am still young. Perhaps the alcohol has aged me somewhat but I am in the prime of my life-"

    "Yet with every day that passes, you wither a little more," she interrupts.

    She drops the petal back into the box and grabs the thing by the base.

    In one movement, she empties the contents to the table, hundreds of rose petals glide across the surface, pile on one another.

    "I can preserve you," she smiles, though it’s almost sad. "Retain your beauty, your youth. Like these very roses, you’ll be an immortal status symbol. Forever honoured and revered."

    I open my mouth to say something, yet words seem to utterly fail me.

    She takes a deep breath, and something in the air seems to change. It’s almost imperceptible – if I wasn’t sitting so close I doubt I’d have noticed it all – but it’s akin to the razing of soil when lightning is fit to strike.

    Tense and silent. Electric.

    My stomach is taut with anticipation, the hairs on the back of my neck stand.

    She slinks up from the rug, bringing one of the rose petals with her as she moves towards me.

    The air crackles, the surroundings of the room seem to lose their clarity as my vision centres on her.

    She moves like the exotic dancers of the East; she drips elegance and sultry intentions. She hikes up part of her satin robe to reveal the bare expanse of her upper thigh, and I barely register that she’s clambering to my lap.

    She straddles me comfortably, her thighs rest either side of my legs. Her robe falls open on her chest, exposing shoulder and the lower blade, just enough to leave more to the imagination.

    A shiver of cold runs through me, it permeates from her skin. The intoxicating combination of rose and red wine floods my nostrils.

    "What… are you doing?" I mutter.

    She leans in to my ear, her voice low and silken.

    "Immortalising you."

    She brings her dainty fingertips to my chin, tilting my head back to the seat of the plush chair. Without ever touching me, she inhales deeply along my jawline, down my neck, and I feel my pulse everywhere in response to her.

    I don’t have a shred of fight in me, and quite frankly, I’m okay with that.

    "Do you trust me?" She breathes, and it raises goosebumps across my skin.

    The nagging is telling me I shouldn’t trust her. That trusting her is a catastrophic mistake I’ll never be able to take back.

    But my heart is saying something else.

    My dick too, coincidentally.

    She pulls back and stares me in the eye, her crimson irises engulf me.

    "Why me?"

    I don’t know why that was the one thing to pop out in the midst of all this, but I’ll admit, it’s been playing on my mind since Charis spoke of her stubbornness in taking me as a husband – especially given her intimate history with my brother.

    "Why not Charis?" I hold her eye contact. "He told me of your… rendezvous."

    Maybe I need to know why before I can think about granting her a modicum of trust.

    Even if it’s far too late by now.

    She cocks her head at me, her perfectly plump lips part into a sympathetic smile.

    "Charis was a pastime by which to entertain me. I made it clear to him that our paths would cross only the once, and never again."

    "He loves you; you know."

    She nods, but seems otherwise unaffected.

    "He is a sweet boy," she muses. "But he lacks responsibility. He fails to see that his desire for freedom is the very thing that shackles him. He spoke of you most of the night."

    "M- Me?"

    "Mhm. In fact, it was his tales of you that piqued my interest. The scorned younger brother that blames himself for the death of his mother-"

    "I do not blame myself," I interrupt, feeling irritation prickle at my scalp. "Katrina’s death was not my fault. She chose to give me a chance at life… even against medical advice."

    "And for that, she paid the ultimate price." Ailith whispers.

    She traces her fingertips down my jaw, admiring me like the finest piece of art.

    "Your very birth begat death, Chan. I had to know you. And now that I do, I see such potential. I see the darkness that lies within you, the makings of a beast so powerful it will never be contained."

    I swallow, my throat goes bone dry at the images she’s presenting.

    "Born amongst the hatred you foster for your father so cruel and your brother so aloof, it needs only to be released. Then… you will have your revenge."

    "I don’t understand," I whine.

    "You don’t need to," she drops her finger and raises her closed hand to my face. "Just know that you’re the one. The one I’ve been waiting for. And I can’t ever let that go."

    She opens her hand slowly to reveal the rose petal on her palm. With no encouragement, it crumbles from the outside in, to a fine pink powder that sits neatly.

    "So I’ll ask you again. Do you trust me, Chan?"

    "If I do…" I rasp. "Will I regret it?"

    She blinks at me; her thick black lashes fan her tinted cheeks.

    "… Yes."

    I swallow down the lump in my throat.

    "Will you?" I ask, resisting the urge to glide my hands over her soft, supple thighs.

    "For a while… There is no celebration to be had in the extinguishing of life."

    She arches her back to press closer to me. She’s so cold, almost fragile in a certain way, but quietly powerful. I’m not sure which of us would win over the other. If either of us even would.

    "But regret never lasts, Chan. With time, it dissipates. And I promise, we’ll have nothing but time," she soothes, grinding down in my lap.

    I bite back a hiss of pleasure that wants to escape. I figure I know what’s happening here, even if I don’t entirely understand her metaphors for love and marriage. Immortality, life and death. All seems a tad dramatic to me.

    Really, she’s just pushing me. Testing me. Using her womanly wiles to see how long I can hold out on refusing her proposal before I crack.

    At this rate, I won’t be setting any world records, that much is for sure.

    But having said that… Fucking her doesn’t necessarily commit me to the marriage part of it all, right? We can just call a spade a spade, admit that we’re somewhat drunk and in need of satisfaction. We’re both consenting adults, after all.


    I’ll just break the news to her after the fact. As far as I’m concerned, this is no strings. I’m confident I can smooth things over with Charis well enough.

    I’ll hardly be the first man to cave to his desires and take it all back in the morning. Hindsight is a wonderful thing.

    Fuck it.

    "Fine," I sink my teeth to my bottom lip. "Let’s do this."

    She nods in understanding, but doesn’t smile or even acknowledge my green light. She just raises her hand to my face, pursing her lips beside the powder.

    And with one gentle puff of breath, she blows the substance over me.

    It does nothing but smell pleasant, at first. I breathe it in, taste it on my tongue, the subtle flavour of rose that I surely know so well by now.

    She leans back expectantly, watching me like I’m about to grow a third arm.

    I’m unsurprised to finally have confirmation on her suspected use of narcotics. I wonder if all the Domencio’s are so inclined. It’s far from unusual for the upper class to indulge in such recreational tonics, regardless of their standing or lineage. Whether it’s boredom or simple curiosity, there seems to be some new form of sniffing powder being passed around at every event. Rose powder is assuredly a new one on me.

    Maybe this is what’s discoloured her eyes in such a way. Rather an oversight, I think.

    "It would behoove you to relax, sweetheart," she glides her hands over my shoulders. "You’ll soon join me."

    "Sure…" I dismiss nonchalantly, letting my head fall back to the seat.

    A wave of gentle numbness washes over me, beginning in the soles of my feet. It sweeps over my legs, up my thighs, to my abs and upper body. My shoulders and biceps tingle before losing all sensation, and it’s far more pleasant than I’d have thought. Like floating on a cloud, completely weightless.

    I sigh quietly, relishing in the content it leaves behind in my muscles and joints. Ailith squeezes my shoulders affectionately, runs her hands down my arms to my hands.

