#( this has been in my drafts for a WEEK take it pls )

[sakuraspoke]

ghost - from the pinnacle to the pit @ hellfest 2016 [x]

[chaoticspacefam]

(Miette voice (obvi)) “You abandon Khem Val?? You leave him on the ship like the droid?? Oh oh! Jail for little Sith! Jail for little Sith for ten thousand years!!”

He’s SO dramatic about being asked to wait on the ship, I love him 🤣🤣🤣

[exopelagic]

i am in hell

[scarletsknight]

f*ck me like you’re famous

wc: 3.3k

pairing: eddie x fem!reader

synopsis: the man everyone wants only wants you 

cw: 18+ mdni!!, rockstar!eddie, non canon au, smut, use of marijuana, mentions of alcohol consumption, established relationship, pet names, teasing, eddie's rings (y’all alr know), choking, fingering, oral sex (giving/receiving), orgasm denial, praising, hair pulling, reader has an oral fixation (lowkey), multiple orgasms, mirror sex (not really but kinda), lil bit of possessiveness, overuse of the word fuck, marking, sex while under the influence, unprotected sex, aftercare, fluff?

a/n: this has been sitting in my drafts since my first acc got snipped and just never reposted 😭 but i lowkey wanna get back into writing for this account. pls don’t come for me if i don’t follow through tho life is just fucking crazy rn but i miss this blog and i miss you guys so i’ll try. but until then i hope y’all enjoy this!! 🫶🏽

Eddie wasn't expecting much difference when Corroded Coffin started playing at the Hideout on Fridays instead of Tuesdays. But the crowd more than quadrupled in size, and it seemed to keep growing every week they came back. 

In the middle of one of their songs, Eddie spotted you not too far from the small stage.

You had been fixated on the band's lead guitarist since you got here, barely taking your eyes from him as he expertly moved his fingers over the strings of his instrument. 

This is what Eddie's always wanted; playing for an actual crowd of people and not just five drunks. But now, as he hears the cheers and sees everyone headbanging along to the music, a dream he's had for so long, all he can do is focus on you. 

After their set was over, Eddie was surprisingly quick to start loading their things into his van.

Eddie was getting no help from his bandmates as they were distracted by the group of girls that had come up and started talking to them. One of them even tried flirting with Eddie, but he quickly excuses himself once he finds you again, smoking.

He weaves his way past the people crowding the alleyway behind the bar, walking through clouds of smoke.

With your back turned to him, you didn't see him coming as you were in the middle of a conversation with your friends, passing a joint around. 

Eddie's eyes slowly drank you in as he approached you.

To say you look good would be an understatement. Not that Eddie would ever think otherwise, but it was something about the fitting leather pants you were wearing that he was slowly growing obsessed with. 

You feel two hands on your hips, and your back meets his chest. Eddie snakes his arms around you. 

Resting your head against Eddie's shoulder, you turn your head to face him. 

"My love," you lazily grin at him. 

"Hi, angel," Eddie cupped your jaw and brought your lips to his. He could taste the faint traces of alcohol on your tongue and the smoke your lips still tasted of. 

The friends you arrived with all commended Eddie and his band for their performance before you added onto the praises.

"You guys were fucking amazing," you tell him. 

"You really think so?" he asks. 

You turn your body toward him, wrapping your arms around his neck. 

"Yeah, of course," you nod, "And I could tell your little groupies thought so too," you said. 

Eddie scoffed, "Groupies? I don't have groupies."

"I beg to differ," you say. Eddie follows your eyes, looking at the same girl from earlier, watching you and Eddie, seeming a little mad that someone else has their hands all over him. But you don't give a shit; Eddie was yours first. 

"You jealous?" he teases.

"Never. You're so fucking hot," you tangle your fingers in his hair pulling him closer as if there was any space left between you, "And I don't know, I kinda loved watching everyone go crazy over you, knowing you're gonna fuck my brains out later."

Eddie backed you up against the side of your friend's car, deepening the kiss as he held your face. 

"Keep talking and looking at me like that, I'll take you right here," he threatens, and you laugh. 

Eddie slid his leg between yours, making you hum against his lips, and you felt his thighs come into contact with your core. 

"Eddie," you murmur. From the look in your eyes, he could already tell what you were thinking. 

"Wanna get out of here?" 

"Do you really have to ask?" you smirk.

You bid your friends goodbye, Eddie thanking all of them for coming and letting them know when and where Corroded Coffin is playing next. Walking to his van, hand in hand, Eddie opens the passenger side door for you after you said your byes to the rest of the band. 

Eddie kept one hand on the wheel while the other rested on your thigh. Briefly looking over at you, Eddie feels his chest swell. He watches you roll a joint for him, not wanting to waste any time once you get home, and he couldn't be more in love.

Watching your face twist up in concentration as you wrap the paper around the bud, using the skills he taught you, only made something stir inside Eddie. His hand on your leg started inching higher and higher, firmly squeezing your thigh. 

"Babe, don't start. I'm tryna concentrate," you said, rolling the paper between your fingers. 

"Can't help it when you're the hottest girlfriend on the planet," he grins. 

You glance over at him out of the corner of your eye. "Just shut up and keep your eyes on the road, Munson," you said. 

But Eddie didn't miss the smile that stretched across your face from his words. 

Once Eddie was parked, he hopped out of the van with the freshly rolled joint between his lips, still unlit. He was humming one of Corroded Coffin's songs as he waited for you with his held hand out for you to take as you got out of the van. 

Knowing the whole place was empty, Eddie loudly sang as the two of you slow danced into his trailer. Eddie, dramatically swaying and spinning you around, had giggles spilling from your mouth as you made your way to his room. 

Taking off his shoes and jacket, Eddie swipes a lighter from his desk before sitting at the edge of his bed and sparking the joint. 

Eddie hummed delightedly as thick clouds of smoke entered his lungs. He fell back onto his bed, staring up at his ceiling, taking another drag. 

Having gotten distracted by your boyfriend's immense music collection, not knowing what to put on, you finally make your way over to him. 

Eddie feels the bed sink on either side of his legs as you climb on top of him. He rests one hand on your hip while he smokes with the other. 

You pluck the joint out of his mouth, bringing the filter to your lips and taking a hit for yourself. 

Both his hands are on you now, moving up to your waist. You readjust yourself in his lap, and you hear Eddie sigh. You start subtly dragging your hips against his as you expel the smoke through your nose.

Eddie looked up at you like you were a goddess he was more than ready to worship. 

"God, you're so fucking perfect," Eddie said, "And all mine." 

You would've clenched your thighs together if Eddie's body wasn't between them. You leaned down, grabbing Eddie's jaw and bringing his lips closer to yours. Eddie parted his lips as you blew the smoke into his mouth. 

"And you're mine," you whisper, kissing his face. 

You both sit up, your lips still connected to his. 

"You know that I love you," he stared up at you, his big brown eyes drowning in adoration for you.

"I know," you lean your forehead against his, "I love you too," you tell him before pressing your lips to his.

"Ever since high school. The moment you walked into O'Donnell's class 30 minutes late wearing that goddamn skirt," Eddie slides his hands up your thighs.

You hum into his mouth, kissing him deeply.

"Just promise you won't forget me when you guys become famous," you joke.

"I would never," he says, "You think I'm crazy enough to give this pussy up."

"I hate you," you giggle against his lips.

"Didn't you just say you love me?"

"Yeah, well I change my mind and take it back," you teasingly say, getting out of his lap.

You turn your back to him, but Eddie doesn't let you get too far before he's on his feet too, wrapping his arms around you. Laughs spill from your lips as he holds you against his chest, burying his face into your neck.

"Tell me you love me," he said lowly in your ear, the raspiness of his voice causing slick to pool between your legs.

"No," you said like a moody child.

"Come on, sweetheart, just tell me."

Eddie's fingers found the buttons on your pants, starting to undo them. You wiggle your hips a little assisting Eddie in getting the leather down your legs. He slipped one of his hands between your thighs, stroking your clothed heat.

If Eddie's arm wasn't wrapped around your middle, your knees would've buckled. Between being high and having been incredibly horny for your boyfriend all night, you were extremely sensitive to his touch.

"Let me hear it," he rasps in your ear.

"Eddie," you let your head fall back against his shoulder.

"Mhm?" he hums into your neck.

"I-" the words die on your tongue when he slips his hand into your underwear.

You whimper, feeling the cool metal of his rings against your warm skin. He runs his fingers through your folds, letting your slick coat his digits, purposely neglecting your clit.

"All this for a man you hate?" he scoffs.

You whine, squirming in his arms, trying to move your hips against his hand. But Eddie's strength doesn't allow for it.

"Tell me you love me and I'll give you anything, baby."

You quickly drop the act, falling deeper into this headspace, desperate for Eddie to do anything.

"I love you, Eddie."

"See? That wasn't so hard, now, was it."

He kisses your cheek, starting to rub small circles on your clit. You practically melt against his body, and he falls back onto his bed with you between his legs. You turn your head to capture Eddie's lips in a kiss. At the same time, you're lifting your hips and pulling your underwear off, carelessly letting the piece of fabric hang from your ankle.

Eddie grabs your thighs, keeping them apart. He brings his hand back down to your pussy, lazily playing with your clit.

"Look at you, baby," you follow Eddie's eyes to the mirror by his bed. The sight of you between his legs as he toyed with your clit should've flooded you with embarrassment, but you were already too far gone to care. "So fucking beautiful." he kissed your temple.

"Eds," you start squirming.

"Yeah, sweetheart?"

"Please," you grabbed his wrist, directing his hand where you really needed him.

"So so wet," the tip of his finger teasingly circled your hole before slipping inside you, "And so fucking tight." he then added a second.

You braced yourself with your hands on Eddie's thighs, your nails scratching the denim of his jeans.

"That feel good, baby?"

"Y-Yes. So good."

Eddie pressed his lips to yours as he found a steady rhythm for his fingers. He pushes his tongue into your mouth, and you moan around the wet muscle as he curls his fingers against your soft walls.

"Oh god, Eddie—please," you tell him.

Your legs threatened to close around his hand before he pulled them apart with his other hand. The same hand trails up your body, cupping your boob over your shirt, feeling your perky nipple beneath the material since you opted for no bra tonight. He tweaked the sensitive nub between his fingers, causing you to gasp and your pussy to flutter around his fingers.

"Fuck-m'gonna cum."

"Yeah? you wanna cum all over my fingers, pretty girl?"

"Yes! please please l-"

You let out a broken cry, feeling your orgasm being so abruptly ripped away. You heard Eddie laugh as your hips tried to chase his hand before he left you untouched.

"That's what you get for acting like a brat," he said.

That teasing little fucker.

Turning yourself around to face him, Eddie sees the pout on your face before it's taken over by a smirk.

"I'm sorry, baby," you slowly let your fingers trail down his chest, "let me make it up to you," you fluttered your lashes at him.

Eddie grinned as your hand reached the front of his jeans, palming his semi hard on through his clothes.

He pulled his shirt over his head, flinging it somewhere in the room. You quickly undo his jeans, slipping your hand inside his boxers and beginning to stroke his length.

"Fuck, princess," Eddie groans when you squeeze your fist around him.

You started pulling his jeans off along with his underwear, and Eddie kicked them off his legs the rest of the way. You positioned yourself between his legs, circling your thumb around the tip, smearing the beads of precum all over his cock.

You look up at him through your lashes before you take him into your mouth. You start slow, only sucking on the head, letting the salty precum land on your tongue while you wrap your hand around the base of his cock.

"That's it, sweetheart. Just like that," Eddie sighs, stroking the back of your head as you take more of him into your mouth.

Whether it was your high or just your infatuation with this man, you couldn't get enough of the feeling of Eddie in your mouth. The weight of his cock on your tongue and his breathy moans were enough to have you pressing your thighs together.

You run your tongue along the underside of his cock, coating his length in your saliva. Eddie ran a hand through his hair, brushing his bangs out of his eyes as if he didn't want to miss a thing. Even with tears in your eyes and spit pooling out of the corners of your mouth, Eddie still couldn't take his eyes off you. 

The muscles in Eddie's stomach contracted as he started to roll his hips against your face. You slowly started taking more of him into your mouth, focusing on breathing through your nose as you relax your throat for Eddie. You didn't care about the limits of your gag reflex, taking Eddie's dick deeper down your throat.

Eddie tangled his fingers in your hair, pulling you off him. You whine, not just from the pleasurable pain throbbing from your scalp but the loss of his cock in your mouth.

"Shit, you almost made me cum," he said, shallowly breathing.

"So why didn't you?" you ask, ready to slide him back into your mouth.

Eddie's hold on your hair tightens as he holds you where he wants you.

He smiles as you weakly moan, "Cause as much as I love watching you take me down that pretty little throat of yours, I really need to fuck you."

You moan again, but this time at his words. 

"Please fuck me, Eddie," you didn't care how desperate you sounded. "Please."

"I know, angel, I know."

Once every piece of clothing was discarded, your teeth clashed with his in a heated kiss. He pushed his tongue into your mouth, easily dominating the kiss. Your head met the pillows as Eddie's laid you down. He took his place between your legs, looking down at you. 

Your eyes travel down Eddie's body, studying the ink littered all over his skin like you haven't hundreds of times before.

The muscles in his arm flexed as he pumped his cock in his hand, and you wanted desperately to squeeze your thighs together. 

"How bad do you want it?"

"I want you so fucking badly, Eddie. Been thinking about having you all night. It was hard not thinking about getting up on that stage and letting you have your way with me in front of everyone, so they know who you belong to."

Eddie raises an eyebrow at you before you shrug.

"I told you, not jealous. Maybe just a little possessive."

"That's even hotter," Eddie tells you, "You're mine just as much as I'm yours," you felt his cockhead nudging into your entrance. 

"Yours...Mine," you moan out the word as he slides into you.

You thought the feeling of Eddie inside of you, filling you up, would make you delirious. 

"Fuck, baby, you feel so good."

"Eddie~" 

Eddie started moving slowly, only rocking his hips into yours steadily. 

Eddie knew you as well as the back of his hand. From every movement you make to the noises that spill from your lips, it's like he could tell what you wanted without vocalizing it.

He circled his arms under your legs, your calves resting on his shoulders. 

"Yes—my fucking god, Eddie," you buried your head into the pillows. 

You reach out to him, your nails leaving crescent-shaped indents in his skin as he folds you over, pressing your knees to your chest. Eddie's cock deliciously stretched your walls, feeling him so deep you were sure he was in your guts. 

Eddie dropped your legs from his shoulders to kiss you. He swallowed your moans, sucking your bottom lip between his teeth. 

"You're so fucking wet," he groans against your lips. 

"You feel so good," you whimper. 

Sitting back on his haunches, he spreads your legs wider, mesmerized by the way his cock disappears inside you. 

His cock twitches against your soft walls, seeing you fucked out beneath him. Your tits bounce with every one of his movements. Goosebumps rose on your skin from his rings as he slid his hand up your torso. He didn't miss the chance to tease you, rolling and pinching one of your nipples between his fingers. 

You grab Eddie's wrist, silently telling him what you want as you bring his hand to your neck. Eddie wraps his fingers around your throat, applying pressure to the sides, sure to not crush your windpipe. 

Your eyes rolled back, and Eddie could feel your pussy pulsing around him. Feeling the stainless steel digging into your skin added to the euphoria coursing through your veins. 

Eddie saw the smile etched onto your face as he pounded into you and thought he couldn't be more in love. 

"Shit, angel, I don't know if I'm gonna last any longer."

"Please don't stop. I'm so close."

"You gonna cum for me, sweetheart?"

"Yes...Please, Eddie." 

"I want you to cum with me," Eddie's hand finds its way between you, rubbing uncoordinated circles on your clit. 

All you could do was weakly nod at him. 

The music was barely heard over the sounds of your moans and heavy breaths with the obscene squelching coming from where your bodies connected. You blink your eyes to refocus on the man above you. Eddie's messy hair clung to his forehead and neck from the thin layer of sweat covering his skin. The guitar pick he has on the small chain around his neck dangles above your face, and you slightly tug on it to bring him back down and meet his lips with yours. 

"I fucking love you," you said to Eddie as you came. 

Eddie couldn't hold off any longer, cumming after you said those words to him. His cum painted your walls white, slowly thrusting into you as your pussy milked his cock. 

"Fuck, I love you too," he mumbled into your mouth. 

