Event runs from August 4th to August 31st.
Four weeks of kiss-themed prompts, with three different prompts per week to pick from. Use as many or as few as you want, and tag us with your finished product!
All fandoms, ratings, and mediums are welcome!
Four weeks of kiss-themed prompts, with three different prompts per week to pick from. Use as many or as few as you want, combine with other events like fandom bingo or @augustwritingchallenge's AUgust, and tag us with your finished product!
All fandoms, ratings, and mediums are welcome! Feel free to snag the graphic and share on other platforms as well!
Event hosted by @aug-kissed | Post divider by @/cafekitsune
Hilary stared at her reflection in the mirror, surprised that it did not seem to show the exhaustion she felt in her bones. The night wasn't over yet, there was much to be done before she could successfully claim that she had managed to organize the most impromptu wedding reception of all time, but her efforts were starting to catch up with the rest of her body. Making sure that her bangs were still affixed to the side and her make-up was still intact, Hilary patted both her cheeks lightly, motivating herself for the aftermath of the party that awaited her outside this restroom.
She'd always assumed that Kai and Charlie would get married secretly, but she hadn't predicted that the two would announce it randomly on a Wednesday morning in the group chat as if it was the most normal way to go about things. That happened a month ago, and the happy couple was perfectly okay throwing their entire friend circle and their own families into chaos, while Kai flew off to attend a series of meetings in Europe and Charlie took on an important case with a long trial in sight. They'd probably planned it as such, so everyone they knew could not coax them into celebrating the occasion.
But Hilary was nothing if not undeterred, so she took it upon herself to ambush the couple just as they'd done to them. Tyson was recruited to help with the task of course, it was easy to get him to swear to secrecy once she offered to cover some of his house chores for a while if the party was successfully managed.
At his suggestion, they even tested their friend group by floating various rumours to figure out who else would be capable of not letting Kai or Charlie find out what was happening behind the scenes. They'd meet up with their friends and let things slip like how Hilary was pregnant again or Tyson was cheating on her, and within a week they'd managed to loop in a few more people who knew how to hold their hold tongues well.
After that things were smooth sailing, and as always, there was never a dull moment when she worked with Tyson. He had his way of getting things done which was completely opposite from hers, but in the middle of all of the chaos he never missed the chance to make her laugh. She figured that Kai and Charlie had gotten a sniff of something brewing, considering how often Tyson parroted off Kai's credit card details for advance payments, but the couple decided not to interfere and pretty much accepted their fates when they were tricked into dress fittings a few days before the reception.
It all paid off in the end because tonight was the first time Hilary saw Charlie cry out of happiness. She understood that the two of them had probably wanted to avoid the hassle of planning an event like this, but what Kai and Charlie didn't realise was that the people who cared for them didn't need a fancy ceremony, just the chance to be able to share a part of their happiness.
It was a small affair, with only the closest of the friends and family invited, but that still filled up the restaurant they'd booked out for the day to the brim. It was the same restaurant Kai and Charlie had their first date at, and the one where Kai proposed, which they'd managed to secure thanks to Kai's habit of pointing it out to Tyson if they ever passed by that area, urging him to take Hilary to such refined restaurants instead of the dingy ramen shops or izakayas they usually frequented.
There were a lot of toasts given throughout the evening, which is what had Charlie feeling so emotional and the tipping point was when Hilary invited the couple to share their first dance. After Kai and Charlie had inaugurated the dance floor, all the other guests followed in their footsteps.
Everyone except Hilary.
There was just so much to take care of still, she needed to make sure that the band would stick to the selected songs, and she needed to check if the meal course was coming out as per the schedule. She had to collect the gifts from the latecomers and place them in the correct location, she had to hand over the party favours to those left early and help coordinate with the valet. The alcohol being served needed to be monitored, and the wedding cake needed to be protected from any drunk dancing mishaps. Once in a while, she needed to call and check in with her mother who was babysitting Toshi. Every moment of her night was accounted for on her trusty clipboard, even the time she took to breathe.
It was only after the last of the guests had said their goodbyes, after she had convinced Kai and Charlie that their presence was not required for taking care of the cleanup, though she did gratefully accept their cards, after all the final payments had been settled with the restaurant and the gifts to be delivered to the couple's home had been loaded in the truck, did Hilary manage the chance to sneak into the restroom for a respite.
However, even that could not last long since the restaurant manager had told her that while the staff would perform the final sweep, she still needed to make sure none of the guest's stuff was left behind. With a final look in the mirror, she stepped out to return to the front of the restaurant, getting ready to conduct a thorough search under every table but was surprised to find the whole place empty and dark.
The decorations they'd hung were taken down and kept neatly in a box, the chairs had been arranged on top of the tables, the floor looked like it had been freshly mopped and the entrance of the restaurant had a padlock hanging along its door handles. Just how long had she dazed out in the restroom, Hilary thought, panicking slightly as her eyes started to adjust to the lack of lighting.
"I tipped the restaurant staff so they helped with cleaning up," Tyson's voice rang out from some corner of the room. Hilary darted her head around but she couldn't see him anywhere. A minute later his head poked up from under one of the tables, after he pulled himself up he dangled the item in his hand for her to see, "Max's phone. Bet he doesn't even know he left it behind."
"Tyson-"
"You are the best husband of all time!" He grinned at her as he walked up to her, slipping the phone in one of his coat pockets, before he took off the coat altogether. Loosening his tie with a sigh of relief, he came to a stop right in front of her, leaving little space between them, "Are you feeling okay? I feel like you went overboard tonight, even by Hilary standards."
"I'm-" Hilary started to speak, getting ready to reassure him that she was fine and that they should load up all the decorations and left-behind items in their car right now instead of collecting them in the morning tomorrow. But then she met Tyson's gaze, while the smile on his lips was playful, his eyes were laced with concern so she decided not to lie to him. "I'm exhausted, actually," Hilary whispered as she leaned forward to rest her head on his chest, feeling comforted by the drumming of his heartbeat.
"Thought as much," Tyson said, patting her head, "I want to head home and crash too but…"
She forced herself to look up at him when he trailed off, feeling the panic from earlier return to her at the hint of sadness she detected in his voice, "But what?" She asked quietly, praying that she hadn't forgotten to finish some major task which could land them in trouble.
He tilted his head down, landing his forehead on top of hers as he gave her a solemn smile, one that was so unlike him, "But you didn't dance with me even once tonight."
Hilary blinked as she tried to retrace her steps, surely she had not turned down Tyson's invitation to dance while in a rush? She realised slowly, that he was right, she'd told him on many occasions that she would finish the next task and join him on the dance floor but something or the other kept her busy.
Even if she had ended up missing out on spending time with him tonight, she was glad that he never backed down from reminding her of these little things that made them feel like they were kids falling in love for the first time all over again. Hilary managed to lift one hand and rest it on his cheek, now craving the feeling of being in Tyson’s arms as her favourite song played loudly around them. After a few minutes, Tyson took her hand and brought it to his lips, washing the tiredness from her bones away with just a light kiss.
She met his eyes, hoping to thank him but he instantly gestured towards the dance floor with a slight tilt of his head, making Hilary frown in confusion, "There's no music," she pointed out flatly, but her logic was lost on Tyson as his mind was already made.