    She takes them in her own, placing them on her bare thighs.

    She’s soft under my touch, I feel the strain in my crotch despite the dazing effect of the drug she’s subjected me to.

    Unconsciously, I massage the supple flesh with my fingers, she leans closer to me, sliding her arms around my neck, pressing her body to mine.

    I grind upwards, my hips enact my carnal intentions, searching for friction against her which comes in the form of reciprocation. She rolls against me, slowly yet firmly, the material of her panties drags against my erection, and it quickly becomes too much for me to contain.

    I snap my eyes open, crashing my lips to hers in the same motion as I yank her to me by her neck.

    She melts into me, returning the kiss with equal fervour, the taste of red wine on her tongue melds with the stale whiskey on mine. It’s so cold, yet painfully soft, I feel like nothing I could do would ever be enough to satiate my sudden thirst for her.

    That’s when I feel it.

    A pinch, a sharp nick that brushes against my bottom lip, just unexpected enough for me to notice it.

    She breaks the kiss and leans back, her chest heaving for breath, her eyes a blazing shade of crimson that inspires an arousal of fear in me, much to my own confusion.

    Yet more so confusing that that, are the two impossibly sharp incisors that peek from under her top lip. They assuredly weren’t there before…

    "Ailith, wh-"

    I’m not given time to question as she slips her hands between us, fumbling with the buckle on my pantaloons. She unclasps it quickly, sliding out the belt and dropping it to the carpeted floor with a thud.

    The kiss resumes, and my worries are abolished as I busy myself with hiking up her robe, exposing her bottom half to the warmth of the fire that roars beside us.

    I cup her pert rear in my hands, lifting her just enough to allow room as she frantically frees my cock. She wraps a dainty hand around it, pumping once, twice, assessing the girth and length as ladies do, before I position her over it. God, it drives me insane.

    My vision is well and truly blurred, I realise as I try to observe her. Her face has lost all feature, the room melds into nothing more than a canvas of unfocused colour. My head is too fuzzy to be considered rational, my sense of self has been eclipsed by something I cannot hope to understand.

    I try to remember my ambitions. My desire to get the Corporation from Cillian, to burn it all down. My duty to be the brother Charis needs, to walk away from that which he loves. My vow to exact the revenge that has been my singular purpose until now.

    I can’t.

    I feel nothing other than the burning desire to claim her. Remember nothing other than my wish to join with her as one being. I would give myself to her willingly, would walk by her side if she so desired it.

    That should spark fright in me, I know.

    But it doesn’t.

    She groans in tandem with me as she sinks down over my length. She tears open my satin shirt, dragging her nails down my body, leaving a path of marking in her wake. I clutch at the fabric of her robe, bunching it up to her hips.

    Contrary to the warmth I’d expected, she is shockingly cold around me, yet it’s not unpleasant. Fresh and tight, I hiss through my teeth as she lifts herself over me, slow and calculated movements burying me to her deepest parts.

    She curses inaudibly, throwing her head back, the sharp teeth on full display.

    "Ah… Chan-"

    The chair creaks gently as we move, the shadows of our writhing forms cast on the panelled bedroom wall, illuminated by the bare flames.

    I feel sweat collecting at the back of my neck, my lower spine. My skin burns with building pleasure, my senses are completely hazed of anything that doesn’t come from her.

    Yet as inexplicably amazing as it feels, something inside me is stirring with unease.

    Perhaps it’s the way she’s not looking at me anymore. Perhaps it’s the proverbial distance that seems to exist between us as we do this, for as close as she is, she still feels so far.

    I wrap my arms around her, tugging her closer.

    She buries her head in my neck, and immediately, something changes.

    She begins to move with more fervour, her hips adopt a mind of their own. She tightens around me, her groans and moans of desire worsen, deeper in my ear. It spurs me on, of course, but as she clamps her hands to my shoulders and bares back her lips over teeth, my stomach lurches.

    "Forever…" she hisses, moaning after the fact. "You and I. The one I’ve been waiting for."

    "A- Ailith, wait-"

    She ignores my tardy protest.

    Her lips close tenderly over my neck, followed by the sensation of flesh giving way, as though I’m being punctured.

    Yet I feel nothing. Not the sharp pain it should have come with, not the fear it should instil.

    Her body stiffens as though she’s being shocked, the gratuitous sounds of a slurping substance infiltrate my ear, and while I would normally meet it with nausea, I find myself not wanting to react.

    I simply close my eyes, letting the pleasure build as she latches to me. The scent of iron permeates my senses, I feel a warm trickling of liquid gloss down my skin from her lips. She grows wetter as she rides me, more arousal coating the place we’re connected.

    She parts from me after minutes, and the sight that I’m greeted with defies all minds of rational men and the logic of science.

    Her lips are blood stained and defiled, the sharp teeth that punctured me are even longer in their appearance. Her eyes blaze as though the blood itself colours them, drops run down her chin, falling to her bosom.

    "Y- You… W- What are you…?" I groan, offering a particularly sharp rut of my hips.

    "I am Vampyr…" She swipes her tongue over her lips. "And so now, are you."

    She brings her hand to her neck, seeming to extend one perfectly manicured nail with nothing more than will.

    I watch as she swipes it across her skin, creating a shallow cut across her throat that expels thick, warm blood. It trickles down her pale chest, stains her satin robe an even darker crimson. It clings to her skin, accentuates her curves and coats me in the process.

    I should have recoiled in horror. Thrown her out in disgust. Questioned her sanity and had her institutionalised with the rest of the nuts I wouldn’t spare the time of day for.

    I don’t.

    Instead, I slide my hands up her body, my mouth simply salivates at the prospect of tasting her in such an abhorrent way. That’s a desire I’ve never been struck with before, needless to say.

    She tangles her hand in my hair, guiding me.

    I’ve come to the conclusion that I no longer know myself, that whatever spell she has me under will not soon be broken.

    I outstretch my tongue tentatively and lap at her chest, coating it in her substance.

    The tang of iron slides down my throat as I grow accustomed to it, and I find myself keening for more.

    I brush my lips against her skin, kissing and mouthing, consuming her very essence and taking it as my own. She sighs in wanton pleasure and continues to rock over my hardening cock, holding me close, driving me deeper.

    Something inside me burns the more I drink, though I make no move to stop. I couldn’t if I wanted to.

    It’s a scene straight from the annals of Hell itself, yet I’ve never experienced anything more erotically intimate. Never imagined such pleasures to be wrought from such basely wicked things.

    The need to release creeps up on me, and she detects the tension to my body, the desperation in my movements.

    "Drink…" she encourages, kissing my forehead. "Drink of me, and be mine."

    "I… am yours," I rasp through the gathering of blood, through the fog of erotica. "Only yours…"

    And as I reach my climax, emptying everything I have into her and then some when she joins me in her pleasure peak, a sense of unprecedented dread settles in my chest.

    She kisses me tenderly, caresses my blood-stained face and lips. I take deep, steadying breaths, filling my lungs to their capacity, letting my heartbeat settle into a rhythm not so erratic.

    "You did so well."

    Another kiss to my forehead, she slides her hands to my neck.

    I lean into her touch, not feeling profound enough to say anything of note, simply appreciating the high of content I’m awash with.