You lazily made out, the both of you taking your time to come down from your highs. 

Eddie finally moved from between your legs, and you could already feel his cum start to spill out of you.

"Don't move," he tells you. 

"Like I have a choice. Unless you want another addition to the collection of stains."

"Like you aren't responsible for half the stains on this bed."

You gasp dramatically, "And whose fault is that!?"

Eddie laughed, picking up his boxers from the pile of clothes on the floor before leaving the room. He came back shortly with a damp washcloth and took his place back between your legs. 

You saw Eddie lick his lips as he stared at your pussy, messy with his cum. 

"Baby, the sheets," you remind him.

"Right," he snapped out of his thoughts, "It's kinda hot, though," he said with a smirk, wiping your sticky skin. 

"You're so gross," you shake your head. 

"But you love it," he grins.

a/n: feedback is appreciated!! thank you for reading <33

[leqonsluv3r]

girl!dad leon kennedy

—husband!leon kennedy being the best absolute girl dad out there, a headcanon list

loosely based off of this oneshot and this headcanon list <3

masterlist taglist

an: happy father’s day yall! i originally wasn’t going to post this for father’s day and post a request instead but this has been sitting in my drafts since i wrote that pregnancy request with leon. so i figured in honor of father’s day, here’s leon being an amazing girl dad or what i think he would be like as a girl dad. anyways, ill post a request this upcoming week. i love you all, pls reblog and like. you know the drill.

girl!dad leon who is infatuated with his daughter from the moment she’s born. he thinks that she’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen besides his wife, of course.

girl!dad leon who buys his daughter only everything and anything that her little heart desires. doesn’t matter if she can talk yet, she has him wrapped around his finger. he will spoil the absolute shit out of her until asked not to.

girl!dad leon who watches cartoons with his daughter, holding her in his lap while his wife makes breakfast. doesn’t matter if it’s some stupid cartoon about talking dogs that fight crime, he’s just happy that his little girl is happy.

girl!dad leon that helps his wife pick out little outfits and dresses that somewhat match him, doesn’t matter if it’s corny. he just feels that it’s cute and there is no shame in that.

girl!dad leon who plays dress up with his daughter, dressing up like a fairy princess and dancing around. doesn’t matter if his wife is laughing hysterically and taking a ton of pictures, he’s the happiest when he hears his little girl laugh. her little giggles are proof enough that he’s doing something right with his life.

girl!dad leon who plays dolls with his daughter, making silly high pitched voices that he wasn’t aware he could conjure. his daughter is eating all of it up, every moment spent with her dad is a good one.

girl!dad leon who makes his daughter lunches for her first day at preschool, getting her whatever lunch box she desires and making sure that she’s all dressed up and ready. he packs her apples, some cheese and some fruit snacks, whatever else her little heart desires.

girl!dad leon who gets matching t-shirts with his little girl, one says daddy’s little trouble maker and the other says the trouble makers father. it makes his wife laugh and she takes a hundred pictures of their little girl and him wearing the matching t-shirts.

girl!dad leon who takes his daughter to the park, pushing her in the swings, getting to act so carefree with his daughter for the day. it’s free therapy that he never knew he needed. having his daughter is healing him one day at a time.

girl!dad leon who watches as his baby girl says her first words and watches her crawl, he showers her and praise and love, just like his wife. he hugs his baby girl and hoists her in the air, her little babbles and giggles making him feel like he’s living a dream. he never knew his life would be this good.

girl!dad leon who carry’s her around in a baby bjorn, casually walking around the grocery store with his little girl strapped to his chest. her little eyes looking up at him the entire time and making his heart melt. he’s getting softer by the day he swears and it’s all thanks to a combination of him and his wife’s genes wrapped up in a cute little baby.

girl!dad leon who buys his daughter a different stuffed animal after he comes back from every mission, watching her little face light up and yell, “daddy! daddy!” one of the few words she knows. it makes him glad he survived. his two girls safe under one roof is worth it if he has to see bloodshed and death every once in a while. their safety is more important and precious.

girl!dad leon who watches his daughter stumble around on her little legs to pick flowers in the backyard. every time she picks one, she brings it back to him and he holds it in his hand until he has enough for a small bouquet. he doesn’t have the heart to tell his little girl that they’re just weeds, she’s happy and that’s good enough for him.

girl!dad leon who celebrates his daughters first birthday with her and his wife. throwing her a small party with some of his friends and his wife’s friends, watching as his wife opens presents for their daughter. watching as her daughter gets a smash cake, burying her face in frosting and getting all dirty. normally he would hate the mess, but he’d never thought he’d get here. celebrating one year of having the best little girl ever and a loving wife. he really got lucky.

girl!dad leon who buys his daughter a little necklace that says “daddy’s princess” on it. he knows she’s only a year old and can’t really appreciate it yet, but he just wanted to get something special for his little girl. his baby’s first piece of jewelry (among many more if he has anything to say about it).

girl!dad leon who wakes up on father’s day with the biggest smile on his face. his wife and his little girl in the kitchen, cooking him the biggest breakfast known to man. he’s wearing that matching t-shirt he got all those months ago. he gets some heart shaped pancakes shaped like hearts, a card and a teddy bear that his daughters tiny hands hold out to him, says best daddy ever on the belly of the furry teddy. he feels his eyes water and grabs his tiny baby girl, pressing kisses to her head. does the same to his wife, showing his appreciation for having his little slice of serenity. he finally got his happy ending, one he never thought was possible. and he has his wife and daughter to thank for that.

taglist: @elihii @heartsforvin @argreion @sqiim @adollrable @leonkennedygvrl @laceycoffins @porcelainseashore @squazmine (taglist is linked above if you would like to join!!)

[luvelve]

boyfriend!wonwoo who wakes up at the slightest sound or movement and he can’t help it or do anything about it even if he so badly wants to. the first few weeks of living together was difficult to say the least. you’d wake up in the middle of the night to pee or to have a glass of water and you’d find wonwoo sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting for you to come back. guilt would wash over you knowing he has to get up early in the morning and every other morning.

you feel like the worst person in the world having to interrupt his slumber, but he tells you its okay. you once even offered to sleep in separate rooms so wonwoo can have 8 hours of uninterrupted sleep. but of course, he turned the offer down. sometimes he’d act like he wasn’t woken up from your movement because he knows you still feel guilty.

you’re many months into sharing a bedroom and you’ve kinda gotten used to your light sleeper of a roommate. it’d help when wonwoo came home absolutely exhausted, he’d sleep like a baby and couldn’t be disturbed by anything.

it’s way past 3am on a gloomy tuesday morning when you feel your blanket shift and cold wind hit your lower body. you look over your shoulder to wonwoo’s side and you see him getting up and putting his glasses on. he’s quietly heading towards the door when you let out a mumble.

“i’m sorry my love, i didn’t mean to wake you.” he finds your face under the moonlight that shines through the window.

“where are you going?” you use whatever strength you have to sit yourself up on the bed.

“i was just going to get some uh… water.”

liar. the glass of water you put on his bedside table before lying down has barely been touched. and the fact that he put his glasses on isn’t helping his lie either. it takes you a few seconds but you also notice that his hair hasn’t been messed up from sleep.

“have you been up all night?” you shoot him a head tilt, slowly getting up from your bed to make your way towards him. you can tell the mental gymnastics he’s doing in his head to try and convince you to get back to bed. at this point, wonwoo knows you’ve got him and there’s no point in lying anymore.

“yes… but its okay, really. y-you can go back to bed.” he tells you softly, putting his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants. even at this hour, when wonwoo hasn’t had a second of sleep, he’s still able to be this selfless.

you stand just a few inches away from him, head tilted up to look him in his tired and droopy eyes while he looks down at you, doing the same thing. it’s silent and the only thing that can be heard is the faint sounds of the city. you take a small step to close the gap between the two of you as you wrap your arms around his waist. your head is resting on his chest and you feel it rise and fall.

“we’ve talked about this before. you always stay up with me, even when i never ask you to. waiting for me to get back from the kitchen or the bathroom. and it’s unfair to you… but i hope you know that i’d do the same for you.” you close your eyes, head still resting on his chest, internally blaming yourself for not being as light a sleeper as your boyfriend.

he smiles and returns your hug, wrapping his arms around your body and resting his chin on the top of your head. “i know, my love. i’m sorry.” another trait of your wonwoo’s, being sorry for something that’s not even his fault.

“just wake my sleepy ass up next time, okay?” he lets out a laugh and you feel it rumble in his chest. you lift your head up to look at him once again as he nods. his smile is big enough that the corners of his eyes crease.

“jeon wonwoo, i wanna hear you say it.” your voice is soft yet a bit playful. you tug at his white shirt as your lips unconsciously form into a slight pout.

“yes, maam.”

a/n: as usual, this is very self indulgent. but also, i feel like this is something that wonwoo would actually do :(( aaand i still can’t seem to finish this wonwoo fic that’s been in my drafts for over 3 weeks so pls enjoy this for now <3

[fandomfucker]

Hey bestie

I’ve loved you stuff for ages so I thought you would be a good writer for a lil idea I had!

Poly! Judgement Day x reader (or just Rhea Ripley ) where bubbly (but smart and snarky) reader gets moved to smackdown during the draft and only sees the rest of her partners one or two days a week.

She acts independently like it doesn’t bother her that she has to travel alone, and doesn’t tell her partners that she’s had trouble making friends at smackdown. But it’s taking a toll on her.

When she starts seeing them post more photos without her and all text her less she finally loses it.

After a long day of losing a championship match reader goes home to find out that her partners didn’t even know that she had a match that night and barely acknowledge her homecoming. Reader cries herself to sleep alone in their kingside bed.

Hurt/comfort ensues

- I hope this wasn’t too long 💕,

🟧Anon

Thank you so much for all your support!!🫶

Definitely get toxic relationship vibes with this so i kinda played into it a little. Also, this doesnt actually follow anything because I dont actually really watch Smackdown, pls dont kill me🙏

Some of the dialogue and resulting reactions/scenarios are from this list by @judgementdaysunshine and @romanthereigns

Word count: 4,473

Reader’s POV

It felt like my heart had been ripped in two and then thrown in a woodchipper.

Without any kind of warning or anything, I had just been removed from my partnership with the Judgment Day and put on Smackdown instead of Raw.

Backstage in our shared dressing room it was quiet enough to hear a pin drop as the five of us all stood around in stunned silence.

Dominik was the first to break it as he launched himself at me, cradling my head to his chest as the news began to sink in.

Tears began to well up in my eyes as I stared off over his shoulder at nothing. Our hug was jolted when Damian, Finn, and Rhea joined us, surrounding and enveloping us whole.

I blinked until the tears receded, refusing to cry over an unfortunate situation such as this.

I felt tears on my shoulder from one of my partners and heard the shaking sobs of the others, making it just that much harder to not cry myself.

Reluctantly, I pulled away from our group hug, wiping away any remaining strays.

I cleared my throat, "This isn't going to change anything, okay? We all still love each other and at the end of the day, we all go back to the same home. We'll be okay."

Dominik nodded, keeping a hand on my waist as he wiped away his own tears. Catching Damian also wiping away his tears I sent him a small smile, hugging into his waist.

"You're right, dove. It might be hard, but we'll make it work just like we always do." Rhea smiled as she cradled my face in her hands.

I nodded my head, smiling at her in return before removing myself from the boys' holds on me and crushing her body into mine, holding onto her waist tightly.

Finn stood to the side of her and took one of my hands in his, "Lass, this isn't goodbye, and it never will be. You're going to do great by yourself, really get the chance to show everyone just what all you're capable of."

Nodding my head again against Rhea's chest, I squeezed his hand in acknowledgment and comfort as I took in all my partners in the group locker room for what was possibly the last time.

"I'll make you guys proud."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Two smackdowns later and I still had yet to make any of them even remotely proud.

Turns out, even if you leave a group, people still hold grudges against you for being in that group.

Rhea and I had obliterated the entire women's division both individually and as the occasional tag team so no one liked me or even so much as acknowledged I was there.

The ignoring was worse than any bullying or ambushes I could have anticipated.

The only woman in the locker room that would even look at me was the new girl from NXT, Blair Davenport but the others had warned her about me, so she too stayed away.

All the men wouldn't talk to me either more than a 'hello' in passing because my boys had swept through them too.

Apparently creating grudges left and right isn't as fun as I thought, once those I made the grudges with are no longer with me. I had burned all the bridges I now needed to keep from drowning.

We managed to work our schedules out enough so that we'd all be able to see each other once or twice a week, unless there was a PLE in which we'd be together that whole week.

I was given a newer design along with new beefs. Instead of my usual black and dark purple I wore more pastel colors. Baby blue, lilac, light yellows, etc. I was given extensions and my makeup was much less dramatic. My shorts were traded for skirts and my hand symbols for hearts.

I was told they were wanting to take some more creative liberties for me and I could either get on board with it or leave.

My first match on Smackdown was against the new girl, Blair Davenport who wanted to "show the world what she's made of" and decided to try and make me her example.

Long story short; I won. And that really didn't do me any favors, except to get me a match against Chelsea Green. The winner of which would be getting a shot at the Women's Championship title against Bayley.

Sitting in the locker room after winning my match against Chelsea I sat in the corner with my knees to my chest as I texted the Judgment Day group-chat.

Y/N: Guys!! I got a match against Bayley for the title next week!! We're about to have two womens champs in the JD!😁😁💪💪

With the different time zones I wasn't expecting an immediate reply so I just went ahead and began scrolling through Instagram until it was time for my promo.

Rhea's post came up first. It was just a picture of her dinner, at a fancy restaurant, and you could see Dominik's shirt and hands in the background.

Some of us go on dates with each other by ourselves all the time so I thought nothing of it, just liked it and kept scrolling.

Until I saw that Damian had uploaded a friends-only story. Clicking on it, it was a mirror selfie of him and Finn wearing tuxes, a peak of a flowy red dress just out of frame. The next slide was a full picture of Rhea in her dress. Her dress that I had given her.

My eyes stung a bit that my partners had all gone out on a really nice date without me, but I blinked it away because it didn't matter. It was one date and I'm on the other side of the country right now, they can go on one date without me. It's fine.

When it was time to do my promo, someone came and escorted me to the specific area where my favorite unbiased interviewer, Cathy Kelley, was waiting for me. Her face lit up when she saw me as I barreled towards her.

Crushing her into a hug, we both squealed with delight at finally seeing each other for the first time in forever.

We caught up and did my promo and decided to go out for a really late dinner together after the show. I told her about my struggles with the women on the roster while she spilled about her own personal problems.

"Oh! Let's take a cute little dinner date picture for Insta!" Cathy exclaimed pulling out her phone. I agreed and joked that we should hold hands across the table like a real date and she agreed.

She posted the photo and we watched as the comments rolled in from the fans. Some were loving it while others thought she might be dating both Rhea and me now. We laughed at some of the comments before going back to our conversation.

Wrapping up dinner, Cathy revealed to me that while she would be on Smackdown more often than before, she still wouldn't be there every week.

"It's okay, its not your fault," I forced a smile before we made our way to our separate hotel rooms. "I'll see you tomorrow though?" I asked hopefully.

"Of course! Sweet dreams, Y/N," She replied before we went our separate ways.

Two hours later, now laid in my hotel bed about to go to sleep, and the only response I'd gotten was a thumbs-up reaction from Finn. Secretly, I hoped my partners were just too busy planning something special for me when I got home and didn't want to accidentally ruin the surprise.

Deciding to just get over it, I went to bed, dreaming of finally being with all my partners again, going on a date with all of us.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The sound of my phone's notifications woke me up early the next morning. I reached out, aiming for the nightstand where I had left my phone to charge the night before. I blindly hit around the area until I felt my phone, bring it up to my half-open eyes, blinking rapidly at the burning brightness of the screen.

The screen was filled with angry texts from my partners.

Finn: What the hell were you doing with Cathy???

Rheas: Were you on a date last night???

Hello???

Y/N!

Damian: Answer us Y/n!!

Dominik: Y/n answer your fucking phone this is insane

My eyes teared up in fear at my partners' reactions. They seemed genuinely upset, especially with the combined 24 missed calls in a 4-hour time period.

I just texted back a simple, "We just went out to dinner and thought the picture would be cute. Nothing more." before getting up and going about my day. With my next flight leaving in just a few hours, I had a lot to do before I could even get to the airport.