He took a step back and bent down on his knees, running a hand across her calf, he stopped right above her ankle, holding onto her firmly before he used his other hand to untuck the strap of her heels and pull the shoe off, repeating the same process for her other foot. Hilary’s hands had automatically shifted to lean on his shoulders for support so when Tyson stood, up he grabbed them and brought them back to her side as he passed her a wink.
“To dance with you, my love, I don't even need a roof on my head or the ground below my feet."
Hilary blushed at his declaration, she wanted to tell him that his statement didn’t make any sense but it was difficult for her to find the right words when he lifted one of her hands and kissed it again, and then again, leaving a trail of kisses across the length of her arm and then shoulder, nibbling at her neck to make her shudder before he left a gentle peck on her cheek, tugging at her to follow him to the centre of the room, to which she obliged.
It was odd how they were so in sync even without a tune or a beat, Tyson took the lead and Hilary matched her steps to him. While the silence seemed to fall upon their ears the loudest, slowly other sounds started to seep in, the taps that Tyson’s shoes made against the wooden floor, the occasional car that honked and sped past on the road outside, shutters of shops being lifted or dragged down, the occasional bird chirping, Tyson’s heartbeat drumming rhythmically, her own breath escaping her lips sharply, it all merged together in Hilary's mind to become a melody that was meant to be experienced, to be lived in the present. It was the kind of song that she knew she’d never get to hear again so she closed her eyes and allowed herself to get lost in the moment, feeling only Tyson’s warmth and the subtle music.
She didn’t know how much time had passed since the two started dancing but when she finally lifted her head from Tyson’s shoulders and opened her eyes to look up at him, he was watching her with a proud smile on his face. Her hands slid up from his shoulders to loop around his neck as his hold on her waist tightened and he pulled her closer towards him, their dancing now reduced to a slow and steady swaying.
“You did a great job today, Hils,” Tyson said, leaning down to rub his nose against hers, “Kai and Charlie are lucky to have you as a friend.”
“And you,” she whispered in response.
“Well to be fair, I wouldn’t have done half the things I did had it not been you who was giving the orders,” he said, the smile now transformed into a cheeky grin.
“Don’t try and pretend you don’t care about Kai’s feelings in front of me, Tyson.” Hilary bumped her forehead to his lightly, teasing him with a smirk of her own.
“I just hope they’re not expecting a real wedding gift from us after all this,” Tyson mumbled with a grumpy pout on his lips, changing the topic quickly before Hilary could force him to admit that he was truly happy for Kai today out loud.
“I did hire an artist to make a live painting of their first dance,” she said, deciding to let him off the hook just this once on account of how cute he looked when he was embarrassed, “So I’m sure they’ll not want for anything more.”
“You really do think of everything.” Tyson raised his eyebrows in surprise.
“Just one of my many charms.” Hilary smiled, turning up her nose smugly to make them both burst out laughing.
“Don’t I know it.”
Tyson managed to capture her lips in a kiss in between laughs, and it was only when they lost themselves to the kiss did they finally stop dancing. Tyson went on to wrap one arm around her waist loosely as he put a little bit of distance between their bodies so he could use his other hand to caress her belly, letting his palm linger on her abdomen when they broke apart from the kiss.
“But you keeping so busy tonight had its own benefits,” he said, his dark eyes twinkling with newfound excitement.
“Oh god, Charlie is definitely suspicious!” Hilary shook her head, sighing with relief over being able to talk about this freely, “The number of times she offered me drinks tonight- I can’t even. I’m just so glad you were around to take care of them.”
“Max did see me with two glasses in my hand more than once,” Tyson chuckled, “but he was too drunk to make note of it. I think we’re safe for another month or so,” he said, patting her belly lightly while his lips spread wide in a grin without effort, “We should let the happy couple enjoy their spotlight for a little while longer.”
“You’re surprisingly sober for someone who’s been drinking enough for two people,” Hilary tilted her head as she pursed her lips together, resisting the urge to lean in and kiss him again.
“Yeah, cleaning up and settling the bills after a party will do that to a guy.” Tyson deadpanned as she giggled at his response.
“I called your Mom by the way,” Tyson said, releasing her from his grip he walked towards where they’d left her heels, picking them up, he turned around to face her and spread his arms in front of him. With a beaming look on his face, he added, “She said it’s okay if we pick up Toshi in the morning. Wanna go for a drive?”
Hilary didn’t need any instruction to figure out what she needed to do. She made her way towards Tyson, almost skipping ahead like an excited schoolgirl before she happily jumped into his arms, throwing her own around his neck for support as he balanced her into a comfortable position in his hold. Looking up at him, she couldn’t stop herself from feeling a million different things in her chest as her heart picked up pace without a warning, with shining eyes that warned of happy tears falling down any minute, she asked him almost breathlessly, “Where to?”
“Do we need a destination?” Tyson mused as he began to walk towards the back exit of the restaurant, not sparing a single glance in the direction of all the things that still needed to be taken care of, leaving them behind to become a problem for another day.
written for @steddieangstyaugust (prompt: Halloween ), @augustwritingchallenge (Prompt: flower shop ) and @aug-kissed (prompt: Trail of Kisses)
Rating: Teen and up
Relationship: Steve/Eddie
TW: none
Words: 1463
(let's pretend this is a late entry and not that I messed up like 5 prompts, ok? XD)
Outside the flower shop, there are two big bowls. One is full of candies, and one is full of orange and black roses. On both the bowls there’s a little sign that invites everyone to pick up one of those.
It’s a silly tradition Steve started when he opened the shop four years ago.
He ordered way too many flowers for the shop inauguration and ended up with many he wouldn’t have been able to sell before they got ruined, so he left outside a bowl with the flowers, finding the next day a twenty-dollar bill hidden under the bowl and a phone number.
The phone number was Eddie’s, the tattoo artist who had a shop just in front of his flower shop, who told him he took the flowers to decorate the stage where they were playing the night before.
That’s how Eddie became Steve’s best friend first, and lover later on.
“You ready, sweetheart?” Eddie asks, staring at the two bowls, he’s wearing a white shirt with a pair of black slacks and a long cape, in his pocket there are the faux vampire fangs he keeps complaining about.
“Yeah. Are you sure the boys won’t mind if I join you?”
“You joining our Halloween campaign is the best present ever. And if the boys don’t like it they can find themselves a new DM!” Eddie declares with a wink, taking Steve’s hand and running toward the car under the heavy rain with no umbrella.
When they finally sit in the car, Steve chuckles happily. He wasn’t surprised when he found out that Eddie was a Halloween baby, his love for monsters and terrible creatures was literally written on his skin: a wyvern on his arm, a huge spider on his chest, and some other creatures Steve didn’t really recognize.
The drive to the Wheelers’ house is way too fast for Steve’s liking. He knows that the kids don’t like him. They are jealous that he stole their Dungeon Master and they don’t really like that Steve is a preppy boy who has nothing in common with Eddie. However, somehow, they match perfectly. They finish each other's sentences and they feel like they have known each other for centuries.