    My body is still pleasantly numb, I wonder when the effects of the rose drug will wear off.

    I also wonder when I’ll have to break the news to her – that I’ve no intention of marriage. I’ll just have to make sure she knows that encounter was the best thing I’ve ever indulged in. I’m not a complete animal, after all.

    "I’ll see you soon," she smiles, and her grip on my neck tightens inexplicably.

    She squeezes, enough so to get me to choke, and twists my skin with her hands in parallel directions.

    The dread transforms to outright fear.

    Sensation returns to my limbs all at once, panic raises a stone-cold chill up my spine.

    Everything stops.

    She’s trying to fucking kill-



    It invades me like an infection.

    I try to breathe, yet I intake no air. It simply tickles past my dried, split lips. There’s no motion of breathing. No expansion of my lungs or diaphragm, no comforting fullness. It’s suffocating.

    I try to listen, for the sound of internal settling. For the sound of my pulse, be it fast or slow. I hear nothing but emptiness. Like my heart has been replaced with a stone, there’s no familiar, rhythmic beat. No warmth.

    I try to move, but am unable to. My joints are stuck in place, held back by a weight sitting in my abdomen, tangible yet non-existent. My stomach is a placeholder, it desires nothing. Feels nothing.

    I try to open my eyes, yet they refuse. Shadows play in my sight, flashes of crimson and white dots that glide from my peripherals. I follow them along my eyelids.

    I try to speak, to say anything, yet my lips will not part. My voice holds in my throat, as though scared to leave and make us known. My skin splits further as I try to open my mouth, but it doesn’t make the pain any worse.

    Perhaps it’s a blessing that I can make no sound.

    For surely, if I could, I would scream.

    I try to bring my focus back, to take in my surroundings.

    Wherever I am, it’s cold. That’s not to say that I am cold, as far as my temperature is concerned, I’m having a hard time detecting anything. No, it’s the smell that suggests cold. An aging damp, like disturbed earth… I can only associate it with how the courtyard would smell when the flowers were freshly uprooted.

    I’m resting on something soft, from what I can gather, and as I endeavour to move my fingers just an inch to scratch beneath, I realise whatever is supporting me is destructible.

    It crumbles under my touch, gets stuck beneath my fingernails.

    The smell of moisture and soil permeates my nostrils. It grows stronger as I recognise it, and I realise it surrounds me on all sides.

    Gradually, as yet more of my senses return, I hear something unfamiliar.

    Movement. Scuttling and wriggling, foreign objects moving around me. Digging and crawling, they go about their business as all critters are obliged to do, and the thought strikes me that I’ll be nothing more than fertiliser for the creatures if this continues.

    Then I hear something else.

    The distant chattering of voices, though they sound to be miles away.

    I focus, straining in a way I didn’t know I could, trying to quell the panic that’s been steadily building in me since activity returned to my brain.

    "You should have waited, Ailith."

    I don’t recognise the voice, though it has that gravel to it that suggests the speaker is somewhat elderly.

    "I know, and I’ve apologised. Things got… out of hand."

    I recognise that voice. A spike of fear shoots through me, no doubt a reaction to our… encounter.

    "Out of hand?! You’ve jeopardised everything we’ve worked for. Foolish girl."

    "Madre, please, things are not that bleak. The wedding will still go ahead, we just sired him a little earlier than planned, that’s all."

    Madre? The fucking help?

    "Yet again, you fail to understand," the elderly voice, presumably Madre, spits. "The marriage was our only certainty in securing the Bang fortune. Without the support of that old fool Cillian, we stood no chance. Siring the boy was only ever a contingency plan."

    There are rushed footsteps, they sound like they’re heading in my direction.

    "You know how temperamental newborns are. How do you propose we host a wedding with the state he’ll be in? We should be lucky if he doesn’t slaughter half the guests."

    "I can handle him," Ailith pleads. "I know the fortune is important-"

    "The fortune is not simply important. It is our only chance at surviving the next decade, Ailith. Our family is destitute, and I will not see the end of the Domencio line."

    "F- Fine, I know that. But you don’t realise how special he is, Madre. The potential he holds. He’s so much more than just our ticket to a life of continued luxury. He will be a Vampyr beyond all reckoning. A leader to us… I just know it."

    Me? A fucking Vampyr?

    "You know nothing of the sort. Be silent with your wistful fantasies, child."

    The footsteps venture closer, and I don’t understand why my heart isn’t racing with the panic I know I should be feeling.

    What the hell is happening to me?

    "You have left me with little choice," Madre huffs. "We will just have to feed Cillian a story. He left home, ran away in the night. He asked you to leave with him but you felt your duty to the Bang family to be of more import. They all know he was against the wedding anyway; it won’t be so confounding to believe. And this way, you shall stay in Cillian’s good graces. You’ll have to marry the other one instead."

    "What? You can’t do this-"

    "I have to, child. You cannot marry a newborn vampire and hope he does not submit to his nature. It is better he be put down before he wakes."

    The footsteps are now only meters away, the crunch of soil and forest debris almost deafens me.

    I hear something that sounds like… scraping? The whining of metal and earth being disturbed, thrown aside before it happens again.

    "You can’t dig him up," Ailith wails. "He won’t survive the transformation."

    "Have you not been listening? That is the whole point."

    There’s more digging, scratching and struggling, and eventually a faint hue of amber light colours my eyelids. Something that feels like fresh air licks at my skin. I hear the distant, subtle chirping of birds from tens of miles away. Like the lid has been quite literally lifted on me.

    Yet the pain is still patently present, overriding any sense of joy I could experience from being… unburied?


    There’s a crash and the kind of thud one associates with a fall, followed by a moment of silence. I feel new tension in the air, anticipation of something to come.

    "I will not let you kill him. You will not take this away from me too."

    "You… Have you forgotten who sired you, child? Who you belong to? You dare to challenge my will?" Madre seethes.

    "I haven’t forgotten," Ailith stammers, her voice strained. "I’ve never been allowed to forget. You walk in my shadow, day and night. Always just over my shoulder, breathing toxins down my neck, dictating what I should speak and how I should act. Injecting me when my hunger threatens to break through, for God forbid I ever step out of line. This life… it has been no life at all. Too many times I have wished you would have left me for dead, lost me to the marsh fever."

    "You cannot mean that-"

    "I’m taking it back. All of it. My life and my will… My love."

    I feel hands on me, shaking me, touching me everywhere I’m able to be touched, though I feel nothing other than the base physical sensation.

    "Ailith, leave him. He is as good as dead. If I do not do it, his father surely will when he discovers what a monster he has become," Madre sighs.


    "Ch- Chan…? Do you hear me, sweetheart?"

    Ailith whispers in my ear, I feel her presence nearby.

    "You had yet several nights to sleep," she continues. "I’m sorry that you cannot have that. It would have been easier."

    A few seconds of silence follow, and I’m hit with a scent so deliciously profound, I feel my veins thrum in response to it.

    "Ailith… I will not warn you again."

    "Leave, Madre. For your own good."

    With that, I feel cool skin press up against my lips, a substance trickles between my parted lips.

    It’s warm and immediately recognisable, my throat fucking burns as it coats my tongue and wells up in the back of my mouth.