After getting out of the shower, I checked my messages only to see no response from any of my partners. Clicking on the chat, I saw that I had been left on read by all four of them. I tried to push aside my feelings but lately it was getting harder and harder to do so.

But, I managed to pull myself together just enough to make it on my flight home just in time.

It was mid-Sunday by the time I made it to our shared house, and I knew I'd be alone for the next couple days since my partners' flight out for Raw had been around the same time as my flight in.

The rest of the day was spent self-loathing in the bathtub as I watched a few of Bayley's old matches, trying to give myself the upper-hand for our match by learning how she fights.

I fell asleep in bed that night, shoveling ice cream into my mouth as I watched old reruns of Full House on the TV.

The next morning was nice because I was finally able to sleep-in after so many early mornings. I was able to make myself a cup of coffee and make french toast (something I hadn't been able to have in forever) as I sat on the back porch watching the birds fly through the trees.

My nice little fantasy, however, was broken when I received an Instagram notification. This one was a picture Rhea had posted; a selfie of the four of them in the car they were driving.

I was too emotionally exhausted for my eye to even begin welling up. So, to save myself from anymore heartbreak and/or grievances, I blocked all four of them on both socials and messages and told myself I'd unblock them later that day.

Later that day turned into fifteen minutes later when I started feeling guilty, so I unblocked their messages and left their socials alone. I'd see the pictures eventually on my feed posted by fans, but hopefully it would take a little bit longer than if they weren't blocked. None of them ever bothered to text me individually or the group chat of all five of us the rest of that week, even after I texted them to congratulate them on their wins form Monday. 

Brushing off the avoidances form them, I just went about my week. A few facetime interviews and a podcast. I answered emails and went to the gym. I cleaned the house and did laundry, wondering when on Earth my partners would get home.

I even called them to ask to no avail. But I saw the posts on Instagram of them a few states away hanging out, going on dates. They had decided to do a road-trip back home instead of a flight. 

The uncomfortable lump in my throat increased with each swipe to the next picture. As I swiped through the pictures, my growing fury and heartache increasing in a swirl of mixed feelings, Dominik texted me, saying they'd be home Thursday night.

Around the same time as my flight out to the next city for Smackdown.

I sent a thumbs up in reply and threw my phone off to the side so I wouldn't have to think about it for the next little while.

I just went ahead and began packing all my stuff for Smackdown Friday night, making sure I had everything I needed for my new ring gear I was about to debut. It was a special occasion, after all. I was about to be the next women's champion.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Friday night had arrived and I now stood in the guerilla bouncing around as I shook out my nerves. Onlookers shot me weird looks as I went through my warm-ups as well, they weren't your typical ones as I had learned them in high school doing theatre.

Bayley passed me, giving me a look I couldn't quite decipher as her music hit first and she walked out. 

A minute later my own started playing and I walked out, swaggering my way down the aisle. When I was told to change my look, and my attitude as well, to make myself not apart of the Judgment Day anymore, I was finally given my own theme music, but I missed our group theme more than anything.  My now long hair swung as I made my way up the stairs and into the ring to do my entrance against the ropes.

Stepping into the middle of the ring, I faced Bayley as our title match was announced and the title showcased to the audience. I caught her mouthing something at me, making me grin sadistically. You can take the girl out of the faction but you can't take the faction out of the girl.

"May the best woman win."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I didn't win.

It was a long match that wound up being longer than anyone anticipated, ourselves included.

Bayley eventually got the best of me when my head hit the turnbuckle at just the right angle for me to black out for a second, leaving room for Bayley to pin me as I was too disoriented to kick out.

The ref had to help me backstage to the medics after the lights went out, signaling the commercial break. She even had to hand me a towel to catch the blood beginning to flow from the small cut.

The on-sight paramedic gave me some ice for my head as she checked my pupils. "Yeah, I think you got a minor concussion there, hon. I'll let Mr. Aldis know but you should sit down and rest until you can get an uber, you shouldn't be driving." 

She left the room and I immediately started bawling my eyes out, making my headache worse. Not only did I now have a concussion which would cause me to be out for at least a few weeks, but I was lonely, my partners were ignoring me and probably didn't love me anymore, and I lost my one shot at the title that I had earned and fought for entirely by myself.

My cries attracted the attention of a few passerby but only one stopped and came in to check on me.

"Hey, Y/n, I'm really sorry. That was my fault, I totally botched that, I'm so sorry. If you want I can take you back to the hotel so you don't have to pay for an uber? I just have one more promo to do and then I'm all done."

I looked up to see Bayley standing there, her title nowhere in sight, looking so sincerely upset and apologetic it just sent another wave of tears down my already soaked cheeks.

"That'd be great, thank you," I laugh-cried as she helped me down from the table and back to the shared locker room.

All the other girls stared at me as I walked in, my face and eyes puffy and my forehead bandaged, as I continued to hold an ice pack to the top of said bandage. No one else seemed to have any sympathy for me and rightfully so. I hadn't actually done anything in the past 2 years to warrant any.

Bayley brought me over to my locker and began helping me get all my stuff together. "Why are you helping me?" I croaked pitifully.

She avoided eye contact, "Because I know what it's like. To lose your faction--the people who mean the most to you and are always supposed to be there for you, I mean."

A small laugh escaped me as well as another tear. I swiped it away before offering my hand to her. "Truce?"

"Truce," She nodded and shook my hand.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Finally getting home late the next day, I was relieved to find all four of my partners already at home. I was nervous to see them after all the ignored communications and their Instagram posts of dates I wasn't invited on, but I was tired and hurt and wanted my partners.

Unlocking the door, I stepped into the entryway, smiling softly as I heard my partners' rambunctious laughter coming from the living room. I left my suitcase by the door and made my way over to them.

They were playing the new WWE2k24 game with the new Xbox Rhea had gotten from being on the cover.

"Hey guys! I'm home!" I announced my presence from behind the couch as I walked in.

I received a chorus of "hey babe"s from all four of them, not one of them turning around to actually acknowledge me. And that stung worse than any failed title match or concussion. 

It was like my heart had been ripped out and stabbed repeatedly with a knife before being set on fire. I tried to tough it out and managed to get all the way to our shared bedroom before I burst into tears again.

My pent up feelings, mixed with the concussion, my heavily drugged brain resulting from said concussion, and the overall exhaustion from everything all at once finally came to a head as I sobbed.

I collapsed to the floor, my knees being too weak to hold me up. Crawling up into the bed, I laid there and cried into my pillow as I cradled another to my chest. I cried so hard I couldn't breathe and snot ran down my face.

Eventually, I fell asleep, having not even bothered to change my clothes or take off the makeup that was now streaked down my face. 

I just hoped that when I woke up it would've all been a dream.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

3rd Person POV

The four members of the Judgment Day sat around the living room, playing what they agreed would be the last match before they made dinner.

"Alright," Damian spoke as he stood up and began stretching out his sore limbs, "Who wants what?"

"I want chicken tenders!" Dominik shouted excitedly. 

Rhea laughed and ruffled his hair, sliding her fingers through his silky strands. "Okay, well while Dame and I get started on dinner how about you and Finn go pull Y/N out of the shower and she what she wants."

Dominik nodded like a happy little puppy before grabbing Finn's hand and dragging him upstairs to go find their girlfriend.

They went first to the master bathroom, noticing the light was still off and there was no trace of her having taken a shower. They continued on into the bedroom where they saw the curled-up figure of their girlfriend.

Finn went and turned the bedside lamp on, emitting a soft glow about the room. 

The two of them rounded the bed to face Y/N and wake her up. Dominik saw her first and stopped dead in his tracks, the blood draining from his face causing Finn to rush over.

Before he could even ask what was wrong he looked at Y/N and no longer needed to ask. 

Her face was puffy from tears, her makeup smeared and streaked down her face making it even more evident she had been crying. The pillow she held onto with a death grip had a wet stain on the top of it from previously fallen tears.

But the thing they were most concerned about, was the small bandage on the top of her forehead. Dried blood seeped out from underneath the bandage and was crusted around and in her hairline, the whole area swollen and red.

"What the hell happened?" Dominik asked Finn as they watched Y/N sleep. 

"I dunno," Finn replied in the stunned silence. "We need to get Rhea and Damian, though."

Down in the kitchen, Rhea and Damian danced around each other grabbing various ingredients as well as silverware and dishes. They made idle chat and were laughing when Finn and Dominik bounded down the stairs. 

"What'd Y/N say she wants for dinner?" Damian asked the two of them, his back turned to them as he fiddled with a dial on the stove. 

"She's asleep, but you guys need to come see, something happened," Finn told the two of them.

They both looked up from what they were doing, Rhea grabbing a towel to dry her hands. "What's wrong?" She asked as she ran around the counter and up the stairs to their shared room.

"I'm not even sure," Finn replied.

The four of them raced up the stairs and down the hallway to their bedroom, Rhea leading the way.

She slowly rounded the corner to face Y/N and upon seeing her in the same state the other two had, threw her hand to her mouth in horror as she gasped at the sight before her.

Damian, right behind her, made it to her side to see what all the fuss was about and all the blood drained from his face when he did. "Oh my god."

"Should we wake her up?" Dominik asked, like a scared child.

Rhea, ever the caretaker of the group, chimed in. "No, let's just wait until she wakes up. You guys go back downstairs and finish making dinner and I'll stay here till she wakes up."

"If you're staying here then so am I," Finn argued, taking a seat on the small ottoman at the end of the bed. Rhea nodded reluctantly before looking at the other two.

They both nodded, knowing they wouldn't win any fight they picked. They both walked over and gave Y/N a small kiss on the forehead, the opposite side of where the bandage was, before shuffling out of the room and down the stairs. Now, all they had to do was wait.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It wasn't until an hour later that Y/N finally began to stir.

Rhea and Finn both shot up, kneeling beside the bed as Fin gently stroked Y/N's cheek as she awoke. 

"What's going on?" Y/N asked groggily, thoroughly confused as hell and not knowing anything. After any normal nap, it takes a minute to even remember your own name, not to mention a nap after that kind of extreme emotional distress.

"We're just worried about you, sweetness," Rhea explained as gently as she could. If Y/N did actually have a concussion and didn't remember anything, she didn't want to freak her out any more than she possibly would already have.

"Why?" Y/N asked, gently pushing the two of them away form her to sit up and rub her eyes. In doing so, she felt the edge of her bandage and remembered everything. From losing the match, to making a truce with Bayley, to coming home and them not acknowledging her.

Rhea and Finn saw the look that overcame their girlfriend's face. Anger, betrayal, sadness.

She pushed them out of the way again, this time harder than any of them were expecting which sent the two flat on their asses as Y/N made a move to get out of bed.

"Woah, woah, woah. Where the hell do you think you're going?" Rhea immediately was on her feet and grabbed Y/N's arm to keep her from going any further. The look she received from Y/N before she pulled her arm out of her grip was scathing. 

"Nowhere that concerns you." She began to move towards the closet, starting to grab new clothes, seemingly to change into before she grabbed a bag and began stuffing the clothes in there.

"Y/N! What the hell is going on? Please, just talk to us!" Finn tried to reason with her. 

By now, the commotion had reached the ears of both Damian and Dominik downstairs and they raced up to the bedroom, just in time to hear their girlfriend's explanation.

"Talk to you? Talk to you?! I have been trying to talk to all four of you for weeks! And all I get in response is a thumbs up! Sometimes, not even every time!" She screamed, stepping out of the closet into full view of her partners. Clothes were left forgotten on the floor, and some half-hanging off their hangers as Y/N finally released all her pent-up emotions.

All four members of the Judgment Day stood in stunned silence as Y/N kept going, now unable to stop herself even if she tried.

"I was forcefully moved away from my partners, surrounded by people who hate me and then you four go out and have date nights without me. Constantly! I had a title match tonight against Bayley, we could've had two champions and you didn't even care! I lost because I hit my head and got a concussion and you don't care!" At this point, Y/N had started to grow emotional. Each word was a fight against the myriad of tears threatening to spill over.

The four of them felt awful, how could they have neglected their girl so badly for so long to get to this point?

"We're so sorry, cariño, we had no idea you even had a match last night-" Damian's attempts at an apology were cut off by Y/N.

"Of course you didn't! You never bother to talk to me anymore!" Her partners began to reach out for her as she started fully crying, the emotions winning this fight.

"I'm barely holding on," Y/N sobbed as she curled in on herself, rejecting any attempts at physical touch from her partners. "It's so bad, that my opponent had to come to my rescue after the match because no one else will even acknowledge me."

"Y/N," Dominik spoke, the sound of his heart breaking evident in his voice.

"No, just...don't," Y/N wrapped her arms around herself as she backed away from the four of them. 

The five partners stood around in silence, each member processing their emotions. 

Once Y/N's tears had slowed down, she wiped any remains off her face before facing her partners, who now surrounded her again. This time, however, they left a spot for her to escape.

"Hey, we're sorry, okay? But we promise to do better. This is new for all of us and we admittedly didn't handle it well but we're gonna fix that, alright?" Finn explained to her gently, so as not to scare her off.

"He's right, amor. We love you, so much. We'll do anything that you ask of us, please," Damian practically begged her.

Rhea and Dominik both clutched each other, tears streaming down their faces as they were both too choked up to speak, but they nodded in agreement to both of the boys' statements.

"Okay," Y/N broke down again, walking into the shared hug between the partners. They would make it up to her, just like they always did. Everything would be okay. They would be okay.

[cheolaholic]

ring of love; csc (05)

summary; agreeing to join vernon spectate an underground boxing match wasn't how you'd expect to spend your friday night. you also didn't expect to see seungcheol, someone you've lost contact with for years, become a part of the ring.

modern! au • boxer! au • hhu focused • multiple kinds of tropes • fluff, angst, smut

a/n;; omg, i'm alive????? jkjk, work's been piling up lately and i'm honestly drained by the time I get back home so I couldn't do much writing or even qc the draft before yoinking them into a tumblr draft 💀 but anyways, hope yall enjoy this chapter !! uri boo makes a small little cameo in this chapter :D a part of the angst in this fic has also arrived, pls be prepared (it’s not that heavy tho).

You were 15 when you experienced your first ‘heartbreak’. Though, you call it a ‘heartbreak’ solely because it was a “for the lack of a better word” situation. A week before summer break, your parents had announced that the three of you would be flying off to Jeju to visit your grandparents.

You adore your grandparents, and they adore you just as much. Before you started middle school, you remember constantly flying off to Jeju, or even taking the ferry, to visit them every holiday and school break possible. Even during the initial stage of your move to the small town, your parents had sent you off to your grandparents as they sorted out the heavier parts.

Your grandparents had brought you to the beach, taught you how to make kimchi and even brought you to one of the fireworks shows during your stay. But, when you started middle school and were bombarded by a shit ton of schoolwork, you weren’t able to visit them as often.

So, you were ecstatic when your parents announced the Jeju trip. Both Aki and Seungcheol could see the excitement and happiness in your eyes as you told them about your plans.

Aki asking you questions about Jeju while Seungcheol listens to both of you with a small smile on his face. “how long will you be there, pup?” he asks, cheek leaning against the palm of his hand.

“Uhm… I think maybe for two weeks? I’m not really sure… Dad did ask mom if she wanted me to tag along with them to London afterwards…”

“Oh? What are they gonna be doing in London?”

“They have a business meeting that lasts at least two days. But, they decided to stay back a week for a mini vacation.”

“Do you want to go?” Aki asks as she pops a piece of strawberry into her mouth, stealing a glance at Seungcheol, noticing the way his shoulders are slumped at the mention of you thinking of joining your parents overseas.

Dude looks like a puppy not wanting its owner to leave it alone… she thought to herself, finding the scene in front of her amusing.

“Well, whether or not you want to join your parents, I’m sure you’ll enjoy yourself regardless!” she spoke.

“Take good care of yourself, pup,” Seungcheol added as he reached out a hand and patted your head, sending a faint blush spreading across your cheeks and a teasing smile on Aki’s lips, “If you ever need anything, call me, okay?”

“Or me!”

The older male rolled his eyes at Aki’s words, smiling when you nod your head.

“Seungkwannie!” you squealed out in happiness as you ran up to your cousin who was standing out at the gates of your grandparent's house, engulfing him in a big hug. “I can’t believe you’re here! Mom and Dad said that you’d be in Biyangdo!”

