#basement checklist

[helenhramsey001]

Preparing to renovate your basement takes more than design ideas. Start with inspections, permits, and moisture control. These steps are outlined in the top things you have to do before finishing a basement to help homeowners avoid costly mistakes. Stay organized and proactive to ensure the renovation runs smoothly from start to finish.

[purocleanzephyrhills]

What to Do in the First 24 Hours After Your Basement Floods

A flooded basement is stressful—but your next 24 hours can make or break your cleanup process. At PuroClean Zephyrhills, our professional restoration services often begin by advising panicked homeowners on exactly what to do.

If you’re waiting for a basement flood cleanup company, follow these steps in the meantime:

8 Critical Actions to Take:

Turn off power (if safe to do so) to avoid electrocution

Stop the water source if it’s from inside (burst pipe, appliance)

Remove valuables and electronics from the water

Use towels or a wet vac to reduce moisture

Open windows and doors for ventilation

Photograph everything for insurance purposes

Don’t walk in contaminated water

Call your insurer and a trusted restoration company

Don’t face cleanup alone. Call PuroClean Zephyrhills now for fast, thorough professional restoration services in your time of need.

[theskywithin]

Saturn in the Houses: The Love Letter You Never Sent

♄ Saturn in the 1st House

I wanted to let you in, but all I’ve ever known is how to stand alone. It felt safer to build myself into something strong than to risk being seen while still becoming. I’ve always believed love was something I had to earn through effort, through excellence, through holding it all together. So I never showed you the parts I hadn’t perfected. I thought if I let you see the cracks, you’d leave. But I wish I could’ve told you this, that I was never asking you to fix me, only to stay long enough to see the version of me that didn’t know how to be held without apology.

♄ Saturn in the 2nd House

I’ve spent my life gripping what I love, afraid that once I open my hands, everything will fall away. I tied my worth to what I could hold, to what I could protect, to what felt certain. So I never gave you all of me. Not because I didn’t want to, but because I didn’t know how to trust that love wouldn’t take more than it gave. But if I could write you now, I’d say this: I was never withholding love. I was just afraid you’d see how much of it I had, and still walk away. I didn’t need someone to be mine, I just needed someone who wouldn’t disappear when I finally unclenched my fists.

♄ Saturn in the 3rd House

I rehearsed every word. Tucked pages of my heart into sentences I never sent. I was terrified that the moment I spoke, you’d misunderstand, or worse, you’d understand completely and not feel the same. So I smiled instead. Changed the subject. Turned my truth into silence. But I wish I could’ve said this: I cared more than I ever let on. There were poems in my pauses, apologies in every overthought message, and love in all the spaces I couldn’t fill with words. My heart was never blank, just written in a language I was too afraid to let you read.

♄ Saturn in the 4th House

I made it look easy to be alone. I made independence seem like peace, but it was armor. It was protection from the ache of needing someone who might leave. I kept my softness under lock and key, showed you only the rooms I had cleaned. The rest, the grief, the fear, the fragility, I kept buried in the basement of me. But if I could write you now, I’d tell you this: I was afraid of letting you feel how much I longed for safety. Not because I didn’t trust you, but because I didn’t yet believe I was worth being chosen without condition. But maybe I didn’t need to be whole to be worthy, just willing to open the door before I’d swept the floors.

♄ Saturn in the 5th House

I wanted to laugh louder. To love louder. To show you the unfiltered joy I used to tuck behind control. But I didn’t know how. Love felt like a stage and I was afraid to mess up my lines. I kept my affection measured, my passion quiet, my heart under careful choreography. I told myself it was maturity. But truthfully, I was scared that if I gave in to joy, I wouldn’t know how to hold it when it inevitably left. If I could write to you now, I’d say: I was never cold. I was never distant. I was just afraid that if I let myself feel it all, you’d watch me fall apart, and love me less because of it. And maybe the scariest thing wasn’t feeling everything, but letting you see how badly I wanted to.

♄ Saturn in the 6th House

I turned devotion into duty. Love became a list of things I had to do right, the right words, the right timing, the right version of me. I kept fixing things that weren’t broken because I didn’t know how to let love be easy. I was always one step ahead of your disappointment, trying to avoid the moment you’d realize I wasn’t enough. But what I never told you is this: I didn’t want to serve love, I wanted to rest in it. I wanted to stop measuring my worth in how useful I was to you. If I could go back, I’d choose presence over performance. I'd give you my heart, not my checklist. I’d finally believe I was worthy of love even when I wasn’t holding everything together, just lying still, and letting someone hold me.

♄ Saturn in the 7th House

I crave connection more than I ever said. But I’ve seen what it costs, what it takes to merge your world with someone else’s. So I held myself back even as I moved toward you. Love felt like surrender, and surrender felt like erasure. I was scared that giving you my heart would mean forgetting where I’d left mine. But if I could speak now, I’d say this: I didn’t push you away because I didn’t care, I pushed you away because I cared too much, and I didn’t know how to stay whole inside something so big. All I needed was a love that felt like a home, one where I could leave the door open and still be invited in.

♄ Saturn in the 8th House

You touched something ancient in me. Something buried. And it scared me, not because you hurt me, but because you could. I wanted to be vulnerable. To let you see the shadows, the softness, the parts of me even I still don’t understand. But I pulled back, wrapped myself in distance, and called it protection. The truth is: I didn’t know how to let someone see me where I hadn’t yet survived myself. I feared that if I handed you my depth, you’d drown in it, or worse, you’d leave me to face it alone. But now I know, maybe the fear was never about being seen, but about being transformed by a love that had the courage to open the door while the house was still burning.

♄ Saturn in the 9th House

I wanted to believe. In you. In us. In something greater than logic or circumstance. But hope has let me down before, and I learned not to trust what I couldn’t predict. So I questioned everything, even the parts of me that ached for you. I craved a love that expanded me, but feared the fall that comes with faith. So I stayed cautious, measured the future in small steps, and held back the part of me that wanted to leap into the unknown just to be close to you. If I could tell you now, I’d say I was never cold. I was just building a belief strong enough to carry us both. All I needed was a love that felt like a sky I didn’t have to map, just one I could lie beneath, trusting that it would still be there in the morning.

♄ Saturn in the 10th House

I thought I had to accomplish everything before I could deserve you. Love felt like a reward I hadn’t earned yet, so I poured myself into building a life that looked impressive but felt quietly empty without you in it. I confused purpose with pressure, ambition with distance. I kept choosing the version of me the world would applaud, even when all I wanted was to be held in a place that didn’t ask me to perform. If I could write you now, I’d say this: I wish I had made space for you in the life I was building. Because love was never a distraction, it was the missing piece of the dream I didn’t know how to name.

♄ Saturn in the 11th House

I always felt like the outsider, a step outside the circle, watching connection happen around me but never fully in it. So I kept my heart behind ideals, hid my longing beneath independence, and told myself I was fine on my own. But the truth is, I wanted someone to see through the distance. To recognize that I was never unreachable, just scared that if I showed who I truly was, no one would stay. If I could speak now, I’d tell you this: I wasn’t pushing you away. I was waiting to feel safe enough to belong. And I wish I had realized sooner that love doesn’t require you to fit in, only to let yourself be seen, by someone who saw my edges and stayed for the shape they made.

♄ Saturn in the 12th House

I loved you from behind the veil, quietly, invisibly, carrying a tenderness I never knew how to speak. My heart was full, but so were my shadows. There were parts of me even I hadn’t faced yet. And so I drifted, half-present, half-lost in the depth of everything I didn’t know how to name. You thought I was distant. But I was drowning in the fear that if I let you too close, you’d see how much of me was still unfinished. If I could tell you now, I wish I’d let you in. Even just a little. Because love doesn’t require you to be whole. It only asks you to be honest about where it hurts.

[gremlingottoosilly]

Social Worker!Reader who gets sent to Loser!Konig's house due to multiple calls and complaints about his behaviour and supposed mental state

You're here because you were really passionate about helping kids and the elderly. Too bad you were sent to work in a town that lacks kids and has over 60% of the elderly patients as very gruff veterans. Maybe it was something in the air, maybe it was some weird water-induced PTSD retaliation, but you're mostly handling calls from worried families of some traumatized veteran who decided to live in the area. That, and you also handle Konig. He is a good guy, really. Retired colonel - retired with honors, no less, and a mercenary gig that no doubt makes his PTSD feel even worse at times. He is a good guy whenever he doesn't hunt for deers in the woods - you're pretty sure it's kind of forbidden, but you're also not the one who would look at an anxious patient and tell him that no, having severing deer heads as a hobby isn't a good coping mechanism. Those are his emotional support mutilated animals, and you won't come between a guy and his passion. He is sort of a loser, you think. He got too much of that thousand-yard stare, his eyes following you everywhere. Staring in the crease of your shirt where your chest is, trying to take a peek under your skirt when summer heat approaches and you can't deal with the heat anymore. You exchange having sweaty legs for his leering stare, and it's almost a fair trade. He would look at you like he wants to kill you, and then politely ask for you to do a welfare check inside. You think - fucking hell, this dude is totally going to kill you. You think checking him off the checklist will probably give you a nice little bonus. Neutralizing a problem before it becomes bigger. Preventing a town-wide shooting conducted by a bored veteran with too many weapons stashed in his basement. He showed you - got excited and a little bit hard, having a pretty girl look all over his hunting riffles. He is smart enough not to tell you about the other things he is totally hiding - and you aren't dumb enough to try and investigate whether or not he has enough assault riffles stashed to supply a small army. You listen to his rambles about his favorite anime - not the harem garbage, at least, not a single underage female character in sight of his figure collection. You suppose it was nice, better than you thought it would be. Some of his favorite shows are fun, and you find yourself almost waiting for the next visit. You don't shove away his hand on your knee because you're priding yourself on preventing risks, and you sometimes, having sex with a weirdly hot nerdy guy next door is the only thing left on your welfare checklist.

[salemrph]

"A Hunter's Christmas Hustle" Sylus x MC

Summary: With Christmas around the corner, you’re on a mission to find the perfect gift for everyone, that's included Sylus, a famously tricky person to shop for. You asked for help but can the twins really help you? Sometimes the effort is the best part of the holiday magic.

Character: MC x Sylus

Genre: holiday comedy, slice-of-life, fluff | Pet names : Kitten, Sweetie, Miss Hunter.

| Word count: 3.916 | Reading Time: 16 min | AO3

A/N: Since this is the first Christmas of Love and Deepspace, at least for me, I'm looking forward for a special Event and have a cute moment between Sylus and MC.

Second part🌲: A Hunter's Christmas Hustle: X-mas morning

You lay on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. It still feels a bit strange staying at Sylus’ place on your days off. Well, it was mostly his doing— he’d insist or come up with some random excuse or side mission to make you stay. So, at the end you agree to come visit him without needing to drag you in dirty business. It's cozy here, even if you’re not quite used to it yet.

Like always you scroll through your phone, noticing you getting a lot of Christmas ads. You squint at the screen, feeling a bit overwhelmed by all the holiday promotions. Suddenly, you glance at the date on your phone. Fuck! Christmas is in 1 week. And you haven’t prepared anything. Weren’t there also a Party coming up with the team? No, no, no! You go trough the calendar. There is it: 24 of December. Christmas Party with Team.

You need to go shopping, ordering stuff now would only arrive too late. 

“Okay, okay,” you mutter, trying to make a mental checklist. “I need a present for Tera, flowers for Grandma’s and Clab’s graves...” You pause, feeling a bit emotional at that thought. You take a deep breath and continue, making a list out loud.

“Then there’s Zayne, Xavier, and Rafayel…” Your head starts spinning as you realize just how much you have to do. 

How could you forget? Have you really been that busy lately? It’s not like the whole city isn’t decked out in lights, giant Christmas ads, and festive music playing in every store. 

You realize with a sigh that maybe you’ve been spending way too much time in the N109 Zone, far from the holiday cheer.

“What can I get for the twins...?” you mumble to yourself. Luke and Kieran can be annoying sometimes, but you do like them. Why not bring them a small gift? Then again, you hesitate. If you get something for the twins, Sylus will definitely bother you about it until the end of your days, asking why he didn’t get anything. You're starting to sweat. Maybe he locks you up again in the basement, just for fun. Or worse, he could show up at the Hunters' Association and declare that you are his lover or something. A shiver runs down your spine. This man can be terrifying. 

You know very well how to please your friends and colleagues but Sylus… What do you bring to the man that has everything? 

“Why is he even so fucking rich?” you mutter under your breath, looking around the guest room. The guest room of course has the style of the rest of the mansion. Black. You roll your eyes, feeling a mix of annoyance and admiration. You flop back down on the bed, staring up at the ceiling as if it holds the answers. You need something unique, something meaningful... but what could that be? 

You scroll through your phone frantically, searching for bundles, deals, and last-minute gift ideas. In just an hour, you’ve managed to check off most of your list.

Tera: A relaxing spa voucher—she could use a break.

Zayne: A pack of his favorite macarons, winter edition—he’ll love them.

Xavier: A cozy new sweater—you’ve told him a million times not to fall asleep everywhere. You sigh, picturing him dozing off on some random spot.

Rafayel: A unique shell you found on a mission weeks ago. You haven’t had a chance to give it to him yet, but now’s the perfect time.

Flowers: Ordered, check.

You tap your phone, thinking about the twins, Luke and Kieran. What would they like? You decide on some kind of gadget or toy—they’re like two overgrown kids sometimes, and they’ll appreciate anything they can mess around with.

Another hour passes, and you’re still glued to your phone, opening and closing tabs like a mad person. Your brain is starting to fog up from the overload of gift ideas.

“No... no... lame... oh god, definitely not.” You swipe through a blog about gifts for wealthy people and somehow end up on a page titled “Top 10 Gifts for Your Rich Boyfriend.” Your cheeks go bright red as you skim the list: sexy underwear, romantic getaways, candlelit dinners...

“NO!” You throw your phone onto the bed like it’s on fire, covering your face with your hands. What am I even doing?

You take a deep breath, trying to calm down. Maybe you could ask Luke and Kieran for help. They’re close to Sylus and probably know more about his preferences than you do. Plus, he did say you could “use” them whenever you wanted. Why not use them as counselors and pack mules?

Since you don`t want Sylus sniffing around you, you think about a small lie. Or maybe just ask without giving information. The same way he always does 

...

"I need Luke & Kieran for an important mission, can you borrow me them?"

Sylus looks up from his desk, his red eyes studying you with a mix of curiosity and amusement. He leans back in his chair, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips as he regards you. 

"Mission? What are you planning, kitten?" Sylus raises an eyebrow at your words.

"Nothing… jus- they will come back in one piece."

He studies you for a moment, his expression a mix of curiosity and amusement. He seems to be enjoying your vague and cryptic request, and he's clearly intrigued by what you might be up to. 

"…Alright. You can take them for whatever this 'important mission' is. But they better come back in one piece, or I'm holding you responsible, sweetie. And you don't want to pay the price...“ he snaps his fingers. Both appear immediately. As if they had been hiding in the office. 

"Luke, Kieran, the kitten needs you for a... mission. Do as they say. I expect impeccable work."

"Yes, boss!“ They say in unison.

"Let’s go, guys." I lead them out of the office. "See you, Sylus!"

That was easy. Maybe to easy.

He laughs after the door closes. Wondering how you're going to surprise him this time. He's learned to just go with the flow even though he might have the answer to your little secrets. He just smiled, turning back to focus on his paperwork.

“What are we going to do, miss?” Luke asks with a mischievous grin.

You roll your eyes. “I told you, just call me by my name.”

“Are we blowing something up?” Kieran blurts out, making an exaggerated explosion noise with his mouth.

“Or… cleaning up a messy murder scene?” Luke chimes in, smirking.

“Maybe torture someone!” Kieran’s eyes light up, clearly getting way too excited at the thought.

You sigh, regretting this decision already. They’re like two hyperactive hamsters—deadly, but still hamsters.

“No, no, and no!” you say firmly, waving your hands for emphasis.

“Uuuhhh...” They groan in unison, visibly disappointed.

“We have a better mission,” you declare, crossing your arms. “Change into something decent. We’re heading back to Lincoln City.”

Finally, you’ve arrived in the city. It’s strange seeing them without their usual uniforms and masks. Dressed in casual clothes, they look more like model college boys than the deadly assassins they actually are. Most of the girls passing by can’t help but glance their way, clearly debating whether they should approach the handsome twin brothers.

You snort to yourself. Probably they would’ve attracted less attention in their usual assassin gear.

You’re standing in the middle of the bustling shopping district, the holiday decorations casting a festive glow around you. Luke and Kieran are busy taking in the sights, clearly amused by the sudden change of scenery. You clear your throat to get their attention.

“Alright, listen up,” you say, trying to sound authoritative. “The mission is...” They lean in, eyes sparkling with anticipation. “Shopping” you declare.

“Shopping?” they repeat in unison, voices filled with disbelief.

Luke looks like he’s trying not to laugh, while Kieran’s expression twists into mock horror.

“Wait, wait,” Kieran says, holding up a hand. “You dragged us all the way out here... for shopping?”

“Yes, and you’re going to help me,” you reply.

Luke smirks, giving you a playful nudge. “You sure this isn’t just an excuse to spend time with us, Miss?”

You shoot him a glare. “Call me by my name, Luke.”

“Right, right,” he says, grinning.

“I actually need your help for...” you trail off, suddenly feeling a bit embarrassed. You look away, rubbing the back of your neck. “Christmas is around the corner, and I wanted to buy Sylus something. I’m not sure what it should be, so...” 

Before you can finish, Luke and Kieran burst into giggle. They exchange a quick, knowing glance, clearly delighted by your admission.

“Oh, so you want to buy our boss a present, huh? That’s pretty cute” Luke teases, smirking.

Kieran nudges him with his elbow, grinning from ear to ear. “And you’re asking us for help? Luke, maybe she does have a soft spot for boss after all.”

You feel your cheeks flush, but you roll your eyes to cover it. “Are you two going to help me or not?”

Luke straightens up, placing a hand on his chest with a mock-serious expression. “If you’re serious about buying a gift for the boss, then you’ve definitely come to the right place. We don’t call ourselves his right-hand men for nothing.”

You exhale, feeling a bit relieved now that they seem genuinely eager to help. “I want something special. Something he wouldn’t expect, but that he’d actually like.”

Kieran tilts his head, pretending to think deeply. “Something unexpected, huh? Well, that’s tricky. Sylus pretty much has everything.”

“Yeah, exactly,” you say, feeling a bit helpless. “I was thinking about getting him some records, but he already has so many...”

Luke and Kieran nod in agreement, their expressions thoughtful. 

“It’s a good start. He does love his music. But you don’t want to give him something he already has, right?” Luke asked. 

“How about something more personal?” Kieran suggests, tapping his chin. “Something that shows you put a lot of thought into it. A gift only you could give him.”

You bite your lip, considering it. “Personal... but how?”

“Well, it doesn’t have to be anything fancy,” Luke says, shrugging. “The boss isn’t as complicated as he looks. He’d appreciate anything that comes from you.”

Kieran gives a playful smirk. “You could just wrap yourself up with a bow, and he’d be over the moon.”

“Kieran!” you gasp, your cheeks turning red as you lightly smack his arm. He laughs, dodging away with a wink. 

Luke chuckles but gives you a more genuine smile. “He’s joking—mostly. But seriously, boss isn’t the kind of guy who cares about expensive gifts. He’d value something that reminds him of you, or a shared memory.”

You pause, mulling it over.

Kieran nudges Luke, a sudden spark lighting up his eyes. “Hey, what about that old record shop on the Avenue? They’ve got vintage records you can’t find anywhere else. You could look for a rare one, maybe something with a story behind it.”

Luke nods, his eyes brightening as well. “Yeah, and you could pair it with a handwritten note. Tell him why you picked it. He’d love that.”