    Electricity coaxes my joints into action after only seconds of supping, and I find the strength to bring my hands to Ailith’s dainty wrist.

    I clutch it tightly, press my lips to her skin and suckle like a desperate, starving newborn, growling quietly with the hunger I thought I’d never feel again. I understand the term immediately.

    "You will damage him," Madre calls. "Newborns must feed on fresh, human blood. Hell only knows the kind of beast you will create. This cannot be undone."

    "Leave!" Ailith shouts.

    The blood takes over, invades every cell in my body, every nerve, muscle and sinew.

    I crack open my eyes to see only the vague, blurred form of Ailith above me. My vision is tainted a red hue, vignetted with the blood that flows within me now.

    "Here… Carefully…"

    She puts her arm underneath me, aiding me in sitting upright. The pain is unlike anything I’ve ever felt, pinpricks cover my skin in all imaginable places, pressing to pierce all at once when I move.

    Yet I cannot scream.

    Undiluted strength floods me, controls me as I tear myself away from Ailith’s wrist.

    I shoot up from the dirt earthen hole they threw me in, naked as the day I was born. I swipe my tongue over my bloodied lips and teeth, and with it feel the starting protrusion of two that were not there before.

    An urge boils up from the very depths of my newly cursed soul.

    An urge I’ve only ever felt the lickings of in times past, a brief second before I expelled it in disgust of myself. I would rather simmer in my rage than entertain it, and often did.

    Not anymore.

    Now, I consider it a newfound purpose, and I will make it manifest.

    Madre deceived me.

    Cillian detested me.

    Charis sacrificed me.

    Katrina abandoned me.

    Ailith killed me.

    They were just supposed to love me.

    And I will have my bloody, overdue revenge.


    A/N: The first of many Origin stories to be released, I do hope this provided answers and a little more insight to Chan’s character. I had the most fun writing this, and look forward to you reading the others. Feedback is always appreciated, check out the links below if you fancy it. Take care. Mica



    #skz smut #stray kids smut #bang chan smut #chan smut #stray kids imagines #skz imagines#skz angst #stray kids angst #stray kids x y/n #stray kids x stay #stray kids x you #stray kids x reader #stray kids fanfic #stray kids fanfiction #skz fanfiction#skz fanfic #chan x you #chan x y/n #bang chan x y/n #bang chan x you #vampire skz#vampire au #sanguis limerence: origins #bang chan: a rose proposal
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  • hobis-hopeworld
    22.07.2021 - 2 days ago

    we’re a mess but darling I still love you

    like/reblog if you save 🥺👉🏽👈🏽

    #stray kids #stray kids felix #stray kids moodboard #skz#skz felix#felix lee #stray kids imagines #felix moodboard #stray kids fluff #stray kids drabbles #stray kids icons #Kpop #stray kids angst #lee know#skz zoo #stray kids comeback #stray kids hyunjin #3racha#seungmin#changbin#bang chan#Wolfgang #i.n #han jisung
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  • specialstay
    21.07.2021 - 2 days ago

    Only a second p.2


    TW mentioning of suicide


    You needed some time to realize what just happened. Even though the train was rushing by you heard nothing except for your heart. Laying on the grass nearby the railway track and you felt like you were paralyzed. Unable to walk, talk or even think. Only a second after, you looked to your left and he was laying there just as shocked as you were, but healthy.

    He's alive. He made it.

    Within seconds you get up on your knees and start punching him, still crying and screaming at him how he could do this to you. This felt so unrealistic and after he processed what just happened he sat up and he grabbed your hands before you could continue. Both of you looked like a mess, soaking wet and he got a wound on his face now because you threw him on the ground. "(Y/n)" he said crying and it only broke you more. You stopped trying to hit him and only looked him in the eyes when you start feeling the pain.

    "Ouch" you say and took a quick look on your left leg and you saw that your jeans where probably stained red and green. Green from the grass and red from your blood. You elbow hurt but it wasn't as bad as your leg. This was something to care about later. He's here and he's alive.

    "Why" you asked and looked at him. It was dark and the rain never stopped so reading his face was a bit difficult. The only thing you can see was regret and pain. "Please tell me why" you asked again and he couldn't answer, his throat probably hurting from all this crying. All he could do was hugging you. He pulled you close and pulled you onto him while he was laying back on the grass again.

    No words were needed at this moment. You were so thankful for him and you were so happy to have him again and you just ignore the pain. Both of you start crying uncontrollably and every second he pulled you closer, like he would loose you any second.


    "I'm so sorry" he finally whispered after what feels like hours of crying. "No please" You say and pulled away to look at his face. You didn't know if you should be mad at him or just be happy that he's here. Your feelings were as mixed as a smoothie and thinking was something you can do now.

    You were angry. How can he do this?! How can he almost kill himself in front of me?! This isn't fair?!

    You were happy. He is still here! You can still feel him and be with him after all this. Be here for him in good and bad times.

    "I don't wanna live without you"


    I'm.so sorry I feel.like this sucks so bad


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  • stayndays
    21.07.2021 - 2 days ago

    subway | angst to fluff | hwang hyunjin

    word count: 599

    additional info: gender neutral reader, romantic relationship not implied

    taglist: @desertofdessert @raethethey @woahhwa @cotccotc @bobateastay @seungminsaidsta @dayawantstosleep @starrynpy @leihey @teatimeonthemoon @skzwriternet

    hope you enjoy!

    ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

    It’s hard waiting for a subway that will never come.

    The plastic seats are uncomfortable, his bottom feeling sore by the second. The musky air of the indoor station reeks through his nostrils. He attempts to get more comfortable while waiting, altering his position every once in a while, but comfort never greets him.

    Occasionally, he’ll get the random passerby to strike a brief conversation with him. Usually an elderly man or lady, sometimes a kid who’s curiousity leads them to talk to a stranger.

    Of course he’s read the sign, he tells them, about how the subway has closed months ago and hasn’t come since, but he still waits regardless. It’s been with him and his friends since his high school days, so why can’t it make an exception?

    His fondest memories were made in that subway, like the time when Jisung couldn’t stop laughing so they had to cover his mouth for him. Or when Felix almost fell down because that particular right turn was a bit too sharp for whatever reason that day. Or when they all pulled out their textbooks and frantically started to cram information for a test together, because to be fair, their physics teacher sucked at teaching them.

    He misses them, so that’s why he waits.

    It’s hard waiting for a subway that will never come, Hyunjin says.

    But then it came.

    Somehow, most likely out of a miracle, or maybe Hyunjin was being a lunatic and was having a very realistic dream, the subway finally came. Its blinding headlights and the screeching sound it made when it stopped made Hyunjin’s head whip up like a deer in headlights. His heart beating a thousand miles a second, he raced to sling his bag on his back and entered the subway.

    He was the only person on, he notices first, which is quite strange. Usually, the subway was packed with people, so maybe all of them don’t need the subway on this particular day. Or maybe, the other passengers simply gave up on the subway, and never bothered to wait for it after it closed. Everybody except him.

    It was probably the latter.