Things start to go wrong as soon as they enter the house. Steve is celiac and even if the kids knew it they didn’t buy anything Steve could eat. It wouldn’t be a big deal if Steve hadn’t already missed lunch to finish his costume, but he tries to ignore it, asking Dustin if there’s any fruit or something he could eat.
“Fruit? What for? We have candies! And chocolate! And pizza!”
Yeah… but none of those are certified gluten-free. Steve doesn’t point that out, nodding and sitting next to Eddie, a slice of pizza untouched at his side while his stomach gurgles are covered by the kids yelling.
Then he keeps making mistakes during the game, asking for things he’s not allowed to ask and getting low numbers every time he throws the dice. Almost an hour later Steve has somehow managed to decimate the company and the kids are glowering at him with their mouths full of candies and too much sugar in their blood.
If stares could kill, Steve would be dead by now.
Another miss is what makes everything crumble. Mike starts to yell that Steve’s useless and boring and that they are tired of having to endure his presence just because he’s Eddie’s stupid boyfriend. Lucas tries to be more diplomatic saying that Steve is nice but he can’t play D&D to save his life and Dustin adds that he’s so bad at math that every time he has to do something he takes more to do the sums than everything else.
“I… I’m sorry.” Steve says, leaving the table and running toward the car. He grabs the keys with trembling hands, but they fall under the car and he has to knee in the mud to retrieve them.
“Steve!” Eddie calls him from the door.
“Ask Gareth to drive you home. I have to go.”
“Please, don’t. The kids were horrible but we talked and…”
“No, it’s ok. I don’t have to be part of everything you do. I’m not good at this thing. They are right. Just… let me go. Please.”
Eddie stares at him sadly from the door, on foot on the step one still on the porch, “Steve, please, don’t go. Let’s talk.”
“I need space, Eddie. Sorry.”
Eddie nods quietly, and when Steve turns the car in reverse he can still see him in his vampire costume, staring at his car.
***
Steve’s bed is cold and empty, Eddie’s staying at his place like he asked him to, but he misses terribly. He’s almost sure they won’t break up because of a stupid game. Well. Half sure. After all the problem wasn’t the game but the people playing it, and those are the most important people in Eddie’s life and Steve would never want to come between them and his chosen family.
The drive toward the flower shop calms him a little bit. He doesn’t have to go to the shop, they’re close, but he can get a head started and fix a few things so tomorrow the shop will be ready to open and he will be able to sleep a little more, if he will manage to.
The two bowls are empty, as he expected, with no little notes or money hidden anywhere but he’s not disappointed, he likes to think that his flowers are now giving joy to someone else and filling the air with their sweet scent.
He has never done an inventory of all the ribbons and papers he has at the shop, so he takes the occasion to throw away the old ones and write down a list of what he should buy soon, and before he knows it it’s already lunchtime, so he gets out from the back of the shop, finding something surprising: a long trail of kisses, the Milk Chocolate with Almond ones, his favorites.
Feeling a little bit like Hansel and Gretel he follows the tray of chocolate candies that guides him to the park nearby. Sitting at a table settled with a pair of paper plates, a bottle of soda, and a Sheppard pie from Steve’s favorite gluten-free restaurant there''s Eddie.
“What’s this for?” Steve asks, holding way too many candies in his pockets.
“It’s an apology. I was a moron. I dragged you to Wheeler house and I begged you to play with us but I didn’t make you feel welcome and I didn’t even check that the kid bought something gluten-free for you. I know it’s stupid but I took for granted that they would have and I forgot that they are egoist gremlins who already had too much sugar.”
Steve smiles, sitting in front of Eddie, “It’s ok. I wasn’t good at that game.”
“I could have helped you more.”
“You were the Dragon Monster.”
“Dungeon Master.”
“I know, I’m just messing with you.”
Eddie scoops closer to Steve, “I was a moron, Steve, and I have no words to tell you how sorry I am. But I promise you that next time-”
“Eddie. Eds. Listen to me. I love you, ok? I really do. But That’s your time, not ours. It’s the time you like to spend with the kids and it’s ok. We don’t have to spend every moment together, you know that right?”
“But we play almost every holiday. I don’t want to stay away from you, I want you by my side.” Eddie whines, resting his head on Steve’s shoulder.
“Well, this means we’ll have to come up with a timetable so you could spend some holidays with the kids and some with me.”
“What if I want to spend them all with you?”
“The kids will kill me in my sleep.” Steve chuckles, “Now, can we eat? I’m starving and that pie smells so good!”
“I don’t fucking deserve you, Steve Harrington.” Eddie murmurs, before kissing him sweetly on the lips.
“Oh, and you’re going to watch the game with me and Tommy on Thanksgiving.”
“I take back what I said. You’re cruel! Making me watch the game is torture!”
“We can invite Wayne too,” Steve adds, taking a forkful of pie and winking at Eddie.
Maybe Steve won’t ever bond with the kids, but he did bond with Wayne.
“I guess I can endure it if you promise me beer, like a lot of beer.”
“Deal! Now eat before it turns cold!”
They eat the pie in the desert park, and when they finish they drive back to Steve's house to rest because none of them slept a wink without the other in his bed.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: The Lord of the Rings (Movies)
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Aragorn/Arwen Undómiel/Boromir
Characters: Aragorn (Tolkien), Boromir (Tolkien), Arwen Undómiel
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Boromir Lives (Tolkien), Post-War of the Ring, Hand Kisses, Aragorn has a rough night, Boromir and Arwen both show their concern in their own ways, that’s it that’s the fic, Comfort
Series: Part 8 of Aug-Kissed 2024
Summary: While not as common as it had once been, there were still nights when Aragorn’s sleep was troubled.
Final of my entries for @aug-kissed week 2 prompt: Hand kiss
A/N: Final fic to catch up on @aug-kissed , GIF made for me by @whoreofthecottage
It takes a lot, Dolly thinks, for Beverly to let her see how she’s doing. It takes a lot, but it’s the kind of thing that makes her so easy to love. She might like to be tough, she could be, but seeing the softer side just became even more special with the way Beverly was with others. She was allowed to see the real Beverly. It’s that softness that makes her content to keep to the gentle peck of lips to lips, not pushing for anything else. She’s happy enough with Beverly as her girl. She doesn’t need anything else.
Georgina isn’t sure when she realised that Shasta’s change in both name and, somewhat, in personality, came from feeling more than a little insecure. It had been easy to find ways to corner Shasta, all that it took was an invite.
She waits until she’s sure Shasta is just high enough to relax and beginning to slowly trail kisses from just below her ear over her jaw before working her way up to kiss Shasta fully, smiling just slightly when Shasta shifts to open up to her, working her way lower slowly, over Shasta’s chest and further. It’s easy, she thinks, to feel the difference. What she doesn’t expect is how easy it is to settle Shasta’s mind with something as simple as trailing kisses.
At first Jessica isn’t quite sure what to feel, what to think. She’s been alone with her thoughts for long enough that she’s not sure she even knows how to let herself feel things. So, when she finds herself face to face with Liet Kynes, she can’t help wondering how this could possibly work out.
Liet, it seems, understands her more than she expected. She’s calm, gently calm, patient even as both Paul and Chani start to find their own romance. Theirs might be slower, it might have started from pain and distress, but when Liet kisses her hand, she knows she has to try.