You smile, feeling a sense of relief wash over you. “That’s... actually a great idea. Thanks, you two.”

Kieran gives you a thumbs-up. “No problem, but you owe us for this.”

Luke grins. “Yeah, and don’t forget to give us the credit when he’s showering you with kisses later.”

You roll your eyes, but you can’t help the smile tugging at your lips. “Fine, fine. Now let’s go before I change my mind.”

The twins laugh, and the three of you set off down the busy shopping street, feeling a new wave of excitement. Maybe this gift hunt wasn’t going to be so impossible after all.

In the end, you managed to buy everything for your friends—even for Captain Jenna, who isn’t exactly easy to shop for. But as you wandered through the record store, flipping through album after album, nothing stood out. Everything felt generic, impersonal. And you know Sylus well enough to realize that giving him something half-hearted would just fuel his endless teasing for weeks. 

By the end of the day, the twins delivered you at home after treating them for dinner. You're tired and leave all your bags in the living room of your apartment. You throw yourself down on the couch and take out your phone. Maybe you were overthinking this. A nice accessory or a bottle of whiskey could work—he has a taste for the finer things, after all. It wouldn’t be anything cheap, either; you can afford something like that with your Hunter salary.

The day passes, only 2 days for Christmas and you still have nothing. 

Desperate for ideas, you even tried bringing it up with Tera over lunch. That turned into a chaotic disaster, though. It was exhausting dodging her barrage of questions:

“Who’s the gift for? Why are you even so worried? Wait, do you have a new boyfriend? I demand to meet him!”

You had to laugh it off, making up half-baked excuses until she finally dropped it—though you could tell she didn’t believe you.

And then there was Sylus himself. Yesterday, he sent you an invitation to a Christmas dinner. You wanted to say yes, but you had already committed to the Hunters’ Association Christmas party that same night. You tried to decline, but after some back-and-forth, you reluctantly agreed to meet him afterward.

Now, sitting alone on the couch, you can’t help but replay that conversation in your mind. The way his voice softened when you said you couldn’t make it, the slight pause before he insisted on seeing you later anyway—it made your chest tighten. He sounded almost... disappointed. And that’s what makes you want to find something truly meaningful, something that will show him how much he means to you without you having to say it out loud.

You look at your reflection in the darkened screen of your phone, feeling a mix of frustration and anticipation. You’re running out of time. If you’re going to surprise him with something from the heart, you need to figure it out now.

With a new sense of determination, you push yourself off the couch and grab your coat. Maybe you won’t find the perfect gift sitting around here. It’s time to get back out there and keep looking, because if there’s one person you want to make smile this Christmas, it’s Sylus. But be honest, you´re not going to admit that. Not yet. 

...

It’s Christmas! The party with your unit is small but cozy. The space is filled with the warm glow of twinkling lights, the scent of spiced wine, and the sound of laughter echoing off the walls. You drink, you eat, and you feel a rare sense of contentment as you watch everyone enjoying the night. It’s moments like these that remind you why you love this chaotic, ragtag team.

The gifts you bought last minute seem to have gone over well. Captain Jenna grinned when she unwrapped the sleek new knife you picked out for her—a practical gift, just like she’d like it. Xavier looked genuinely pleased with the soft, oversized sweater you chose, already pulling it on and joking about how he wouldn’t fall asleep everywhere now. Tera hugged you tight, eyes sparkling as she held up the spa voucher. “You really do know me,” she said with a teasing smile.

Earlier in the morning, you made a quick stop by the hospital to drop off the bag of special winter-edition macarons for Zayne. And you place the flower on the graveyard. Pray for them and wishing that you could spent one more day with them.

You glance at your watch. It’s getting late, and you promised Sylus you’d meet him after this. You take a deep breath, excusing yourself quietly from the party. Tera shoots you a knowing look as you head for the door, but she doesn’t say anything—just gives you a little wave, as if to say, good luck. 

You pull your coat tighter around yourself, clutching the gift in your hand as you start walking. There’s a mixture of excitement and fear bubbling up inside you.

Suddenly your watch vibrates urgently and flashes a warning: MetaFlux Fluctuation Detected. Your heart skips a beat. A Wanderer? Now?! You glance around, scanning the quiet street for any signs of danger. The distant sound of a woman’s scream breaks the silence, and without hesitation, you sprint in the direction of the noise, already reaching for your weapon. 

The first Wanderer lunges out from the shadows, its distorted form shifting and writhing in the dim light. You don’t waste a second. One precise shot, and it disintegrates into a cloud of shimmering dust.

„My child! Where is he?“ the woman cries out, panic in her voice. You look around fast, this is not over. 

„Mom!! Help!“ You hear the voice of the kid nearby and run over. You bolt towards the sound, pushing your legs harder. You reach the boy just in time, shielding him with your body as another Wanderer lunges forward. The creature’s claws slice through the air, narrowly missing you. You fire three quick shots, each one hitting its mark. The Wanderer lets out a guttural screech before it vanishes into thin air, dissolving into the night.

"Are you okay?“ you ask, your voice softer now, concerned. The boy nodded. His mother rushes over, wrapping her arms around him and thanking you over and over, her voice thick with emotion.

The mother and child thank you from the bottom of their hearts before leaving. You tell them to please stop by the hospital, just in case. You wave goodbye to the boy. Sigh. What a night!

"Where's my bag?" you mutter, scanning the area. You spot it lying on the ground, right where you dropped it before sprinting into action. Relief floods through you—until you notice the dark, wet stain spreading across the fabric. 

"No, no, no! Please no," you whisper, crouching down and unzipping the bag with trembling hands. The bottle of whiskey you were hunting down the last two days. Is shattered in thousand pieces.

Your heart sinks. This wasn’t just any whiskey—it was a rare, vintage bottle from a small distillery he’d mentioned once, in passing, when he thought you weren’t listening.

„Fuck!" 

You stand up, clutching the soaked bag, and check the time on your watch.

22:30.

You’re supposed to meet Sylus in half an hour, and you’re still a good fifteen minutes away from his place. Panic bubbles up inside you. Maybe you can find a late-night shop that carries something similar. Maybe there’s still a chance to fix this.

"I can make it," you say aloud, more to convince yourself than anything.

…

You finally arrive at the meeting point—a lookout near the water. It’s the same place where you spent last winter with him, watching the fireworks together.

“Kitten, you told me you were at a party, not a battlefield. What happened?”

“Eh?”

You’ve been running around for the last 30 minutes trying to find that stupid bottle and make it on time to meet Sylus. A little embarrassed, you attempt to fix your clothes and smooth your hair. Your cheeks are flushed from the effort. Sylus stands there in his black coat, looking amazing as always. Your heart beats hard in your chest. He watches you, trying to piece together what happened, and then a smile tugs at his lips.

“Even on days like this, you don’t get a break, Miss Hunter?” He runs his hand gently across your face. You flinch slightly, wincing in pain. “You’ve got a small cut. So... are you going to tell me what happened?”

“Nothing, just a Wanderer. It will heal,” you say with a shrug. He sighs softly.

“Careless as usual.” He pulls a small band-aid from his pocket. “Stay still.”

“Why do you have something like that?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

“It so happens that I have a kitten who never pays attention to their injuries,” he teases.

You make an exaggerated offended grimace, but inside, it feels like a small gesture of affection. He places the band-aid gently over the cut.

“I’ll consider this your Christmas gift,” you joke.

He laughs. “Oh no, sweetie, that wouldn’t be enough. But I’m impressed with your minimalist idea of happiness.” He reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out an envelope.

“You didn’t have...”

“Open it up. And thank me later.”

You take the envelope cautiously, slowly peeling it open. Could it explode? You shake your head at the silly thought. When you finally look inside, your eyes widen, and you let out a soft squeal of excitement.

“Are you for real? This tickets has been sold out for months. How did you…?”

“I have my ways, sweetie,” he replies with a smug smile.

“Thank you,” you whisper, genuinely touched.

“It’s always a pleasure making you happy.”

But your excitement fades quickly as the realization sinks in. He’s managed to make you immensely happy again, while you stand here empty-handed. You have been looking for the perfect gift and you have screwed up at the last minute. On top, you haven't found a replacement for the bottle. 

"I wanted to give you something too for Christmas...“ you started. Closing the envelope and putting it in your pocket. "but... it broke while I was protecting a kid from a Wanderer.“ You look down at your feet, feeling small and pathetic, your shoulders slumping under the weight of disappointment.

There’s a beat of silence, and then Sylus gently lifts your chin with a finger, guiding your gaze back to him. He smiles, that soft, understanding smile that always makes you feel seen. Without a word, he wraps his arms around you and pulls you into a warm embrace. The chill of winter seems to disappear in his hold, replaced by the comforting heat of his body.

“The best gift is having you by my side, kitten.” he whispers into your ear, his voice low and sincere.

You feel your heart beating faster.

"Actions speak louder than words"

You agree with Sylus that both would be more honest with each other. Maybe now is the time to show him just how important he is to you. You spent so much time looking for something to buy that you forgot that the simplest gifts are often the most meaningful, especially when they come straight from the heart.

"Sylus… I actually have something else."

"Oh, is that so?“ 

„Can... I borrow your face?" He loosens his grip slightly and steps back, taking your hands in his, warming them up. He looks at you, amused and curious, and leans down.

"Close your eyes..." you whisper. He doesn’t say anything but does as you ask, his smile softening as he relaxes his face. You take a deep breath, feeling your heart race, each beat echoing louder in your chest.

The world falls silent for a moment—it's just the two of you, suspended in time. The anticipation tingles through you as you lean closer, closing the distance between you.

You press your lips gently against his cheek, and the warmth of his skin against your lips is electric. It’s a simple kiss, but it carries all the unspoken words you couldn’t say out loud. A silent confession. You linger there for just a heartbeat longer, feeling him inhale sharply, as if caught off guard by the intimacy of it. As you pull back, the first snowflakes begin to fall, drifting slowly from the sky. The soft touch of snow melts against your skin, but Sylus holds you close, not letting the moment slip away.

„Now... that’s a present only you could have given me." He gives you the most tender smile. "Thank you."

He looks like he wants to say something else but remains silent. Instead, he pulls you into a deeper embrace, burying his face in your hair as the snow continues to fall softly around you. You’re more than fine with that. No, you’re happy—grateful for this sweet moment.

You realize you’re a step closer to falling for him completely, accepting that the connection between you two is stronger than you ever imagined.

“Merry Christmas, Sylus.”

He smiles, his eyes crinkling with genuine joy.

“Merry Christmas, kitten.”

Second part🌲: A Hunter's Christmas Hustle: X-mas morning

[mitskicain]

navi | m.list

. ⁺ . ✦ poster girl — choso x reader

© mitskicain all rights reserved. the modification, translation, and plagiarism of my work is strictly prohibited.

synopsis: it’s just you, him, and a couch that’s about to see more action than the gig ever will

content warnings: suggestive content, no sex (yet), partial nudity, voyueristic undertones, implied erotic photography

word count: 2.5k

· · ─────── ·{ ✐ᝰ.ᐟ}· ─────── · ·

You came to practice dressed for the heat—and maybe Choso too. The shirt you’d thrown on was an old tee you’d hacked into something riskier: sleeves chopped off, neckline wide and loose enough that it slouched off one shoulder if you moved just right. The front dipped low, a soft promise of cleavage everytime you bent over to adjust an amp or coil or mic cable. I love drummers pasted in big bright letters across the front. You told yourself it was practical—it was hot in the garage, after all—but the truth was you liked the way Choso’s eyes sometimes lingered when he thought you weren’t looking.

And tonight, they definitely lingered.

“We’ve got a game to catch,” your bassist calls out, eyes flicking from your face to your chest with an unsubtle grin. “You two behave now.”

The others laughed, footsteps fading up the old basement stairs. Then it was quiet—just you, the leftover hum of the amp still cooling down, and Choso, standing a few feet away. Good things happen when two bandmates get left unsupervised. Good because now you can actually talk, and ask questions. Questions like: how long have you played the drums? What are you doing after tomorrow’s show? And, do you want to come over and make me scream so hard my neighbors file another noise complaint?

Instead you shifted your weight, tugged the hem of your already-low shirt a little lower—because if you couldn’t say it out loud, you could at least make him look.

“Thanks for missing the game and helping me clean up. Means a lot.”

Choso’s arms flex as he puts away the boxes of cables and wiring, lifting them as if they were nothing. You wondered if he could do that with you too; sling you over his shoulder and carry you up to his room. He could show you his record collection, or how to cut skulls out of old t-shirts and stretch them out. Maybe after the arts and crafts, he could stretch you out too.

“It’s no problem,” his voice snaps you out of your daydream. It’s gruff, and feigns nonchalance, but you see the way his eyes linger on you for a beat too long. “Wanted to make sure everything’s in order. I don’t trust the guys to check.”

You chuckle, and for a second, he flashes you a soft smile before returning his attention to the checklist on his phone. You step toward him, place your hands on the rim of the cardboard and lean forward.

“Anything I can help with?” You ask, voice dangerously sweet.

His face flickered, with what exactly, you weren’t sure. Lust? Want? Disgust? God, don’t let it be disgust. You’d quit the band if he told you to fuck off.

“Actually, there is something,” he says, eyes actually meeting yours. “I was thinking of re-doing our poster.”

You let out a half-laugh, thinking he was messing with you, but when you realized he wasn’t, you stopped. You knit your eyebrows together, confused.

“What’s wrong with the current one?”

He looks at you like you’re stupid.

“Just look,” he pulls up the image on his phone and shows it to you. It’s a visual mess—colors and graphics placed haphazardly, like an afterthought, and letters of varying fonts and sizes fighting for space.

“Yuji designed that,” you shoot back, evading blame.

He laughs, “that’s even more of a reason to re-do the whole thing.”

Your laughs fill the garage, bouncing off its walls, and back towards you, and you want to play the sound over and over again. Even his laughter had a certain rhythm to it, almost like the way he played the drums—sharp and fast. Maybe he was just naturally gifted the way some musical prodigies are. You imagined him as a baby, banging out tunes on his toy xylophone long before he could talk.

“Okay drum genius,” you quip, nudging closer. “What do you have in mind for the do-over?”

Choso tucks his phone into his back pocket, his gaze sweeping over you in a way that makes your skin prickle. He scratches the side of his neck, as if debating whether to say what’s on his mind.

“I was thinking..” He trails off, turning around to pull a camera from his bag. “Would you mind?”

You let out a single, confused laugh—a quick ha you can’t hold back. You glance behind, half-expecting to see someone else, then point at your chest..

“Me?”

He rolls his eyes but a smile tugs at his lips. “Who else?”

The way he looks at you in that moment very well nearly brings you to your knees—all soft eyes and a grin that could make a nun sin. Angelic. Heaven sent. God.

You’re grinning like an idiot when his gaze dips—from your lips, down to the neckline of your shirt, then back up to meet your gaze. He catches the smooth ball of his piercing between his teeth, and you want so badly to find out how it’d feel pressed to your own. Camera still in hand, he nods towards the gear stacked behind you.

You take a seat on the floor and lean against the amp. The carpet’s scratchy, dust and stray guitar picks buried in its fibers—you try not to think about it as you look into the camera lens.

Red light first. Then a soft click followed by a bright flash. He lowers the camera, checks the screen, then looks at you as if he’s about to laugh.

“What?” you ask, half-worried, half-defensive.

He lifts a brow and turns the camera around. “You look scared.”

You scoff, crossing your arms tight around your chest. “Am not.”

“Just surprised,” he says, taking aim. “Pretty girl like you shouldn’t be so camera shy.”

You blink. You grasp for something to say—an insult, a smart comeback, anything—nothing.

“Cat got your tongue?” He teases, capturing your wide-eyed expression with a soft whir of the shutter. He tilts his head, a lazy grin curling at his mouth “It’s alright. Just sit there and look pretty for me, okay doll?”

Doll. God. The way he says it makes something warm pool low in your belly. You’d sit there and let him shoot a whole roll if he asked.

You shift, trying to ignore the way doll echoes over and over in your head. He lowers the camera again, eyes skimming over you in a way that makes your skin feel too tight.

“Move your arms,” he says, gentle but firm, nodding his head at how you’ve got them crossed. “Relax.”

You uncross them slowly, allowing your hands to rest on your thighs. He hums in approval, stepping closer. The lens clicks again.

You do as you’re told, eyes flickering from the camera to him. He takes another shot. The soft click, whirrs, fills the silence between you, punctuated by your breathing. He takes a few more shots, the flash flickering against the garage walls, then lowers the camera, chewing on the ball of his piercing like he’s turning something over in his head.

“Get up,” he says, voice still soft but now edged with something that makes your stomach flip. He quickly sets the camera down and reaches for your hands.

You let him pull you up—his palms rough and warm around your wrists. He steps back and looks at you, head tilting as he sizes you up like you’re a new instrument he’s learning how to play.

“Turn around,” he murmurs.

You raise a brow. “Turn around?”

He smirks. “Yeah. Trust me.”

So you do—you turn your back to him, the garage feeling suddenly too warm, too small. You feel his hands brush against your hips, positioning you in front of the equipment.

“Hands here,” he says, guiding them to rest flat against the top of the speaker. The surface is cool under your fingers. You can feel the faint rumble of leftover bass vibrators from earlier, or maybe that’s just your heartbeat. Same thing.

He steps back and grabs the camera again. “Perfect. Hold that.”

The lens clicks. You hear him suck in a quiet breath, like he’s trying not to lose it.

“Look over your shoulder,” he says. His voice is lower now—almost rough.

You glance back at him, and the look on his face—like he’s seeing you in a way no one ever has—nearly makes you forget how to stand.

“Good,” he murmurs. He moves closer, one hand bracing the amp beside yours as he leans in to adjust the hem of your shirt, tugging it just enough to expose a sliver of skin above your jeans. His knuckles brush against your waist, slow, deliberate.

Another click. Another flash.

“Good girl,” he says, almost under his breath. “Stay just like that for me, doll. Perfect.”

The shutter clicks. Your skin tingles everywhere he touches you. You hold the pose for him, feeling the brush of air each time he shifts to find a new angle. He keeps adjusting you—a hand on your hip, a brush of his knuckles against your ribs as he pulls on your shirt again. Each touch feels heavier than the last.

Then he lowers the camera and steps in, close enough that can see the tiny smudge of eyeliner under his eyes, the faint sheen of sweat at his temple. He flicks his gaze to the old couch in the corner; half buried in cables and battered gig bags.

“Come here,” he says, his voice dipping lower. He slips in hand around your wrist like it’s nothing, and tugs you towards the couch.

“Lie back for me,” he says, gesturing to the faded couch cushions. “Lean on your elbows.”

You shoot him a look. Trying for a teasing laugh, but it comes out breathless. “This still for the poster?”

His grin flashes, wicked and soft all at once.

You do as he says—lowering yourself onto the couch, propping yourself up on your elbows. The angle makes your shirt ride up, your legs part slightly where your jeans stretch. He watches every shift like it’s something sacred.

He climbs up next. One knee on the cushions between yours, one braced by your hip. The camera hangs heavy from his neck, dangling close enough you could tug him down by it if you wanted to.

He lifts it, one hand steadying the lens, the other braced on the back of the couch by your shoulder. The closeness makes your breath catch—the way his knee brushes your thigh, the soft rasp of his jeans against yours.

“Hold still,” he murmurs, but his eyes aren’t on the viewfinder—they’re on your mouth.

You’re putty underneath him. Mouth slightly parted, breathing shallow and quick. Your expression gives up what your words don’t say—I want you; plain and simple. The strap of your top slides off one shoulder, you don’t bother pulling it back up.

“Hey–hold that—” Choso mutters, stepping closer. He lifts the camera again and aims it down at you like he’s framing something just for him.