“And miss out on the chance to spend time with my favourite cousin? Never!” Seungkwan proclaimed as he pecked your cheek. “I haven’t seen you in years, ___! There’s no way I’d pass off the opportunity to spend time with you while you’re here!”

Seungkwan is your cousin from your mom’s side of the family. Before the age of 5, you don’t remember much about meeting Seungkwan other than the stories both your parents would tell you over family dinners. For example, when you asked them about the scar Seungkwan had on his chest, his dad said you were the one that left it on him. They proceeded to tell the story of how you had scratched Seungkwan because he had refused to let you watch Pocoyo on tv when both of you were just 3.

Or when his mom would ask you if you remembered Seungkwan hiding in the closet to scare you, but you ended up crying because you had thought he went home. So, instead of scaring you, he came out of the closet and both your parents found the two of you cuddled up on the floor the next morning

After Seungkwan helped you and your parents move the luggage into your grandparent’s home, Both of you sat on the porch, drinking the lemonade your grandmother had prepared. “How’re you, aunt and uncle doing?” he asks, “I heard from Uncle Lee that you’re starting high school soon! probably in a few months, right?”

“Things have been the same, besides the whole mom and dad having to go overseas occasionally and I had to stay with either Aki or Seungcheol.”

“Speaking of Seungcheol, how’s that little crush of yours on him going?” Seungkwan asked with a teasing smile, nudging your sides, “Ever thought of telling him before he graduates? There’s a chance he might head off to the big cities or even abroad for college.”

You were silent for a moment.

You have thought about telling Seungcheol your feelings, but you never thought about the timing. Now that his graduation is nearing, you still haven’t told him. As you were still stuck in your thoughts, Seungkwan places a hand on your shoulder, “Well, whatever happens, I wish you happiness.“

“You say that as if I’m leaving you forever.”

“Hey, let me be sentimental!”

Just as you rolled your eyes, you felt your phone vibrate - you had gotten a text from Aki.

aki: did you make it to Jeju safe? ___ bestie <3: yeap! ___ bestie <3: i’m with my cousin rn ___ bestie <3: [sent an attachment] aki: ooh, he’s cute ___ bestie <3: want me to introduce you? aki: gurl aki: don’t try to matchmake me when you’re struggling to tell Seungcheol about how you feel aki: and besides aki: your cousin is cute, but he’s not my type ___ bestie <3: wow ___ bestie <3: you really just did me dirty aki: i’m just saying ___ aki: better tell him before you lose the chance aki: besides your romantic struggles aki: have fun and take lots of pictures! aki: can’t wait to see them when you get back <3 ___ bestie <3: i will!

“Are you gonna stay here with grandma and grandpa while Aunt and Uncle Lee fly out to London?” Seungkwan asks as you set down your phone, refilling his glass of lemonade. You shrugged, still debating on whether or not you wanted to join your parents. “I’m honestly stuck in between… On one hand, I want to see what other countries are like. On the other, I haven’t seen grandma and grandpa in years…”

Your mother who was on her way to give you both a plate of strawberries overheard the conversation and tried her best to help you with your indecisiveness. “___, sweetie,” she began as she set the plate on the wooden porch floor, “you can always travel in the future when you’re all grown up.”

“That sounds like you just want her to stay here in Jeju so you and uncle can enjoy yourselves without her presence,” Seungkwan teased, earning a forehead flick from your mother.

“Well, she’ll be in your care too, Seungkwan. I hope I won’t return to a sassy, diva daughter after leaving her here with you.”

Seungkwan gasps dramatically, placing a hand over his chest at your mother’s statement. “Aunt Lee, I’m hurt and offended.”

“You’re just further proving my point, Seungkwan.”

“Hey, the sass could end up helping her in the future!”

cheollie: hey, pup cheollie: mom said you and your parents made it to Jeju safely cheollie: how are you feeling? cheollie: did you get motion sickness during the flight? cheollie: did you eat dinner yet? sweet pup: ehh, the motion sickness wasn’t that bad sweet pup: grandma made lemonade :D sweet pup: and yes, i ate dinner! sweet pup: grandpa grilled some mackerel sweet pup: [sent an attachment] sweet pup: and look at how fat the strawberries are :0 sweet pup: [sent an attachment] cheollie: wow cheollie: those look good cheollie: hey, do you think it’s alright if we have a call? sweet pup: like, right now? cheollie: yea sweet pup: oh sweet pup: um, let me head out to the porch cheollie: take your time, pup

As you quietly exited the room you were staying in and out onto the porch, you picked up Seungcheol’s incoming call, feeling the butterflies in your stomach intensify when you heard his deep, “Hey, pup.”

“Hi, Cheollie! Have you had your dinner?” you asked, getting a small hum as a response. “Dad got a deal with a big client so he bought steak for us. Mom also cooked calamari.”

“Wow, it must’ve tasted amazing…”

“Yeah, it was. But, tell me about your dinner, ___. I’m sure you had more than just grilled mackerel.” Seungcheol chuckled, a blush spreading across your cheeks as you mentally cussed at how the older male still has an effect on you despite being 2 hours away and talking to you through a phone.

“Well… Mom made raw crabs and seafood soup!”

“Looks like my little puppy is eating well... That’s good.”

“Is there another reason you wanted to call, Cheollie?”

There was a moment of silence on the other end, making you slightly anxious. You hear a faint rustling, thinking he must be lying on his bed as he’s talking to you. A sigh was heard before Seungcheol told you his motive for calling you - and to say it had you on the floor was an understatement.

No, this man had you envisioning a future with him.

“I miss you.”

When you didn't respond, Seungcheol got worried, calling out your name on the other end while you remained stunned at his confession.

“U-uhm, yeah?”

“Did that make you uncomfortable, pup?”

“No, no, it just… It just caught me by surprise…”

You hear Seungcheol chuckle, and more rustling can be heard before he speaks again. “Well, I’m used to having you around me, twenty-four seven, ___. It feels weird when you’re not.”

“I’ll be back in two weeks, Cheollie. You’re being dramatic!”

Maybe he was, the older male thought to himself. But, he pushes that thought to the back of his head as he finally tells you the real reason he’s calling you.

“My parents are thinking of bringing me to Seoul this weekend to check out a few unis… I just thought that I’d let you know since, y’know… I’m graduating soon…”

Your heart sank at the mention of him graduating. You knew it was bound to happen - you even told yourself to not be too sad when he does end up moving out of Daegu for college. But, to hear it coming from Seungcheol himself, the reality hit harder.

“Oh… Well, I’m happy for you!” you tried your best to hide the sadness in your voice, though he still picked it up. “Pup, I’m not going away forever. You’ll still see me when I come back during breaks and when you leave for college, you can come over to Seoul, too!” he assures you, chuckling to himself as he continues, “Maybe our parents might even have us share an apartment so I can watch over you.”

Humming, you stared up into the sky, mesmerised by the stars that were scattered along the blanket of the night sky.

“___?”

“Yea…?”

“Remember what I taught you during our taekwondo sessions?”

“What about it?”

“Don’t forget how to use them, okay? Can’t have my little puppy all defenceless now, can I?”

you bit your lip as Seungcheol went on with his words, how he wished he could stay in Daegu longer so he could spend more time with you. How he wanted to explore the bigger city in Daegu with you (where he implies it being just two of you and without Aki who would often nag at him for having a bad taste in things).

“I’m gonna miss you…” you muttered quietly, not knowing how or what else you were supposed to say. You weren’t going to tell him about your feelings, that’s for sure. but, a part of you wished you could.

Who knows? Maybe you both could end up being something.

“It’s getting late, pup. you must be tired from the flight and settling in. Goodnight, ___.”

“Goodnight, Cheollie…”

When the call ended, you stared at the screen of your phone, a million thoughts racing through your head. You couldn’t put a finger on it, but you had a sinking feeling in your stomach. perhaps you were overthinking the whole situation or something wrong was bound to happen. Whatever it was, you quietly got back into your room and crawled into bed.

Something didn’t feel right.

It was the weekend Seungcheol was due to head to Seoul to have a look at the city and attend a few of the education fairs - and not once, had you gotten a single message from him.

In fact, in the days leading up to that weekend, he had been quiet too. His replies were either short, took too long or there weren’t any replies at all.

It makes you feel uneasy.

“Still no updates from loverboy?” Seungkwan asks, glancing over your shoulder and peeking at your phone, seeing the wall of texts about how the past few days have gone down for you. When you sulkingly shake your head, Seungkwan’s heart aches as he sees his favourite cousin down in the dumps.

“Hey,” he calls out in a gentle tone, throwing an arm around your shoulder and pulling you close. “Maybe he’s just caught up with those college things. Sooner or later he’s bound to update you, right? Besides, you should be busy having fun here in Jeju!”

Looking at your phone one last time, you shoved it back into your pocket and let Seungkwan drag you to a food street, saying how they added more delicious treats since the last time you visited.

By evening, there was still no news about or from Seungcheol. You’ve tried calling him multiple times, but they all end up going to voicemail. It was starting to affect you and your parents began to take notice, but decided to not question it for fear of triggering an episode. After dinner, you decided to call Aki in an attempt to get some form of comfort.

“I just don’t understand, Aki,” you told her, “I texted him, even called him but I got nothing! What if something bad happened to him?”

“Hey now, you’re probably overthinking things. He might just be sorting those uni documents out - you know how lengthy and taxing they can be. Maybe, he’s just tired and needs some rest!”

“You think so?”

“It’s just a guess, ___. whatever it is, I’m sure it isn’t anything serious.”

Oh, how you wished it really wasn’t anything serious.

When the time came to send your parents off at the airport for their trip to London, you had sent a message to Seungcheol and yet again, you got no response. One thing you came to realise in recent years, was how big of an over-thinker you are. It was something you hated and while your family, Seungcheol and Aki have done whatever they can to help you lessen your overthinking, that still doesn’t stop it from creeping up on you from time to time.

Seungkwan does his best to cheer you up. Bringing you to more food streets, a maze field, and even the seaside to take your mind off of Seungcheol but alas, it was as if Seungcheol had taken over your mind just like the virus in ‘The Last of Us’. One evening as you sat on the sand of the beach, staring off into the horizon, Seungkwan came up and sat next to you.

“I know this might not sound nice, but you can’t let something like Seungcheol not responding to you ruin your trip, ___. Sure, it’s upsetting having someone you’ve known for years and care for go ghost on you, but it’s kind of… pathetic, to let it ruin what could be a fun summer vacation.”

As much as those words hurt you, Seungkwan was right.

You hadn’t seen your family that lived in Jeju for years and now that you can, you’re letting something like your crush not responding to you ruin it. “Then, what should I do, Kwannie…?” you asked, wiping the tears that were starting to stream down your face, “I don’t wanna leave Jeju knowing I didn’t get to spend time with you and our grandparents…”

“How about you try calling him only once? If he doesn’t pick up, we’ll forget about it and move on, okay?”

You give it a thought, minutes passing by before you pick up your phone and dial Seungcheol’s number, placing it near your ear.

“We’re sorry, the number you have dialled cannot be reached.”

Seungkwan noticed your body shaking as you redialled the number, your breathing starting to grow shallow.

“We’re sorry, the number you have dialled cannot be reached.”

“___?” Seungkwan calls out, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. When you began to cry, he pulled you into a hug, rubbing your back as you cried your heart out. “Shhh, it’s okay, ____. it’s okay.”

When you got back to Daegu, your heart dropped at the sight of the empty house next to yours. the entire house looked as if it were fully emptied (which it was) - the potted plants Mrs. Choi had displayed on the gates were nowhere to be seen, the shoes that were neatly arranged on the shoe rack weren’t there anymore, and the Choi’s family car wasn’t parked in its usual place.

“I guess they must’ve moved since Seungcheol is going to start college soon…” your mother tells your father who hums in response as he unloads the luggage from the trunk of the taxi. When she notices the sadness and tears in your eyes, she immediately starts comforting you.”Oh, sweetie… Does it upset you that much?”

“I… I couldn’t even say goodbye to him…” you sobbed out, “I couldn’t even see him one last time before he left…”

“Oh, princess…” your father coos after bidding the taxi driver goodbye, hugging you tight as your mother does the same, “I’m sure he feels sad for not being able to do the same, hmm?”

“Will… Will I… Will I be able to see him again?” you asked through hiccuped sobs, wiping your tears away as more kept spilling. Your mother nods, giving you a pat on the head. “I'm sure you will, honey.”

“He said he’s thinking of joining University of Pledis, right?” your father asked, a small smile on his face when you nod, “Then, you just need to study hard and get in there too! That way, you can finally be reunited with prince charming!”

despite your tears, you still manage to laugh at your dad’s tease. “Dad!”

“Ah-ah, don’t think we didn’t know about your little crush on Seungcheol, ___.” he responded, chuckling as he gave your arm an assuring squeeze.

“Whatever the future has in store, I’m sure the two of you will meet again.”

taglist (unable to tag a few ㅠㅠ)

@yoonclip @1004luvangel @catjunhui @mystikha @spk93 @tinkerbell460 @yoozuku @dnylwoo @christinewithluv @limbomoon @plutoxxxworld @i-give-up-1234 @m1ngyuc0re @yunloyal @leclercloverbot @bettybeako @billboard-singer @ocyeanicc @krupyadoorrahe @seobinnieshi @xcynthiaaa @k411z @disneyprincesshuri @sunnyapp @khxsh @staygenezy @loufi8iepuff @ursweetener @noisypapergalaxy @wonwootakemyheart @sugainpinksweater @leah-rose03 @thisisnotthelastofus @yearnoclock @kwonhoeshi @minhui896 @ohmygodwhyareallusernamestaken @ru-lin @deobiforever @belladaises @cheoliekkuma @duskunt1ldawn @hyneyedfiz @marshmallowshouse @ak6ko @chwevernonlover @jejuboo-s @tsukinluv @atinytinaa @gyros-cum-sock @soupbinlily @jungwoos-luvr @ener-energy @watermelon-sugars-things @cyberpunkhwx @ddaengpotate @nightwingsrobbinhoods @chaerrylov3r @joshuaahong @wonussmile @uliceeeeeeee @wonwoo24 @shinetogether17 @simplejihoon @luvkpopp

[ameliora-j]

CAN YOU PLEASE DO ROUGH DOM NIALL. i’m actually begging. maybe the reader acts up on purpose for attention because niall is busy with his new album and he has to put her in her place 🫢 btw i love ur work, your like my fav author on this app xx

pls ur gonna make me cry :’) thank u angel ♡

content: mean dom!niall, fem!reader, brat!reader, edging, cumplay, impact play (flogging, slapping), spitting, humiliation, degradation, tummy bulge, creampie, breeding kink, lots of pet names, dominant/submissive themes, no aftercare written but it happens!, THIS HAS BEEN SITTING IN MY DRAFTS FOR SO LONG I’M SO SORRY BAE DODOWNEN, THIS IS AN 18+ BLOG MDNI !

you’re grumpy—and you have been for the last week and a half. had niall been paying any attention to you at all, he’d have realized as such earlier. however, he is deep into the finalization stage of his new album. you’re proud of him—more than proud of him. niall turns your world that much is obvious. you praise any and everything he does. so of course you’re overjoyed he has a new album coming, and so proud of all his hard work.

you just can’t help but feel a little… jealous? neglected? you’re not a hundred percent sure exactly what you would call it in truth. it feels like a big dark cloud of grump is sitting above your head and you can’t do anything about it. niall is your boyfriend, the love of your life… but first and foremost he is your dominant. he keeps you in check, makes sure you’re always on track, and fucks you into oblivion every night.

the problem is that with his new album, he hadn’t fucked you in almost two weeks. to go from having sex every day—multiple times a day—to none at all for a whole two weeks was really taking a toll on you. it’s niall’s own fault, anyway—your sex drive wasn’t nearly this high before you’d met him. you don’t realize that your sexual frustration is building up until you’re already on the brink of an explosion. waking up in the morning with only one thing on your to-do list: be the biggest brat known to mankind.

unbeknownst to you, niall had taken the day off. he realized that he was neglecting you a bit—it’d been too long since he saw your pretty face when you were awake. you’re surprised to see niall still laying in bed beside you, sleeping peacefully when your eyes flutter open. you look to the bedside table and read the numbers on the alarm clock before pushing his shoulder.

niall wakes with a grunt, gasping a bit as he turns to look at you. “wha’s a’matter?” he mumbles tiredly, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“you’re late” you mumble grumpily as you move to get out of bed. “wouldn’t wanna keep the love of your life waiting” you slightly grumble as you walk to the bathroom.