Chloe Beale had always known how tense Aubrey Posen got around the thought of kissing, so she offers an alternative, butterfly kisses. At first Aubrey still shivers but slowly, slowly she grows used to them, the softness of Chloe’s touch eases her and the two find peace with each other, even when the world is chaotic. People would never know, of course, not with how secretive Aubrey was, but Chloe had never needed to be known as someone’s lover to find peace in loving them anyway. All she needed was to know Aubrey was happy. She knew that, well enough. Even now, even when she was questioning everything else.
Kommissar hates her. She tells herself that over and over, but when Beca winks at her and blows her a kiss before taking the stage when the Bellas win, she has to admit she can’t help wondering why she feels such an intense need to follow the girl back to her car.
Beca’s boyfriend stares as she comes closer, Beca smirking and pushing him aside to walk closer to move closer. There’s heat there, in Beca’s eyes, and Kommissar is about to speak when Beca cuts her off.
“So, Kommissar…. Are you going to kiss your Maus or not?”
Kommissar’s smirk is quick, deep and she shrugs, then moves to kiss Beca lightly but firmly.
“Ja. I can do that.”
A/N: Fic 1 for @aug-kissed , little late but I'm going to get these done.
Calamity watches the way Aubrey kisses the poster, her eyes lingering on the other woman even as Aubrey steps away. Calamity moves closer, looks at the lip print Aubrey has left behind, then leans to kiss the poster herself, letting their lipstick marks overlap before she steps away.
She can feel someone watching her, barely turning back until she’s almost out of sight, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips as she looks at Aubrey, taking in the girl’s surprise. It wasn’t exactly planned, but if she’s honest, she’s very much hoping this might just be the start of something new.
it begins
as it will end
with a gentle peck
a simple act of affection
to feel your smile on mine
but when our smiles meet
it can overwhelm reason
a trivial spark of want
combusting in a blaze of
all-consuming desire
emanating from neither
Inferno nor Paradiso
passion formed fully
of the flesh
for the flesh
a carnal sacrament
while we genuflect in
penitent Purgatorio
blessings and curses
hovering in liminality
until our suffering tempers
into that trivial spark of want
to feel your smile on mine
a simple act of affection
with a gentle peck
and it ends as
it began
Trail of Kisses | Aug-Kissed 2024 Repository
@aug-kissed @goodomensafterdark @ineffablyruined
I waited too long to write the "Gentle Peck" prompt and when ineffable prompt-a-thon was updated, it fit perfectly with what I had in mind! (Hope that's ok!)
Back to my Ineffable Prompt-A-Thon Repository.
This poem is also available on AO3.
126 wc, Avatar: The Last Airbender, Mai/Ty Lee, Femslash, Established Relationship, G-rating, Hurt/Comfort, POV Mai (Avatar), for @atlasapphicweek and @aug-kissed
Summary: Ty Lee is having a bad day, so Mai untangled her braid for her and they have a heart-to-heart moment.
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Merlin (TV)
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Gwen/Leon/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Characters: Leon (Merlin), Gwen (Merlin), Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Additional Tags: Worried Gwen (Merlin), Worried Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Kisses, Established Relationship, Competent Leon, Threesome - F/M/M, Banter, Fluff, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Post-Episode: s05e13 The Diamond of the Day (Merlin)
Series: Part 1 of As Should You, Part 6 of Aug-Kissed 2024
Summary: Leon understood Gwen’s nerves. It was the first time he was going on patrol without Arthur since the three of them made their relationship public.
For @aug-kissed Week 2 Prompts: Hand Kiss and Trail of Kisses
@augustwritingchallenge: princes and princesses @aug-kissed: first kiss
♥︎♥︎♥︎
full blown love
explicit ♡ oh sangwoo×yoon bum ♡ korean empire ♡ rough sex ♡ obsession ♡ unhealthy relationships ♡ happy ending ♡ porn with plot ♡ 3,299 words ♡ ao3
The crowned Emperor is looking for a wife. That’s what Emperors do, Yoon Bum reasons, and still he can’t help but feel crestfallen. It’s not like he, raised as a ward of his minor lord of an uncle, ever came close to having a chance. Still, a wife would make it more difficult to sneak into the palace’s gardens to steal even a glance of Sangwoo’s perfect face.
When Sangwoo starts granting audiences to noble women, Yoon Bum knows it’s not long until he chooses one. Still, weeks go by and news of an engagement are yet to break. Must be a matter of time. It’s the knowledge that his nighttime expeditions are bound to end soon that emboldens Bum now, not happy with remaining in the outside, instead managing to climb a tree and slink from there through a window into a great hall that blinds him momentarily with its opulence.
He was raised in a palace himself, but the faded, worn halls of his uncle’s residence have nohting on this. He holds his breath at the beauty of the statues flanking the elaborate columns, and the vivid paintings that cover the walls. He walks until he passes an oval mirror, and stops to look into his own awed expression, measuring himself unconsciously against everything that surrounds him, and finding himself lacking. He’s small, way too pale for a healthy man, and his straight bangs hang over his forehead in a way that seems to accentuate the bags under his eyes.
All in all, the figure he cuts against the rich brocade hanging behind him is paltry at best. He hardens his face before moving on. This is not about him, this is about Sangwoo. Sangwoo, how he’s loved him since he, before ascending to the throne, had stopped some lordlings from pushing him into the river in a hunting expedition. Thinking about the cool authority with which he’d saved him, Bum feels like he’s floating more than walking, and he finds his way to the Imperial Chamber before he notices.
He hesitates at the door. The idea of being this close to where Sangwoo sleeps makes the erection he’s had since he entered the palace harden to the point it’s hard to ignore it to walk. He stumbles through the threshold, feet guiding him to the bed. With a choked exclamation he falls to his knees next to it, burying his face into the covers. He crawls up, imagining how Sangwoo would take him here, and his blood freezes in his veins when his hand reaches out and instead of more blankets he meets skin. Cold and dry, human. He sits up in an instant, pulling his hand back to tug at the covers and discover among a cocoon of them a woman, delicate features covered with the unmistakable pallor of death.
He moves to get away with such force he’s falling out of bed and into a nightstand that topples with his weight, sending its contents to the floor. Things happen too fast then, he’s moving to crawl into a corner and there’s guards rushing in and he doesn’t stand a chance against them but he thrashes in their hold anyway until he’s hit over the head and loses consciousness.
He comes to with his hands secured to a post in front of him, undressed to his sokgot for reasons that become obvious when something hard and thin connects with his back, leaving a fiery line of pain that has him gasping for air even as it falls down on him again, and again. When Bum manages to focus his vision through the pain of the whipping, he finds he’s in a private chamber, kneeling at the post a short distance before Sangwoo.
‘Sangwoo-’ he gasps, forgetting protocol and propriety in the spark of desire that breaks through the pain. ‘S-Sangwoo, I didn’t mean… I just-’
His voice breaks with an agonised cry, but it gets Sangwoo’s contemptuous expression to budge minutely. He stands up, raises a hand to stop the onslaught and circles him, not unlike a vulture surveying for carrion. He stops in front of Bum, tilting his chin up with his shoe.