You laugh—low and breathy. “What? This?”

You tuck your chin down, eyes flicking up at him through your lashes—and something about that look, sharp and lazy all at once, makes his throat go dry.

“Yes,” he says. “God, yes.”

His voice is rough. He hovers over you so close you can smell the cologne under the sweat. He lifts the camera—click—lowers it—click—gets closer until it’s just your eyes filling the frame.

You let your head fall back over the armrest, exposing your neck, your mouth falling open just a little. Your breath hitches—the way you expose your throat like that. Bare. You knew exactly what you were doing.

“You like that, huh?” You tease, voice husky now. Your free hand slides over your stomach, thumb hooking the hem of your shirt.

He swallows. His knee shifts closer, bracing himself over your thigh. The lens clicks.

Choso lowers the camera halfway, lips parted like he’s got something he shouldn’t say. He huffs a breath, shakes his head, grinning crooked. “You’re gonna pack the whole gig tomorrow.”

You toss your hair, grinning wide, feeling the buzz of it in your chest. “Good. Maybe they’ll finally notice the drummer.”

He laughs, eyes catching yours for a beat too long. “You don’t know what you’re doing to me.”

“Sure I do.” Your lips curl, lazy and wicked. “These for the poster too?”

“Yeah. Poster.” His voice cracks into a laugh. He doesn’t move—just keeps snapping, angle after angle, the flash popping like fireworks. The camera’s lens clicks and whirrs, but half the time, you’re sure he’s not even looking through it anymore. You shift under him, arching your back to make the top ride up higher.

The other strap slip completely, falling down your arm. You don’t fix it. You look straight into the lens, eyes half-lidded, mouth parted, a sheen of sweat on your collarbone. He shifts his weight, knee pressing deeper between your thighs, The shutter clicks again, but slower now—like he’s dragging this out just to watch you squirm.

Choso lowers his camera for half a second, his eyes tracing over your face. Your lips, the sliver of skin where your shirt’s ridden up. He bites the ball of his piercing, his thumb brushing the curve of your waist. Your eyes lock, and your grin turns slow, feline.

“Last one,” he murmurs. His mouth twitches into something that’s almost a smirk—but there’s heat behind it, dark and sweet. “Hold it. This one’s for me.”

The words sink into you like a match to dry paper—a sudden heat, a rush that makes you feel reckless. For him. Not the band, not the poster—him.

“Oh?” You say, your voice soft, teasing. “For you, huh?”

His hand flexes on the couch near your head. “Yeah. Just—hold that pose for me, doll.”

You tilt your head, your grin curling to match his. You feel the thrum of your pulse everywhere—your chest, your throat, between your thighs where his knee brushes so close.

“Okay,” you say sweetly. “One for you.”

And then—before you can talk yourself out of it, you slip your fingers under the hem of your shirt. The fabric brushes over your stomach, your ribs—and then higher, until it clears your chest completely. No bra—just skin, flushed and soft under the garage air.

You feel the chill hit you first—then the heat of his stare, dragging over you like a touch. You swear you hear him suck in a breath, low and sharp, the lens lowering a fraction.

“Fuck,” he murmurs, more to himself than to you. When he lifts the camera—his eyes aren't behind it anymore. They’re on you, hungry and half-lidded, mouth parted like he’s seconds from forgetting the camera exists at all.

The shutter clicks—just once. Then his free hand slides up your ribs, warm skin to skin.

“Perfect,” he says again, voice wrecked with want. “Fucking perfect.”

· · ─────── ·{ ✐ᝰ.ᐟ}· ─────── · ·

author’s note: hello lovelies it’s been a while :) professional and personal life has been a bit of a mess + very packed as you might’ve noticed in #mitskicain confessionals 📿 this is my little procrastination project before a huge exam i’ve got coming up in a week hehehehe it’s also self indulgent because i too, want to fuck the drummer 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩 shoutout to him for being hot!!! until the next drop!! MUAH MUAH 💋💋

[babyarmywrites]

真夜中のドア - kim seungmin

Synopsys: Everyone told you they loved you—except the one who mattered most. But when words finally fail, love finds another way to speak.

Word count: 4,1k

Genre: fluff, slight angst, but happy ending

Warnings: none

You didn’t think you’d end up here—not really. Not at a company this big, not coordinating stages for a group as high-profile as Stray Kids. You’d started with small freelance gigs in college—community plays, university idol groups, indie concerts in cramped basements with fog machines that barely worked. But you were good. Fast. Quiet. Reliable. The type of person who knew how to get ten things done without asking twice. You didn’t try to charm your way into rooms. You just worked your way into them.

JYP had called you after a rushed recommendation from someone on the production team of a survival show you helped coordinate. You were supposed to be a temporary fill-in. One showcase. One comeback stage. And yet, somehow, you stayed.

It wasn’t glamorous. It was lugging cables before sunrise and running through camera blockings during lunch breaks. But you liked the chaos. The adrenaline. The rhythm of fixing problems before anyone else even noticed them.

That’s how you met Seungmin. Or—how he started noticing you.

At first, you barely interacted. You were all business: headset on, clipboard in hand, mic assignments color-coded and memorized. Seungmin didn’t say much either. Just a polite nod here and there when your paths crossed in rehearsal spaces or backstage.

But it changed during a rehearsal for an end-of-year special.

One of the junior staff dropped the wrong music cue—twice. The rest of the team scattered to fix it, but you were already crouched behind the console, rewiring the audio jack and muttering into your mic. You didn’t notice Seungmin watching from the side until the song started clean, without a hitch.

Later that day, you passed by him in the hallway. He paused. Just long enough to say, “You saved that rehearsal, you know.”

You blinked. “Just doing my job.”

He nodded slowly. “Still. Thank you.”

You didn’t think much of it. But he did.

After that, it kept happening. Little moments. He’d offer you a drink when you stayed late. Ask about the work no one else noticed. Mention your name when thanking staff after a shoot. He’d linger in conversations a little longer than necessary. Ask for your opinion during stage reviews. Smile more when you were around. You weren’t loud. You didn’t chase attention. But you were there, holding the chaos together. And somewhere along the way, Seungmin stopped looking past you like everyone else had. He started looking for you instead.

It doesn’t happen all at once. Seungmin’s always been the type to notice the small things — the way someone stirs their coffee before drinking, the way staff tie their shoelaces before a stage. He’s observant by nature. Methodical. Practical. It’s what makes him so steady under pressure. But with you, he starts noticing things he doesn’t have a reason to.

Like how you hum quietly under your breath when checking lighting cues, a habit so consistent he begins to recognize which checklist you’re running through based on the melody. Or how you tug on the sleeves of your hoodie when you're stressed, trying not to show it. He catches himself smiling when he hears your voice through the comms, even if you’re just calling out, “Group B, standby.”

Then one day, something small shifts.

You’re both reviewing the stage rundown for an upcoming music show — the group’s set is stacked, and the transition time between songs is tight. You sit cross-legged on the floor of the rehearsal room, laptop balanced on one knee, scribbling notes in the margins of your clipboard. Seungmin sits across from you, sipping from a protein drink, eyes drifting over your concentrated expression.

“You’re always this prepared?” he asks lightly, more curious than teasing.

You glance up, a bit surprised he’s talking. “Someone has to be. You guys don’t make it easy.”

He smirks. “Fair.”

There’s a moment of silence, but it’s comfortable. Familiar.

“You ever do something completely out of your comfort zone?” he asks suddenly, eyes not leaving yours.

You blink. “Why?”

“No reason,” he says quickly. “Just wondering.”

But that night, as he lies awake in bed, he thinks about how asking you to dinner would be out of his comfort zone. Not because he doesn’t want to — but because it would make this real. And real is terrifying. Still, the thought lingers.

A week later, after a particularly brutal day of rehearsals, you’re sitting on a bench just outside the studio building, sipping canned coffee and scrolling through lighting corrections.

Seungmin finds you there. He sits beside you without saying a word at first.

“Long day?” he finally asks.

You nod without looking up. “Stage four had a flickering LED panel, and the fog machine almost killed our mic levels, but… other than that, totally smooth.”

He laughs, a sound you’ve grown to love. He’s quiet for a beat, then says, “Hey.”

You glance over. “Yeah?”

“I was thinking…” He hesitates, lips parting like the words might float away before he catches them. “Do you want to grab dinner sometime?”

You blink, a bit caught off guard. “Just the two of us?”

He nods slowly. “Yeah. I mean—if that’s okay. I figured… we spend so much time working, maybe it’d be nice to just… not work. For a bit.”

You smile, heart doing something traitorous in your chest. “That sounds nice.”

He exhales — half relief, half disbelief. “Okay. Cool. I’ll… I’ll text you.”

You bump your shoulder lightly into his. “Don’t forget the emoji.”

He grins. “Not a chance.”

And when he walks away that night, fingers twitching at his phone like he can’t wait to type something ridiculous, Seungmin feels something strange bubbling under his skin. Not panic. Not uncertainty. Just… anticipation.

Because maybe this is out of his comfort zone. But maybe that’s exactly where you are.

Your first dinner together isn’t what you’d call romantic — at least, not by the usual standards.

There’s no candlelight, no nervous flirting, no dramatic confessions. Just a small, cozy restaurant tucked into a quiet side street. Seungmin picked the place himself, promising the kimchi jjigae was the best in the city — and he wasn’t wrong. You sit across from each other in a booth, steam rising from your bowls, and somehow the conversation flows with surprising ease.

You talk about everything and nothing: awkward rehearsal moments, your mutual hate for faulty headset mics, the time a stage light exploded mid-performance and Seungmin didn’t even flinch.

He makes you laugh — really laugh — more than once. And beneath his usual composed, dry exterior, you catch glimpses of something softer, something that only shows when he’s around you. Meanwhile, Seungmin watches you quietly, like he’s seeing you clearly for the first time, wondering how he ever thought you were just part of the background.

When he walks you back to your building that night, hands stuffed deep into his jacket pockets, there’s a pause at the front steps.

“Thanks for tonight,” you say, half-smiling.

He nods. “I liked it.”

You’re not sure what you expect next — maybe a hug, maybe a goodbye — but instead, he says, “Wanna do it again sometime?”

You nod. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

From there, it’s a slow evolution. Neither of you announces it, labels it, or tries to define what it is. But suddenly, Seungmin starts waiting for you after rehearsals. He saves a spot for you at lunch. He learns how you take your coffee and always shows up with it before show call. His playlist changes — softer songs, more warmth.

You stop pretending you don’t notice the way his eyes follow you across the room, how his hand lingers just a second longer on your back when he walks past, or how his lips twitch up when you say something only he finds funny.

The others start catching on quickly.

Han nudges you during mic check one day and whispers, “When’s the wedding?”

Felix just grins knowingly. Hyunjin raises a teasing brow every time Seungmin’s voice softens around you. Even Minho, ever the observer, once walks past and mutters, “You’re doomed,” to Seungmin with a smirk.

But Seungmin doesn’t care. He’s not the loudest about it — he never will be — but he starts showing you in a hundred little ways: in the packed dinners he brings to late rehearsals, the forehead kisses he sneaks when no one’s looking, the way his messages always end with “Get home safe.”

Eventually, during one of those quiet moments, curled up together backstage after a long week, he turns to you and says, so simply:

“I think I’ve been yours for a while now.”

And just like that, you know.

This wasn’t loud. This wasn’t sudden. But this? This was love.

Over the next couple of weeks, without a grand gesture or without an elaborate conversation on where you two stand relationship-wise, it becomes clearer and clearer that you two are, in fact, a couple.

You feel it from small gestures. In his attentiveness, that seems to be exclusive to you.

You step into the rehearsal room just as Seungmin and the others are wrapping up their practice. The moment he spots you, his face lights up in a way that makes your heart skip. As you walk over, he subtly brushes his hand along your lower back, guiding you gently through the cluster of people. You barely notice the casualness of the touch, but others around you exchange knowing smiles.

Later, when you sit side by side on the couch, his fingers find yours, intertwining just briefly before he lets go, as if holding your hand too openly would be too much for now. Still, the warmth lingers.

During a break, you catch him watching you from across the room. His eyes are soft, full of care, but he quickly looks away when you meet his gaze. Only you understand what that silent glance means.

Later, you find a small note tucked on the side of your water bottle — a simple "Good luck today!" scrawled in his handwriting. You smile, feeling the comfort of his thoughtfulness.

He leans in close, whispering a teasing nickname only you know, making you laugh until you nearly fall over. It’s in that moment, your laughter echoing between you, that he squeezes your hand and you realize: you’re his, and he’s yours.

When the day cools down, Seungmin takes off his hoodie and gently drapes it over your shoulders, his fingers lingering for a heartbeat before he pulls back, shy but proud.

Finally, as you stand together waiting for the others to finish, he leans in just a little closer, the space between you narrowing naturally — a quiet promise, louder than words.

Doomsday comes a few weeks later. You’re sitting across from Seungmin, the small café around you humming softly with quiet conversations and clinking cups. He’s telling one of those goofy stories — the kind only he can pull off, full of awkward mishaps and exaggerated expressions.

You can’t help but smile as he talks about the time he accidentally wore two different shoes to practice. And then, just as he’s about to demonstrate his “fashion disaster,” he trips over an imaginary obstacle and nearly knocks over his coffee. You burst out laughing, the kind of laugh that feels like it’s been waiting to escape all day. It bubbles up from deep inside and catches you off guard. When you finally catch your breath, the words come tumbling out, almost like a surprise to yourself:

“I love you.”

Seungmin freezes, eyebrows rising in surprise, his smile faltering for a brief moment. You stare at him, suddenly embarrassed and wishing you could take it back. But then, instead of saying anything, he just grins that quiet, warm smile you’ve come to know so well. He reaches over, lightly bumps your shoulder with his own, and says softly, “You’re something else.”

That little gesture feels like a promise — a gentle acknowledgment that, even if he’s not ready to say the words yet, he feels the same.

In that quiet, shared space, you realize something: love doesn’t always need to be spoken. Sometimes, it’s carried in the small things—the pauses, the touches, the way someone holds you like you matter most.

Maybe, just maybe, that’s enough for now.

Confession No. 1 - Han Jisung

Han slides into the room where you’re working, headphones hanging around his neck, fingers nervously drumming on the table.

“Hey, can I steal you for a sec?” he asks, trying to sound casual but failing spectacularly.

You look up, curious. “Sure, what’s up?”

He pulls out his laptop and opens the remix project for Super Bowl. “Okay, so here’s the deal—I’m totally stuck. My brain is fried, and this remix needs to slap, but I just can’t get it right.”

You grin. “Alright, let’s see what you’ve got.”

As you dive in, tweaking beats and layering sounds, Han watches you with a goofy smile. “I swear, you’re magic. Honestly, if I didn’t have my amazing girlfriend—the world’s best PR manager, by the way—I’d be on my knees for you.”

He smirks, clearly proud of that. “But seriously, you and Seungmin? You’re good for him. Like, really good. I’m happy he’s got you.”

You smile, pleasantly surprised.

Then, Han freezes for a second, cheeks reddening. “Uh, so, I just want to say... I love you.”

You blink, caught off guard.

“No, no!” he blurts out quickly. “Not like that! I mean—platonic love! Like, I love your skills, your brain, your patience with me being a mess.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Only you could make a platonic love confession sound so confusing but endearing.”

Han grins, relief washing over his face. “Yeah, that’s me. But seriously, thanks for helping me out. This remix’s gonna be fire.”

You exchange a smile, the music between you somehow feeling even better now — like the beat of a friendship that’s growing stronger every day.

Confession No.2 - Lee Know

The rehearsal studio buzzes with the usual energy, but you notice Lee Know standing off to the side, his brow furrowed and fingers tapping nervously against his thigh. The stage layout had been changed last minute, and you can tell it’s throwing him off—he’s worried the choreography won’t come together right.

You catch his eye and head over, holding a water bottle. “Hey, you look like you need this more than anyone right now.”

He accepts it gratefully, taking a few sips before letting out a shaky breath. “Thanks. This last-minute switch… it’s messing with the flow. I’m worried the moves won’t translate the way they’re supposed to.”

You smile gently, trying to ease his tension. “You’re one of the best dancers I know. The moves might change, but your skill doesn’t. The energy you bring? That’s what counts.”

Lee Know looks at you, eyes softening. “You’re right. I’m just... stressed, you know?”

You nod. “Totally understandable. But you’ve got this—and we’ve all got your back.”

For a moment, there’s silence, then Lee Know glances down at the water bottle in his hand and mutters, almost under his breath, “Don’t tell anyone I said this, but I love you.”

You blink, surprised, but before you can respond, he shrugs, flushes a bit, and quickly adds, “Not like that, obviously. Just… you’re one of us now. You’re a good person.”

And just like that, he turns on his heel and disappears back into rehearsal like it never happened, leaving you smiling quietly to yourself, warmed by the unspoken trust.

Confession No.3 - Changbin

You step into the practice room balancing a tray with coffee cups, hoping the caffeine boost will lift their spirits during the long rehearsal. Changbin immediately zeroes in on you, snatching a cup like it’s a lifeline.

“See? This is why I love you!” he declares, clutching his chest with mock drama. “You get the assignment right every time.”

You can’t help but laugh, shaking your head at his antics. He leans in, voice dropping to something softer, more sincere. “Seriously though. You’re amazing. I hope he tells you soon. You deserve to hear those three little words.”

His words catch in your throat. The truth is, you’ve been waiting—patiently, hopefully—for Seungmin to say it. But a week has passed, and the silence has started to sting. The fact that the boys know about your inner turmoil makes it a hundred times worse.

Changbin’s teasing cheerfulness fades when he catches the look in your eyes. “Hey, don’t let it get to you. Sometimes people show love differently. You just gotta give him time.”

Just then, Seungmin walks in behind Changbin, catching the last part of the conversation. He pauses, watching you with a softness that speaks volumes, but he doesn’t say the words himself.

Instead, he quietly places a hand on your shoulder and gives it a gentle squeeze.

You look up, searching his face for a sign, but all you see is a tender hesitation.

As he steps away, your smile falters. You clutch your coffee a little tighter, the warmth not quite reaching your heart.

Confession No. 4 - Felix

Felix’s kitchen smells like cinnamon and vanilla, soft lo-fi music buzzing from a speaker near the windowsill. You’re elbow-deep in flour and laughter, icing cupcakes with reckless abandon while he watches you with that signature sunshine smile.

“Seungmin told me you’ve been a little… distant lately,” Felix says gently, placing a tray of cookies into the oven.

Your hands pause mid-swipe of frosting. “I’m not trying to be. It’s just—hard, I guess. Waiting.”

Felix nods, pulling off his oven mittens and leaning on the counter beside you. “He’s scared, you know. Seungmin’s not the type to fall easily. But when he does? He falls hard. And when someone gets close, he holds on with everything he has.” His voice is soft, but certain. “He’s not good with words like that. But he’s trying. I know he is.”

Your throat tightens, and before you can stop yourself, the tears come.

“I know he loves me, I can feel it in the way he acts, the way he looks at me,” you whisper, voice cracking. “I just… I need to hear it. Words matter to me. They always have.”

Felix reaches for a tissue and hands it to you wordlessly, letting you cry without making it feel dramatic. He then embraces you, whispering "We all love you" into your ear, reminding you how much you mean to their group. Not just Seungmin. Then, as if on cue, the front door creaks open.

You freeze.

Seungmin’s voice calls out casually from the hallway, “Felix? I left my charger—”

And then he sees you—eyes red, shoulders trembling, face turning away.

You don’t give him a chance to say anything. You’re out the door before he can take a step closer, leaving the smell of cookies and unspoken feelings behind.