“love of my life? what’re you on about, pet? you’re right here” he chuckles softly, shaking his head as he sits up. “come back to bed, i took the day off. wanna cuddle.”

your heart flutters at the statement, nearly blowing the grump-cloud away, but it’s already hard-set on remaining there for the rest of the day. “i can’t i have things to do.” you say simply as you move to walk downstairs.

niall frowns a bit, clambering out of bed to follow you. “hey wait a second, where are you going?” he asks. you’re never out of bed this quick—even if you do have plans for the day. furthermore, no matter if you’re late, you’re always keen to lay down and have a cuddle with niall.

“since when does my life interest you?” you snark. niall’s jaw clenches. it’s barely been fifteen minutes and he’s already fed up with your attitude. he takes a breath to calm himself, wanting to get to the root of the issue before taking things too far.

“your life always interests me. you’re my girl, don’t be ridiculous” he shakes his head. you simply scoff, rolling your eyes and shoving past him and going to take a shower.

niall is quick to grab your wrist, dragging you back to his chest and squeezing your jaw. “listen here you little brat. i took the day off to spend quality time with you but i can just as easily spend it beating the brat out of you. so what will it be?” he growls lowly. you seal your fate when you suck in your cheeks, pursing your lips and spitting on him.

his eyes go dark and he chuckles lowly, slapping his palm against your cheek roughly. “i’m gonna make you regret that” he murmurs.

niall all but drags you back to the bedroom, shoving you roughly onto the bed. you whimper a bit, squirming in anticipation as he walks over to the closet, grabbing his duffel bag full of toys, ropes, and all of his ‘dom essentials.’ “what are you doing?” niall asks when he turns around—noting you hadn’t moved from where he put you.

“sitting” you hum, snark still lacing your tone. niall chuckles, shaking his head a bit as he walks over to you. he grabs you by your neck, forcing you to stand before tearing your nightgown from your body—practically tearing the flimsy fabric in two.

you squeak as niall spins you, forcing you down onto the bed before pulling your hips up so you were on your hands and knees. you hear rummaging before one of niall’s hands rubs over your ass. “pick a number between one and five.”

he’s angry—really angry—he usually always adds a pet name even if you’re in trouble. you bite your lip, thinking hard about what number to pick. you knew how niall’s spankings worked. you would pick a number, and if you got it right then that’s how many spanks you got. if you got it wrong, then he’d double whatever number he was thinking of. you squeeze your eyes shut tight, going with the safest option smack dab in the middle. “three?” you say hesitantly.

niall smirks, rubbing his hands over your ass. “oh, princess” he hums in a sickly sweet tone—and you nearly smile before realizing that you’re being mocked as his hand strikes your ass cheek. “it was five” he says lowly.

the number is the only warning that you get before niall winds up his flogger and slams it down on your ass. you practically scream into the comforter, tears already pricking the corners of your eyes. he doesn’t start off gentle or work his way up, and he gives you no respite as he continuously whips his flogger on different areas of your backside.

you make sure to call out numbers clear and concise—not wanting to start over with niall in this mood. by the time he’s finished with you, you’re a wet mess—in more ways than one. tears spilling down your cheeks, drool falling from your lips, and cunt sticky with arousal.

“okay okay okay” niall hums as he turns you around. “i know baby, i know. you’re okay… you’re fine” he coos tauntingly as he pulls you to his chest. “‘s okay, i’ll give y’what y’want… quit y’tears” he mumbles as he tugs his sweats down. he lays you back on the bed, making sure you’re comfortable on top of the pillows before kissing your head.

“oh there’s my girl” he smirks as he runs his cock through your sticky folds. you whine softly, arching towards him before he pushes your hips down. “stay still, y’brat” he grunts, slapping your cunt a few times. you shriek with each hit, your legs wiggling in an attempt to get away as you look at him tearily. “jus’ lay there and take my cock.” he mumbles as he slowly pushes into you.

the both of you moan as he bottoms out, you gripping niall’s shoulders as he holds your hips tightly. “fuckin shit babydoll” he groans, pressing down on the bulge of his cock your tummy. “forgot how goddamn tight you were” he gasps a bit, slowly pulling his cock out before thrusting back in.

niall is in heaven… he’s practically pussy drunk off one stroke alone. his head falls back and his eyes roll as he feels your gummy walls gripping him. you’re like a vice, almost as if you wouldn’t let go even if he begged you to. your pussy is sucking him in, leaking around him like a fountain of eternal youth and he’s so close to busting that he has to take a deep breath and distract himself. “this what you needed baby?” he mocks. “just a big cock to fill up your tight little cunt?” he hums.

“ni…” you whine softly and he simply chuckles before setting a pace. once he’s adjusted to your tightness and calmed himself down, he’s able to fuck you how he wants. he holds your hips down against the mattress setting a brutal and punishing pace in your cunt.

“that why you had an attitude? haven’t fucked you properly lately?” he laughs at you. actually laughs at you, and you can’t even bring yourself to care. “you’re so pathetic” he mumbles, spanking your clit. “all it takes is some dick n you’re all smiles again.”

“yeah daddy” you moan in agreement, nodding dumbly as your eyes fluttered closed. you barely even register the words niall is saying to you—all you know is that they’re mocking and unkind. but, this is all you wanted—what you’d been dreaming of for so long so you had not a care in the world. not a thought bouncing around your skull other than more more more.

more love. more affection. more close. more cock. more niall. he engulfed you, not just due to his much larger stature. he had you pinned between the bed, your bodies so close that you could feel the beads of sweat dripping off of his forehead and onto you. he was everywhere—on top of you, inside of you, touching you, his scent engulfing your nostrils as you lay on his pillow.

your head was swimming in a pool of niall and you were content to drown in it until niall forces your leg up over his shoulder. he reangles his hips and slams his cock back directly into your gspot. “daddy!” you shriek out loudly, your back arching high off the bed.

“yeah baby, daddy’s here” he mumbles, reaching to rub your clit. “daddy’s right here baby. jus’ lay pretty and take my cock, yeah?” he flashes a bright smile your way, winking at you—his hips never breaking rhythm as he punishes your cunt with his cock.

you can barely choke out a response your cunt pulsing around him as your orgasm dangles so close, yet so far away. “are you gonna cum baby? i can feel you squeezing me” he hums, fucking you faster. “do you want to cum princess?” he mocks.

“yeah! yeah, yeah, yeah!” you chant, nodding rapidly as your hips begin stuttering against his. “oh fuck yeah!” you whine.

“awh… ‘s too bad i didn’t say you could then, isn’t it?” he hums, slapping your clit once more and laughing meanly. you whine in frustration, tears wetting your lashes as you force your orgasm back. “jus hold it baby, you can do it” he teases, but begins rubbing your clit in small, deliberate circles. “right? for daddy?” he smirks.

you gasp, nodding dumbly as your eyes roll. “f-f’daddy” you nod, your legs beginning to shake. you feel niall’s cock give a twitch at that, his hips stuttering a few times before he finds his pace once more.

“daddy’s gonna cum baby” niall moans in your ear, beginning to nip and suck the skin of your neck. “gonna fill this tight cunt… give you m’babies you want that?” he smirks.

“yeah daddy… yeah gimme your babies please” you whine, beginning to rock your hips in time with his.

“then cum with me, princess” he whispers, squeezing your throat just as your orgasm starts. you moan loudly, unable to stop the spasming of your body as you cream around niall’s cock. you distantly register his slew of swears through loud moans as you feel his seed painting your walls. you moan softly as he pulls you into a hot and heavy kiss—filled with love and passion.

niall pulls away breathlessly, smiling down at you in adoration as he gently pushes your hair from your face. “is my good girl back yet?” he hums softly, gently peppering kisses over your face.

the airy giggle you let out is enough to let niall know he’d fucked you nine ways from sunday and you were now deeply submerged in a submissive headspace. if that wasn’t enough for him, then your soft: “yeah daddy” as you nose against his neck seals the deal for him.

he hums a bit in relief—pride maybe?—before kissing your neck again. “good… you keen for a cuddle now?” he smirks softly at you.

[slickchickchocolatier]

"Turn Around..."

One shot fic. (Not relating to any of the established series.) This is a bit different from what I normally draft up, kind of like the Robin Hood one shot, which is also a non-yandere fic like this one. Pls enjoy.

Thank you for taking the time and reading my stories and drabbles. To show your support, please consider donating into my ko-fi account ♥️

Warnings: Unprotected smut, breakup, lovers reunited, makeup sex, rough sex, a little bit of angst, taken for granted, apologetic make lead, regretful male lead, and drama. "Dont know what you got till it's gone" type vibe. not proofread but figured i'd get this out to keep yall busy until i get the next chapter of TO out 😉

Summary: You and Heeseung had a break up, despite all that has happened, you find out that you weren't the only one hurting.

“Hey.” he stands calmly at the door. You avoid making eye contact, too nervous and shy on what to say. A bit of a ridiculous notion considering you knew the man very well, dated for quite some time in fact, yet the lack of his efforts drove you to the point where you had to kill off the relationship, for our own happiness. The only issue was, that you’re not sure if you’re any happier now than you were when dating him. Nodding, you respond back with a soft “hey…” 

Walking in, his initiative causes you to walk back. He lets himself in and gently shuts the door behind, never breaking his sight away from you. You kept shifting your sight from one area on the floor, to another. He continues to take his steps forward, and you keep taking them back. Soon, he has you pinned against the wall. Palming the wall, one hand off to each side, he traps you in his arms and leans in, wanting to get closer. You dip down and swoop under his arm to get away freely into the open space, walking over to the living room, much to his grimace dismay. 

Sitting on one end of the couch, you cross your legs and prop your hands up to rest your chin. Intent on avoiding eye contact, you look away and kept your face in the opposite direction. He walks over calmly and sits next to you. 

“Y/n….”

“Heeseung stop. Could you please just get your things and go? I’m not in the mood to talk.” you snap, rubbing your temples as you adjust your body to shift up and away, standing before the tall window, waiting for him to move along and to get out. But he doesn't. 

Looking up from where you were just sitting, he remains on the couch wide eyed and slightly appalled. Sure, he went along with the break up, even dabbled and went on some dates even though you both had just broken up merely two weeks ago. However, it didn’t mean that he wasn’t hurting either. He only went and saw other girls just to try and take his mind off of you, but how are you supposed to know? He left you no choice, you didn’t ever see your relationship coming to an end. You worked and tried to get through to him, but he never listened, so then you were left with no choice but to break things off, yet you couldn’t help but feel stabbed when his nonchalant attitude and response to your initiation was given, almost too easily, as if he was thinking about breaking up himself. 

Seeing you standing in that silk camisole dress, lazily covered with the matching satin short robe over it, had him feeling some type of way. How long has it been since he saw you like this? No makeup, hair laying freely and barely dressed. You looked so beautiful, stunning in fact, and yet your body language and attitude made you achievable for him to grab hold on. Did he really lose you for good?

“Y/N…” he tries once more, keeping a respectable distance away, so as to not add any fuel to the fire. “Can’t we just talk?”

That did it for you. NOW, he wants to talk? Now? After seeing a handful of girls, pretending like you no longer mattered after you presented him with the words “I’m not sure if this is working out…I wished you would just be more considerate, yet you just always put me off to the side. Maybe we should consider a brea–” 

Remember the tone he had in his voice, he cut you off and finished your sentence, almost as if he was eager and looking forward to the word…as if he was taking your initiation as an opportunity to end everything without having to do the dirty work himself. “Break? Yeah sure, I think that would be good for us.” he told you. Never once trying to figure out the meaning behind your initiative, nor did he ever try to fight for you. But now, it seems he had a change of heart, but you weren’t wanting to hear any of it. Not after having a string of girls by his side the last few nights. What were you? A rebound? Were you just a safety net since it didn’t work out with those girls? What is this? 

Turning away, you snapped in a harsh tone. “No!”

“What?” His voice was a little more firm, and he seemed a bit irritated by your attitude. 

“I said no. I don't want to talk.” 

“Why are you–” he pauses. “Y/n…you act like you’re the only one that is affected by all this. You’re not. I’m struggling too, you know.” 

“Yeah, I can tell. You’re hurting so much, how many girls did you seek out for comfort? Five? We’ve only broken up two weeks ago and you never once wanted to talk, until now.” 

Standing from his seat, he grew offended by your words and replaced his soft and gentle gaze with a more stern and harsh one. Walking over to you, he nearly traps you in as he breaches your personal space and begins to walk you back to the wall, again. 

“What? You think those girls meant something? Seriously?”

“Are you kidding me? Don’t pretend you’re hurting, you nearly jumped for joy when I brought up the idea of taking a break. You think I don’t know? Get over yourself Heeseung!” Turning sharply, you try to get away from him, but his movements are quick and he restricts your fleeing attempts by hugging you from behind. You struggle and try to break free, yet the moment he pushes forward with you grasped in his arms, shoving you up against the wall chest first and his chin resting on your shoulder, burying his face in your neck, you begin to falter, but mentally maintain your resistance. Taming you, he senses your physical strength decreasing front he struggles, and continues to push you in, resting you on the flat surface as he closes the distance between your backside and his chest. Stroking his thumb, he caresses your waist as he hugs tightly. With small brush strokes of his lip, he softly pecks on the soft area of your neckline. 

“Stop…” You whimper out, trying to ignore the beautiful sensation of how his lips felt gently kissing, and sucking on your skin. “Stop…please….get away…”

“You really want me to get away?” he mumbles, with a mouth full of your delicate skin in his mouth. “Then say it. Tell me in all sincerity that you want me to stop and I’ll leave.” 

With your arms pinned to your body by his embrace, you reach up and lean your palms against the wall, pressing your body against his. You tilt your head back, resting it against his shoulder, you didn’t want him to stop, nor did you want him to leave. But you had to be strong, for the sake of mending your broken heart. So, with a shaky breath, you whined out. 

“Get away…” you nearly whispered, your hair draping over your face and your robe coming undone, bearing the nakedness of your shoulders and cleavage. “Just…get away…”

A slight pause was present, before he leans in and resumes his efforts as he takes in a mouthful of your soft skin, just below your ear, this time he was less gentle and more rough in his manners. 

“I said no….” you whimpered. His arms tightened around your arms and waist, and he slightly lifts you before shoving you further up against the wall, pressing your cheek to rest against the surface before whispering in your ear…

“I don't believe you.” 

Shooting his hand around, he lifts the hem of your camisole up and fingers his way through panties. He called you out on your bluff and you didn’t seem to mind, because now you get to show how much you missed him, that you didn’t want to leave. You get to show him that you were hurting, and that he left you without any options or hope to continue forward, that you were just at the lowest part of your life. He knew it too. He wasn’t being his best self with you, in fact he was selfish and led you with so many false promises, it’s no wonder you proposed a break up. It didn’t hit him until you started to usher out those words, but before you could finish, he beat you to the punch, all because he saved himself from the heartbreak of hearing you say it, so he had to say it first. Figuring he would save himself by hurting you, then to be hurt directly, he found that it was all for nothing. Right after walking away and leaving you to go on your own, a sharp pain hits him inside, and he immediately regrets it. He regretted going with the flow, and letting you go so easily. Fact is, he turned around, wanting to run back after you, but seeing your backside facing him, walking in the opposite direction without so much as a glance back over to him, compelled him to look the other way and to move forward, after all, it seemed you had no trouble doing just that. 

Taking your hand, he intertwined his fingers with your own, his kisses became more passionate and his embrace became tighter as his hands roamed. God he missed you. He missed how your body felt against his, and how your skin tasted. He missed how you sounded when he kissed that one little spot on your neck, and how your body shakes when he touches you. He missed you too much. 

“Tell me you don’t want me to leave this time….tell me we belong…tell me…so I can do what I’ve really been wanting to do for the last two weeks…with the one woman I’ve been wanting. Tell me baby…”

Softly sobbing, you whimpered and gasped out, immediately trying to catch your breath as you cried out your words. 

“I never wanted it to end in the first place…” 

Peeling his head back, he stood slightly shocked at your words. Before he could ask questions, you finally let it all out. It was long overdue, and the most painful sense of release you ever felt. 