‘You what?’
Bum’s breath hitches in his chest. When he exhales, he can’t help the truth coming out with it. ‘I love you. I love you Sangwoo.’ He presses his cheek against the Emperor’s calf before he’s taking a disgusted step back, and the rejection makes Bum tug against the rope on his wrists. ‘I do love you! And you… those women… she was- I love you.’
Sangwoo looks at him the way he would examine a particularly peculiar insect that’s flown into his jjigae. He shrugs, and orders the guards to cut Bum loose and leave. They obey without a word, and he sags to the floor without the support of his bindings, staying there until Sangwoo picks him up like his uncle’s been underfeeding him even more than he thought. He’s suspended between fear and desire in his strong arms, and his brain scrambles to catch up as he’s thrown in the same bed that’d been his downfall earlier.
He lands hard on his back, and he’s turning to his side to alleviate the soreness blooming at the contact. Sangwoo stares, expressionless, before he’s leaning in to pull his sokgot away, and Bum is too shocked to move, to even think to stop him. He shakes, bare against the covers, under Sangwoo’s dead, scrutinising gaze.
‘I’m not marrying those women. They’re all the same.’ His speech is monotone, head tilted to the side. ‘I bring them here, they all say they love me, and then fight to get away when they see.’
Bum holds his breath. As horrified as he’d been at the corpse in this very bed, as horrified as he still might be, he can’t make a move to get away. He closes his knees tight, trying to will his prick to remain flaccid. ‘But I- I love you.’
Sangwoo pinches the bridge of his nose. ‘You are a man.’ He seems to think it over, eyes still raking over Bum’s body, before he makes up his mind. ‘Show me.’
‘W-what?’
‘I know you’re different.’ He pulls on Bum’s wrists to make him sit up. ‘Now show me you can be like them.’
Does that mean…? Bum doesn’t dare think about it, sitting on his heels in front of Sangwoo. He reaches a trembling hand for Sangwoo’s goreum, pulling his clothes loose with fearful longing. Sangwoo is still as a statue, and his acceptance gets Bum to lean in closer to his body as he strips him.
This is paradise, something he was never meant to have and has still achieved. Every inch of toned, tan muscle he uncovers, the heat of his strong body radiating into his, those beautiful dark eyes looking at Bum and nothing else. He slides his arms around Sangwoo’s neck to pull him close, needing a kiss that is not to come, as Sangwoo jerks back with an expression of barely veiled disgust.
‘I don’t want to kiss you. You’re weird.’ Bum shrinks at the words, knowing them to be true. Still, Sangwoo sits next to him in bed, ruffles his hair with a hand like one would a pet. ‘ Do something more useful.’
The pain of rejection mixes with Bum’s undeniable arousal and, of course, the implicit threat of being on the bed so many women have died in. He slides to the floor, moving to rest his cheek on Sangwoo’s thigh, eyes glued to his half hard dick. He can only imagine how big it’ll be once it’s fully erect, and with this in mind he reaches a hand to stroke it for a moment before he’s guiding it into his mouth.
It’s big, and Bum’s features are small like a woman’s, so he finds his lips straining before his throat has a chance. He bobs his head a couple of times, shifting on his knees as his own dick twitches when Sangwoo’s hits the back of his throat. He swallows around it, trying to take more of it inside and failing. He screws his eyes as tears begin to flow, and breathes through his nose to make himself swallow as he pushes on down, forcing his own throat to open and accept Sangwoo’s girth.
This seems to amuse him, and he traces his lips with the nail of his thumb, teasing at the corners as if to make them take even more. Bum is getting dizzy, and reflexively pulls up to cough and gasp for breath for a moment before he remembers what's exactly going on and wraps his lips back around it, teasing with his tongue to give his throat a short reprieve. This time, he manages to get him down all the way until his lips are flush with Sangwoo’s skin and it’s so erotic he rubs his thighs together, wondering how Sangwoo would react if he came for a moment, before directing his attention back to his task.
He gets into a rhythm where he can breathe enough to keep his vision from darkening entirely and he’s driving his mouth up to the head of Sangwoo’s dick just to sink all the way in with such force he knows he’ll have trouble speaking after this. Lucky Sangwoo doesn’t seem interested in what he’s got to say, satisfied with the wet noises coming from him now. His neck is getting tired from the motion but he’s enjoying this too much. The slide and the comforting weight and the high of a limited oxygen supply.
‘Don’t even have to fuck your skull, do I? You’re happy to do it yourself. Happy to fuck my prick right through your face.’
His tone is disparaging, but there’s undeniable pleasure in his face and Bum babbles tentative agreements as best he can without halting his motions, swirls his tongue around Sangwoo’s shaft when it becomes evident he can’t verbally agree.
‘Hm. I think I will anyway.’
He holds Bum’s hair in a fist behind his head without further warning, and chuckles coldly when Bum pulls on it, trying to keep deepthroating him. Denied this, he whines around his cock, sending shivers all the way to his spine. He takes a moment to examine Bum’s face, his lips stretched obscenely around him, before he’s fucking into it so hard he can feel his nose digging into his pelvis every time he pushes in with no resistance.
Bum moans and cries, only increasing his pleasure, and this annoys him enough to hold him flush with him, relishing the tears that now flow continously down his sharp features. He moves his hand down to his neck, full of him, feeling the tense muscles under his palm. He squeezes, and counts to five as Bum stays stock still like he’s ready to die where he kneels choking on cock, before releasing. Bum shakes almost violently, but other than that, doesn’t move a muscle, so he repeats this a couple of times.
Bum’s throat closes around him, mouth making small sucking movements almost reflexively, and his eyes are still burning on his, as they’d been when he declared his love. As he holds his neck this time, his free hand comes to pinch his nose closed. This gets a reaction, in the way of Bum twisting and screaming something that’s silenced by the cock down his throat. He waits until his movements become languid before he’s pulling him off with a slurping sound, shoving him back on the floor to watch him curl his legs towards himself, rising on his arms to take as much air as possible. He pants hoarsely and now, with his puffy lips and messy hair, and his cheeks shining with tears and spit trailing down his chin, he could even be pretty.
Bum wipes his mottling face with the backs of his hands, making him consider he might be pretty even without the mess. He arches a brow, disliking this realisation. ‘Is that all?’
That’s all the permission Bum needs, and he’s closing the distance in twitchy movements, coming to kneel next to him on the bed. Slowly, like giving him time to pull away, he opens his legs to straddle him. He’s holding onto his shoulders and looking still so adoring he fears he’ll try to kiss him again. He doesn’t, opting to reach behind him to guide Sangwoo’s dick into him.
Sangwoo wouldn’t go as far as worrying about him, but he’s impressed. He knows it can’t be easy, even with the way Bum slobbered over his length, but if anything he seems to like that. His small erection, that had flagged somewhat when he’d thrown him on the floor, is standing again in full by the time he manages to get the head in, rim pulsing hot around him, and circles his hips tetstingly. He’s biting on his lower lip, breathing shallowly and continuing to lower his hips. He stops when there’s just over two inches to go, shoulders shaking to hold a sob in, to take deeper, more calculated breaths. When he gives a small smile, Sangwoo doesn’t know if he wants to kill him or throw him out and forget everything about this.