Confession No.5 - Bang Chan

You’ve never felt quite this heavy leaving work. The rehearsal schedules were brutal today, and Seungmin barely looked at you during the debrief. Not out of malice, but distance—a carefully placed wall you can’t seem to get through anymore. You told him you loved him. Weeks ago. And he still hasn’t said it back.

You hear footsteps catching up behind you in the parking lot, and you already know who it is before he says anything.

“Hey,” Bang Chan says, offering a warm smile as he falls into step beside you. “I figured I’d walk you out.”

You smile back, but it doesn’t reach your eyes.

He doesn’t say anything at first, letting the silence settle gently between you. When you reach your car, he leans against the door and folds his arms across his chest, looking up at the night sky like he’s thinking through a thousand words before choosing the right ones.

“You’ve become… really important to us,” he says at last. “To all of us. But especially to Seungmin.”

You blink, not expecting him to go there so directly.

“He’s scared,” Chan continues, gaze steady now. “Scared because what he feels for you is big. Bigger than anything he’s felt before. And Seungmin isn’t used to that. He’s not the type to say ‘I love you’ lightly. He’s the type to mean it so much, it paralyzes him.”

You exhale slowly, pressing your fingers to your temple. “I’m not asking him to be someone he’s not. I just—needed something. Anything. To know we’re not just… stuck.”

Bang Chan’s voice softens. “You’re not stuck. You’re building something. And I know it’s not easy when you speak different love languages. But trust me—he hears you. He sees you. And he loves you, even if he hasn’t said it yet.”

You don’t realize your eyes are watering until he pulls you into a quick, reassuring hug—the kind that feels like family.

“We all love you, by the way,” he murmurs. “Even if that guy is being his typical emotionally constipated self. And if he somehow messes this up…” He pulls back and grins. “We’re keeping you anyway.”

That makes you laugh, even through your tears. A small sound. A spark of something hopeful.

+1 Confession No. 6 - Seungmin

Seungmin had always thought love was supposed to be quiet. Comfortable. Easy. Something that slides into your life unnoticed and stays without needing much from you. He’d seen it in his parents, in a few of his friends, in books and movies where the feelings were loud, but the foundation was steady.

But then there was you.

And suddenly, love wasn’t quiet.

It was terrifying. A loud, messy thing that threatened to unravel all the careful walls he’d built for himself.

At first, he told himself it was fine—more than fine. You made him laugh like no one else. You were good to him. You were good for him. But then came the weight of it: the way you looked at him like he hung the stars, the way you said “I love you” like it was the most natural thing in the world.

And he couldn’t say it back.

Not because he didn’t feel it—but because he did. Too much. Too deeply. Too dangerously.

He couldn’t sleep tonight, even though his body ached from the day’s schedule. He lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, the sound of Felix’s soft snoring doing nothing to quiet the noise in his head.

You had cried in Felix’s kitchen. He heard it. He saw it. And when you ran past him, your shoulders curled in on yourself, he felt his entire world shatter a little more.

You weren’t drifting away from him. He was pushing you.

All because of fear.

Fear of what being with him would do to you—an idol’s life wasn’t designed for softness. For midnight phone calls, or spontaneous weekend trips, or even the comfort of privacy. Loving him meant carrying the weight of shadows, secrets, scrutiny. It meant living with uncertainty and restraint.

And yet, what scared him more than all that… Was the idea of losing you.

So he gets up. Puts on a hoodie. Slips out of the dorm into the quiet night air. His heart hammers against his ribs the entire cab ride to your apartment, his thoughts spiraling in every direction.

What if you’re asleep? What if it’s too late? What if you don’t want to see him?

But when the elevator dings and he finds himself outside your door, his fingers hesitate only a second before he knocks.

You open the door seconds later, wrapped in a loose sweater, your eyes wide with confusion and a soft thread of worry. “Seungmin?”

He doesn’t speak at first. He just steps inside, gently closing the door behind him. And when he turns to face you, his breath catches.

You look like safety.

And he’s never needed it more.

“I’m sorry,” he says first, voice hoarse. “I should’ve come sooner. I should’ve said it sooner.”

You blink at him, uncertain. “Said what?”

He runs a hand through his hair, frustrated with himself. “I’m not good with words. Which is stupid, because they’re literally my job. But when it comes to you, I never know how to say what I’m feeling without sounding like a complete idiot.”

Your lips part to respond, but he holds up a hand, trying to keep the dam from breaking too soon.

“I didn’t say it back that night,” he continues, stepping closer, “not because I didn’t mean it. But because I meant it too much. And I was scared. Scared that I’d ruin you. That being with me would make your life harder, lonelier, more complicated.”

Your breath hitches.

“But the truth is,” he whispers, voice cracking, “you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. And it kills me that I made you feel unwanted or unloved, when the truth is—I’ve been in love with you for a long time. I just didn’t know how to say it without breaking something.”

He laughs, but it’s shaky, and his eyes are glassy now. “Turns out I broke something anyway.”

Tears stream down your cheeks before you even realize it, and you reach for him without hesitation, curling your hands into the fabric of his hoodie. “You didn’t break anything,” you say softly. “I just needed to know I wasn’t loving you alone.”

He cradles your face in his hands like you’re the most delicate thing in the world, his own tears finally falling. “You’re not. Not even close.”

The kiss that follows is slow, aching, desperate. It’s the culmination of all the words he couldn’t say until now—the soft tremble of his lips on yours, the way his hands hold you like a promise. You melt into each other, your tears mixing, but neither of you pull away.

You just breathe, together.

Wrapped in the warmth of a love that took its time—but arrived all the same.

[schlattslonghairytoes]

schlatt calling you mama out of the blue because ted told him it would work to get you flustered but you both end up laughing and schlatt gets so embarrassed

hey mamas

you were sprawled out across schlatts couch, watching the basement yard. you had already made breakfast, fed jambo and garlic bread

and now you just had to wait for you fuckass boss to wake up, i guess you guys had just given up on punctuality at this point

its no like he had a whole lot to do today, but your job was to get here at the same time every day, and make sure he finished his checklist

if its one task, or a record number of twenty-two

you were so focused in on your video that you didnt even hear the door click open

"whats your favorite poptar-"

"good mornin' mama" schlatt interupted your video

"alright, pack it up beast boy" you laugh at your own stupid joke as he sits next to you on the couch

"does that make you raven" he raises a brow and mews

"can we chill with the rizz its too early for this" you two spoke like this all the time, so you assumed the mama bit was over

holy shit were you wrong

as if it were clockwork, he managed to call you some variation of mama, six times in two hours

and listen you werent necessarily complaining, but like, it was getting weird

"can you hand that to me mama?" he asked while he was editing his newest video

you grabbed his gamersupps and passed it to him, again trying to ignore his little "mama" kick.

you were sat on the bed in his filming and editing room on your phone, all you had to do today is make sure he finished this one video he was putting off

"ok, i jus' have to ask, where did this mama bit come from, not complaining jus' curious." you lent over the bed to look at him, his face now significantly red.

"i dont know" he said quietly, pretending to be locked in on editing when you could see him clicking the same clip over and over

"c'mon, usually your go-to's are toots, or doll, and the occasional broad. why the switch?" you said, squinting your eyes at him

"does it really matter?"

"yes."

"ughhhhh" he leaned back in his chair and looked at you, his face still tomato colored

"im waiting c'monnnn" you giggled

"tedtoldmethatificalledyouthatyouwouldreallylikeit" he spat out

"jay do you think i even heard what you said?" you laughed as he finally turned his seat around and sighed

"i was talking to ted and he told me that you used to love being called that as a stupid petname and i dont know i just thought i should start calling you that i guess. im sorry" he said awkwardly

"hey dont be emmbarrased, ted was right, i love that nickname, just mix it up sometimes alright, your spamming it but an occasional one is great."

he looked up at you through his long lashes

"alright mama."

and for the ninth time today, you swear you felt butterflies again.

hi just a short lowkey ass post so i can try and get bakc on my writing grind

[starlightkun]

⏯ word count: 13.7k ⏯ genre: band au, punk band frontman!shotaro, venue manager!reader, shotaro is whipped, reader is emotionally unavailable, is it a slowish burn or is it angst?, whatever it is ur reading a starlightkun fic so there’s a happy ending :), ft. eunseok/sungchan/wonbin as shotaro’s bandmates welcome back boys & wayv as reader’s coworkers ⏯ warnings: some blood/violence (shotaro gets punched once), not necessarily a warning but since i do generally avoid describing the reader’s appearance in my fics, i wanted to give a heads up—reader works at a punk/alternative concert venue and is generally in/around that scene. reader is mentioned and/or implied to have some tattoos and piercings (other than earlobes) ⏯ extra info: set in the same universe as filler episodes, but u don’t need to read that in order to understand this one, filler eps!sungchan and sugarcoated!shotaro r just in the same band! also the title is from a 5sos song lol ⏯ author’s note: sooo after writing filler episodes and experiencing bbb/lucky shotaro, i couldn’t get punk band frontman shotaro out of my head… i fear the trajectory of my life has been altered ⏯ now playing… empty wallets – 5 seconds of summer | apathy is boring – bears in trees | dreaming girl – xdinary heroes

── ⋆⋅♫⋅⋆ find more stories from backstage at venue:hell here!

“You’re not stupid. I know you’re not.” He stood up, stepping closer to you. “You always stop yourself right before… I’m sure you think you’re not leading me on or whatever, but I know you know how stupidly head over heels I am for you, because I don’t try to hide it.”

Flipping through your keyring, you selected the right key by touch in order to unlock the rear entrance to the venue. Despite the sweltering summer heat outside, the basement was cool as always. You flipped the AC and lights on as you disabled the alarm that wasn’t actually connected to a security company, then descended the stairs. Venue:Hell, your home away from home. Actually, you were pretty sure you spent more time here than your apartment some weeks.

Your phone buzzed with a text as you crossed the threshold into the back office, and you opened it as you flopped into the creaky office chair.

[kun: attached image]

[kun: new schedule for the month. y/n, don’t forget that you’re covering the new weekly act starting today]

It was your manager, and you read over the list of events for this week with mild interest. The two of you had already discussed that you’d be taking over being point with Venue:Hell’s weekly spot. The venue had a recurring local act come in every week to perform, typically a smaller artist, to help them build a base among your regulars. These guys had recently opened for one of your previous weekly acts on a national tour and your manager liked them enough to ask them to fill in the weekly spot when the tour made a stop here. You’d had that particular night off, so this was going to be your first time meeting the band.

As you went through your usual opening checklist, other employees filtered in, starting on their tasks. The venue usually provided all the staff and equipment for the weekly act. They just needed to show up and perform.

You were with your sound guy Yangyang by his equipment when you heard your name being called from elsewhere in the building.

“Yeah?” You yelled back, walking out from behind the curtain to look around for whoever it was.

Ten, who worked the front, was approaching with four guys in tow, instrument cases in hand. Must be the new band.

“New weekly is here!” He called out.

You hopped down off the stage to meet them on the main floor. “You guys are early.”

The band looked at each other, obviously worried. One that had a guitar case on his back spoke up uncertainly, “Is that a problem? We weren’t sure—”

“No, it’s fine. I’m pretty sure it’s a first, though,” you snickered.

“You got them?” Ten asked you. “Kunhang said he needed help.”

“Go for it,” you nodded, dismissing your coworker from the group.

Looking back at the four guys that you were left with, you started your spiel. “So, I’m Y/N, assistant manager at Venue:Hell. If you ever have any questions, need anything, let me know. I’m sure Kun already explained how our weekly spot works, but you guys will perform here every Thursday at 10:00 and have a forty-five-minute slot. It’s not exactly primetime, but it’s consistent and we have a good pool of regulars. You’ll also have priority for inclusion on lineups for any special events we host. If your weekly slot ever needs to be moved or canceled, we’ll give you as much of a heads-up as we can, but sometimes it will be very last-minute. If you ever need to miss a week, we ask the same from you, tell us as soon as possible. Make sense?”

You got four hasty nods in return.

“Great, let me show you to your green room.” Just as you were about to turn around and head off, you realized something. “Ah shit, I completely forgot to ask your name. Sorry.”

The guitarist that had spoken earlier offered you a big smile. His ears were adorned with metal, and you spotted some jewelry glinting from his nose, lip, and eyebrow too. His hair sort of reminded you of a dalmatian, a light blonde base with spots of dark black streaking through it. Overall, fit right in with the scene, except for his smile, which seemed to be made of sunshine and rainbows or something cheesy like that. You swore you needed sunglasses just looking at him.

“I’m Osaki Shotaro, uh, guitar, and I sing!” He informed you cheerily. “It’s really nice to meet you.”

“Jung Sungchan, drums,” the tallest one nodded. “And our band is called Roses for Eyes, by the way. Since Taro here forget to mention that.”

He slapped his friend on the shoulder, making Shotaro wince.

“Right…” Shotaro rubbed his neck. “You-You can also call me Taro, too, by the way. Everyone does. Like boba tea!”

“Cool.” You nodded, looking at the other two expectantly.

“Eunseok, I’m the bassist,” another introduced himself. “Sing a bit, I guess.”

The last one, with dark black hair save for a single hot pink streak in his bangs, gave a small wave. “Park Wonbin. Guitar and I sing too.”

“I like the pink,” you commented, then pivoted on your heel. “Okay, I’ll show you your green room.”

“So what do you think?” Yangyang asked you as he fiddled with his equipment, and you helped him go over his checklists.

“I think it sounds fine,” you replied, checking that step off.

“I meant about the new weekly.”

“Oh, they seem fine,” you shrugged. “You worked the night they were here last time, right? What did you think?”

“Their sound’s good.”

“And Kun obviously liked them.”

“Do you think they’ll be a pain to work with?”

“Hm?” You thought on your sparse interactions with the members of Roses for Eyes, the introductions, and then Shotaro had asked you where the restroom was. “No, I think they’ll be fine. I don’t know, Yang, it hasn’t even been their first day. There’s time yet for them to turn into assholes.”

Footsteps approaching made you glance over your shoulder. It was the drummer… Sungchan, you were pretty sure. He seemed to be heading straight for you, and you looked at him with your eyebrows raised.

“Do you need something?” You asked him expectantly, listening to Yangyang call out that the next step was clear.

“Not me, but yes,” he answered sheepishly.

You held his eye contact, arching an eyebrow.

“It’s Taro,” the drummer continued. “He’s good, I just wanted to give you a heads-up that he kind of uhm, loses things a lot? Especially his in-ears.”

“Has he lost them already?” You checked your watch. “Your soundcheck is in five minutes.”

“Yeah…”

You sighed and held the clipboard out towards Yangyang, “You got this?”

He saluted you, “Yes, ma’am.”

You turned back to Sungchan, “Where’s the last place he saw them?”

“I told Sungchan not to tell you, I’m sorry,” Shotaro apologized as the two of you retraced his steps starting from the van they had arrived in.

“I told you guys—If you need anything, let me know,” you grunted, climbing over a spare amp in the back to look under the seats.

“This is just so embarrassing,” he complained, rifling through the glovebox.

“Hey, it’s your first performance as our new weekly, it’d be weirder if it went over perfectly.”

“I meant you having to search through our nasty van with me for them. Just being a few minutes late to soundcheck, I could deal.”

“It’s fine, Shotaro, I’ve done worse, promise.”

His big eyes peered at you inquisitively over the headrests of the front seats. “Like what?”

“I think we’ve scoured every inch of the inside of this thing,” you declared, wiping sweat off your brow with the hem of your shirt. “Have you checked under it?”

Shotaro was still staring at you.

“I’ll look.” You sighed and hopped out of the back of the van.

“No, I’ve got it!” He suddenly scrambled into action, dropping to his hands and knees on the gravel next to the vehicle to scour the ground underneath it.

You, meanwhile, kept your eyes peeled for the immediate vicinity of the parking lot around it. Finally, off in the direction towards the building next door, something caught your eye. You wandered over, picking up a square, black case. Flipping it open, sure enough, there was a pair of in-ears, one bright green and the other bright purple.

Walking back over to the van, you stopped next to the guitarist, who was still looking under it. “Shotaro.”

“Huh?” Thunk. “Fuck!”

“Watch your head,” you said dryly as he carefully extricated himself from under the van this time. You shook the case at him. “These yours?”

He lit up as soon as he saw the equipment. “Yes! Oh my god! Where were they?”

“Over by the neighbors.” You jerked a thumb at the building.

“Ohhh, right! There was a cat over there that I took a picture of when we got here. Do you want to see it?” He was already digging around in his pocket for his phone.

“No. Focus.”

“Right.” He reached for the case, but you snatched them out of his grasp before he could touch it.

“I don’t think so.”

Shotaro’s face turned endearingly confused. “What?”

“We’re not doing this again,” you declared. “These are mine now. When they are not inside of your ears, they’re mine. You will come get them from me before every performance and return them to me as soon as you get off the stage. If you do not need to take them somewhere else before next week, they’ll stay here with me the whole time. Deal?”

“So, Sungchan mentioned this isn’t the first time I’ve lost them?”

“Uh-huh.”

He nodded enthusiastically. “Deal!”

Roses for Eyes wasn’t half bad, from the bits and pieces that you heard while you were running around doing other stuff. You could easily understand why your manager chose them for the weekly spot. Your regulars seemed to like them, too. They had an infectious energy, kept the crowd engaged, and had good chemistry with each other on stage. After the debacle with Shotaro’s in-ears, the rest of the performance went over relatively smoothly, then you just had an open bar and dance night until midnight to deal with. Easy.

It was Yangyang’s turn to have his playlist hooked up, so you were planning on mingling to get some feedback from your regulars on the new weekly.

“Y/N!” A voice yelled out your name from elsewhere backstage, and you turned around.

It was Shotaro running at you, his guitar slung over his back. You held out your hands both in a gesture for him to slow down, and also to protect yourself in case he crashed into you. He managed to skid to a stop just in time, breathless and with a wild smile.

He held his hand out towards you, something crumpled up in his fist. “Here!”

You opened up your palm, letting him drop two familiar neon objects into it. His in-ears. “Ah, right. Thank you for remembering.”

Taking out the case that you still had in your pocket, you tucked them away, snapping it shut again. “You’re sure you won’t need these again before next week?”

“No, we don’t have anything planned.”

“Well, if anything comes up, I’m here most days. I’ll keep them in the office, so if I’m not here, you can get them from Kun or someone else with a key.”

“So what uh, what did you think?” His teeth played with his lip ring nervously.

“About what?” You checked the time on your phone.

“You know, our set?”

“God, I told Yang during soundcheck that Wonbin’s mic should’ve been turned up, but he didn’t listen to me, so we could barely hear him. But we’ll fix that next week. Is the guy always so quiet?”

“Yeah, yeah, he is.” Shotaro was still looking at you expectantly.

“Did you need something else, Shotaro?” You asked. “I was going to go talk to some people.”

“No, uhm, sorry for keeping you.”

“It’s fine.” You patted his shoulder. “And hey, we’re open until midnight tonight. You guys are welcome to stay and hang out. Staff gets half off at the bar, that includes you.”

He nodded and flashed you another smile. “Cool, thanks, Y/N.”

The next week, you were in the back office when there was a knock on the slightly ajar door, and a familiar head poked in.

“Hi.” Shotaro beamed at you. “Kunhang said you were in here.”

“Hi, Shotaro.” You minimized the window that had been up on your screen as he wandered around to your side.

“What are you doing?”

“Payroll. Which you can’t see,” you informed him, opening the top right drawer of the desk.

“Oh. Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” You handed him his in-ear case that you had just retrieved. “Here you go.”

“Thanks.” He accepted the case, but didn’t leave the office.

“Do you guys need something else?”

“No, uhm, finish your work,” he started towards the door. “But I uhm, is that new? The septum piercing?”

You touched the ring absentmindedly. You’d gotten it done over the weekend, you’d forgotten that it was new by now. “Yeah, it is.”