“Why couldn’t you just have turned around?....I stood…watching you walk away. I mentally begged for you to turn around and come back…but you just kept moving on…you left me crying….and I just had no choice but to finally do the same….you didn’t come back. What was I supposed to do? Stand and wait in that spot forever? And those girls?....I just knew…you didn’t care….” 

Your words hit deep and cut a wound that may never heal. He had no idea that you waited. He did turn back but he was too late…probably by mere seconds. The image he recalls of you walking away, was imagined with you displaying a calm and tranquil look on your face. Now, he understands that you made your way back home in tears that night, and longed for him to come back to you. 

He gulps. In a single brief moment, your entire relationship flashes before his eyes, and he realizes that not only did he not give you his best during, but he didn’t give it to you after. Yeah, he tried to get his mind off you by going on dates, but how were you supposed to know that? He started to think how his behavior must have looked to you…how hurtful it must have been to hear about his rendezvous while you were sitting here longing for him to come back. But what killed him in all of this was that, had he just been less attentive towards his friends and set his priorities straight, none of this would have happened. How many times did he come home and skip eating the dinner you prepared, all because he decided to eat with the guys after work. Or whenever you asked to spend time with him, and he promised you he would have another day, one where he didn’t have plans, yet that day never came. How many times did he wake up, shower, and quickly breezed through the kitchen and sees that you prepared breakfast for him, yet instead of sitting and eating with you, thanking you for taking the time to feed him, he picks bits and pieces off his plate and heads out while jutting out the words “see ya!” and quickly leaves so he could be the first in line at the coffee shop…that coffee shop…the coffee shop you loved yet he never took you with. He knew your favorite order yet never brought you back anything. He was always so focused in grabbing his drink and heading to work, where he could spend nearly the entire day chilling out with the guys doing what they love, spending a great deal of overtime, before finally calling it a night. How many times did he have the opportunity to come back home, especially after seeing all his friends dipping out to go back to their loved ones that were waiting for them…and yet he stayed back, opting to hit up buddies who were single and could spare the time, instead of coming back home to you. How many times did he come back home so late at night, finding you already asleep. How many times did he crawl into bed with you, and instead of hugging you and kissing you, he turns the opposite direction and falls asleep, leaving you to not only feel lonesome during the day when you’re awake, but at night when you’re asleep too. Just how many times…did he take you for granted? 

He didn’t have any words. He felt hurt…he felt a great deal of pain, and it was nothing that you did, you were great…you were perfect in fact. The one that hurt him was himself.

Remaining silent, he leans back into your neck. Shoving his lips against your ear, feeling the shrug of your shoulders as the oversensitive sensation of feeling his lips pressed against you was immense and triggered potent arousal. Whispering, he merely tells you “I’m sorry…” 

His soft whisper made you cry even more. Feeling you shake as you sobbed harder, he holds on tightly and kisses you on that soft spot again…and again….and again. Until your sobs turned into moans. Sucking on your neck, he reaches up and grabs onto your throat, gently but firmly holding on as he pulls your hips back. His free arm hugs your waist and tugs onto you, while his grab around your neck keeps your face and chest close to the wall. Pressing his groin against your derriere, he takes in a large whiff of your scent, that subtly sweet perfume that he liked so much…he missed it. The one thing he grew complacent in taking in daily, yet the moment he thought he lost it forever, he realized it was the most beloved scent produced in this world. The feel of your touch, your skin, hair, and your soft lips, was something he didn’t realize how much he loved. It had been longer than two weeks since he last felt you, growing too comfortable and spending more time away from you throughout the course of your relationship, it had been a while since you both were last intimate. It wasn’t that he didn’t love you or cared, he just didn't have his priorities straight. He just always thought that no matter what, you were always going to be around for whenever he needed or wanted you. But when was that? When did he express how much he needed or wanted you? When did he last make you feel appreciated and desired? More importantly, when was the last time he made himself available to you? Knowing that you wanted and needed him, yet he never was there for you. 

“God…I’m such a fucking idiot…” he hums out with a mouthful of your skin sucked in to his mouth. Lifting you once more, he flings you over and softly lands you on the couch, laying atop your backside as you rest on your stomach and chest. “He–Heeseung…”

“Why was I so fucking blind…” his words gasped out in a near whisper, it was gentle and calm, yet the manner of his physical touch was the exact opposite. Nearly ripping off your dress, the straps snap loose as he roughly pulls it down, and tears your panties off. Hanging by the bits of thread and pieces of fabric, it loosely hangs on your thigh while he smooths his hands over the softness of your smooth skin, grabbing onto your cheeks firmly as he squeezes your derriere. 

“Why did I not see what was in front of me?” Leaning forward, he places his lips on your back shoulder, and sucks on various regions. Firmly holding onto your waist, he fishes out his stiff member and rides it in between your cheeks, squeezing it to nestle in between as he strokes it up and down. “How could I not see that I had the best thing that’s ever happened to me?” Taking a hold on the back of your neck, he slowly feeds himself inside your cavity, pressing in. You weren’t entirely ready, and the lack of prepping made it hard for you to take him in, not to mention it had been so long. Yet his eager desire to have you made him impatient, he needed you now…he wanted you…he wanted to please himself but also, to please his queen. 

“Why did I not show you just how much you mean to me….why didn’t i do it sooner?” Thrusting in hard, his groin smacks against the soft plumpness of your cheeks, you screamed out as he rams himself in, reaching the depths of your gut as he pushes through all of your stagnant walls. Fully in, he pauses before continuing. He had to take a moment to enjoy the feeling of burying his cock deep inside you….after missing out for so long. 

“Why wasn’t I better for you?” Sliding out, his tip breaches its exit, providing you with some relief as you catch your breath, only for him to shove it back in with fierce momentum. “He–Heeseung!” Gripping onto the sofa cushion, you brace through the pressure of pain and pleasure as he roughs up your womanhood. He was being so demanding with the way he was thrusting, yet his words were so beautifully spoken with genuine sincerity and sympathy. He truly was sorry, and now, he wanted to show it, even if it meant he had to mix his love with fucking you into pieces. 

“Why didn’t I tell you how I’ve felt all this time?” Thrusting, he jolts forward and bucks his hips, causing your body to rumble and shoot forward, only to be retracted back as he pulls you in, all to repeat his performance in jutting his cock back into you deeply, shiting your body forward. 

“Why wasn’t I home often?” Thrusting and pumping his cock fiercely, you felt the sting of his thickness tearing you open. It had been too long, your body nearly forgot what it felt like to have someone, much less him, pelting you with their girth. Even though you were devotedly waiting for him, and yearned for him, he left you empty and unfulfilled so many nights, and you spent each evening alone and drifting off into a dream where you weren’t sleeping lonesomely on an empty bed. Now, he was here, and for the first time in so long, he was not only making love, but he was fucking you like his life depended on it. He didn’t want to take it easy, or slow, he wanted to go in deep and hard. He wanted his performance to match the ferocity of his love and yearning for you. 

“Why did I let you sleep alone all those nights? I should have been there to kiss you to sleep.” Deepening his thrust, the curved edge of his lengthy member hits your sweet spot. Soon, there was no pain, only the pressure of pleasure and ecstasy. 

“I should have touched you more.” increasing speed, he forces the moisture of your secreted fluids to squelch in and out. Your body gushes out, you could feel yourself releasing the warm liquid your body was producing, seeping out, and glazing his cock as he continues to fuck you. 

“I should have loved you harder.” Grabbing onto both sides of your waist, he pumps his cock in and out, faster and faster as he holds you steady. 

“I should have been better. I should have been so much better.” Slapping into you, his groin and thighs stains your skin red as he continues to slam himself in, going deeper and deeper. 

“I should have….fuck….baby you feel so good…I should have…I should have….” 

“Heeseung!! Ugh!” He continues with his pace as you reach behind and smack your hands over his, digging your fingers onto his wrists as you feel the snap in your gut release the high of your orgasm. 

“Fuck baby….you’re making me cum…..” 

Your body shakes uncontrollably and you scream out his name, which transitions into tiresome whimpers as you catch your breath. All the while he slows down, going in deep and slow, passionately slow. Admiring the view of his length smoothing in and out of your womanhood, he savors the feeling of releasing every bit of love, anger, sadness, and regret into you. Still thrusting, his thumbs stroke your skin and he bids you to answer. 

“Tell me you missed me…”

“....I missed you…” 

“Tell me you want me.”

“I want you…”

“Tell me you need me.”

“I need you.”

“Now tell me you love me….”

“....I love you….”

Leaning in, he rests his weight on top of you as he tenderly kisses your cheek. His cock remains buried in, and goes in deeper as he propels forward and lays atop your body. “Then turn around…and don’t let me go. I’ll do the same.” 

Enjoyed this piece? Show love and treat your girl to a cup of coffee. ♥️ 

☕ Ko-fi: ko-fi.com/reinbow

[disneyprincemuke]

sex * gr63

it was supposed to be just sex.

pairings: george russell x fem!reader

warnings: mentions of sex

notes: fun fact, this was supposed to be about max but hehe… fun fact number 2 is that this is the second draft and the first is messier than this, but i liked this better! based on sex by eden <3 and i aM TRYING TO CREDIT THIS GIF BUT I’M ON MY PHONE AND THEY WONT LET ME SO I’LL DO IT WHEN I FIND MY LAPTOP OK PLS IM BEGGING YOU

(sex) // (be mine)

you watch george’s eyes shut and feel his grip around your hips tighten, soft mews passing his lips while he comes down from his high. your hips come to a slow stop while his eyes slowly open, flashing you a smile.

you return the gesture before you slowly untangle yourself from his grip. you drop yourself on the empty spot on the bed. your hand pats around the area next to you, lifting your head up slightly to find the blanket kicked down to the floor amidst your passionate and selfish exchange.

george’s thumb swipes across your forehead, swiping away the sweat that’s formed.

there’s a feeling in your stomach for the past few weeks that has been eating you up. it’s indescribable, which is why you simply try not to think of it. but right now, with george next to you, it’s hard to ignore.

“what’s up, what are you thinking about?” george shifts to prop himself up on his elbow to look down at you. his smile grows as he moves the hair out of your face, brushing your hair in the process. “you’ve been staring at that ceiling for so long, i swear it’s come alive.”

you sigh. you blink then turn your head to the other side of the room, desperate to not get caught in his blue eyes. “george, i think you think too much of me.”

george feels his heart stop in his chest. in the short few months since alex has introduced you to him, you were never one to get in touch with your emotions. to say something with so much depth is worrying to him.

it’s more to contribute to the fact that your arrangement is strictly sex, with the side quest of pretending to be friendly when alex is around. other than that, there is no relationship to base all of this off.

when you’re not together, you don’t text. neither of you know what goes on in each other’s lives in the event of separation.

which is why he can’t figure out why your tone is scaring him so much. because he knows where you are going with this.

but george has to fight himself against what his chest is urging him to do. he swallows the forming lump in his throat and tilts his head at you. “what do you mean?”

there must have been something he has done that made it seem like there’s something more. he’s been so careful with the way he is in bed with you, and the amount of affection he gives you.

if you asked him, you’ve already taken his heart. and he’s almost a hundred percent sure that he doesn’t want anyone but you.

you clear your throat softly. you turn to finally meet his eyes. “you know, whatever this is, means nothing.” you speak slowly, ensuring that your words are clearly understood. “we’re just having sex.”

and there it is.

you can barely consider yourself friends. which is why your label isn’t even ‘friends with benefits’ — there is no label at all. you don’t even have each other’s numbers; all the initiations just stemming from instagram dms and your shared time at the club after alex taps out from the alcohol.

george feels his heart skip a beat, his stomach churning with uneasiness. he was just about to tell you that he’ll take you out on a proper date; actually make an effort to get to know you better.

in this moment, he is suddenly reminded of the situation. it’s just sex you’re having. there were no strings attached in the first place, and he isn’t supposed to have feelings for you.

the nights you spent tangled in his hotel room sheets should not have replayed in his mind as much as it did. he shouldn’t have noticed how you started letting yourself spend the night securely in his arms and thought to himself this might be going somewhere good.

on the other end of the spectrum, your chest ached. alex’s stern words echoes in your mind as you were slapped with the harsh reality of your inability to be in a healthy and loving relationship.

“fix yourself first, please. don’t break george’s heart,” alex had said to you when you came clean to him about your arrangement and the feelings that caused you to stir about at night before sleeping.

you can hardly consider it love. you barely know anything about george. of course, you would talk whenever you are tangled up in sheets with him, but you’d kept them minimal to protect you both from the very perdicament you’ve found yourself in.

you notice the way his expression changes ever so slightly. hurt flashes in his eyes as he withdraws his hand from you, your fingers flinching as you fight the impulse to chase for his touch. his eyebrows furrow as he inches back. “of course. it’s just sex.”

george almost tells you that he’s always been this heartless. in fact, he is convinced that this is his karma for break all those girls’ hearts back in the day.

he watches you take a deep breath and return your gaze to the ceiling of his hotel room. “this should be the last night. we should stop.”

he drops himself on the bed. he mimics your position, hands laying on his stomach as he traces the design of the light structure with his eyes.

he contemplates, the risk and rewards of just letting loose and telling you how he feels. can he really live with the fact that he just lets you go here without a fight?

instead, he turns to you with a playful smirk on his face. “you said this is the last night.”

you playfully roll your eyes, turning your head to meet him. “that is what i said.”

“not the last time, so come here.”

[sungbeam]

OFF THE RECORD ▷ PART ONE (EP1-8)

nonidol!ji changmin x fem!reader

everyone thinks changmin is cute and harmless, but you know that's not who he really is.

▷ genre, part warnings. e2l, childhood friends gone bad, (extra) slow burn, fluff, angst, mentions of childhood trauma and parental manipulation, arguing, bittersweet galore, nct ten is there for the sole purpose of being nosy like the rest of us or for being a 2nd male lead who knows!, swearing, hurt/comfort, ji changmin dancing. (need i go on), symptoms of panic/anxiety, a lot of non-tbz moments sorry i meant it when i said extra slow burn, pining haha...ha (very subtle)

▷ PART ONE WC. 18.5k

this is the third installment of the love in unity series! this can be read as a standalone, but i encourage u to read jacob and eric's storylines too! all prev and future yns will be referred to as _!yn ;) / otr part two

a/n: this was going to be a very quirky author's note, but it's not anymore bc i'm really mad at tumblr. pls enjoy :')

EPISODE ONE (PILOT): OFF THE CLOCK

"NIGHT, Yn!"

"Good night, Yn-ie."

"Make sure you get some rest, Yn-ah! Good luck with the report."

The door out of the laboratory building shuttered closed after your last coworkers and peers swept out to leave you to the white noise of the lights above your head and the cooling units. You were probably the only person crazy enough to still be chained to your lab workbench on a Friday night, especially when it was already six o'clock. Your stomach growled its complaints as you tucked a pen behind your ear with a sigh. There was probably a bag of shrimp chips in the break room snack stash, and you pushed your stool beneath the workbench to head into the break room.

Now that the laboratory was practically barren except for you, it wouldn't be a bad idea to take the reign of Kun's speaker…

The sound of your phone ringtone blared out loud from your pocket, and you scrambled to grab it with your other hand not occupied with shrimp chip crumb dust (after having washed your hands, of course). You put the call on speaker then deposited your phone onto the countertop so both hands could be used for eating. "Yo."

"You've been hanging around Mark too much," Yeri answered from the other end.

You snorted, covering your mouth for a moment, then replying, "Well good evening to you, too, my beloved. What's up?"

You could hear the muffled sounds of your friends from the other side of the phone. A car door slammed shut. "Hey-yo, is that Yn? Yn, what's up, my dude?"

"Mark, can you speak like a regular human?" That was Seungkwan. "Hi Yn-ie! We miss you, mwah!"

"Look, man. Me and Yn are homies, and this is literally just how I talk—"

The car door opened and Yeri must have taken initiative to get out of the car herself at this point. You laughed at her audible eye roll. "Okay, now that you've heard what I have to deal with, will you tell me that you're coming to the dance draft show tonight?"

Your mood soured.

It wasn't that you didn't want to go for Yeri's sanity's sake, you just didn't want to go, period. What the performing arts called a rehearsal, they referred to as a "draft" stage, where they planned rough runs of acts for the showcase. It just so happened that the dance department was holding their draft show for people to sit-in to watch tonight; their final showcase would be held on the Friday night of finals week, which was only in a few weeks now.