‘Nghh- you’re so big, Sangwoo…’ His voice is so wrecked he’d have trouble hearing him if they weren’t this close, fading entirely by moments. ‘It feels… it… so big…’
He scoffs, speaks with mocking concern. ‘Too much?’
Bum exhales, shakes his head. ‘I don’t mind when it hurts.'
He makes a valiant attempt to push his hips lower, thighs shaking as Sangwoo’s fingers dig in hard enough to bruise and then some. He’s so thin, so breakable in his hands. The thought amuses him, and he’s pulling him down on one thrust. Bum’s broken scream rings through the room as he curls on himself, hiding his face on Sangwoo’s chest, sobbing in full force now. And he must have meant it, about not minding pain, for his erection presses stubbornly at Sangwoo’s abdomen even now.
He makes Bum look at him with a firm hand on his jaw so he can lick the new tears off his skin. ‘Ride me.’
This is perfect, this is overwhelmingly perfect, surrounded by the man he loves and allowed to take his fill. Bum nods as he moves to comply with more enthusiasm than Sangwoo would probably expect, sinewy thighs tensing to rise just to drop him back down on Sangwoo’s lap, He hides his face on the crook of his neck to cry out his pleasure in breathy, rough moans. Sangwoo feels even bigger this way, the drive to get him out is just surpassed by his need for more. Bum thought he understood what stomach butterflies meant before, but that’s nothing to this. It’s like spasms are breaking all over his body and he doesn’t know if he wants to climax or throw up or drop dead.
He goes willingly when Sangwoo grabs his neck to shove him back into bed, welcoming the pain from his lashing and the new depths Sangwoo reaches from this angle. He’s all over him, holding him down with his weight and driving into him so hard he thinks he could die from it if he weren’t so in love. Sangwoo leans in, driving his legs up so his knees slot around his own head, and holds them there as he moves to pull at the corners of Bum’s lips. Unsure what that’s for, Bum lets his jaw hang open, and Sangwoo gives him a pleased look before he spits into his mouth. Bum wraps his arms around his neck, knowing he can’t kiss him but needing him close for this. Sangwoo’s pace stutters and then he’s actually kissing him.
Bum was so wrong. Nothing before this moment has mattered. This is paradise, this is all he’s ever wanted, this is the reason he didn’t end it all no matter how bad things got since his mother died. Sangwoo’s mouth is rough on his, biting until he can shove his tongue in, filling him with the same brutality as his cock does, hard and demanding and definitive. When he pulls away, Bum tries to follow but is held back by a familiar hand on his neck.
‘I love you, Sangwoo.’ He says between thrusts, measuring his voice so he can hear him. ‘You’re so good, you’re-’
He breaks off when Sangwoo pulls out, flipping him onto his stomach effortlessly to pull his hips up and continue to fuck the breath out of him. Mindlessly, he reaches a hand to touch himself, but Sangwoo snatches it back, plants him in his arse where he leaves it, and Bum takes the cue to hold himself open. If he had the voice, he’d ask whether he can’t touch himself or can’t come at all, or he’d warn that he won’t be able to hold it back if Sangwoo keeps this pace; deeper than anything he's felt and so fast it almost feels like aggression; but he can’t take a full breath in this position and his throat is raw and he’s choking on his tears, and he’s coming hard when Sangwoo’s open hand lands on him in a sharp spank.
The high whine that escapes him at the force of it leaves his throat throbbing, and his vision blurs and all he can hear is his own bloodstream and he’s seeing spots and Sangwoo just keeps going. He's fucking him open and landing more blows that light his skin aflame. And he’s done ejaculating but it keeps pulsing through him in shivers and his muscles keep tensing and releasing on their own accord and Sangwoo is holding his hips so tightly and he's so deep inside him, moving with such violence as his hand comes to hold him down by the nape of his neck. He manages to keep his head until he feels Sangwoo spilling inside him then he’s fading.
♡
Bum is used to waking up in pain. He’s not used to the giddy feeling that invades him when he remembers why he’s in pain. He opens his eyes to see Sangwoo, already awake, staring at him with the same curious look he’d given him last night. He wants to say something, but his voice seems nonexistent today. He blushes, remembering the feeling of Sangwoo fucking it out of him. Sangwoo frowns, puts his pointer to his sore lips as if to demand silence.
‘You’re a man.’ Bum’s mood falls with that assertion, but he only nods. ‘You cannot be an empress, but I’ll make you my consort.’
Bum’s heart does happy flips at that, unable to believe his luck. He went from not having a chance to being lashed like a criminal, to this. Foregoing words of thanks, he nuzzles into Sangwoo’s neck instead of kissing him like he wants to, unclear on the rules in that respect. That thought makes him pull away, stare into Sangwoo’s eyes. He tries to speak a couple of times before he gets the hang of it enough to make a sound, raspy and low but understandable enough. ‘I… I don’t want you to sleep with anyone else.’
He fears he pressed too hard when Sangwoo fixes him on a cold stare, but he ends up shrugging with an eyeroll. ‘My father warned me against fanciful consorts. Whatever, I won’t take other consorts or an Empress, does that make you happy?’
Bum nods emphatically, cups Sangwoo’s face with his hands and stops only a breath away from pressing their lips together. Sangwoo gives him an unimpressed look before he’s closing the distance, kissing him like Bum is annoying and mystifying and everything in his orbit.
Abraham’s skin is soft and firm under my hands, silky smooth even as it betrays the strength underneath. Very much like the man himself. Held down in my bed by nothing but my own body; about 180 pounds lighter than his own, and pliable in his pleasure in a way that takes nothing from the implicit threat of his physicality. On our feet, he’s got a whole foot and inches on me, but as I push him down where I need him that’s irrelevant. Almost irrelevant.
I tried to be mad, tried to act concerned as we returned from our mission. How come a practically immortal amphibian is about to kick it more often than a puny mortal like your girl, and how he doesn’t need to go along with the plan if the plan is stupid. Truth is I don’t know how to worry; I’ve got no future vision, complex forms of fear are something I left behind the first time I broke out of the government’s grasp, an ocean and what feels like a lifetime away.
Desire is something that eats at my chest with exponentially increasing appetite every day, and I desired him even before he came to, pale from shock and covered in enemy blood. Still, I can deduce a likely chain of events, and I know who I'm dealing with. All of Manning’s determination and Corrigan’s relatable facade translate to one simple truth: they'll kill him if it serves them.
It's that knowledge that’s like petrol to the wildfire of my want now, my small scarred hands pushing under his swimshorts, my shaking lying mouth trying to steal the secrets from his. It’s the voice that says I won't let them, won’t let him let them, that makes me break away from his cool, ever soft lips.
I say nothing, still got no words for my egoism and the way he's often exempt from it. He says nothing, breathing hard and blinking the gems he's got for eyes at me. I dig my nails, brittle and human, into his thighs and he bucks them into my touch. I want to push harder, to truly hurt someone invulnerable, but I know it's not what I really want so when he moves to kiss me again I give in. It's selfish, in a way, his willingness to deprive me of this in the name of the greater good. I kiss him like I worried, like I’d be lost without him. He lets me, whining on the back of his throat and into my mouth and his sharp teeth gnash against mine before I’m biting hard into his tongue because I want to hear more of it.