“I like it. Looks good on you.”

Before you could even say thanks, he had darted from the office.

Done with the payroll, you went out to the main floor, taking down the stools from the few high-tops scattered around the perimeter and setting them up at the tables. Roses for Eyes were just starting their soundcheck, providing background music of the sounds of them tuning their instruments.

“Hey, Y/N,” Eunseok’s voice came over the speakers.

“Yeah?” You called back over your shoulder as you continued setting up.

“So, did you like our set last week? Anything we can do better?”

You swore you heard snickers, but when you turned around, they were all standing at attention. “Everyone generally liked your sound. Good music to dance to. But you need some more variety in your setlist. Have a vibe-shift or two. Show people you can do more. If you can.”

Sungchan laughed as he spun a stick around with his fingers. “Is that a challenge or what?”

You shrugged. “It’s only a challenge if it’s hard.”

They all erupted into incredulous laughter, and you couldn’t help but grin too, glad that they didn’t seem put-off by your comment. You were genuinely trying to give them advice, not put them down. The band returned to their soundcheck, and you went back to your own tasks. You figured they were done when you heard a long stretch of silence as you were doing inventory of your in-house merch behind the merch counter.

“Hi.” It was Shotaro again, peeking at you from over the counter as you squatted down to count the t-shirts stacked up down there.

“Hi, Shotaro.” You held up your hand expectantly, and he deposited his in-ear case onto it. You tucked it into your jacket pocket. “Thank you.”

“Need any help?”

“This isn’t your job,” you pointed out, tapping a few buttons on the tablet balanced on your knees.

“You’re really good at that.”

“Counting shirts?” You snorted. “I’d be a lot better if I wasn’t talking while I did it.”

He chuckled. “I meant not answering the question you’re asked.”

You looked up from the shirts at him. “Hmph.”

“Did you hate our set that much?”

“Why does it matter what I thought?” You asked him frankly.

“You’re still doing it.”

You took a closer look at what he was wearing today, a neon pink longsleeve under his black t-shirt. “Your shirt matches Wonbin’s hair. Cute.”

He looked down at his sleeves, pulling them over his hands. “Ah, yeah, I guess. Do you like it? I—Hey, wait a minute!”

You laughed to yourself as you stood back up. “If you really want me to answer your question… No, I don’t need any help. I’m done now. Thanks, though.”

After Roses for Eyes’ set, Shotaro didn’t even have to find you, you were waiting just off-stage. He couldn’t hide his surprise, eyes going wide. “Oh, Y/N! Hey!”

“Hi.” You held out your hand expectantly, the case already open atop it.

He stuffed the in-ears back into it. “Thanks.”

“Thank you.” You snapped it shut and pocketed it. “And good set. I’m glad I got to actually see it this time.”

His face lit up. “Wait you—Is that why—? Thanks! You really—?”

“Hey, Taro, come on, we got places to be,” Sungchan grabbed his arm. “You got your in-ears?”

You arched an eyebrow, taking the case back out from your pocket. “You need these?”

Sungchan shook his head as Shotaro took it back from you. “Thanks…”

“Don’t lose them before next week,” you warned.

“I won’t.” He beamed.

The next day, you were at the venue early putting up some new decorations when you swore you heard the back door open.

“Ten?” You yelled out. “That you?”

“No!” An entirely different voice called back, right as the owner had descended the stairs into your view, propping his silver sunglasses up on his dalmatian hair.

“Shotaro.” You tilted your head at him curiously. “Pretty sure I haven’t been here that long. It’s not Thursday yet.”

“Not quite.” He grinned as he set a familiar case on the counter that you were currently standing on to reach the ceiling. “I didn’t lose them.”

“I’m very proud of you.” You pointed in the direction of the back. “Office is unlocked, you can put them on the desk before you head out.”

“What are you doing?”

“Decorating. We’re doing a Y’allternative Night tonight.” You held up the paper cowboy boots that you were prepared to hang up. “It’s all deejayed, no live music or we would’ve offered you guys a slot, sorry.”

“Can I help?”

“You really want to help me decorate?”

“Yeah.”

You sighed, looking down at the stack of decorations on the counter, and the others haphazardly strewn on the stage. “Ten was supposed to help but he hasn’t shown…”

“Is that a yes?” He asked hopefully.

“I can’t pay you for this,” you warned.

“That’s fine!”

“Put your in-ears away first.”

“On it!” He grabbed them off the counter and dashed away.

“So how long have you been working here?” Shotaro asked you as the two of you worked to decorate the venue.

“Few years.” You handed him the next cutout. “Mm, to the right. Yeah, good, higher. There.”

Shotaro was easy to work with, attentive, loved even the smallest bit of praise, and followed directions incredibly well. Kinda like training a dog, you figured. Though, you’d never had a dog.

“How long have you been with your band?” You asked.

“Oh, I’ve known Sungchan since I was like, seven,” he explained, scooting with you along the counter. “I used to be taller than him, you know.”

You snorted at that, genuinely trying to picture little Sungchan and Shotaro, the latter just a smidge taller.

Shotaro was grinning as he continued, “We spent like every day after school in middle school playing Rock Band. Begged our parents for real instruments for Christmas in high school. Then Sungchan met Eunseok in gym class, and I met Wonbin in art. So I guess it’s been… almost ten years? At least since we took over Eunseok’s garage after school for our first band practice.”

“That’s cool,” you replied genuinely, handing him the last decoration. “I like hearing that sort of stuff from the acts that come through here. Everyone’s got such unique stories.”

“Uhm—” He cleared his throat. “Is this good? For the-the thing?”

You looked at where he was holding the paper lasso. “Ehh… Turn it to the left a little? …Perfect, tape it.”

Shotaro hopped down from the counter and the two of you stepped back to admire your handiwork.

“Not bad.” You held your hand up for a high-five, which he eagerly accepted. “Thanks, Shotaro.”

The back door was thrown open then, Ten yelling into the venue, “I’m here!”

“Finally,” you scoffed.

“Sorry, sorry, I had to take Louis to the doctor,” your coworker rambled, obviously flustered as he rushed in. “Stupid asshole ate my charging cable.”

“His cat,” you informed Shotaro quietly, taking in the guitarist’s concerned look. Turning back to Ten, you asked, “Is he okay?”

“Yeah, one super expensive vet trip later, he’s fine, of course.” Ten seemed to notice Shotaro then. “Oh, hey, Taro. Are you guys performing tonight?”

“He was just dropping off some equipment and was nice enough to help me with the decorations,” you explained. “Speaking of—You remembered to pick them up on your way in, right?”

He pointed over his shoulder to the back entrance. “Yes, they’re in my car, will you help me with them?”

“I think we’ve got it from here, Shotaro, thanks again—”

“Uhm, do you remember how long it took last time?” Ten interrupted you pointedly.

You sighed ruefully, recalling very well. Clasping your hands together in front of you, you turned to the frontman, “If you’re not busy, would you mind helping us fill hundreds of balloons and also assemble a few cardboard cutouts? Please?”

Only one person could operate the balloon inflating machine at a time. One person would fill them with helium, then hand them off to another to tie them and release them to float up to the ceiling. Getting them back down would be hell. The third person was wrangling the custom-ordered cardboard cutouts out of the packaging and assembling them. That person was of course you. You had lost the rock-paper-scissors, and never had it in you to just pull rank when it came to this kind of stuff.

“What the hell?” You muttered, trying to cut the package open for the third time, barely crinkling the tape instead. Yanking on it, you cursed, “I swear this fucking tape is made of fucking Kevlar! What the fuck?!”

“Let me try?” Shotaro offered, abandoning his post tying balloons to join you. You huffed and let him gently take the box cutter from your hand, moving over to grant him access to the end of the box that you were struggling with.

“It’s probably that box cutter! Blade’s too dull!” Ten called out as he continued filling and tying balloons. “I think it’s older than Kun!”

Shotaro had just tried to slice upwards along the tape, but as soon as the box cutter hit resistance, it stopped, and his hand recoiled with the force. His fingers flew back down along the blade, and he dropped both it and the box immediately, letting out a long string of curses.

As soon as you saw the red welling up on his finger, you yelled out to Ten, “First aid kit!”

“Shit! Oh my god, you’re going to get fucking tetanus or something and die. Or lose your hand!” You panicked, latching onto Shotaro’s elbow. You dragged him into the nearest bathroom—the women’s room—and started running water in the sink. You yanked up his hoodie sleeves then yours, sticking both his hands under the stream. They were both bloody messes at this point.

Shotaro lit up as he looked at your inked forearms. “Cool tattoos, what—”

“So not the fucking time for a tattoo tour?!” You gestured to his own hands incredulously.

Ten brought the first aid kit in, and the women’s room that only had two stalls anyway was starting to feel cramped now.

“Go see if there’s any blood on the floor or something,” you shooed him out probably too harshly.

With him gone, you focused on washing and drying Shotaro’s uninjured hand before taking a look at the other. Only one of his fingers was cut, thankfully, but you knew the state that box cutter was in—old, rusty, and had probably never been cleaned once.

“I’ll be fine.” Shotaro was surprisingly calm as he watched you.

“You know there’s no cure for tetanus, right? Fuck, Kun’s going to kill me if our weekly can’t perform because I gave the frontman tetanus and he died.” You stressed.

“Oh, I thought you were just worried for me,” his voice was teasing, and if you hadn’t watched him injure himself and flinch in pain with your own two eyes, you would’ve wondered if he had any pain receptors, as he didn’t seem to be bothered whatsoever by you squirting soap onto the cut in that moment.

“Yeah, that too.”

“As an afterthought,” he snickered.

You pushed the shoulder of his uninjured hand. “Shut up and clean your cut.”

“Really, I’m touched.” He was still smirking as he obliged, gingerly running the tip of his thumb over the area to work the soap around the cut, the water finally running clear. You turned the sink off then grabbed paper towels and his hand, starting to dry the cut off. “Will it make you feel better if I tell you I’m upped on my tetanus booster?”

“Are you?”

He shrugged.

“Then no, that does not make me feel better,” you scoffed, inspecting the wound now that it was dry. On the bright side, the box cutter being as old and dull as it was meant that the cut wasn’t very deep. The bleeding had already stopped. As you went to grab the band-aids from the first-aid kit, you realized Shotaro was still watching you, this time with a funny smile on his face. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You’re always so… cool. In like this unreachable, detached way. Is it bad to say I’m kind of enjoying seeing you like this too?”

“Panicking and pissed off that you’re not taking tetanus serious enough?” You shot him an unamused look, ripping open a band-aid. “Yes, I’d say that’s a strange thing to enjoy.”

“Strange,” he repeated happily. “Not bad.”

“I suppose that is what I said.” You wrapped the band-aid around the cut. “There. All better. Unless you get tetanus and die.”

“I pinky promise I won’t get tetanus and die.” He held the pinky finger of his injured hand out to you.

You eyed his hand. “I super don’t think that’s how this works.”

Shotaro shook it more insistently. You sighed, linking your pinky with his. “If you get tetanus and die, I’m going to kill you.”

“I super don’t think that’s how that works.”

Thursday rolled around, and you were actually grateful when a spotted head of hair poked into the back office that evening.

“I’m alive!” Shotaro announced cheerily.

“So you are.” You smiled, taking out his in-ears from the desk drawer, as well as the brand-new bag of Sour Patch Kids you had tucked in there. “For you. I can’t pay you with money for helping out, but I really do appreciate it, Shotaro. And I’m sorry that you got injured helping me, too. If Sour Patch aren’t your thing, let me know what you do like and I’ll pick some up for you next week.”

Anybody else would’ve thought you’d just given him a handmade sweater the way he clutched the bag of candy to his chest and looked at you with big eyes. “These are my favorites! How—Did Sungchan tell you or something?”

“Took a wild guess.” You finished up the online order you were placing for restocking your in-house merch. “Also, do you guys have merch?”

“Huh?” Shotaro was looking right at you, but clearly hadn’t heard a word you’d said.

“Merch. Shirts, CDs, stuff for people to buy. Do you guys have any? We can keep it in stock here.”

He blinked, finally processing your question. “We sold out of all our shirts on tour… and we were talking about getting new designs the next time we got some made anyway. We’ve only got a few CDs left now. So… no…”

You clicked your tongue, logging out of the computer and standing up. “Well, whenever you get to it, we can keep them stocked here for you guys. Oh, and I know a few good artists who do that kind of stuff, if you’re looking for someone.”

As you talked, you had started ushering Shotaro out of the office, shutting the door behind you. He stopped in the narrow hallway outside it, made even more cramped by the cardboard boxes of miscellaneous props, merch, and decorations stored back here because you had run out of room in your actual storage closet. He was so close you were certain you could accurately count the piercings on his ears and face if you were patient enough. You tried to take a step back, only to hit your head on the office door that you had just closed.

“Fuck!” You hissed under your breath, clutching your head. “Shotaro, you mind? Don’t you have a soundcheck to do or something?”

“Sorry! Are you okay?” He winced sympathetically, still not moving away, if anything, getting closer as he tried to check on you. “That didn’t sound good—”

“I’m fine!” You insisted. “Soundcheck! Go do it!”

“Right!” He gave you a thumbs-up, then shook his giant bag of candy. “Thank you again!”

After he had sprinted away, you let out a relieved groan, leaning back against the door and looking up at the water-stained ceiling.

“Is that sanitary?” Eunseok’s voice announced Roses for Eyes’ arrival that particular afternoon, as you sat atop the bar counter, scrolling on your phone in one of your few moments of peace and quiet around Venue:Hell.

“Kiss my ass, Eunseok,” you replied without even looking up.

“Yeah, I’ll get in line,” he retorted, making Sungchan and Wonbin laugh.

That finally prompted you to slide your gaze up, just in time to see the three of them laughing over by the stage as Shotaro flipped them all off over his shoulder, making his way towards you. He had two cups in one hand, one with a bright green straw in it, and the other without a straw, and you saw that the other three band members each had a plastic cup with a straw sticking out of them as well. You silently watched Shotaro approach, raising an eyebrow at him once he’d stopped in front of you.

“We were getting boba on our way here, and thought we’d grab you one, too.” His cheeks were a bright pink as he held the unopened cup out to you, and fished a packaged purple straw out from the front pocket of his black jean jacket.

“Who’s this ‘we’ that you’re talking about?” You asked humorously. “They all apparently think getting me boba is kissing my ass.”

Shotaro straightened up, puffing his chest out. “Actually, yeah. Fuck ‘em. I got you one because I thought it’d be nice to get you one too since you do so much for us every week. It’s uh-It’s honey milk tea, because I didn’t know what flavor you liked.”

“Thank you, Shotaro.” You accepted the cup and straw from him graciously, to a chorus of snickers from the spectators on the other side of the floor. “Honey milk tea is more than acceptable.”

“But it’s not your favorite?”

“I don’t have a favorite.” You set the cup on the bartop beside you to stab the straw into it.

“You—Hey, are those mine?” He seemed to have finally noticed the sunglasses perched atop your head.

“What? These?” You teased, tapping the plastic accessory arm on one side of your head.

“I was looking for those today!”

You took them off, offering them out towards him. “You left them here last week.”

Shotaro took the glasses just to turn them right back around, take a step closer to you, and place them back on your head, a fond smile on his face as he did so. “I think you look better in them, actually. You can hold onto them for a little longer.”

You swallowed, your chest suddenly feeling too tight for your heart, and six eyes suddenly feeling like way too many to be in the room with you two right now. You chuckled, trying to keep up the congenial tone as you once more pulled them off. This time, you folded the arms and tucked the sunglasses into Shotaro’s jacket pocket for him. “Thanks, Shotaro, but I can’t take your sunglasses. They’re really rockstar sunglasses anyway, not for someone like me.”

At that moment, you grabbed your boba tea and hopped off the bar, scooting out from between him and the counter. You avoided looking at the others, beelining for the back office.

When Shotaro had to come get his in-ears from you just a few minutes later, you gave him the same pleasant smile as usual, handing him the case. “Here you go.”

“Thanks.” He tapped the case against his palm, the sound dampened by the fingerless gloves he was wearing that day. “What did you mean? When you said someone like you.”

“Wh—About the sunglasses?” You’d hardly expected him to confront you about that comment at all, much less alone now, just you and him in the office, no peanut gallery. While six eyes had felt like too many, this felt far too intimate. You somehow felt more exposed than before. “Like I said—They’re cool rockstar sunglasses, that’s what you are. You should wear them you know, up on stage, being all cool and stuff. I’m crew; no point in me wearing them while I’m sitting back here where nobody can see them.”

He frowned, but thankfully didn’t try to give them to you again. “I think you’re cool, Y/N.”

With that, he left the office.

“Hey—Woah.” Yangyang stopped midsentence, blinking at you from the office doorway.

“You’re losing your ears, puppy,” you snickered.

“I’m not a—!” He whined, catching the wolf ears that were sliding off his head just in time. “I’m a werewolf!”

“Sure,” you snorted, spinning your desk chair around to face him. “So what did you need, Yang?”

“Ten has a question about how we should set up the line out front.”

“Alright.” You stood up, smoothing out your long black dress. Today was Venue:Hell’s Halloween event, Hallowfreaks, so the whole staff was dressed up. You didn’t have time to think about a costume this time, so you just took out your Morticia Addams costume from last year.

Meeting Ten out front, you couldn’t even compliment his own “werewolf” costume, as he immediately tilted his head with interest upon seeing yours. You looked down at your dress, wondering if you had somehow spilled something on it unknowingly.

He didn’t leave you in the dark long, though. “You did a matching costume with Taro?”

“What?”

“Shotaro.”

The singer whipped around at the sound of his name. And there was no doubt as to who he was dressed as: His spotted blonde and black hair was slicked back and it looked like he had even used some kind of spray to make it fully black, he had donned a pinstriped suit and dress shoes, and drawn on a mustache to finish off the Gomez Addams look.

The initial recognition at his name being called turned to excitement as he realized what your costume was as well.

“Wait, seriously?!” He laughed, jumping up and down with elation. “That’s awesome!”

“I thought you guys would’ve done a group costume or something.” You crossed your arms.

“We were thinking about it, but Sungchan wanted to do a couple’s costume with his girlfriend. We thought it would look weird onstage if the three of us had a group costume without him, so we just all did our own thing.”

“Sensible.”

“C’mere, we’ve got to show them!” He grabbed your arm, and you let him drag you elsewhere backstage, into the green room where his other three band members were waiting around before their soundcheck. “Guys!”

“What’s this?” Eunseok grinned, pointing between the two of you.

“Taro, you didn’t mention you were doing a couple’s costume with Y/N,” Sungchan teased.

You rolled your eyes. “Not planned, you little shits.”

“Kinda weird that it happened, though,” Wonbin pointed out through a yawn. “Like, you know? What does it mean?”

“It means I was too lazy to buy a new costume and wore my one from last year, and Shotaro… I don’t know, something.”

“I like the movies,” he added quietly.

“He likes the movies!” You repeated triumphantly.

But the others were long gone, laughing and joking among themselves. Shaking your head, you turned back to Shotaro. “I’ll grab your in-ears.”

“I’ll come with.”

The venue was buzzing with excitement for the holiday, but the back office was quiet as always. You passed Kun in the hallway, giving him a quick nod as he rushed off to do something.

“Your in-ears,” you handed him the case, and a small bag of candy, “and Happy Halloween.”

“Sour Patch Kids!” His face lit up.

“Some place on my way to work was handing them out to people walking by. They’re not my favorite, so I figured I’d give it to you.”

“You don’t like them?” He questioned, ripping open the small package.

“They’re fine.” You shrugged, leaning back against the desk. “But you love them.”

He smiled as he grabbed a gummy. “Thanks.”

“This is Roses for Eyes’ first special event here, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, it is.” He confirmed. “Sungchan’s really excited.”