    When Hyunjin finally reached his usual stop, he was greeted with a shocking surprise. His close friends, every single one of them, was there to see him. They all huddled up in a group, waiting for the subway to peer into their view, a big smile on their faces when it finally did. Was this really a dream afterall? How long had they been waiting for him? Days, weeks, possibly even months?

    And then he saw you.

    Ah yes, you. The person Hyunjin hasn’t brought up until now because a part of him wants to forget you, strangely enough. He wants to forget your beaming smile, and the way you always giggle at his jokes, and the way your soul shined in the sun.

    Perhaps it was because he liked you, but he won’t admit that for a long time.

    Regardless, his heart feels full with as much emotion as humanly possible, as though he can feel his chest expanding from the sheer love in him at the sight of his friends being oh so excited to reunite with him.

    And when Hyunjin stepped out of the subway doors, immediately being bombarded by his friends, his eyes drifted to you in the back, shaking your head at their silly antics, before locking eyes with one another. His shoulders relaxed, he let himself relax, and he smiled.

    This is what he waited for.

    #stray kids#skz#hwang hyunjin#districtninewriters#skzwriternet #stray kids fluff #stray kids angst #stray kids imagines #stray kids blurbs #stray kids drabbles #stray kids hyunjin #hyunjin x y/n #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin x you #stray kids fanfiction #stray kids fanfic #stray kids scenarios #stray kids hwang hyunjin
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  • kittyuto
    21.07.2021 - 2 days ago


    pairing: cat hybrid!felix x cat hybrid!lee know x cat hybrid!hyunjin x reader

    genre: poly!au, angst, fluff, hybrid!au

    warnings: crying, hyunjin cry’s A LOT i mean a lot. super short sorry

    word count: n/a

    synopsis: you find a hybrid all alone in front of your house, just to find out it was abandoned and lost his mates.

    previous | next

    you move slowly to sit down next to him with a small sigh.

    “i don’t know.” you say defeated. you’re definitely not thinking about giving them back but you definitely don’t want to risk your safety either. contacting the police could do more harm than good, so you’re at a loss.

    you hear hyunjin sigh. you look towards him, to see tears threatening to spill from his eyes. he lays his head on your lap. you tense up soon relaxing when you feel his body shake as he released small sobs.

    “p-please, don’t send us back. i don’t wanna leave you.” voice cracking and body shaking as he speaks to you.

    and honestly that left you shocked, you would’ve never expected this from him of all people. but soon after you feel your heart grow warm at the thought that he finally trusts you.

    “i promise you, i’m not going to let you go.” you whisper softly to him while moving your hand to caress his head softly.

    you both sit like that until you hear his sobs turn into small sniffles. after awhile, he got up from your lap to face you, eyes still red from crying. when you two both make eye contact, you see his lip tremble again and you immediately cup his face in your hands.

    “i’m so sorry.” he sobs again while burying his face into his hand. you tuck him into you shoulder and ssh him.

    “it’s okay. you don’t have to be sorry.” you pat his back.

    once again you both stay like this for awhile until he calms down a little bit.

    “you wanna sleep?” you say pulling his head up from your shoulder.

    he only nods, avoiding eye contact with you.

    “okay.” you give him a smile. you pat a spot on your bed so he knows he’s welcome to sleep there. you get up to go to the bathroom just incase he feels a bit awkward (and to clean the dry tears from your shoulder).

    when you’re done refreshing yourself in the bathroom, you walk out to see hyunjin still awake. you expected him to drift off to sleep but he still seems wide awake.

    not knowing what to say, afraid of making the atmosphere even more awkward then it already is. you just go turn the lights out and climb onto bed on the opposite side of him. lying on your back, you try to focus on the shadows of the trees on you ceiling but it doesn’t help.

    you can’t help but turn to see hyunjin staring back at you. when you both make eye contact for the second time that night, you see his lip tremble again. you turn on your side to face him, worry once again.

    you brush hair away from his eyes so you could see him better.

    “what’s wrong, my love?” you say softly trying to comfort him as best as you could.

    instead of answering, he looks down trying to hold back his tears.

    “it’s okay, hyunjin. i can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.”

    he looks back up but still avoiding eye contact with you, just looking at the wall behind you instead.

    “i don’t know what’s wrong.” he says voice sounding a little scratchy, clearing it after.

    “it’s just that.” he breaths finally looking at you. “every time i look at you feel emotional.”

    your body kind of deflates, not knowing how to respond.

    “so, you’re not comfortable with me?” you questioned him kind of confused.

    he shakes his head.

    “i just feel guilty, i never gave you a chance to actually show you cared about us. i just acted rudely.”

    “hyunjin.” you say lightly. “i don’t blame you at all, i will never understand what you’ve been through. i know you needed time to get comfortable, if you still need time. that’s okay too. i will never ever be mad or judge you for not trusting me in the beginning, okay?” you smile at him.

    “okay.” he smiles with watery eyes. he just feels overly sensitive tonight. he doesn’t know if it’s a change in hormones or.. you, but he feels extremely comforted to let his emotions finally flow free. for once he feels comfortable and respected.


    you don’t remember exactly when you both fell asleep but you do feel a ache in your bones the next morning. you groan as you stretch your body, trying your best to relieve your sore muscles and stiff bones.

    “him and felix are really clingy when they sleep.”

    you quickly turn your head towards the voice. eyes still blurry from waking up moments before so you wait until they focus on... lee know?

    “yeah, they are.” you let out a awkward laugh.

    a awkward silence passes over.

    “did you need anything?” you look back at him.

    “y-yeah, i wanted to talk to you about something.”

    in the back of your mind, you were kind of afraid what it may be about. it was inevitablethat him or felix might’ve heard you and hyunjin last night. it’s not like you could’ve kept it a secret forever.

    “okay, is felix still sleep?” you say climbing off of your bed.

    “yeah, but he shouldn’t be sleep for much longer.”

    “okay, we could talk in the living room if you want.” walking to where he stands.

    “okay.” he gives you a tight smile walking towards the stairs as you follow right behind him.

    no one speaks during the small journey down the stairs, it’s not an uncomfortable silence but it’s not exactly comfortable either. you feel kind of anxious when you both finally sit down of the sofa, you don’t know how this conversation is going to play out. will he be mad at you for not telling him right away or for making hyunjin cry? (even tho it wasn’t on purpose.)

    “so, what did you want to speak about?” playing with your fingers as a nervous tick.

    you hear him take a breath in almost like he was nervous too.

    “i heard you and hyunjin last night.” he looks down. you don’t answer him just nod slightly waiting for him to continue.

    “i swear it wasn’t on purpose.” waving his hands in a defensive like manner. “it was just hard not to listen, especially with you know.” he points to his ears.

    “i’m glad you talked to him last night though.” he looks to you with a smile.

    “really?” you raise your eyebrows.

    “yeah, i told we all liked you.”

    you let out a breath trying not to laugh.

    “is that all you wanted to talk about?” looking at him finally. “you didn’t want to know why he came to talk to me?”

    “to be fair, i am curious but i think it’s better if i don’t”

    “i don’t think felix should know either.” he adds. “i can’t risk having him lose hope over this, it would break him to find out.” he pauses and takes a breath. “it would break him to find out there is a possibility of us losing you already.”