I move to his lower lip as he indulges me with the low, sweet sounds of his need. And how can he need to save the day more than he needs this? I kiss a trail down his sinewy, darling neck stopping to scrape my teeth against his gills as my fingers press small, fleeting bruises under his clothes. I’m panting on his chest grinding down against his thigh as his shorts ride up enough to let me rub a firm line down his cloaca, and he shivers with it, voice turning breathy and rising and he’s so wet when I enter him with my thumb, moving down to mouth at him through the fabric.
Abraham swears at the contact I keep up for a few moments more before he’s moving, always faster than I expect, to stop me when I make to pull apart long enough to get him naked. His grasp is solid; securing my left wrist in its place, my fingers in him, and in my hair so his eyes can burn their want into mine, as if expecting to find anything but its mirror. He blinks, surprised as usual at his own instinct, but I like it and I like it so much I lick a stripe as close as I can get to his opening where I’m held, and he’s letting go of me so I can, finally, see him.
Black looks good on him, makes the blue patterns even more vivid as I pull down on his shorts to stare at his cloaca, flushed and swelling with blood and aching for me. His hands fly to his mouth to stifle a moan when I rub my knuckles in circles along the edge, putting more pressure into it than I might had I not seen him get bodyslammed through a wall not two hours ago. I lean in, stopping with my mouth millimetres from where he needs it until he balls his fists into the duvet instead. And how I want them to hear this.
Every agent hanging around, everyone in command, everyone in this godforsaken country that thinks his life is expendable against the lives of millions. Devon with his suspicions and Manning’s attempts to pretend this isn’t happening and whoever else might think they’ve got a right to either ignore or comment on it. I stare straight into his dark eyes as I dive in with both pointer and middle fingers, pull his channel apart as it flutters and he makes to hide his face on his shoulder. I suck a bruise on his hipbone, then another lower, and another until there’s a path of violet-blue spots leading to where he’s pushing into my hands; embarrassment forgotten for the moment, his head hanging back and thighs shaking around me.
I press my mouth to him, pulling my hands away to feel the parted flesh beat against my lips, and he moans at it, gasping and hoarse. I lick into him, warmer than anyone would guess and overflowing with slick. He sobs outright with it, face flushed and gills fanning out, hips thrusting into my face like he thinks I can grow a tentacle of a tongue like him just because he wills it. I twist my own human tongue into him, pushing against his walls, and tighten my hold on his arse in a futile gesture; can’t hold him still more than I could a maelstrom, and my body ripples with every roll of his muscles, legs locked around me and chest arching up as he tears into yet another of my duvets with his claws.
I suck at his entrance spurred on by the sound of fabric ripping and he’s tight and shaking and heavenly around my tongue as he comes with a high keen that turns to low chittering when I don’t move away. His thighs fall from my shoulders, twitching as I push three fingers into him. He lets out a whining noise, allows me to push him on his side, one leg between mine and the other over my shoulder so I can see him take four fingers up to my palm. I groan at the image, cloaca puffy and spread; spasming around me, hips swaying mindlessly; getting his thigh to press against my labia just right, and my cries join his until he pushes up in an angle that’s probably painful for humans to kiss me, messy and heated and fucked out.
He cups my face with the hand he’s not using to hold himself up to tilt my face so he can explore my mouth as I rock down into him, before he’s pushing my tshirt up and his claws dig into my breasts just soft enough not to draw blood. But it’s blood I want, in a way, and so I tease my thumb along his rim, and he’s shaking so hard now I shake with it, and I apply the smallest amount of pressure which makes him twitch hard enough for him to break skin and he’s coming again and I am with him, falling forward into him and he has the decency to let himself be tackled back into bed.
He holds me close to him for a moment before realising I want up and letting me go. His face is lax and he’s looking at me with the serenity that comes from pleasure, now tinged with uncertainty. I straddle his hips, pressing small circles along his mons.
‘You don’t want to fuck me?’
He chokes out a cry when I get the right spot, and I rise on my knees to move back and see his tenta-cock pushing his sensitive cloaca open once again, making him whine at the ridges and I can’t help but think of the wanking sessions I’d have if I was like him. I can’t wait, and it’s only his hands on my trousers that remind me I need them off if I want him in me. I fumble my belt open, which is more than enough for him to push my waistband down to my knees. Abraham makes a clicking sound upon noticing I’ve, yet again, forgone underwear.
I lay him down, pulling off my top to let my breasts rest on his toned chest where his hands slide under my bra to fondle them, and his tentacle finds my pussy with no effort, sinking in as hungry for me as his cloaca is. He’s big and textured in me, twisting in a way that might be too much if I wasn’t permanently turned on for him. I clench around him, pushing my hips back into it, fingers digging bruises into his biceps. When I lean down to kiss him his mouth is pliant and open under mine, overstimulated past his ability to reciprocate in any meaningful way or too busy with the almost pained sounds that punch past it.
I don’t mind it, biting on his lips as he turns so he’s over me, hands squeezing my breasts together as he traces my nipples with his claws, still mindful of his strenght somehow, and I don’t even mind from how good it feels. I huff, twisting to one side for impulse before I’m rolling us over so I can ride him, as if you could ride the ocean. Whatever I do, his cock is prehensile enough to have a mind of its own and it’s the way I can’t anticipate what’s next combined with his hand coming to rub at my clit that makes me cry out my pleasure as I come, going so tight around him he feels even bigger as he pulses with his own release.
As much as I want to collapse down now, I want to see it even more. I arch back, leaning to see his tentacle slide out of me and back into him, and it’s so erotic I follow it with two fingers before his thighs clamp shut, trapping my hand between them as his walls pulse weakly around me. He sits up to grab my wrist before pulling me down with him in an embrace that feels way too secure for the lives we lead.
‘What’s gotten into you today?’
I look up at him, beautiful and vulnerable by his own principles, and everything I want and won’t let pesky moral judgements take from me. I nuzzle into his gills. ‘I want you to be selfish with your life. For my own sake.’
He says nothing, his arms around me holding me tight against his chest and I could stay here, for a while at least. In a fairer, better world I’d know I can stay here forever. His heart beats against mine, slowing down in sync, and this should be enough for now.
They don’t have to wait for long; as the sun sets, they see Oh Sangwoo approaching. And he’s not alone. Seung Bae cannot believe his eyes when he sees the victim from the videos with him. He’s positively bopping around Oh Sangwoo, swinging their joined hands back and forth, running to look at something in the hedges as they walk past, falling back to stare at a bird; and always skipping back to take Sangwoo’s hand. Seung Bae exchanges a look with officer Park before he exits the car to intercept them, there’s no way he could be walking around now, referencing the level of damage he saw in film and the date.
This Is Acting
Yang Seung Bae would like to think he’s got an easy life. Not always the happiest, but simple enough. He’s coping with his father’s passing and just joined the police force after excelling at the academy. He works out regularly and has his daily routine down. Ocassionally happy and uncomplicated, that’s something he can do.