(Why did they call it a "draft" stage instead of simply a "rehearsal"? Well, you had no clue, and you didn't have any plans to ask anyone who would know the answer.)

When you didn't immediately answer, you heard Yeri's grumble. "Don't nerd out on me, Miss Yn Ln."

You gasped. "Nerd out on you? I'm being responsible—"

"You're being a workaholic!"

You pursed your lips together and quickly rinsed your fingers of shrimp chip crumbs. "Fair. But I'm sorry, I'm not going."

A brief pause. Then, the sigh. "Okay. That's okay," she said. "Wanna meet us for dinner afterwards at least?"

Your stomach grumbled, right on cue. It wasn't loud enough for Yeri to hear on the other end, but the timing made you laugh to yourself. "Definitely."

There was a smile in your friend's voice. "Cool! I'll text you details once we figure out what's happening. In the mean—" her voice was interrupted by the sound of muffled yelling on the other side, and Yeri pulled her mouth away from the phone so she could screech at Seungkwan, Mark, and now, Kim Jungwoo, to be quiet and put their seatbelts on. You heard vaguely about Jungwoo being late for his call time, and you were not at all surprised. She returned to the phone with a grumble. "You're really leaving me with the kids, Yn?"

You giggled. "Sorry, Yeri. I'll pay for your dinner."

"Deal. See you soon, babe."

"See ya, love!"

When the phone call ended, you realized just how thick the silence fell around you. It settled like a blanket over your senses, and it all became a bit overwhelming, especially after such a loud phone call.

You sighed, putting the shrimp chips back in the snack stash. You might as well go find where Kun hid his speaker to fill the silence then.

— ✶

People were yelling. And tripping. And crying.

In retrospect, this constituted as a normal backstage environment for something like a finals showcase draft rehearsal. It was hardly even a rehearsal, but more so a sneak peek showcase. There were people in the audience, after all.

Ji Changmin would know. This would be his third winter draft show out of his three years here in university. There were always showcases at the end of each quarter, but the winter show wielded the title of most anticipated. With the cold and rainy weather keeping most people indoors, it allowed for a larger crowd to come flocking toward said indoor modes of entertainment. Thus, the winter showcase and all of its hype.

Changmin lingered in his little corner of the backstage area, calmly stretching out his lanky limbs while chaos erupted all around him. He had two acts this time around—a duet with Lee Juyeon, as well as a solo performance. It had been enough to keep him busy for the quarter, among his other classes.

"—Jungwoo, you're late!"

He raised his head at the sound of Lee Minho’s voice from across the room, the dirty blond sending a deadpanned glare at the man in question. Kim Jungwoo’s eyes were wide with doe-like innocence as he made his way toward his friend, his posse following behind and taking in the chaos with amused awe. Changmin could easily recognize those present—Kim Yeri, Mark Lee, and Boo Seungkwan.

He turned his head away; it wasn’t his business, and he had much bigger things to worry about.

He raised his hands to his neck to put his headphones over his ears, but paused when he caught a few more echoes of their conversation.

“ — sorry Minho, but you know I can’t resist getting a free carpool ride,” Jungwoo said while setting his duffle bag in the corner and swiftly joining Minho in stretches. If Changmin was a hard ass when it came to dance and schedules, Minho was much worse. But Changmin respected him a lot, especially in a craft like dance and performance—he saw him as an equal.

A sigh from Minho. “Yeah, yeah. Poor Yeri.”

Yeri huffed, her hands shooting up into the air. “Thank you!”

Minho folded his arms over his chest as he stood up straight to stand next to Yeri as the two of them absentmindedly watched Jungwoo fold himself in two to stretch his long legs out. “Huh, no Yn tonight?”

Changmin didn’t know why he was still listening. He slowly lowered his headphones back to their position around his neck, then resumed stretching out his hamstrings. He could wait a couple more minutes before getting into his choreography…

“You know you’re not gonna see her anywhere near this place,” Yeri said with a pointed look. Changmin held back a retort, or even a snort. “Wanna get dinner with us tonight? She’s coming to meet us after the show.”

“Ah, I’d love to, but I promised Jisung I’d swing by the studio afterwards. Hey, have you met Ten yet? You should ask…”

Changmin decided that this was an appropriate moment to tune out. He swiftly donned his headphones and reached for his phone hidden in the pile of his duffle bag and jackets in the corner. He didn’t even know why he listened in when your friends brought you up. Why were you even still connected to the dance and performing arts department people anyway? He huffed, rolling his eyes with a small shake of his head. It wasn’t like you wanted to be connected to dance anyway. So why give him a constant reminder of your existence and the past you shared—

“Changminnie!” Juyeon appeared in front of him, waving to him with that goofy smile to get his attention.

Changmin broke into a smile as he shifted one side of his headphones from his ear. “Hey. Wanna go over some of the routine?”

Juyeon nodded. “Yeah, I’m ready. I was trying to get your attention, but I think you were just occupied.”

Whoops. Changmin flicked his wrist as he followed Juyeon down the hallway to a more private place to practice with his friend. “Yeah, sorry. I was just thinking of something.”

“Oh, okay,” Juyeon ducked his head into an empty dressing room in the back hallway, beckoning Changmin to follow him in. “Nothing to worry about though? You can talk to me; no judgment.”

Changmin chuckled and closed the door behind him. “Nah, nothing important. Let’s just focus on the performance.” Anything involving you? Definitely not important anymore.

— ✶

Late February brought the cold, bitter winds of night to the university, so the trek all the way across campus from the laboratory buildings to the performing arts hall was a hellish one. You kept your head tucked into the puffy collar of your puffer jacket, hands stuffed into your pockets, a happy tune blasting in your ears to keep you going all the way up the road. It was around nine o’clock by the time you made it to the front of the performing arts hall, and you could already see the sea of people meandering outside its doors post-draft show.

You shivered and pulled your phone out from your pocket to see where your friends were waiting for you.

“Yn-ie!”

Your head lifted and you grinned, waving your hand at Seungkwan who was making his way over to you. “Hi Kwannie,” you greeted and wrapped your arms around him in a warm embrace.

When you’d pulled away, Seungkwan made a face as he shuddered. “Jesus, it’s cold. I should have brought a scarf or something. Did you walk here?”

You began to nod, but he tsked. “Aish, Yn. You should’ve called! No one should have to walk in this torturous cold.”

You laughed. “It’s no big deal. We’re about to go get some hot food, so it’s cool.”

“We might have to wait for a little longer.” Both you and Seungkwan turned toward Yeri, Mark, and Jungwoo who were walking over. Jungwoo had a sweatband holding his bangs out of his face and his duffle slung over his shoulder. He had his jacket draped over his arm; he was probably warm from the showcase. “We’re waiting on Ten to finish up.”

“Hi Jungwoo,” you greeted him, and the man returned the expression with a side hug. You furrowed your brows. “Who’s Ten?’’

Mark replied with a sniffle from the cold, “Oh, he’s a new exchange student! Well, he was originally admitted here, but he went abroad for a year. He's with the NCT frat. Super cool, super funny. He’s great at dance though.”

“I think you’ll vibe with him, Yn,” Yeri chimed in. “He’s asking a couple people for their opinion on a few parts of his routine, so I think he’ll be out soon.”

You nodded in understanding. You didn’t mind waiting, but you hoped what Yeri said about him was true. Hopefully you did get along with him, because you were honestly far too tired to forcefully play nice. You were hoping for a chill night anyway. Then again, as long as you could avoid a certain someone tonight, this would turn out to be a chill night in general.

You and your friends chatted for a few minutes only before Jungwoo caught someone’s eyes from behind you, Yeri, and Mark. He brightened. “Ten! Ten, over here!”

You all swiveled.

Ten was just as lean and lithe as Jungwoo was, but with black bangs, a pair of round spectacles hanging from the collar of his white T-shirt, and a cute smile on his face. You and he made brief eye contact before Jungwoo was hopping on the balls of his feet to greet him.

Jungwoo slung an arm around Ten’s shoulders as he brought him over to the group. “Yn, this is Ten Lee. Ten, this is Yn-ie—the friend we mentioned earlier.”

Your eyes widened slightly. “Why was I mentioned?” You laughed nervously.

Ten flashed you a boyish kind of smile. “Oh, it was nothing; don’t worry. It’s nice to meet you though.”

Your heart didn't slow at his assurance. “Ah, okay then. Uh, nice to meet you, too!”

“Did you get your routine settled?” Seungkwan asked as the lot of you began to move in one, loose blob toward Yeri’s car. (How all of you would manage to fit, that was something you mentally were trying to figure out. In Yeri’s tiny sedan, you might have to squish four people into the back seat.)

Ten nodded enthusiastically. “Yup, it’s all sorted. Minho and Changmin were really helpful with their comments.”

You felt the people around you freeze at the mention of Changmin’s name. You stiffened as well, but tried to force the strange feeling to go away. Your friends knew the drill, too, but you saw the way they glanced at you from their periphery.

Ten was smart, you realized, when his head tilted at all of your reactions.

Time for damage control. “That’s—that’s good!” Mark’s voice cracked and coughed to clear it. “I mean, Minho’s always been really attentive to details and stuff. I think he was almost recruited to become an idol or something like that…”

Ten pursed his lips, as if silently saying, ‘I’m not buying this bull’. You decided to just… do it. “Changmin’s a great dancer, too,” you said, and everyone shot disbelieving glances your way, but you could already see how Ten was grasping onto everything you were saying. You forced a neutral tone into the way you spoke, forced yourself not to let the bitterness seep through. No one deserved to fall victim to the feelings that were only meant for one Ji Changmin. “I’m glad he helped you out. He’s really good at sharp movements and isolations.”

“Oh, do you dance, Yn?” Ten piped up with a twinkle in his eyes.

“Ruh roh,” you heard Seungkwan murmur, and he shuffled away from you to go to the other side of Yeri’s car.

Maybe you purposefully let him see right through you. “Not really. It was a long time ago.”

You and Ten held eye contact, the silent tension like communication passed between the two of you—this was personal, but Ten could figure out that there was more to the story. It was odd though; the way he didn’t fear prodding just a little bit. You didn’t know why you were letting yourself feed him more bait, but Yeri was hollering for the two of you to squeeze into the backseat, and you snapped out of it.

Weird…

Ten held the backseat door open for you. “Looking forward to getting to know you, Yn,” he said pleasantly.

Your eyes narrowed slightly as you slipped into the backseat. “Same to you…”

EPISODE TWO: OFF THE TABLE

YOUR curiosity won you out.

In fact, it won you over so much that you agreed to get coffee with Ten Saturday afternoon—with Mark and Yeri, of course. The four of you had coordinated stopping by one of the coffee shops in the shopping mall just down the hill from the university to hang out and destress a little from the incoming second wave of STEM midterms. Well, you needed to destress. Mark was in communications, Yeri in psychology, and Ten was… what was Ten’s major again?

“Foreign affairs,” he answered before lifting the straw of his iced americano to his lips. “Lots of foreign language classes and politics and history. Politics and capitalism classes are not my favorite, but all the cultural courses on campus are really great.”

You bobbed your head, propping your chin onto your palm. You sat across from him at one of high tables in the cafe; Mark and Yeri’s stools were barren, save for the belongings they left for you and Ten to watch, while they literally sprinted across the mall to the grocery store because they forgot they were supposed to bring booze to the NCT-RVE joint alumni homecoming tonight. You probably weren’t going to go just because social energy came in short supply these days, but you promised to send a card for your friends in RVE.

“I can imagine,” you commented. “I took a really neat course on African tribes and culture in freshman year, and I miss my professor a lot. I sometimes wonder what would have happened had I joined his study abroad program in Ghana instead of staying here.”

Ten’s head did the tilt thing again, the one you recognized from last night as something he did when he was intrigued. “That does sound really cool. What made you stay?”

Where do I even begin? “My major,” you replied simply. It wasn’t really a lie—not entirely a lie. You sipped on your latte, a faraway look in your eyes. “I was so set on a plan that I guess I got nervous about the unknown should I have gone on that trip.”

“Mm, I understand.” He had taken on a softer look now, something more akin to empathy. “It is a little scary, but while I was in Indonesia, I realized I wouldn’t have traded such an experience for anything else."

You set your cup down. "Have you always wanted to dabble in global affairs?"

"Uh, I'm not sure," he said, head tilted upward with a scrunch in his nose. He nudged his glasses up the smooth slope of his sculpted nose. "I was kind of put in a situation where I had to learn a lot of new languages, and I luckily turned out to be pretty good at picking up on them."

"Wow, that's really cool," you chuckled. A talent you definitely envied. And it seemed like Ten had made the decision to pursue this future of his on his own. You wished you could say the same.

From the counter of the café, you heard one of the workers call out your order number for cinnamon rolls, fresh from the oven.

You began to slip off your stool, and Ten spoke up, "Oh, I can totally go get those."

"It's no problem," you chirped, "I'm already down anyway." You were swift to scurry over to the counter and pick up your table's tray of cinnamon rolls with a smile at the worker in deep gratitude. The thick, warm sweetness wafted into your nose, and you inhaled the delights with a blissful grin.

However, as you turned to head back to the table, you halted abruptly, nearly knocking the plates on the tray into each other.

There, standing next to your table and chatting with Ten, were Ji Changmin and Choi Chanhee.

Great.

The sweet dessert smell soured and tasted like acid on your tongue. Bitter, like the taste of hot coffee straight from the pot. You schooled your face into neutrality, but there was no way all of the uncomfortableness could stay away.

You made your way over; the tray was getting heavy.

"—actually here with Yn, Mark, and Yeri—" Ten was pointing your way and you had to control your urge to hide.

Changmin and Chanhee's heads turned in sync, but only Changmin's eyes narrowed at the sight of you. You returned the expression wholeheartedly.

Chanhee held his breath, muttering a "Yikes" under his breath, while Ten observed the interaction with slightly parted lips. Huh.

"Ji."

"Ln."

You deposited the tray onto the table and your biceps sighed in relief. Those four cinnamon rolls truly were quite hefty on their own.

You could still feel Changmin’s eyes on you as you slid onto the stool across from Ten. “Something you’d like to say to me?” You addressed him with ill-suppressed snark.

Changmin’s eyes narrowed. “Nothing that you’ll take into importance anyway. Just didn’t think you would ever hang out with someone from the dance department.”

“Ten’s got a life outside of dance, Changmin,” you replied. You flashed him a thin-lipped smile. “He gets it.”

“And you’re so much better than me for having a so-called life,” he rolled his eyes. “You know, some people are just really passionate about dance—something you seem to still not understand.”

“I really don’t think you want me to bring up the trove of things you don’t understand—”

Chanhee subtly moved over to Ten’s side as the two of them observed the sparring match between you and Changmin. A sigh fell from his lips, and his eyebrows raised up all the way to his pink-dyed hairline.

Ten had taken one of the plates of cinnamon buns in front of him, silently offering Chanhee some. The latter refused, and Ten began to peel away one of the sultry, sweet dough layers. “Is this… normal?” He asked Chanhee under his breath, motioning to the still-bickering couple across from them.

Chanhee snorted. “It’s their mating call.”

It seemed he had said those four words loud enough to catch yours and Changmin’s attention. A miracle, indeed.

“Ew,” both you and Changmin immediately grimaced at Chanhee. Then you looked at one another with a greater degree of disgust. “Stop copying me!”

…Or, less so a miracle, but rather, a tragedy.

Chanhee let out a haggard sigh, eyes sullen to a deadpan. “One of the few things the two of you will ever agree on.”

“The last thing we’ll ever agree on,” Changmin grumbled as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “C’mon Chanhee. We should probably order before JC!Yn and Kei finish loading up the car.”

Changmin was already making his way over to the cashier when Ten managed to get in a final question, “Are you guys coming to the NCT-RVE homecoming tonight?”

“Sure—”

“No.”

Chanhee sent Ten an apologetic look for Changmin’s brusque answer. “Sorry about him. We were thinking of it, but he might be practicing with Juyeon tonight. See you later, Ten—and Yn!” He chased after Changmin, ambushing his friend by practically leaping onto his back and then smacking his shoulder.

Now that Changmin was away from you, the red in your vision had begun to clear away, and you finally remembered the set of delicious cinnamon rolls waiting for you.