    “i know it’s hard to have hope, but i promise i’ll do everything in my power so that won’t happen. i will never let them take you guys away from me, no matter what happens.” reaching over to his lap where his hands are resting, you take one of them into your hand and squeeze it reassuringly. 


    a/n: pleek. pleek forgive me. this is so short, i’m sorry but i wanted to get this out for you guys. i hope you understand <3

    🏷 taglist: send a ask, dm, or comment if you want to be added!

    @demon-angel-213 @lorielulu7 @starriglcss @thesnowygalaxy @bowlofblueberries @silent-potato @stfu-xeena @upsidedownchaire @yaelx @straykisz @theboisarehere342 @celestiacq @rainbowmagicpixecorn @haseulreturns @felixskitten @writingdust @starry-paris @kpmulti0 @tsuw4n @babyminghao @fanficpup @atlantis-atlas @imbonibi @tardis-world @yunapixie @punkjisung @haechans-sunflower @polaroids-parker @em—ilysm

    #stray kids #stray kids angst #stray kids felix #stray kids fluff #stray kids hyunjin #stray kids imagines #stray kids lee know #skz lee know #skz minho#skz felix#skz hyunjin#skz fluff#skz angst #lee know angst #lee know imagines #lee know x reader #lee know fluff #felix fluff#felix angst#felix imagines #felix x reader #hyunjin angst#hyunjin fluff#hyunjin imagines #hyunjin x reader #hybrid stray kids
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  • hyunjinspark
    21.07.2021 - 2 days ago

    part 35: does this make up for it

    only fools fall for you | hyunjin sm au

    you’re excited to finally get a new start at university, majoring in the thing you love the most; dancing, and you’re positive that absolutely nothing can ruin the quintessential college experience for you.

    that is, until you run into your lifelong rival, hwang hyunjin and to make things worse…you can’t seem to get rid of him.

    ⇐ masterlist

    a/n: for some reason im in love with this part and them, ah they're so cute 😭😭 im in love

    any and all feedback, in the form of comments, reblogs or asks would be appreciated, it keeps me going 🥺🥰

    taglist: @caratinylyfe @peachy-maia @bambibamb @born5sos @rawrrain @the7thcrow @annawolfhard19 @skzooo @velvetand-roses @rindomo @gothmingguk @thegracerammy @minaamhh @hyunjun-jpeg @unexceptional-h @danyxthirstae01 @super-btstrash-posts @iwanttobangchan @egzyste-ncja @ificouldhelpyouforget @404-incorrect @lauraneuuh @seoryoungies @mstarlight @jakesahi @goddessofdestructionbeast @inlovewithasa @cutendshort @exonations @kxxhanii @summikii @90s-belladonna @fuckunrequitedlove @imhyvnjin @neverstaynever @princess-kayleigh @ninjaleeknow @sunastars @vantxx95 @purpleskzsworld @youurkryptonite @milyberry @glitteryskzstraykidsdream @rae-blogging @geniejunn @putmetogetheragain13 @hhjkji @mi-sumi @diue @are-you-bored-yet @jin-neck-shaft @seungcheoluwu @songsmenu @thonkingdeepo @cioud-recesses @chaitae-bae @haniehae

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  • m-1-dn-1-ght
    21.07.2021 - 2 days ago


    Hello I'll be posting dark kpop fic recs(and the occasional written story by me) for when you either want to cry or want to be scared or both even. This will be a mainly dark account so don't expect much fluff. No smut as I'm a minor, I'll give recommend ambient music and give my opinions and reasons as to why I favorite the stories because why not.

    Groups you'll see often:

    NCT(all units)



    Monsta X




    *This list will continue to grow as I start getting into more people.*

    Masterlists coming very soon lmao

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  • jiminbbyboy
    20.07.2021 - 3 days ago

    featuring: hwang hyunjin x f.reader x han jisung

    neighbor / friends with benefits au

    status: 99% done

    They been best friends their whole life. They’ve shared everything but they’ve shared a girl. What happens when you can’t keep your emotions out sex?

    warnings: angst, body image issues, explicit sexual content, such an intercourse. explicit language

    If you would like to be tagged please let me know.

    #skz#skz smut #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #stray kids smut #stray kids angst #han jisung #han jisung x reader #hwang hyunjin#Hyunjin #Hyunjin x reader #Hyunjin smut #han jisung smut
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  • chogiwow
    20.07.2021 - 3 days ago
    #hyunjin + angst >>>>>> #stray kids imagines #hyunjin imagines#skz imagibes #stray kids hyunjin imagines #hwang hyunjin imagines #drabble game
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  • mxxndreams
    20.07.2021 - 3 days ago

    The Man With The Book

    ❥ pairing: kim seungmin x female reader ❥ genre: one-shot, fluff, angst (tiny bit), romance, soulmate!au, dystopian-ish!au ❥ warnings: none ❥ word count: 3.3k ❥ requested! ❥ summary: In a world where physical books are rare to find and soulmate crystals are all the rage, Y/N is having a hard time choosing between her heart and her mind. ❥ A/N: Hello, how are you today? Oftentimes, I write what I consider to be "experimental pieces". I'd say this is one of them. I hope you enjoy reading it. Please, like/reblog this if you enjoy reading it and let me know your thoughts through an ask, if you feel like it; I am always appreciative of your feedback! As always, happy reading!

    “Soulmate crystals on sale! Buy yours today, meet your soulmate tomorrow!”

    It was everywhere. Bus stops, advertisements throughout the big screens in the city, commercials on TV, even on small local stores. You couldn’t escape it, no matter how hard you tried.

    Still, you weren’t going to give in. You didn’t believe in this, it made no sense to you. How could a crystal, produced in a lab, help you find your soulmate? It felt ridiculous, to say the least, but it seemed like you were the only one that didn’t trust these crystals.

    Everywhere you looked, you could see people rocking these crystals as accessories. On necklaces, on rings, even as keychains. They looked pretty, you were going to give them that. But that was it. Nothing more, nothing less.

    A crystal could not help you find your soulmate. It was a ridiculous claim.

    Still, they made everyone believe it.

    “It will shine once you meet them,” you saw at the event where they were introduced and everyone around you gasped in excitement. “You and your soulmate each have one half and when you are together, your crystals become one, just like the two of you.”

    You still cringed every time you remembered it. It had been a waste of your time. You thought you were going to an important event, one that would truly change the world. And they told you soulmate crystals would solve all of your problems!

    It was all lies. Nothing to believe in.

    When you reached the bus stop, there it was again, a reminder of true love in one of the billboards. You rolled your eyes and opened the bag on your shoulder and took off your card and waited for your bus to arrive. When it finally did, you sighed in frustration. Apparently, everyone decided to take the bus home today.

    Following your line, you entered the bus. It was too crowded and you had to push some people to create some space for you. Madness would be the best word to describe it. Thankfully, you played some music in your headphones and watched as the city transformed in front of you, the lights turning on as the sky grew darker, an explosion of neon lights on the outside.

    Stop after stop, the bus grew emptier and emptier and you were able to finally have some decent space to stand in. You fixed your bag and glanced around, seeing the people that remained on the bus. Some of them were familiar faces that you had grown accustomed to seeing and others were just strangers.