This all changes in a second, at a random traffic stop. Some old man failed to stop at the redlight and scrapped a student’s car. It’s very open and shut, but the student is shifty under examination. He’d be sure to get insurance compensation for his damage if he agreed to temporarily submit some of his car’s contents as evidence, and this is where the hitch is. As adamant as he was about getting his before, he seems strangely unwilling to involve the police now, claiming he's in a hurry.
So Seung Bae insists, and ends up taking both the dashcam and a random videorecorder with him, as the student repeats he’s got no time for this. As soon as he says they’re done there, he jumps in his car and speeds –still mindful of the limit– away.
This is how Seung Bae comes into contact with the video. Not the dashcam, no. That was useful for the collision, it showed everything transpired as the student described. The videorecorder, though. There’s quite a few recordings, and it all seems normal at first. A sunset, sped-up traffic at rush hour from a highpoint, some of the animals at the local zoo.
Then, he clicks on a video that starts on the figure of a young, waifish man laying on the ground, face twisted in fear with his hands raised in a protective motion. From a first person point of view, he sees hands gripping a wooden bat bringing it down on the man’s ankles. He startles at the violence, the pleading screams ringing in his ears. Is this what the student – Oh Sangwoo, he checks – wanted to hide?
He clicks on another video that seems to match the lighting of the previous one, and displays a tight zoom on the victim’s face. He’s puffy like he’s been crying and bruised. There’s rope around his neck, and he gasps for breath mouthing at the camera as the shot widens to him suspended by the noose, toes barely scraping the floor. He’s fighting for air, and using what little he gets to say something. ‘I… I love you- I love you…'
The video ends as the person recording lets go of the rope and the man crumbles to the floor, hacking and gasping. Seung Bae doesn’t want to watch more, but he needs to place Oh Sangwoo in the recordings and he needs to look for any identifiers for the man. So he trudges through the material, showing the smaller man getting brutalised in more ways he could think of. He’s beaten up with objects and the same pair of hands he’s seen before, he gets cut and choked and slammed into walls and, once, into a counter.
It’s the last shot he plays that gives him what he needs. Not the man’s identity, should be easy enough to coax out of Oh Sangwoo once he brings him in - and bring him in he will, for now he’s got confirmation of him as the aggressor in the clips. In the video, the same man is looking at the camera with fear and some sort of anticipation. There’s red marks around his neck and his voice is hoarse when he speaks.
‘You- you can hit me.’
‘What?’ That’s a voice Seung Bae recognises, for it has the same angry inflection as Sangwoo had displayed in the argument with him.
‘I don’t want to make you unhappy… if it’ll make you feel good - you can hit me, Sangw-’
The man breaks off midword with an odd expression, and Sangwoo’s laughter rings for a moment before the recording ends. He isn’t sure it will hold in court on its own, but there’s more evidence in the clips he just hasn’t zeroed into, and there’s bound to be more in Oh Sangwoo’s home.
Officer Park isn’t thrilled about this whole situation. He knows Oh Sangwoo from around, and is sure he’d never attack someone without reason. Still, he cannot drag his feet after seeing one of the clips Seung Bae selected for its violence - the thin man does make for a pitiful figure being shoved around so hard he breaks through a shelf on his fall. And so, they park in front of Oh Sangwoo’s residence, waiting to make their arrest.
They don’t have to wait for long; as the sun sets, they see Oh Sangwoo approaching. And he’s not alone. Seung Bae cannot believe his eyes when he sees the man from the videos with him. He’s positively bopping around Oh Sangwoo, swinging their joined hands back and forth, running to look at something in the hedges as they walk past, falling back to stare at a bird; and always skipping back to take Sangwoo’s hand. Seung Bae exchanges a look with officer Park before he exits the car to intercept them.
Sangwoo gives him an annoyed look, and he knows he’s recognised him, whereas his companion just stares at him, curious but hovering slightly behind Sangwoo.
‘So,’ drawls Sangwoo, ‘Is that old geezer going to pay up or or what?’
‘You…?’ Seung Bae stares at the victim’s legs. There’s no way he could be walking around now, referencing the level of damage he saw in film and the date. The man seems uncomfortable under his attention, and grabs the sleeve of Sangwoo’s jumper with both hands.
‘Me.’ Sangwoo steps in between them, turning to explain. ‘This is the copper who made me late to pick you up, wangyanim. Although whatever his presence here means, I don’t know.
‘Who are you?’’ Seung Bae barks at the smaller man. ‘What is your relationship with this man?’
‘My name is Yoon Bum.’
When he looks at Sangwoo instead of answering his second question, he takes the cue. ‘Bum and I are together. What’s that got to do with my car?’
Seung Bae is disappointed when, instead of whatever cry for help he expected to see in Yoon Bum at that assertion, a warm smile spreads through his face. He gives a small jump where he stands, seems to somehow cling closer to Sangwoo.
‘I need to see your legs.’
‘What?'
Yoon Bum makes a face, and Oh Sangwoo is looking positively murderous. Officer Park chooses this moment to swoop in, paternalistic voice managing to sound soothing. He introduces himself and Seung Bae, explains the reason for their presence and, halfway through his description of the video, twin red dots appear in Yoon Bum’s cheeks as he grins excitedly towards his presumed boyfriend who returns a tired smile before going back to scowling at them.
‘And that’s it? You went through my camera and decided I tried to murder Bum?’
‘Well, the videos…’
‘There’s a film festival at our university.’ Yoon Bum starts, tilting his head to rest on Sangwoo’s shoulder. ‘You saw part of our entry, which you really shouldn't talk about until it's ready, but since it was good enough to convince real policemen… we must really have a chance!’
Sangwoo rolls his eyes. ‘We do have a chance. That doesn’t mean corn syrup and prop knives should convince anyone in law enforcement.’
Officer Park seems satisfied with this explanation, but Seung Bae refuses to back down. ‘But you- you looked really hurt, and… you screamed like you were gonna die!’
‘As you’ve seen, my Bum is an actor.’ Yoon Bum gives an actual twirl at that, then has the decency to look abashed. ‘Is that all it takes to fool you? Didn’t you even notice that take he goofed by using my real name?’
Yoon Bum flushes at that, hiding his face on Oh Sangwoo’s jumper. ‘We reshot that!’
‘We did,’ Sangwoo brushes Yoon Bum’s hair back with his fingers. ‘I just kept the first take too. You look cute when you realise you’ve made a mistake.’
Officer Park clears his throat, and Oh Sangwoo’s loving expression drops as he remembers they’ve got company. He checks his watch, taps Yoon Bum in the shoulder. ‘That docuseries you like is about to begin.’ Then, to the policemen. ‘So if that’s all… I’ll expect information on the crash damages this week.’
Without waiting for a reply, he grabs Yoon Bum’s hand and walks away towards his home. Seung Bae feels officer Park’s eyes on him and, in an attempt to delay the lambasting he’s sure to get, keeps his own trailed on the couple. As Oh Sangwoo types the code for the door, Yoon Bum goes on his tiptoes to press a quick peck to his cheek and Seung Bae could swear he hears him make a surprisingly good imitation of his own voice demanding to see his legs. An actor.