“Why’s that? He really like Halloween or something?”

“This is the first performance since we’ve had this gig that his girlfriend is going to be here for,” Shotaro explained. “She’s been on the road for the past two months.”

“She’s in the industry too?”

“Yeah, she does tour management.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, trying to keep your voice as neutral as possible. “Good for them.”

“Yeah…” Shotaro looked at you carefully. “But why’d you say it like that?”

Not neutral enough, apparently. You purposefully avoided meeting his gaze. “Like what?”

“Like… I don’t know. Like you had another opinion.”

“I meant it. Good for them.” You hoped at least that much came across as genuine. “I’ve been around the scene for long enough to see plenty of relationships like that end badly. Especially ones between talent and crew.”

His big eyes watched you carefully as he chewed, swallowed, and cautiously asked, “Personal experience?”

“What did I just say? I’ve seen it. Not had it happen to me,” you replied firmly. Pointing to the door, you said, “Now go do your soundcheck, Shotaro.”

You were waiting backstage for Roses for Eyes after their set. The stage was being prepared for the next live act, and the band was still energetic.

“Good job, guys,” you congratulated them as Shotaro handed over his in-ears.

“Thanks.” Sungchan patted your head as he hurried by, apparently with somewhere to be.

“He’s got to find his girlfriend,” Eunseok informed you, wiping his face with his shirt, and taking half his No Face facepaint off in the process.

You narrowed your eyes at Shotaro. “Missing something?”

“I gave you them!” He defended himself.

“Your guitar.”

He patted his front and back, eyes going wide. “Shit!”

Wonbin and Eunseok burst into laughter as Shotaro darted back onto stage, apologizing to the staff and band still setting up. The other two wandered off, presumably to put their own equipment away. Shotaro snatched his guitar from the stand and ran back over to you, panting as he tried to catch his breath.

“Okay, that’s the first time that’s ever happened,” he promised.

“I’ll take your word for it.”

“I saw you in the back, during some of the set,” he was absolutely beaming at you.

“Yeah, with Kun here tonight, I can actually get some breathing room. I was able to stop and watch a bit.” You patted his arm. “Like I said, good job, mon cher.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, smiling down at his feet. “Thanks, cara mia.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, covering your mouth as you did.

“What? What’s so funny?” He asked with a chuckle.

“It is pretty funny that we accidentally did two halves of a matching costume. Everyone had a right to be weirded out.”

“Oh, yeah,” he agreed. “Weird coincidence, right?”

“Anyway, you should put your guitar away before you lose it again and I have to confiscate that as well, okay?”

“Okay, okay.”

“I’m going to put your in-ears in the office. If you guys don’t have anything better to do, Hallowfreaks is going on until 2 a.m.”

“Don’t tell me you’re working that whole time?” He asked in disbelief.

“Where else would I be?”

Winter rolled around, and you were once again crouched behind the merch counter doing inventory. Seasons change, but the pain of doing inventory never does.

“Nah, it’ll be Taro,” Yangyang insisted.

“I think it’ll be Sungchan trying to embarrass Taro,” Kunhang replied.

“Mm, could be Eunseok trying to piss Y/N off while simultaneously embarrassing Taro,” Ten gave his input on whatever the hell they were talking about near Yangyang’s sound equipment.

You poked your head above the merch counter now that you’d heard your own name. “Hey! What are you guys talking about?”

Three heads peeked around the black curtains. Ten answered your question, “We’re betting on which one of them will say something first when they get here today.”

“And none of you said Wonbin because he’ll probably be half-asleep anyway,” you guessed.

“Yep!” Kunhang nodded.

You just sighed loudly and went back to your task. A few minutes later, the back door opened, followed by the overlapping voices of Sungchan and Shotaro in a quiet but heated argument about… something indistinguishable to you. It was ended by an alarmingly loud smacking sound followed by dead silence, which prompted you to peer over the counter, a little concerned. The guys would playfight or bicker sometimes, but it always devolved into laughter.

The four of them were silent, but the angry tension was choking. You tried to quickly duck your head back down, hoping nobody saw you. But of course Shotaro did. It was only a few minutes later, after they put all their stuff down in the green room, that Shotaro was leaning over the merch counter on his elbows to talk to you.

“Hi, Y/N.” He offered you a smile, but you noticed it seemed a little strained this time.

“Hey, Shotaro,” you greeted him, not addressing the band’s entrance. Having just finished up with inventory, you stood up, groaning with relief.

The singer’s smile turned genuine then. “You’re wearing our merch.”

You looked down at the front of the hoodie you were wearing. “Oh, yeah. Don’t worry, I paid for it.”

“I wasn’t worried about that.” His eyes shined as he looked at you. “I’m—I didn’t think you’d…”

“I’ve gotta rep the home team, right?” You gestured to the building around you. “It’s super comfy, too. Come on, let’s get your in-ears.”

In the office, you grabbed the case from the desk, watching Shotaro fuss with his lipring with his front teeth, bouncing from his heels to his toes.

“Look,” you sighed. “You don’t have to tell me what it’s about… but is everything okay with you guys?”

He pulled at his fingerless gloves. “You didn’t hear what Sungchan was saying?”

“No, nothing.”

“We’ll be okay,” he reassured you. “We’ve had worse fights. I mean, not since I was like, twelve, but it’ll be fine.”

You let your uncertainty be visible on your face. “Alright, you know him better than I do. Like I always say, if you need something, let me know.”

“Thanks, Y/N. I appreciate that you’re concerned about us.” Shotaro held a hand out for his in-ears, and you placed them in his waiting palm.

A little while later, you went out to start setting up the stools to find Shotaro alone on stage tuning his guitar. You went about your business as he seemed absorbed in his own task.

“I looked it up,” Shotaro called out to you before he played a chord, then adjusted one of the tuning pegs. “There’s no cure for tetanus.”

You looked at him over your shoulder, pulling a stool down from the high-top. “I know.”

Another chord. “I know you know.” More tuning. “You said that when I cut myself with the box cutter.”

“And…?”

“How did you know that?”

“My sister’s a doctor,” you answered simply, continuing to set up the furniture.

The guitarist stopped completely, staring at you. “Wait, really?”

“Why do you look so surprised?” You chuckled, leaning against one of the tables. “Can’t believe I’m related to a doctor and work in this place?”

“No, not that.” He shook his head as if trying to shake himself out of a stupor. “You just never tell me about that kind of stuff.”

“We both lived at home when she was in med school. I helped her with flashcards and stuff when she’d study.” You shrugged and went back to setting up. “Random stuff stuck.”

The other members of Roses for Eyes came out on stage then, cutting the conversation short as they started their soundcheck.

Poking your head into the band’s green room that particular evening, you were surprised to only find one member. Sure, a couple might be out on a food run, or wandering around the venue distracting your staff, but more often than not they were all in here between soundcheck and their set.

Regardless, you really only needed one of them at the moment. “Shotaro.”

“Yes!” He immediately shot up from where he had been sprawled out on the tiny couch, facing away from the door. His dalmatian hair had finally faded, and he was now completely platinum blonde with a shorter, spikier cut.

You quickly shot your boss a text back as you also flicked through the upcoming events spreadsheet for the venue. Not even looking up from your phone, you asked, “Got Valentine’s Day plans?”

Something collided with the edge of the table as Shotaro fell off the couch at that exact moment. You glimpsed the tail end of him scrambling to his feet, rushing to answer you, “No! Not at all! Uhm, what were you—”

“We’re putting on an Anti-Romantics Event for singles that night,” you explained, reviewing the details for the event on your screen. “Mix of live stuff and deejayed. Some games, raffles, that kind of stuff too. The headliner slot is yours if you guys want it.”

Shotaro nodded fervently. “Yeah! We can do it!”

You raised an eyebrow, looking around the empty room pointedly. “You’re not going to ask the other guys? I figured at least Sungchan might be doing something, you know…”

“Right. I’ll uhm, I’ll double-check with them.”

“I’ll pencil you guys in. Just let me know as soon as possible, okay?”

“Y/N?” Shotaro’s voice echoed as he yelled your name from the main room, obviously just wandering around shouting for you. Tonight was Venue:Hell’s Anti-Romantics Event, and Roses for Eyes had ended up accepting the headliner spot. Apparently, Sungchan’s girlfriend was really chill.

“In here!” You yelled back from inside the women’s bathroom, hunched in front of the mirror with an eyeliner pen and pile of used makeup remover wipes.

“Shit, sorry! I mean, uh—Never mind!”

“I’m doing my make-up,” you snorted. “You can come in.”

The swinging door opened hesitantly, and as soon as he was able to see that you were telling the truth, Shotaro entered fully. You wiped off your latest fail with a groan, grabbing all of the used wipes and tossing them in the trash.

“What are you doing?” He asked curiously.

“I’m trying to draw a broken heart on my cheek,” you explained. “But I can’t draw on my own face for shit.”

“Can I…?” He reached for the eyeliner. You handed it over, leaning back against the sink. He gently tilted your chin up and away from him to give him better access. You looked off to the side to avoid staring directly at him as he leaned in. “So you didn’t have any Valentine’s plans?”

“Nope.”

“Me neither.”

“I figured.”

He chuckled, his warm breath washing over your cheek. “Ouch.”

You rolled your eyes. “You already told me you didn’t have any plans.”

“Right.”

“I like your necklace.” You picked up the heavy chain from where it was sitting on his chest, several miniature heart lockets hanging from it.

“Thanks,” he murmured. “I think your makeup is nice.”

“I’m a sucker for a theme.”

Shotaro took a step back to look at his handiwork, nodding proudly. “Not half-bad, I think.”

You turned to check on it in the mirror, lighting up when you saw a much more legible broken heart than all the ones you’d attempted. “Oh, that’s so much better! Thank you, Shotaro!”

“You’re welcome.”

Eyeing the rest of his outfit, you were struck with an idea. You grabbed him by the shoulders, spinning the two of you around so his back was to the sink. “Your turn.”

“Hm?” He watched you with interest as you took the eyeliner pen from him and tossed it into your makeup bag, rooting around in there for something else. Finally, you secured a compact of blush and brush, holding them up eagerly.

“Trust me?” You requested.

He smiled fondly, relaxing back against the sink. “Go for it.”

You dusted the bright-colored blush across his cheeks and nose, focusing the majority of it in the center. When you were done, you had a victorious grin on your face. He now looked like a perfect little pop punk Cupid. The rest of his outfit was his usual mishmash of black and bright neon colors—this time solely hot pink—accessorized with more black, spikes, and metal chains. The blush was just the icing on the cake, especially when you saw that he had put a teeny, tiny silver heart stud in his nose piercing.

“Perfect,” you announced with finality, putting the makeup away.

Shotaro blinked his eyes open uncertainly, and you gestured for him to look in the mirror. He laughed, nodding his approval. “Yeah, that’s exactly what I thought you were doing.”

“Let me know how many numbers you leave with at the end of the night,” you quipped.

“What?” All the humor was drained from his features as he looked from the mirror over to you.

“Uhm, I don’t know how to tell you this, but you’re the frontman of the headlining act at an event for singles on Valentine’s Day, and I just made you look ten times more edible than usual.” You patted him on the shoulder. “You’re welcome.”

“I don’t want anybody’s number.”

You were slightly alarmed at the rate that this conversation had taken a nosedive, quickly trying to gloss over the tense moment. “Of course. Sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed.”

“You really think I’m edible?” He asked with a knowing smirk.

“Mm, I guess I did say something like that,” you answered noncommittally, grabbing your makeup bag. “I’ll go get your in-ears for you.”

“I’m not them.” Shotaro’s biting words stopped you in your tracks before you could even grab the door handle.

“What?”

He was still leaning back against the sink, crossing his arms over his chest as he held your confused gaze. “Whoever you’re comparing me to in your head. Whoever you think I’m going to end up being exactly like. I’m not them.”

“Shotaro…” You breathed out his name, unable to think of a quick deflection this time, hoping he would just let it go.

“You’re not stupid, Y/N. I know you’re not.” He stood up, stepping closer to you. “You always stop yourself right before… I’m sure you think you’re not leading me on or whatever, but I know you know how stupidly head over heels I am for you, because I don’t try to hide it.”

You winced, your stomach dropping to the floor. So he really did want to have this conversation. “I’m sorry. I should’ve said something. I thought… I don’t know, that I needed better words before I said anything. But saying something would’ve been better than doing this to you. I’m so sorry, Shotaro.”

“Tell me. Whatever words you do have, even if you think they’re bad,” he insisted.

“Why?”

“Because I still want to know everything about you, even if it’s the reasons you’re rejecting me,” he chuckled cynically, his eyes still shining as he looked at you.

You sank your teeth into your bottom lip as you tried to think of where to start. You knew you owed Shotaro this much, at least. Finally, you decided on, “I dated the lead singer of a band a few years ago, when I started here. I was young and stupidly in love with him and really believed him when he told me I was special. He was cheating on me the whole time.” You watched Shotaro’s eyes go big. “Every time he went on tour, even at concerts here. I think the worst part wasn’t even how many times he cheated on me, but how many times I caught him doing it and believed him when he said it meant nothing and he’d never do it again.”

“Y/N—”

“It’s not that I don’t trust you, Shotaro. Really,” you reassured him. “I-I don’t know if I can trust myself to not… realize when something like that is happening again. To not realize when I’ve lost myself like that. I’m sorry.”

You rushed out of the bathroom then, unable to bring yourself to hear what he said next, whatever surely sweet, reassuring, reasonable thing he would say. You couldn’t hear it, not now. You were stuck, and now you’d gotten Shotaro stuck too.

Grabbing the in-ears from your office, you were glad to almost immediately catch Kunhang in the hallway. “Hey, give these to Shotaro for me.”

He thankfully didn’t question it, and you set off to keep yourself even busier than usual. Which wouldn’t be hard, as Kun wasn’t in that night, meaning that you were overseeing the whole event on your own. You didn’t even see Shotaro again until he was on stage performing with the rest of Roses for Eyes. You were helping out behind the merch table, as the limited-edition event merch you’d gotten was apparently very popular and the bunching up of people around the counter was clogging up the small area.

“They’re killing it tonight,” Ten commented loudly to be heard over the crowd and the music, nodding towards the stage.

“Yeah,” you agreed mildly, watching the performance out of the corner of your eye as you straightened up the stock.

“They’ve been doing really well with the weekly slot, too.”

“Mhm.”

“I heard they’re planning a mini-tour in the summer, though.”

“Cool.”

“Taro mentioned anything to you about that?”

You flashed him a sharp look. “Why would he have told me anything?”

“Because you’re their contact for the slot here?” He gave you a bewildered look back. “They’d have to tell you so you could tell Kun and find someone to fill the slot while they’re gone?”

“Right. Yeah. No, nobody’s said anything to me.”

“And also, he’s got a huge crush on you.”

“God, shut up,” you groaned.

“What? It’s adorable to watch him follow you around like a lost puppy,” your coworker snickered. “Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed?”

“I’m telling you to shut up about it.”

“Come on, taking the theme a little too literally, Y/N?”

You rolled your eyes, opting to not engage with the conversation at all since he apparently wasn’t going to move on. The presence of the headliner on stage was finally drawing some of the crowd away from the merch line.

Giving Ten an unsympathetic smile, you started backing away from the counter, “Alright, I think you’ve got it from here.”

Ten was still grinning and shaking his head as he let you go without a fight, helping the next person in line. You continued running around the venue, helping with anything that popped up.

As Kunhang was announcing the winners of some of the raffles later in the night, you had eyed trouble at the bar. Sicheng, your bartender, was obviously trying to decline service to an insistent patron while a line of other guests bunched up around the bar.

“Is there a problem here, Sicheng?” You asked, stepping into the situation.

“Oh, Y/N,” he breathed a sigh of relief. “He’s had too many, can you—”

“I’ve got it, you keep serving people,” you reassured him. With his attention on the next people, you turned back to the other man. The guy had clearly had too much to drink, pink-faced and swaying in place. “You’ve had enough, man. How about we get you a water, okay? Or a soda?”

“No, I want another beer!” He insisted.

“No can do, sorry,” you informed him firmly. “Water, soda, or nothing. Alright?”

“Who the fuck are you to tell me no?”

“Manager of the building you’re in right now.”

“Well, manager, tell him to get me another beer.”

“No,” you repeated. “Look, dude, I know tonight can especially suck, but there’s other things to do besides drink. You are cut off. Let’s get you a water, hm?”

“No.”

“Did you come with friends? I can help get you back to them.”

He got up in your face then, and you stepped back, unwittingly jamming the bartop right into your own ribcage. “I said no, bitch.”

“I’m going to ask you to leave if you don’t calm down and get out of my fucking face,” you informed him through gritted teeth. “Come on, dude, don’t make this a bigger deal than it has to be.”

Before he could say anything else, someone grabbed the guy by the shoulder, pulling him away from you. At first you hoped that it was come friends of the guy, finally caught on to what was going on, but your blood turned cold when you saw who it really was.

“Hey, get out of her face,” Shotaro told him, rather calmly, but firmly.

In the next second, the drunk guy had swung, his fist impacting with Shotaro’s face and making his head jerk back. The crowd around you three gasped and backed up, and you felt both anger and panic flood your veins.

“You’re done!” You announced loudly. “Out! Get the fuck out! Sicheng! Call security!”

Your bartender was already on it, his walkie-talkie up by his mouth and his request for back-up coming through your own earpiece very clearly. You watched the venue’s guard who very rarely had to leave his post by the front door lumber up, grabbing the guy by the collar and pulling him through the crowd.

Shotaro was stood in the same spot, slightly hunched over as he held onto the edge of the bar, cradling his cheek. You sighed, grabbing his arm. “Come on.”

He let you guide him away from the crowd, the din of the music fading as you took him into the back office, shutting the door behind you. You gestured to the desk chair for him to sit in, and he obliged. After getting out the small first aid kit that was kept in here, you leaned back against the desk, pulling his hand down from his face to inspect the damage.

“We have security, you know,” you said quietly, cracking a cold pack and massaging it in your hands to get the reaction going.

“Didn’t seem like they were helping you,” he replied.

You grabbed a couple tissues from the dispenser on the desk, pressing them to where blood was welling up from a cut on his cheek. “Because I hadn’t called them.”

“Why not?”

“Because I was handling it.” Tossing the bloodied tissues in the trash, you applied a band-aid to the open wound before holding the cold pack out to him.

He accepted it, looking down at his lap guiltily. “I’m sorry.”

“C’mere.” You stood up and stepped closer to him, reaching for his face with both your hands.

“Hm?” He looked up at you curiously. You turned his head so you could gently press your thumbs against his cheekbone and the area around his eye where he’d been hit. “Ow…”

“Sorry. I don’t think he broke anything. You’ll probably just have some bruising for a while,” you declared softly, pulling his hand that was holding the cold pack up to his cheek. “And a nasty cut from his ugly rings.”

He chuckled a little, and you smiled back. “Learn that from your sister?”

“No, just had to break up a few fights here before.”

“Really?”

“We weren’t always such a classy establishment,” you joked, sitting back down on the edge of the desk in front of him. “We’re called Venue:Hell for a reason, and not just because we’re underground.”

“Here I thought you guys were just trying to be edgy.”

You were still replaying it in your mind, of how quick it happened, from Shotaro grabbing the guy to him getting punched. “You thought that guy was going to hit me or something, right?”

“He was getting up in your face…” He hissed and pulled the cold pack down from his face for a moment, then put it back up, wincing. “Even if he didn’t, he shouldn’t have been yelling at you like that.”

“Occupational hazard,” you shrugged. After a beat, you added sincerely, “Thanks, Shotaro.”

“Why do you call me Shotaro? To keep me at a distance?” He asked, a thoughtful frown on his face. “Everyone calls me Taro, I even told you to call me Taro. But you never have.”