    He was just a stranger when you first saw him.

    He caught your eye for the simple fact that he was reading a book. One made of paper and ink, its colourful cover catching your attention. You tried to get closer to him to get a better look at the title but it was in vain. Still, you were amazed. Books like those… they were hard to find nowadays.

    Finally, you were getting closer to your stop. You carefully walked inside the bus and reached the door and waited for it to open. More people joined you including the man with the book. You saw from his reflection in the mirror how he stored the book in his bag carefully. Afterwards, he fixed his jacket and looked to where you were looking and you looked away, fixing your hair right after.

    Suddenly, the bus stopped faster than usual and you almost lost your balance. You let out a shy scream, afraid that you would fall to the ground. Thankfully, someone with quick reflexes caught you by the waist, the shock and worry still present in your eyes.

    “Are you ok?” he asked, eyes going over your features. You slowly nodded, eyes slightly parted from the shock.

    “Yes, I am… fine.”

    His eyes met yours and he offered you a polite smile that you returned. You gulped and regained your balance which caused him to let go of you, focusing his attention on his reflection on the window.

    “Thank you,” you whispered and he nodded, your eyes looking at his reflection, finding him looking at you.

    When the bus got to your stop, you hopped off and started to walk towards your apartment complex, this part of the city being very different from where you had just come from.

    Here, the bright neon lights didn’t exist. Instead, old street lights guided your way in an area where most houses were either abandoned or in very bad shape.

    “Excuse me!” Someone screamed and you turned around to find who it was that was calling you. To your surprise, you saw the same man from earlier walking towards you at a fast pace.

    “Do you need anything?” you asked and fixed the bag on your shoulder.

    “You dropped this,” he extended a small wallet your way and you recognised it.

    “Oh, it would’ve been bad if I had lost it!” you took a deep breath and accept it from his hand. He shivered. “Thank you so much. It must’ve fallen when the bus stopped earlier.”

    You returned to your walk, but you couldn’t hear him moving. When you turned around, you saw that he was looking your way, uncertainty tainting his features. You raised an eyebrow.

    “Anything else?” you asked and he shook his head.

    “Ok, then. Goodnight,” you turned around once again and after a few steps, you heard his voice again.

    “Do you believe in soulmates?” You stopped.

    That was an odd question to ask a random stranger you just met. Were all people so affected by this concept that anyone could be their soulmates?

    “I don’t,” you answered in a certain tone and glanced at him. “I also don’t own any soulmate crystals.”

    “Well,” he stepped closer to you again and stopped under a streetlight. You noticed how his cheeks were slightly flushed, how his breathing was more irregular than before. “I believe in soulmates-”

    “Good,” you interrupted him. “I don’t know where you are going with this, though.”

    “I believe we’re soulmates.”

    You took some time to process it. Was this stranger, whose name you didn’t even know, claiming you were soulmates?

    “Your crystal shined?” you jokingly asked him, crossing your arms. “There were a lot of people on that bus, it could’ve been anyone. What makes you believe it’s me?”

    He chuckled and nodded his head. You could tell that maybe you had hurt his feelings by being so cut and dry. Still, you didn’t want to feed into this idea. It didn’t feel right.

    “Crystals shine when we’re near our soulmate,” he announced and you nodded.

    “I know that. But as I said, there were a lot of people on that bus. I think you’re having this conversation with the wrong person.”

    “Then how can you explain that my crystal is shining right now?” you rolled your eyes and he grabbed something from the pocket of his pants and showed it to you. “No one is here right now, only us.”

    “People live around here,” you pointed to the buildings around the bus stop, lying. You knew no one lived in this part of the city anymore, only those like you. Fools who didn’t want to give in.

    “That may be true,” he started to take steps towards you, slowly but surely. “How can you explain this, then? If every step I take towards you makes the light brighter and stronger?”

    You noticed how the light flickered from the crystal, how by each step he took towards you it became more intense. You were running out of options. What excuse would you find next?

    “I already told you, I don’t believe in it,” you answered, defeated as his eyes met yours. “I’m sorry. Goodnight.”

    You turned your back on him and quickly started to walk again, ignoring him as much as you could. But now, his face, his voice would be forever in your mind. You would forever be reminded of the man with the book, and how hopeful he was when he told you you were soulmates.

    The next few days were a struggle. You spent your time awake thinking about what he had told you and when you were sleeping, you couldn’t help but replay that moment over and over again in your head.

    The crystal shining.

    His hopeful face.

    Do you believe in soulmates?

    Every time that question popped into your head, your heart skipped a beat. You weren’t certain as to why but you tried your best to avoid it. Still, it was impossible. No matter where you looked, no matter where you went, there it was the reminder.

    I believe we’re soulmates.

    How could he know? Yes, you saw it with your eyes that the crystal had shined, that the closer he was to you, the brighter it became. Still, couldn’t that be the result of something else? Could your presence truly influence the shine a crystal emitted? You didn’t believe it.

    Still, even if you wanted to meet the man with the book again, luck wasn’t on your side. You found yourself disappointed by this as you looked for his face on the bus every evening, trying to see if he was there, reading a book, but got the same result every time. He wasn’t there. Instead of peace, this feeling only brought you confusion and worry as well.

    However, life didn’t keep you two apart for long. You found him again one afternoon, as you wandered around an old part of the city, away from all the big billboards with obnoxious advertisements on them stating that they had found true love thanks to some soulmate crystal.

    The streets here were mostly empty except for a couple of other people who were roaming the streets looking for food or shelter in this part of the city.

    You looked at the old stores, trying to figure out what they used to be by their names that had faded with time. None of them reminded you of anything except for one: a bookstore.

    As you walked closer to its windows, you peeked inside, trying to figure out whether or not this was still in business or not. You were marvelled at the sight. So many books were placed next to each other on shelves, all of them different. You smiled. Part of you felt like you had found a hidden treasure.

    You walked towards the door and opened it, a small bell announcing your presence.

    “Welcome,” you heard someone greet you from the opposite side of the store.

    Your eyes scanned every single one of the books, taking some out of the shelves to read the titles and look at the cover. In all your years of living, you had never held a book like these in your hands. It felt impossible, strange that they were still in existence.

    “So… you also like real books…” his voice caught you off guard and the book slipped from your hand, falling on the floor.

    “I’m so sorry!” you lowered yourself and tried to grab the book but found his hand instead. Your eyes glanced at him and widened in surprise. “I…”

    He gave you a polite smile and got up and you followed him, moving your hair away from your face. He extended the book your way and you accepted it, your fingers brushing softly against his.

    “Thank you,” you whispered. “I’ll be more careful next time.”

    He nodded and walked away from you, going to a small counter on the opposite side of the bookstore. You followed him with your eyes, his steps unbothered as he navigated the towers of books that were on the floor. There were so many around here, part of you wanted to read them all.

    Suddenly, you saw something shining on the counter and he quickly grabbed it and hid it in his pocket. He cleared his throat and you looked at him, his worried eyes looking at you.

    There it was again, the crystal shining in your presence. You quickly turned around and continued to look at the books, smiling as your fingers traced the book’s spine, a shiver running through you.

    “Have you read them all?” you asked and turned around to look at him. “I’ve… never seen so many books like these.”

    “They don’t exist anymore,” he stated, disappointed. “These are the last copies, I’m afraid.”

    He slowly walked closer to you and smiled. He took a book from one of the shelves and gave it to you.

    “I think you’ll like this one,” he scratched the back of his head. “The main character reminded me of you.”

    You blushed and accepted it.

    “Why?” you curiously asked him. He shrugged.

    “Read it and you’ll find out.”

    “Fair enough.”

    “What’s your name?” you asked as he turned around, walking back to the counter.

    “Seungmin,” he answered. “Yours?”

    “Y/N,” you looked around at all the books and had to comment, “I didn’t know a place like this existed, you know? When I saw you reading one on the bus I… I couldn’t believe it.”

    “You never saw books?” he asked, surprised. You shook your head.

    “I was never able to afford them. They became so rare and hard to find… but here there are so many…”

    “You can… come back… whenever you want,” he cleared his throat and smiled. “Not a lot of people care about books these days and it would be a shame to… not read them. You’re always welcome here, Y/N.”

    “Thank you, Seungmin,” you looked at him, a shy smile on his face. “I’ll be sure to come back often.”

    Just like you had said, you went to the bookstore almost daily. Seungmin was always eager to receive you and the two of you would chat over the books you were reading and your opinions on them. You enjoyed the time you spent together, and you enjoyed getting to know him better as well.

    In every book he recommended to you, you always found something that you could relate to him as well. When you’d tell him this, he’d get extremely shy and would blush, especially when you’d say that the character was your favourite.

    More often than not, you’d stay with him until the closing of the store. You noticed how no one entered it and wondered how many times Seungmin had spent his time alone in here, waiting for someone to walk through those doors. That broke your heart slightly. You loved how excited he got whenever he talked about books, how he expressed himself when he was passionate about something. It was endearing.

    And right now, you didn’t go to the bookstore because of books. You went there because of him.

    When you first realised this, you were taken aback, shocked even. You tried your best to ignore this feeling, to push it down so it never reached the surface, so you never had to confront it. But the more time passed, the more you couldn’t ignore it. It was there and it screamed to be acknowledged, explored, known.

    But you didn’t.

    “You’ve been oddly quiet today,” he spoke as you walked to the bus stop, his eyes looking at you with curiosity. “Is everything alright?”

    “Yes,” you lied, looking at him. “I am just… thinking…”

    “Would you mind sharing?” he chuckled at your confused look. “Your thoughts… that is.”

    “Ah,” you smiled to yourself. “It’s nothing, really.”

    He stopped and turned sideways so he could face you. You did the same and got distracted by the light coming from the pocket of his pants.

    He gulped and grabbed the crystal inside of his pocket but the light didn’t go away. You walked closer to him, watching as the crystal’s shine grew stronger.

    “Can I… see it?” Seungmin looked at you surprised, unable to contain the shock on his face.

    He pondered, lips slightly parted as he studied your expression, your eyes unable to look away from his. After a few seconds, he nodded and you extended your hand his way, accepting the crystal in the palm of your hand.

    As soon as it touched your skin, the light became the brightest it had ever been. You had to blink to get used to it, feeling the weight and warmth of it in your hand moving your fingers through its cracks, feeling the shape in your hands.

    “I am supposed to have the other half…” you said out loud, a sad tone in your voice. “But what if… I’m not?”

    “What if you are?” he asked, taking one step closer to you. You glanced at him, the light from the crystal illuminating his features, the beauty of his eyes. His hand met yours and he softly caressed it, the crystal between both of your palms, the light escaping between your fingers. “I just wanted someone to spend my life with, that’s all.”

    Thoughts escaped your mind as you could no longer think. You slowly raised your eyes to look at him, the pain and sadness in his eyes as he looked at your hands together. Your heart broke for him.

    You wanted to be his soulmate. That was the truth you tried so hard to deny to yourself, so hard to hide from him. But you couldn’t anymore. You also wanted someone to spend your life with. However, being this vulnerable, admitting something like this out loud wasn’t easy. Especially when you spent your entire life convincing yourself of the opposite.

    “I want that too,” you admitted. “I want it with… you.”

    His eyes slowly looked up to find you staring at him, your cheeks flushed as your heart jumped out of your chest. The pain in his eyes slowly morphed into a hopeful stare, a smile shyly greeting his lips.

    “I thought you didn’t believe in soulmates,” he stated, still looking at you with the same intensity and care he always had.

    “I don’t,” you confirmed and smiled at him. “I don’t need a crystal to tell me who I should love. I can choose for myself.”

    And you could. Right now, you were choosing to love him. You were choosing to be by his side today, tomorrow and forever. You didn’t need a soulmate crystal to tell you Seungmin was the one.

    He wasn’t just your other half, someone who completed you. He challenged you, he inspired you. He was the one because no one made you feel like he did.

    With one simple look, he set your heart on fire.

    With one simple touch, he electrified you.

    “I choose to love you, Seungmin.”

    You let go of his hand and watched as the light of the crystal exploded between you, the certainty it had given Seungmin that you were his one. He dropped the crystal on the floor and cupped your face softly, pulling you closer to him, the distance between you two was unbearable to keep.

    Your hands found his shoulder as he kissed you softly, a shy kiss that didn’t last as long as you’d like it to. When you broke apart, he glanced at your lips before looking you in the eyes, the joy and excitement he carried being enough to make you smile.

    “It still shines,” he noticed. Even after the crystal had fallen on the ground, its light hadn’t faded. He kissed you again before placing his forehead on yours, bumping his nose on yours, causing you to giggle softly. “A crystal may have led me to you, Y/N. But it was you who made me fall in love.”

    You nodded and closed your eyes for a brief moment, understanding what had led you to each other, feeling as his arms wrapped around your shoulders to pull you closer, a familiarity in his embrace. He was the one for you.

    Maybe, you didn’t believe in soulmates. And maybe, you didn’t believe crystals could tell you who they were, they couldn’t tell you who to love. But right now, that didn’t matter. Soulmates or not, you liked Seungmin. And you wanted to be by his side, today, tomorrow and forever.

    ©mxxndreams 2021 All rights reserved. Copying, reposting, translating and/or modifications of my work is strictly prohibited. Moodboard images from Pinterest. I do not own the rights to any of them, credit goes to rightful owners. If any of the images featured is yours and you’d want for it to be credited/removed, message me.

    #stray kids #stray kids scenarios #stray kids fluff #stray kids angst #stray kids imagines #stray kids oneshot #stray kids x reader #kim seungmin#seungmin scenarios#seungmin fluff#seungmin angst#seungmin imagines #seungmin x reader #skz#skz fluff#skz angst#skz seungmin #stray kids seungmin #skzwritersclub#ficscafe
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  • neo-shitty
    20.07.2021 - 3 days ago

    bro i should really tone down with the angst, my fluff fics are fine :D

    #still corny as fuck #but yk #IT WOULDNT HURT TO GIVE CHARACTER HAPPY ENDINGS SOMETIMES #OK #i gotta get this thru my head #also me: drops one angst fic after the other #theyre actually very cute :( #i have two skz fluff fics that im dropping in sept that are just :c #<3 #.txt
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