“I’m pretty sure you said that I can call you Taro, not that you wanted me to,” you pointed out. Seeing the distress on his face, though, you said, “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize it meant so much to you.”

“It doesn’t, really. But when it’s you… it hurts. Everything feels like the best thing that’s ever happened to me and the worst at the same time.”

“I…” You trailed off uncertainly. What were you even supposed to say to that?

“Like, I make you laugh and I’m fucking on Cloud Nine. And then I somehow take it too far, or say something that makes you run away and I kind of feel like I’m literally dying.” He slumped back into the desk chair with a sharp laugh, still pressing the cold pack to his face.

“That sounds awful, I’m so—”

“No, stop it. It’s not awful, and I want you to stop apologizing to me.”

“Okay.”

Shotaro sighed, looking down at his free hand as he futzed with his jewelry. “That guy’s rings were pretty ugly.”

You let out a sputtering laugh, happy for some of the tension in your chest to dissolve in that moment. “Yeah, they really were.”

That night, you got home from work in the wee hours of the morning, not even bothering to turn your apartment light on, simply tossing your backpack in the direction of your couch and shuffling towards your bedroom. You got ready for bed on autopilot, exhausted as you always were after work.

Wiping off your makeup in the mirror, you hovered over the broken heart on your cheek, recalling just how fast that conversation had gone downhill, then Shotaro getting punched later in the night. Letting out a deep breath, you finished up in the bathroom and shut that light off. After changing into your pajamas, you lay in bed alone, staring up at your ceiling. Alone. You’d be going back to Venue:Hell in less than ten hours. And after that, you’d come home again. Alone. Then go back to work. Then come home. Then go back. Then come home. Work. Home. Work. Home. Work. Home. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone.

The line rang, and rang, and with every ring, your urge to hang up grew. Of fucking course he didn’t want to talk to you—

“Y/N?” Shotaro’s voice was foggy, and it was apparent you’d woken him.

“Taro, hey,” you said quietly, already regretting this. “I woke you up, didn’t I? Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” he grumbled, and you heard the sounds of him rolling over and readjusting in bed. “Is everything okay? You’re not still at work, are you?”

“No, no, I’m home.”

“Okay, good.”

“Uhm, I just—” You were cut off by a very loud yawn from him. “Sorry, it’s really late and you’ve got to be tired. We can do this later.”

“No, go ahead. You apparently thought it was important enough to call me at fuck you a.m. in the morning,” he chuckled sleepily. “We can do it now. I won’t interrupt again. Promise.”

You took a deep breath, still staring at the inky dark expanse of your ceiling. “I just was thinking… some more… And I do really like you, and if you still… want to… Do you have plans later?”

You heard something thunk, and a loud clunk right by the mic, making you wince away from your speaker, then the distant sounds of him cursing as he scrambled around.

“Sorry, dropped you,” he apologized, sounding much more awake now. “You mean like, not for work?”

“Yeah, like, hanging out. Not at work,” you confirmed. God, is your heartbeat always this fucking loud?

“Yes, absolutely. Yes! Fuck!” He agreed giddily, and you couldn’t help but grin too.

“Okay, uhm, I have to get the venue set up for a show at seven tonight, but we could do lunch before or something? If that works for you?”

“Totally! Yes!”

“Cool.” You smiled at your screen as you checked the time. “It is way too fucking late. Just text me when you wake up and we can sort everything out then.”

“I will. Absolutely.”

“I’ll talk to you then.”

“Yes.”

“Thanks, Taro. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

After some much-needed sleep, you slowly got up, sitting at the edge of your bed, letting your feet graze the carpet below. You were home now, alone, and later you’d be going to work. But before that, you were going to be doing something else. Going somewhere else with someone else.

Speaking of, your phone rang, an incoming call from Shotaro. You picked it up, still rubbing sleep out of one eye. “Mm?”

“Was it real?” He asked in lieu of a greeting.

“What?” You chuckled. “What are you talking about?”

“Do I need a lobotomy right now, or are we actually going on a date?”

You burst into laughter, holding your phone away from your mouth as your laughter devolved into a coughing fit, blindly grabbing for your water cup from your nightstand. After recovering enough, you finally answered, “Hold off on the lobotomy for now.”

“Oh, it was real,” he let out a sigh of relief. “God, I seriously woke up and couldn’t tell if I had dreamt that whole conversation or not.”

“No, I really did call you at ‘fuck you a.m. in the morning’ last night, sorry.”

He snickered. “I said that?”

“You did.”

“Well, you’re more than welcome to call me at fuck you a.m. any night, especially if it’s going to be something that good.” His grin was audible through the phone. “So what time should I pick you up?”

“We haven’t even decided where we’re going?”

“Lunch,” he said confidently. “I’ve got it. You did the hard part, let me do the rest.”

You looked at the time on your phone. “Two hours?”

“Done. Send me your address.”

“Hey—Oh my God,” you cut yourself off laughing, covering your face as soon as you saw Shotaro standing there with a bouquet of flowers. “You seriously—Oh my God.”

“What? What is funny about this?” He held them out to you even more insistently.

You accepted them, still shaking your head. “Nothing. Come in so I can put them in water.”

He obliged, quietly closing your door behind him.

“I just honestly don’t think a man has ever brought me flowers,” you admitted, opening your cabinet to try to find some kind of vessel. “I was caught off-guard. I didn’t mean to laugh in your face, I’m sorry. You’re very sweet, Taro.”

“Seriously?” He watched you bring down an old empty water jug and fill it up from your sink, then plop the flowers in there.

“Seriously.” You paused in front of him, eyes focused on his left cheek, where a bruise had blossomed out far beyond the edges of the bandage you’d applied last night. Frowning, you delicately touched just under his cheekbone. “How is it?”

“I’m fine,” he reassured you, letting you continue to inspect the wound. “Barely even feel it.”

“Liar.”

He beamed. “Maybe.”

“You know that I’m going to be kind of bad at this, right?” You asked in a lull in conversation at lunch, picking at your food with your utensil.

“At… eating?” Shotaro asked in turn, his cheeks full with his own food as he looked at you with wide, confused eyes. “You seem to be doing pretty alright to me.”

“No,” you chuckled and shook your head. “At… this.” You pointed between the two of you. “It’s been a while, and I didn’t have the best experience last time.”

He swallowed and nodded, offering his hand out across the table, palm up. “I know.” Hesitantly, you put your own hand in his, and he squeezed yours gently, a soft smile on his face as he gazed at you. “Like I said, you already did the hard part, that’s why I’m taking care of everything else today. I get how difficult it must be for you to be doing this right now.”

“Thanks.” You squeezed his hand back.

“You really don’t have to do this,” you sighed as you and Shotaro walked down the sidewalks together after lunch.

“What are you talking about? Of course I have to make sure my girlfriend gets to work safe,” he scoffed, elbowing you.

“Hey hey hey!” You smacked his arm. “We’ve been on one date, kinda. What’s with the g-word?”

“‘The g-word,’” he repeated with a snicker. “If it makes you feel better, you can call me the b-word.”

“Bitch?” You blinked at him innocently.

He elbowed you again. “Rude!”

You laughed loudly, clutching your stomach as you had to stop to catch your breath. “Come on, you walked right into that one.”

“Yeah, I did.” He agreed, watching you with a fond smile on his face.

“I’m serious though, you can’t just be throwing words like that around after one kinda-date.”

Shotaro grabbed your hand, lacing his fingers through yours as you kept walking. “And what is the difference between a date and a kinda-date?”

“I don’t know. We were just like… hanging out. You know?” You shrugged. “I don’t know, I told you I was going to be bad at this!”

He laughed. “I brought you flowers, paid for your lunch, we’re holding hands… I’m failing to see how this isn’t date behavior.”

You looked down at your entwined hands, skin heating up. “Point taken.”

You’d made it to Venue:Hell and approached the back door, taking your keys out of your pocket.

“You know what else people do on dates?” He asked slyly, tugging on your hand so you’d turn around and face him. “Kiss goodbye.”

“Talking like I’ve never been on a date ever,” you scoffed, hooking your fingers in his belt loops and pulling him closer. You smiled when you saw his cheeks turn bright pink—no blush necessary this time. Shotaro’s hands landed on your waist as you grabbed the back of his neck and slotted your lips together. The cool metal of his lip ring pressed against your skin, made even colder by the crisp weather outside. He met you beat for beat, never taking over, following your lead until you finally broke apart. The kiss was sweet, reminiscent of the boba tea you’d grabbed after lunch.

“Ah, shit,” he chuckled, hanging his head.

“What?”

“Now I don’t want to go.” He snuck another kiss to your cheek, just grazing the corner of your mouth.

“You’re a menace.” You sighed, in a similar predicament. With warning in your voice, you said, “You can hang out—”

“Yes!” He cheered.

“—until somebody else gets here,” you finished your sentence pointedly, turning around to unlock the door. “Because some people actually work around here, and you’re not performing tonight.”

“Pretty sure you’re the only person who actually does any work around here,” he teased.

“I know, which is why I can’t have you distracting everyone else even more.” You unlocked the door and disabled the alarm, leading Shotaro in by the hand.

“I’m not a distraction!”

“All you’ve been doing for the past six months is distracting me.”

“I help you!”

You clicked your tongue. “And get injured in the process.”

He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, following you into the office. “It’s the thought that counts?”

“Let me change your band-aid, while you’re here,” you offered, pointing to the desk chair. “You’ve still got the same gross one on from last night.”

Shotaro peeled off the old bandage and tossed it in the trash while you grabbed a new one from the first aid kit.

“I’m going to have to tell Kun,” you said carefully, opening the new band-aid. “About this.”

He stayed still as you applied the new bandage, then asked, “Me getting punched or us going out?”

“Both.” You groaned and rubbed your face. “Ugh, I don’t even know which one I should start with. Don’t say anything until I tell him, please.”

“I will not tell anybody else until you talk to Kun,” he promised, the phrasing making you narrow your eyes.

“You already told all your bandmates.”

He folded immediately. “Can you blame me? I was excited!”

“The whole building is going to know by soundcheck on Thursday,” you lamented, covering your face.

“I’ll tell the guys I was kidding.”

“They’ll think you’ve lost it.”

He shrugged. “Yeah, probably.”

“As much as I appreciate your willingness to have your best friends think you’re an absolute weirdo loser who would lie about something like that,” you patted his shoulders, “I won’t ask you to do that.”

“I appreciate that.”

You heard the distinct clang of the back door closing, and sighed regretfully. “That’s your cue.”

“Fine, fine.” He stood up, pecking your forehead. “Pick you up later?”

“I get off at midnight?”

“So?”

“Don’t be late,” you hummed, grabbing the door handle.

It was Kunhang who had arrived, clearly surprised to see Shotaro there. “Oh, hey Taro. What are you doing here?”

“He forgot something.” You used the most reasonable excuse.

“Maybe we should just start stapling stuff to you, man,” Kunhang laughed.

“Great idea.” You grinned, patting Shotaro’s arm as you continued ushering him towards the door.

In the stairwell, concealed from your coworker’s gaze, he leaned in, whispering right next to your ear. “I did almost forget something, actually.”

You arched an eyebrow at him, and he cupped your cheek, rings cold against your skin. Your eyes fluttered shut on instinct as you let him tilt your chin, connecting your lips. Your blood roared in your ears as you scrunched his t-shirt in your fist.

The back door opened, and you couldn’t reel back quick enough. To your horror, it was Kun standing there, blinking at you as his keys dangled in one hand.

“Excuse me,” he cleared his throat, scooting right between you and Shotaro in the narrow space of the stairway. He looked back, speaking directly to the singer with you, “Nice shiner there, Taro.”

Shotaro touched his bruised cheek on instinct, giving your manager a thumbs-up with his other hand. “Thanks.”

Kun said nothing else, whistling to himself as he walked further into the venue. You looked at Shotaro with wide eyes, practically shoving him out the door as he burst into laughter.

“Goodbye, Taro!” You said loudly over his cackles.

“See you later,” he whispered back, shooting you a wink right before you slammed the door in his face.

As you turned the corner, you were alarmed to see Kunhang peering at you from his station. “What?”

“Since when do you call him ‘Taro’?”

Upon entering the back office, you saw Kun sitting at the desk, working on something on the computer. He held a familiar pair of silver sunglasses out to you without even taking his eyes off the screen. “I think Taro left these here.”

“Yeah, those are his,” you confirmed, accepting the frames from him. “Uhm, a patron at the event last night had too much to drink, and ended up punching him, by the way.”

Kun looked over at you at that information, lifting both his eyebrows in disbelief. “Taro got into a barfight?”

“He didn’t hit him back, or start it, really. Sicheng and I were trying to cut the other guy off, but he was getting pissed off.”

“Ahh, he thought he was helping you.” Your manager nodded in understanding.

“About that, we’ve only been on one date, and—”

“I don’t need to know all the details. I just don’t want to have to enter the building like that ever again, okay?”

“Heard.”

He cracked a grin then. “I will say—I like him a lot better than the last one.”

“God, don’t remind me,” you groaned and shook your head.

“And that’s the last time I’ll ever bring him up. I’m glad he’s gone.” Kun held his hands up in surrender. “Now go find something to do.”

“Ten’s not scheduled for tonight, so I’m on the front.”

“Go do that.”

“Heard.” You clicked your tongue and gave him a casual salute, heading back out of the office.

Kunhang found you again setting up the barricades for the queue out front. He squinted at you, then laughed, “Oh, those looked like Taro’s sunglasses for a second.”

“They are,” you answered nonchalantly, pushing the frames back up where they were sliding down the bridge of your nose.

“Why are you wearing his sunglasses?”

“Because he forgot them here, it’s bright as hell out, and I don’t have another pair on me.”

“That’s… reasonable.”

“You said that weird.”

“Well, here’s the thing—” Your coworker stopped where he was rearranging the barricades, facing you. “I don’t think you’ve noticed but I’m like… 99% sure the guy has a huge crush on you.”

You kept a straight face. “Really?”

“Yeah, the poor guy is like… so down bad it’s not even funny anymore. Kinda a bit sad, actually.” He sighed. “So I just think that you wearing his sunglasses… it’s gonna mess with his head, you know?”

“You think so?” You scrunched your nose, pretending to think really hard about it.

“Yeah.”

You eventually shook your head. “I don’t know, I don’t think he does…”

It was ten till midnight, and you looked between the time and the back door.

“If you’ve got somewhere you need to be, you can go,” Kunhang nudged you with his knee.

“Yeah, you’ve been checking your phone every ten seconds,” Yangyang snorted, scrolling on his phone. “Seriously, we’ve got it. We’ve done a bajillion dance nights, and Kun is here in case something goes horribly wrong.”

You ignored them, instead looking directly at your sound tech. “Hey, Yang, weird question: Do you think Taro has a crush on me?”

He burst out laughing, grabbing his sides as he keeled forward, barely catching himself on Kunhang’s leg. Still giggling, he sobered up enough to say, “Well, duh. Y/N, oh my God, I never pegged you for an idiot. What the fuck? Did you seriously not—”

The back door opened then, and you immediately spotted Shotaro descending the stairs, looking around the crowded room.

“That’s spooky,” Yangyang muttered. “Do you think he like, heard me somehow?”

“He was here earlier to see Y/N,” Kunhang said pointedly. “See? He totally—”

You simply raised your hand and waved until Shotaro saw you, immediately perking up and making his way across the venue. Your coworkers had half a mind to shut up as the guitarist stopped in front of you three.

“Hey guys,” he smiled at the other two, then pointed at the sunglasses perched atop your head. “Those are mine.”

“You forgot them here,” you informed him smugly, leaning back in your seat and taking them off. You let them dangle by the arm off the tip of your finger as you held them out to him.

“I told you I forgot something,” he teased, taking the sunglasses back. He turned the shades around, leaning in as he tucked them back into your hair. “They look better on you anyway.”

You left them there this time, grinning up at him. “I think you’re right, actually.”

“You good to go?”

“Yep.” You got to your feet, tossing your dumbfounded coworkers a goodbye over your shoulder. Shotaro’s hand found yours, keeping you close as you weaved through the crowd.

It was Thursday again, and you were backstage, monitoring the band as they got ready to go on. There was a hustle and bustle like usual, and right as they were preparing to step onto stage, you called out expectantly, “Taro? Forget something?”

“Oh, right,” he grinned and shook his head, jogging over to you. He held your face with two hands, kissing you right there backstage, his lips still sugary sweet from the Sour Patch Kids he’d been snacking on moments prior.

After he’d pulled back, you held up his in-ears and pack, which he’d given you when he needed a very last-minute run to the bathroom. “I meant these.”

You could hear the snickers from his bandmates as he took the equipment from you, rushing to put it all back on. “Yeah, that too, I guess. What if I said I’ve been losing things on purpose this entire time as a genius ploy to—”

“Go perform already! I’m sick of you!” You rolled your eyes dramatically and pushed him away, back towards the stage.

“Fine, only because you asked so nicely.” He winked, dashing back over just in time to run out on stage with the rest of the band.

“What the hell?” Ten was just off to your side, staring at you, accompanied by Sicheng. You didn’t want to know who was at the bar right now.

“What?” You tilted your head innocently, walking over to them.

“Taro just kissed you?” He looked around, bewildered. “Sicheng, that was crazy, right?”

“Huh?” Your bartender glanced between the two of you, seeming just as lost. “Have they not been dating this whole time?”

⤷ au masterlist | blog masterlist

[tinesleftnipple]

Don't mind me I'm just making a Very Random Checklist (will continue updating this. Few are confirmed! Only speculation! Only speculation! Only speculation!).

Bolded are confirmed filmed

(Update: we may not even need this list because at this point it seems like they filmed everything in the script)

Pei su holds and examines LWZ's hand in the car (end of ep 10)

Push and pull outside LWZ's car in front of Pei su's mansion (ep 13)

LWZ carry Pei su inside (ep 13)

LWZ sees Pei su's scars on his chest (ep 13)

LWZ guiding Pei su's hand over to rinse the bowl (ep 14)

LWZ breakdown holding Pei su after the bomb (ep 15)

LWZ: "he's the person I must hang onto" (ep 15)

LWZ feeding Pei su honey (ep 16)

LWZ flicking Pei su's head before they smile at each other (ep 16)

LWZ blowdrying Pei su's hair (ep 16)

LWZ and Pei su texting each other (ep 17)

Pei su picking up LWZ after work and LWZ getting mad that Pei su slept inside the car with the windows closed and heat on (ep 17)

LWZ making Pei su wearing long underwear (ep 17)

LWZ making Pei su wash the vegetables (ep 17)

LWZ and Pei su eating dinner and talking about shiniang (ep 17. Unsure)

Pei su picking LWZ up from work (ep 18. Unsure)

LWZ scolding Zhang yifan for attempting bribery (ep 19)

Pei su conversing with Mu xiaoqing in the kitchen (20. Unsure)

LWZ pushing Pei su against the wall when Pei su tries to leave and asks what Pei su means by "people like me" (ep 20)

LWZ flicks Pei su's forehead (ep 24)

LWZ asking Pei su why his hand is so cold outside the hospital (ep 20. Unsure)

LWZ realizes Pei su has a fever (ep 25)

Fever dream. Young Pei su's mom gives him a hint for the basement door password (ep 26. Unsure)

Alternative shots of the hypnosis scene of Pei su lying on the couch (ep 26. Unsure)

Pei su: "shixiong, if you were a girl...." (ep 26)

Deleted text from Pei su to LWZ: Pingdiguo and I will be with you forever (ep 27)

LWZ checking Pei su's pulse in the closet (ep 28. Unsure)

LWZ holding Pei su's hand after the hypnosis (ep 28)

LWZ while carrying Pei su:"Let's go home" (ep 30)

Pei su grabbing LWZ's sleeve (ep 30. Unsure)

[quinloki]

I’m turning 44 - and there’s no better way to celebrate a little doom and gloom than with some nice, dark content.

But worry not, my fluff loving day time dwellers, I’m here for you too - there’s plenty of light options to be had in this event, so don’t think you need to sit by the wayside.

Lets get into the weeds shall we?

Request Checklist: Reader Vibes, Rating, 1 Ending, 1 Other, 1 Prompt - At least one blorbo.

Reader Vibes - As detailed or vague as you want:

Pronouns Parts Presentation Note: I don’t need parts for SFW.

Rating:

SFW NSFW Eviscerate me (translation: I will go as hard as I can based on your other choices if you have major squicks you should say what those are with this choice.)

Let’s refine this a little (Pick 1 ending, 1 other):

-:- Endings: Good Ending Ambiguous Ending Bad Ending Death Ending

-:- Other: Fluffy Steamy Consensual smut Dub-con Non-con

Finally, a prompt:

Trunk of a Car Wake up in a Basement Stalker Cover’s Blown (yan’s out the bag) Drugged (aphrodisiac/somno/pollen/DF/etc.) Overstim/Mind Break Meet Cute Dungeon (not the bdsm kind) BDSM Dungeon (The bdsm kind) Sensory Deprivation Abuse of Authority Amusement Park Neighbor The Club Pet play Wounded Outside - city Outside - woods First/Last Date Dinner and a Movie Ice Cream and a Walk Punishment Reward Wedding Ceremony Kidnapped Pregnancy Domestic/Service/Maid Threesome (if you don’t give me two canon characters I will pick a 3rd) Saved from yan! (need two canon characters, tell me which is which!) Saved from yan by yan! (need two canon characters, who is the savior?)

Don’t forget to tell me which blorbo(s)!!

If I have questions about your ask, I'll reach out =3 Or I’ll wing it and hope for the best ^^;

ALL ANON REQUESTS WILL BE SAFE FOR WORK.

If you don’t want your handle shared, let me know in the ask and I’ll keep it out of the post =3

Request Checklist: Reader Vibes, Rating, 1 Ending, 1 Other, 1 Prompt - At least one blorbo.

❤️ Anything omitted with be considered Writer's Choice ❤️

[edenspoem]

combat practice with jackson!ellie, who loves getting beat up by you. those who take joy in the taste of blood revel here, but for some, it simply becomes a supplement of evasion. after the lie, after the fighting, ellie pushed herself into deep woods, thronging with antidotes, distractions, recreations, the list parts the cosmos. hard to think about your father figure's dishonest mistakes when you've got punches flying your direction, left and right.

ellie consumed it aggressively; never-ending rematches slashing against old, beaten wounds she had to take care of herself. it was all reap and responsibility in that madhouse basement under jesse's house; the heracles cave. everybody knew it existed, but nobody knew who exactly partook in the bandaging of fists. they only know by the swells n' bruises when you see 'em; so joel does not. he can only chairbound himself on his porch, strumming his guitar to a tune of calling, wondering in silent voices: where are you, ellie?

somewhere, she is. ellie is the least vulnerable to daylight. always tucked away behind space, in her garage, the basement, on patrol. in essence, away from joel. but where she is most vulnerable is with you, who is well known for their bruises. everyone sees you. everyone knows your brawn. but did it ever stop ellie? absolutely not. did it inspire lust over blood? absou-fucking-lutely.

“you're getting halfhearted, williams. don't you think it's time to tap out?” you speak ruggedly out of your composed exhaustion, an undeniable comparison to her in front of you. strong veins thickly pervading her exposed arms, blood trickling from nearly every hole in her face. one of them was smirking.

a proud shape.

ellie takes one brisk study of your knuckles. “no,” she demands. “don't go so fucking soft on me, i know what i need.” and the gulp thereafter is harsh, bursting into a tiny chuckle when it hits the pit of her belly. rolling her head right and reiterating. “i need this.”

you aren't a stickler for arguing, “sure.” your voice a proselyte of doubt. so being you who respects the sacredness of decision, lets up and goes in, swiping one quick undercut to her chin. it's tough on your knuckles, as usual, and sends ellie flying back—as usual.

“fuck!” she splutters coughs as her shoulders thump into the ground, knocking out the wind. plumb to the earth. pretend-dead as a dog.

to be conquered by you is to be commemorated by you, in a sense. but with ellie, you want to be forward. mounting her hips and pushing on her shoulders, you wear the grin of a god as you swipe a dry thumb over her burst, bloodied lip, mixing two opposites of indulgence together. talk about commemoration, get a room!

ellie feels something of a foreign medley, it's likeness an embarrassing yet skin-raising sensation with her now. and like nothing, she molds into your palms; gives into the situation and assumes it a gesture of flirtation. no sound-else but the heaving of her chest is heard on your end, but the repeating of some optimistic motto plays on hers. don't fuck it up, ellie. don't fuck it up.

thing is, you do secretly cherish ellie, and find it frankly adorable when she waits out everybody else to rival you. concentrated on the sideline benches, shifting her foot nervously. when you stare at her now, life suddenly revolves around her, and the responsibility of cleaning her wounds adds itself to your mental checklist. maybe you will get a room.

“still need it?” your voice hovers; falls all around her.

“y-yeah,” she woozes, and swears her ears catch the ridiculous sound of cartoon birds chirping around her head, yet takes only your fists ripe with her blood into account. god, it makes her tummy flip. “again?” ellie asks, laughing inappropriately; a fool in love.

[antimony-medusa]

Tag game!

Rules: share the first lines of ten of your latest fanfics (or up to if you have less!) & tag 10 people. I was tagged by @irrealisms!

Tagging: @droidofmay, @leafcabbage, @blueeyedjoy, @these-godforsaken-halls, @rebelpeas, @nomsfaultau, @sohrleas @fensandmarshes, @residenthesitant, @imperialkatwala

1. out of my head, of my heart and my mind (Dream SMP)

Tommy let himself slump into a graceless heap on top of an apartment building, yanking his communicator out of his ear. The brick wall was rough on his back, and the pebbled surface of the roof dug into the spaces between his armour. The central tower of city hall loomed over him like an omen, Hero Tower shining oppressively behind it in the setting sun. Tommy propped his head in his hands, averting his gaze. 

2. A Revelation Starts To Form (Minecraft (Video Game), Dream SMP)

Phil almost runs into the soldiers when he turns the corner. He’s thinking of other things, hand under his cloak turning a carved wooden crow from Technoblade between his fingers, and footsteps in this stretch of corridor echo directionlessly. He catches himself, wings coming out to propel him away from the bodies he nearly collided with, and multiple pairs of hands come out as if to fend him off. 

3. the pressure and the panic you push your body through (Origins SMP)

When the Ender King’s guards hauled him back down the basement steps, the Crowfather’s left eye was swollen nearly closed, and his nose was so visibly broken it moved when he breathed.

4. Where You Go And I Will Follow (Dream SMP)

Most passengers on the system shuttle were napping or focused on media as it started the scheduled descent to the Vault. Phil gathered his things and checked the viewport again. The prison hung in space outside the shuttle, a massive unmarked cube in the void. There was an irregular sparkle in the empty half-km around the construction, the laser deflection array sparking as it vaporized micro-meteorites that dared to come close. The shuttle proceeded on a careful descent down the narrow path for transit in and out of the station, bracketed on each side by the prison’s security defenses.

5. Left Behind Everything I Knew (SMPEarth)

Technoblade had arrived at the stronghold at about three in the afternoon, the portal dropping him onto a glacier under a velvet-dark sky speckled with stars.

6. runnin' with this plan (pull me, grab me)  (Dream SMP)

The path through the evil wizard’s lair had been long and twisting, full of dead ends and magical traps and monsters summoned out of nowhere.

7. took a little journey to the unknown (Dream SMP)

The man with the cargo truck Phil had hired looked at his phone, then stepped forward to grab the final box out of the back. “Why don’t I help you bring this last bit upstairs, finish up?” 

8. You Fill My Lungs With Sweetness (Dream SMP)

Phil put a bowl of soup in front of Technoblade and then put one at his own spot, sitting down and settling his wings behind him as he picked up his spoon. “There we go. Let me know what you think.”

9. Makes The Rain Different (Dream SMP)

Techno shuffled sideways and dropped the new mattress into place, then stood back and considered the bed. He was tired—he was always tired nowadays—but it looked good. What was next on the pre-hibernation checklist? He called down to the ground floor. “Bed’s together, Phil, what did you say came next?”

10. I'm Not Askin' For A Miracle  (Dream SMP)

The Syndicate meeting had gone off the rails immediately, as usual.

Swapping between first lines and first paragraphs based entirely on vibes. Feel free to do this if you want to, even if not tagged.

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

Hello ! I hope you're doing well :)

I just re-read the last chapter of THUYW (👌🏼💖 btw) and I wondered if you could elaborate on the whole president ceremony stuff they do in the basement 🥹. If you're interested, you can write it however you want but here's an inspiration if you need it : i'm pretty sure they filmed it because they are who they are and one of them could send it to the reader and she would watch all the filth Ari did (I love this man).

Anyway, write it if you're interested, no pressure of course.

Have a nice day 🌟 and i hope your pillow stay cold on both sides.

okay, okay, okay. WE NEED TO TALK ABOUT THIS! 

first of all, the way that i gasped when i read that idea about it being recorded! omg, your brain is delicious! 

and second of all, i have a lot of little thoughts about it, but they're pretty hazy, plus i'd love to hear other people's thoughts and ideas, you know, let's brainstorm a bit together!

so, here are the thoughts currently scribbled down in my notes:

the only way it's been officially described in the au is that it's in the basement and “the ceremony they held each time a new president of the frat had to earn his crown.”

now that could mean many many different things....

maybe it involves one or multiple call girls

maybe it's a she's all that situation where the other guys challenge him to make the biggest loser in the school the new campus hottie

or maybe (this is low key a mix of many other ideas i had) it's a bigger checklist that he has to get through...

okay, picture it:

a twist on something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue.

something old = a professor

something new = a freshman

something borrowed = steal someone's girl

something blue = blue ball'ing it. he can't cum for a certain amount of time, even though he still has to be a compleate and utter hoe, he just has to pull out and stop every time.

maybe the others are the ones to pick out someone in each category for him to seduce.

another idea i had scribbled down had something to do with a very extreme marathon of an orgy that he had to endure

it could have a dark twist or it could be just hoes being hoes

there's also another idea... it's a ritual... sooooo maybe they're like "omg, we need some virgin blood as a sacrifice or whatever," and so he has to find a virgin, bang her, and if there isn't any dramatic blood as if this was a fair maiden a thousand years ago, then they gotta go find a new one. oops, or maybe it's an orgy because one drop isn't enough.... idk, could be dark, could be delisious...

but also that idea about recording it? yeeeesssss!! that has to be woven into it. maybe every single step has to be documented, every receipt saved, because it's tradition

what do you think? this is just to get the ball rolling, i wanna hear all of your thoughts! maybe we could do some polls or something to figure out this very important and slutty lore

[missmarveledsblog]

Flumpy ( Jake Seresin x reader) part 15

summary : the news of twins is share and its countdown to when they come , more old faces come to help with new home and flumpy meets her neighbours in well true flumpy fashion ... a groove in the kitchen well has them waiting for the moment they been waiting for ...

warning : goofy fluffy humour , hormones , pregnancy is fast tracked , not proof read soz

previously on flumpy

Picture perfect moment was the only thing she could even remotely call it when she stood holding two pink baby onesies in her hand  .   they instantly said girl as she hinted the plural  wasn’t til jake got bored and told them …

“ i put two buns in that oven” slight fear in his voice as he spoke given the shock still prevalent . 

“ oh OHHH TWINS .. SHE’S HAVING TWINS “. 

“ well done bob you adorable human … i wanna adopt him “ she sighed . 

“ we’re not adopting baby on board “ jake rolled his eyes .

“ stop pouting you can’t adopt a fully grown man even if he reminds you of bob from the minions pretty girl “ rooster patted her cheek . 

“ ok skipping that … twins” nat asked. 

“ yeah shy one in there or trouble i not too sure , hid her little ass behind her sister , i thought my kid had extra arm and head for a moment” she shuddered. “ ohhh “ her eyes widened as she held her stomach .

“ is the babies … her sit down .. call a doctor or hospital “ jake lead her to the stool as rest panicked.  “ darling what is it speak to me “ . 

“ we’re gonna need a bigger house “ she smiled up brightly as they all stopped. 

Saturdays were usually beach days  this saturday was driving around looking at bigger houses .  she had it written down a checklist of what their dream home would look like and honestly after she scared the shit out of him and took breather well it was a better step .  they would be crowded in the house and rooster was still going to be living with them plus more rooms when guest stayed  , for peanut and he knew future rescues he was still waiting for the day she’d come home with a box of ducks it hasn’t happened yet but he was waiting for it .  most of the house felt off , they didn’t scream home   til this one it wasn’t too far from base nor beach or hard deck . it had big spacious  back  garden  and she was smiling whole time .  a basement the two men  already swapping ideas to convert into man cave .  perfection  even more when they’re offer was accepted  watching the dagger squad as well as her dad and beau simpson started moving things.  Anytime she even so much as look at box it was taking up away from her .    she watched as they moved around  ready to slip out the door to see a new neighbor and a reason to see it was too good to be true .

“ welcome to the neighborho… y/n “ 

“ michelle” she groaned. 

“ you live here?” her face scrunched up . 

“ jake we’re moving again “ she called back . 

“ not happening flumpy dear” he chuckled  til he saw the demon woman standing at the door. “ i have the realtors number”he chuckled awkwardly. 

“ bye have a good day , tell annabeth we say hello” she called closing the door . 

“ hey i wanted to say hello to our new neighbor “ rooster  ran up . 

“ you really don't “ they both said heading back into the house . 

“ oh oh we need food i can least do that right “ she called pulling out her phone . 

“ who’s our neighbor?” rooster asked confused. 

It seemed having the navy set up house was both proficient , getting the navy to set up a nursery well other story completely . she was aloud paint as far as she could reach  while she grumbled  “ i’m not going to break the damn ladder” along the way.  7 months and three weeks pregnant it was getting more real , the house was coming together and  peanut was thriving ,   jake was home and she was supported by a bigger family she ever thought she would have .  it was all so magical and amazing she had all of this . 

“ baby are you crying?”  jake put down the screw . 

“Again” javy muttered. 

“ i’m just happy this time or mental  but i never thought i would have all this “ she sniffled. 

“ it is a nice house” fanboy agreed. 

“ not the house idiot all of you even luke “ she cried . 

“ i think she happy to have us as family and friends “ rooster smiled kissing her head. 

“ we love you too kiddo” beau smiled. 

“Shit she made simpson soft” payback whispered . 

The dinging of her door as she looked around the room  wondering who else it could be then dreaded thought of michelle and annabeth coming to take jake from her set in .  but what she wasn’t expecting was . 

“ hey princess “  the man smiled. 

“ uncle ron , solomon  , bernie” she gasp  before breaking into more tears alerting the others to the front door . 

“Slider , warlock , hondo  good to see you guys “ pete hugged the men . 

“ well anything for this one “ slider smiled hugging her to his side. 

 “ shit you are like part of top gun royalty “ jake smiled in awe. 

“ so your the one that knocked up my niece huh?” he stood a little taller . 

“ at ease  we’re here to help not scare him”  the voice called as sarah kazansky  pushed her way in. “ hey baby girl” she smiled hugging her tightly . 

“ you got uncle ron here” y/n sniffled . 

“ well he wanted to meet the S.O.B that got his baby pregnant “  sarah laughed as jake gulped . 

“ but we told him what great young man  he is “ warlock chuckled. 

“ i swear he did this to mav back in the day too” hondo whispered. 

“ well he was my husbands  well husband “ sarah rolled her eyes . 

“ we were never together “ pete spoke up . 

“ the eyes  they never lie…. Look all my family is here , except penny where is that woman “ she stood  looking around . 

“ getting you naco’s like you asked “ nat snorted .

 “ ah she’s good for you “ she patted her father on his cheek as she showed her new arrivals the new house still crying along the way but they sort of could understand her. 

“ your screwed if you ever hurt that girl you know that right ?” javy turned to jake. 

“ i ain’t gonna hurt her…. But yeah i’m fucked “ he winced . 

Sitting around her dinning table as they  all share stories of good ole day , the warming feeling of the people she loved most all in one space  , ruby and penny showing their faces not long after basically  top guns hall of fame sitting this was what life was for all this love in one room  and even though few couldn’t be there well they were there in away in spirit and stories .   jake could see the happiness radiating off of her  , how relaxed and peaceful she was basking in the glow of the past and how he couldn’t wait for their new future as scary and daunting it would be he was ready whatever was thrown their way as long as they were happy he was happy. 

8 months pregnant on twins not easy as she felt her soul literally being sucked out of her body and now with her maternity leave starting  honestly she wanted to pop em out so she had something to do .  she and peanut got to chill for bit  as she waved jake and roo off slightly sad to be home alone . she got to sitting on the porch as peanut enjoyed the fence yard  she couldn’t help picture the girls playing with the pup . what she didn’t like was coming out to greet bradley and jake standing with the toned up giggling barbie who she could only  known who and why she was there.  Huffing and she waddle down the path. 

“ hey my handsome men “ she cooed as the woman shot a glare. 

“ hey baby how are you” jake smiled brightly honestly waiting for anything to get him away from the girl . 

“ oh is this your little sister?” the woman chided. 

“ you must be annabitch.. Beth “ y/n smiled. 

“ this is my beautiful girl i was telling you about” jake held her close. 

“ oh your y/n my moms told me all about you “ she rolled her eyes. 

“ yeah sure she did , can we help you ?” y/n tapped her foot . 

“ you even old enough to have kid? “ she scoffed .

“ i mean gotta trap em one way keep your sugar daddy around “ she winked . 

“ she thinks she funny” jake rolled his eyes 

“ i think she is “ rooster snorted. 

“ when you need real woman not a little girl  call me “ the woman smiled sweetly . 

“ and when i need dollar store extensions  i call you bye annabitch have good day sit in a microwave   “ y/n waved  before jake led her away. “ little girl?” “ she growled waddling back up the path. 

“ big girl  very big … not in width  though so skinny” rooster called as she glared at the man . 

“ my beautiful woman huh  she  jealous cause your so radiant and gorgeous “ he cooed  kissing her cheek. 

“ i bet michelle sent her trying to have her own barbie and ken to show off to stupid friends “ she mocked the womans voice as they walked into  house .  

8 month  2 weeks pregnant she wanted it over , she was done  ready throw into the towel missing bending and seeing her feet. She waddles around the kitchen making more food singing along to her  playlist telling the two men she could make breakfast .  swaying along it really was a show with their meal.

“ looking like a chef i’m a five star michelin  .. get it cause im cooking . …oh shit the felix effect is strong” she gasped holding onto the counter  as their eyes all looked to the floor . 

“ darling ..” 

“ pretty girl was that ?” 

“ my water breaking yes “ she stood leg opened as she looked up at too men . “ this time we can go the hospital “ she winced . 

taglist : @harrysgothicbitch @djs8891 @darksparklesficrecs @sarah-bear706318 @emma8895eb @katiemcrae @eleventhdoctorsangel

[illarian-rambling]

There was a door, but it wasn't locked. Dehlus closed it silently behind her as she stepped into a long, wide room. Her eyes went wide as she took in…. Gods beyond, were those cells? Fucking shit, those are jail cells! Very cautiously, she made a mark on her inspection checklist. A very dis-satisfactory mark.

Dehlus, I'm very glad that in the depths of this murder dungeon in a laboratory basement, you remember that you are, first and foremost, an OSHA* inspector with a job to do