Ten propped his cheek against his fist. “So… you and Changmin…”

You made a sour face as you cut off a slice of your cinnamon roll. “What about the gremlin?” You asked. As soon as the buttery, sweet delight hit your tongue, you felt your body lighten and you did a little happy dance in your seat.

Ten chuckled at your behavior. “Lovers gone wrong?”

You choked on the bite.

Your new friend’s eyes widened comically to the size of saucers as he literally pounced across the table to pat your back. “Shit—sorry, Yn. I probably should’ve waited for you to finish swallowing, huh?” He winced when you’d managed to breathe correctly and washed the bite of food down with a sip of coffee. He returned to his perch, letting you recover while he talked through his thoughts. “I don’t mean to pry—actually—” he paused, reconsidering, “—I do mean to pry. Sorry, I’m kind of a sucker for this kind of stuff.”

One of your eyes squinted at him as you massaged your throat. “Yeah, I kind of figured.”

He beamed at you boyishly, the kind of expression that almost had your defenses slipping. Almost. Ten was one slippery fellow. For some reason, you kind of respected him for being upfront about the nosiness, and if you were being honest, if this drama wasn’t yours, you would also be curious about the whole thing.

“Can’t help myself sometimes,” he confessed with a mere shrug. “You don’t owe an explanation or backstory, of course.”

You sucked in a breath, opting to hold back on eating your pastry until you and Ten were done with this topic. “I’m just going to say that Changmin and I were not ‘lovers gone wrong’,” you said, body shuddering.

“Mm,” he hummed. His eyes wandered behind you and over your head, swiftly followed by the action of waving to Changmin and Chanhee on their way out of the cafe. “It’s just interesting to me. Didn’t you just advocate for him the other night at the draft show?”

That rang a bell, unfortunately. “It’s complicated.”

Ten pressed his mouth into a saccharine smile. “I can imagine.”

EPISODE THREE: OFF THE PHONE

THERE was an avid knocking at the laboratory door, usually done by those who didn’t actually work at this specific lab. This lab area was usually reserved for upperclassmen and graduate students and their work.

“Yn-ie, could you get the door, please?” You heard Kun called out to you from his office. It wasn’t just the two of you tonight, but rather, just a few others you didn’t know as well as you did Kun. He often worked late hours like you did, always overworking himself even more as a fresh grad student. You, on the other hand, were trying to finish up this one research paper resulting from last quarter’s research project. If you were lucky, you would be able to send it off to be peer reviewed soon.

You slipped out from behind your workbench and maneuvered the maze of workbenches to head out into the corridor. Exhaustion wore at your bones from having such a long day, but you really did need to get some productive work done so you could focus specifically on your midterms approaching at the end of this week and the beginning of the following week.

However, as you turned the corner into the corridor, you nearly missed your footing. At the end of the hallway where the glass door to the outside was, you found yourself identifying one Ji Changmin and his friend, someone you didn’t recognize. The latter wore a gray hoodie beneath a black puffer vest, and he reacted the opposite to how Changmin did when they caught sight of you.

“Hey! Could you open the door, please?” Not-Changmin hollered through the glass, furiously shaking his sweater-pawed hand down at the door handle.

You didn’t want to. God, you really didn’t want to.

Changmin stared you down, as if daring you to come closer.

You opened the door, and let the cool gust of late February air and two outsiders into the safety and warmth of the laboratory building.

Hoodie Guy shuddered violently to get the cold out of his system. “Jesus, it’s cold outside. Thanks,” he said to you. Then he nudged Changmin with his elbow, as if jolting the man into reality.

“What are you doing here?” You asked, words directed toward Changmin in particular.

His dark bangs were tucked beneath a black beanie with his pair of black headphones hanging around his neck. “You think I want to be here?”

His friend sent him a look, his eyes flickering between you and Changmin furiously until the pieces clicked into his mind. “Well, uh oh…” he muttered while turning away slightly to scratch his head. He gathered his wits then. “Uh, Yn, right?”

You perked up. “Yes.”

“Uh,” he drawled. “We’re actually here for Jacob Bae. You see, we told him we’d come pick him up to take him over to—”

“Is he here?” Changmin asked.

Your eyebrow shot upward. At least they were here for a proper reason. You crossed your arms over your chest, glancing back toward the main laboratory floor way down the hall. Man, the safe zone felt so far away. “He actually just left like, ten minutes ago. Sorry.” The apology was said to Changmin’s friend, the one who seemed to have been able to figure out who exactly you were to Changmin. Not that you were anything to him. And did Changmin just talk about you to all his friends or something—?

“Oh.”

Changmin tapped his friend with the back of his hand. “C’mon Sunwoo. We’ll just meet him over there.”

Sunwoo wrinkled his nose. “I just think it’s weird that he didn’t text us to let us know before we came over here.”

There was a pause and you could practically see the gears in Changmin’s head turning. You would have left them to their own company, but you technically weren’t allowed to leave unauthorized students alone.

It was strange seeing Changmin break into something akin to sheepishness. You saw the dimples appear in the apples of his cheeks as he cupped the back of his neck. “I might not have told him we were coming…”

Sunwoo’s eyes and mouth widened and he whacked his friend with the length of his hoodie sleeve. Changmin let out one of those hyena laughs that set off triggers in your mind. It’d been awhile since you heard that… “Hyung! You’re so unreliable sometimes, oh my god. Even Eric would have remembered to tell him!”

Changmin made a noise of dismissal, slinging an arm around his friend. “Ah, it’s fine. We’ll just meet him there—as you said.”

“Worst texter award goes to,” Sunwoo rolled his eyes.

“I guess some things never change.” The words slipped out of your mouth before you could stop yourself, and both Sunwoo and Changmin suddenly remembered that you were in the hallway with them. Sunwoo had perked up as if he were surprised you would even comment on their situation, but Changmin cut an unreadable expression your way. You didn’t want to read into it.

“You literally forgot to answer a text I sent for three days,” Changmin quipped.

Well, if he was going to play the back and forth game. “That was once out of how many other times,” you scoffed. “You refused to answer anyone’s texts in the mornings anyway, so don't get on my case about that.”

“He did that to you, too?!” Sunwoo cut in with fire behind his words.

You could’ve sworn you saw the slightest bit of blush grace Changmin’s cheekbones as you hid a laugh behind your hand. “He did that to everyone—”

“Hey, I’m better over call; you know that!” Changmin argued. “Sunwoo, you can’t even talk about being a bad texter. I have to hunt for you on discord sometimes to get a straight answer.”

Sunwoo groaned, “Yah! Whatever. It’s still better than your average three-business-day reply speed.”

Changmin stammered, “It is not an average of three business days.” If your ears were not deceiving you, Ji Changmin was whining. “It’s a couple hours at least.”

“A couple hours means half a day,” you said to Sunwoo.

Changmin whipped his attention back to you, finger jabbed accusingly in your direction. “Hey, missy! You always fell asleep on-call, even when you promised that you would stay up to help me study.”

You shook your head. “Not my fault! You know that I always fell asleep around midnight back then.”

“Well, back then—”

“Is everything okay out here?”

Everything in the corridor came to a stand still, and Changmin closed his mouth, mid-sentence. Kun had his head poking out of the door to the main floor, a crease pressed between his brows and right above the rim of his thin spectacles. He eyed the two non-laboratory students with a slight grimace. Of course, Kun was aware of who Changmin was. He could recognize him because of his famed performer reputation on campus, but he knew his history with you because you had spent far too many late nights here at the lab with things plaguing your mind. You and Kun both had a problem with trouble sleeping and being workaholics.

You turned slightly to Kun. “Yeah, everything’s okay, Kun-ge.”

He sent you an unimpressed look.

“We,” Changmin piped up as he urged Sunwoo to the door, “were just leaving.” The mirth and fire from the bickering just a few seconds ago had faded, and you could feel him slipping away.

Kun drummed his fingers along the doorframe, eyebrows shooting up for a second. “Oh-kay… Yn-ie, Ten says he’s right around the corner and asks if you want some company walking home.”

The door to the laboratory behind you was held open, and the night breeze brushed through your hair. When you looked back, you saw that Changmin had stalled in the door for a second. But, it had only been that second before he and his friend were gone.

“Oh.” You made your way over to Kun. “That’s really cool of him. I’d love that.” Some company on a late-night walk back to your apartment did not sound bad at all. You’d done plenty of trips on your own, but sometimes having even one person with you would have been nice.

Kun nodded, pursing his lips, as the two of you walked into the main lab together and toward his office off to the side. “Okay, I’ll let him know. You’re for sure okay though? That must have been… not nice, seeing Changmin here.”

You gave a stiff shrug, your hip leaning against the door of his office while Kun settled back at his desk. “It’s fine,” you said. To be honest, you weren’t even sure if that was a lie or not. You’d heard Changmin laugh for the first time in years. You’d seen the dimples in his cheeks, the sheepishness in his expression—you swallowed.

Once upon a time, you associated all of those things with something like happiness. Your happiness.

Kun fixed you with a pointed look. “If you need to talk.”

You gave a firm nod. “I know where to find you.”

He clicked his tongue, shooting you a finger gun, then shooed you off to finish your work and pack your things. Ten was just around the corner, after all.

EPISODE FOUR: OFF THE RECORD

CHANGMIN liked to think that he became nosy, and that he wasn't born this way. But ever since he overheard that Kun guy asking about Ten wanting to walk you home, he couldn't help but wonder…

He shook his head, brushing his hair out of his eyes and off his forehead, before those same bangs flopped back into their place. He walked back onto the main stage of the performing arts hall to the soundtrack of a hype playlist blasting from the ears of his headphones. As he made his way past groups and individuals doing their own thing, he absentmindedly searched for one person in particular.

Conveniently, he found Ten setting himself up right by Changmin's things. He was shouldering off his black puffer jacket, rolling the material up into a manageable ball to shove into his duffle bag.

"Hey," Changmin greeted, bending down slightly to grab his water bottle.

Ten straightened and flashed him a smile. "Hey."

It wouldn't be awkward would it? Probably not. Just be cool about it, Changmin. He smiled slightly, the dimples in his cheeks disarming his acquaintance. "I didn't know you and Yn were close."

Your name felt so… foreign, yet familiar, on his tongue. It was like tasting déjà vu, like eating a treat from childhood that had been associated with good feelings, but he couldn't decide if it was still as good as he remembered or a trick of his mind.

The mention of your name brought a jolt of energy to Ten's body and Changmin saw the man lean into the conversation. Curious… "Oh? Well, I mean—" he gave a shrug, "—she's really cool. She just seems like a good person to get to know, y'know? Why do you ask?"

Changmin couldn't tell how much he trusted the slight narrowing of Ten's feline eyes. There was no way you hadn't mentioned him to Ten at some point or another. To be honest, he didn't like the feeling of you still lingering in his head if he didn't linger in yours. It meant a myriad of things that he loathed to admit.

He let the feeling slide away, let his mouth tilt upward like his eyes to the spotlights in the ceiling. "Just be…" He shook his head. "Nothing. It's nothing." He flicked his wrist, as he spun his water bottle cap on tight. "You can forget about it."

Ten sent him a look that Changmin pointedly ignored.

Somewhere within the depths of the performing arts center, Changmin could hear the howling laughter of his friend Hyunjae as he most likely bugged his best friend out of her mind, both to her chagrin and her delight. That was another can of worms entirely.

Ten piped up as he settled onto the backstage floor while Changmin mentally went through some of the problem sets he had to review today. "If you don't mind me asking, why are you and Yn on such… uneven ground with each other?"

There it was. Changmin snorted. "Uneven ground? I don't even know if we're on the same ground."

"You're both really friendly people," Ten added, "so it just doesn't make sense to me."

Changmin pursed his lips. He never felt the need to divulge this stuff to anyone but his friends, but he didn't know what Ten already knew. He didn't know what you told him, but based on the fact that Ten wasn't looking at him the same way you did… Changmin scratched the back of his head and leaned his side against the wall to face him. "Something happened a long time ago. I guess we just both hold a grudge well."

Ten huffed a laugh in response. "Remind me never to get on your bad side then," he joked.

— ✶

There was a buzz about the university newspaper room. The Daily had only a handful of crew members onboard, mainly because it was so selective. Over the past few years that you had been apart of the staff, you and a few others had gradually loosened the reputation of the Daily's elitist interview process—there was still some level of intimidation that ensured the publication took on the hard workers and not those simply looking for an extracurricular to put on their resume though.

So when there was talk of a new staff member, everyone knew about it.

You let yourself in the door with a sigh, brushing the hair from your eyes held up with a random, blue claw clip you found on your bathroom sink. The bus had been late this morning because it broke down, but you luckily were able to make it to your lecture on time. You had run over here for a quick meeting that Kim Doyoung had summoned you for, no doubt about the new hire.

"Hey guys," you said as you passed by clusters of desks piled with copyedits and heads buried in monitor screens. The sounds of typing stopped briefly with each head you walked past:

"Yn!"

"Hi Yn!"

"Sup Yn—HEY! I just did my hair this morning!" Mark yelped, hands smoothing down the braids in his hair.

You giggled as you patted his head. "Your hair needs a break, Mark."

As you disappeared around the corner, you heard him shout back, "So do you, but you never hear me complaining!"

You rolled your eyes with an ill-concealed smile. The door to Doyoung's little editor in chief office was right down the hall next to the office for the sponsoring professor. As much as you and the others teased him about getting the "Boss man" office, he always complained to you about being on edge with the professor's office next door. You didn't quite understand since Professor Woo was almost never in his office anyway, but you supposed you could see.

Doyoung's door was open, and the fourth year's head perked up at the sound of your voice and nearing footsteps. He didn't even wait for you to knock or say hi, before beckoning you inside. "Yn, thank god you know how to hustle. Close the door on your way in. Thanks."

Your eyebrows shot up at the terseness in his tone, but didn't question him until you'd closed the door and settled into the chair opposite him. His desk, much like those outside, was covered in a sea of paper, with his laptop being the only land in sight. "What's up? You sound stressed."

He shot you a look over the rims of his thin glasses. "When am I not stressed?"

"Valid."

"Okay," he began with a sigh that made your concern rise just a bit more, "you know the situation with our performing arts review section, right?"

You nodded. "Of course."

The situation with the performing arts review section of the paper was inherently a mess. For a handful of years, the performing arts section was written under a pseudonym (lovingly dubbed Opera Glasses)—the identity of the reviewer was anonymous—which was a product of an incident a few years ago where a performer was unhappy with a review left by someone on the paper and came to ask, very unkindly, for a rewrite. Since then, the paper had been swallowed up by so much that finding a permanent writer or reviewer for the section became less and less of a priority.

When you joined the publishing team, it had been in the middle of freshman year when you were also putting your application out for research projects. Joining had felt like the right thing to do, as much as it was an act of rebellion against your mother and your childhood. They had asked if you knew anything about dance of all things.

And well, you did know.

You'd written one piece—one piece that was entirely you. It had been for one of the dancers just debuting at his first winter showcase. Since then, you couldn't stomach writing another one or watching another one.

You ghost wrote, you edited, you advised—but you stuck to putting your energy into covering the STEM-related sections of the paper now.

So Doyoung already knew your relationship with the performing arts review section. "Well," he cleared his throat, making a vague flourish with his hand, "I'm sure you already know that I just interviewed a new prospective recruit. I was wondering if you would be willing to take them under your wing and to show them the ropes."

Oh. That wasn't exactly what you expected him to say. Your heart kicked up for an entirely new reason, however. You'd always wanted to be someone's mentor. To be someone's older sister. "I mean, yeah. I'd love to," you stammered, a smile slowly curling onto your lips. "That would be really cool."

Doyoung sighed, his shoulders sinking in relief. "Thank you."

"But wait." You cocked your head to the side as you asked, "What does Opera Glasses have to do with this?"

"I want her to eventually take over for it," he explained. "She knows quite a bit about theater and music—little less about dance, though. I know that you have your issues with the dance department, but out of everyone here, you probably understand dance stuff the most. I just ask that you help her out a little with that, and maybe even introduce her to some of the people there so we can ease her in with interviews—"

You opened your mouth to interrupt him, but he sent you a pointed look. He continued, "Just hear me out, okay? If you're uncomfortable at all, you can back out. And you don't even have to back out right now or completely; maybe you could have Mark introduce her to Jungwoo for interviews, and you can just stick to the behind-the-scenes stuff."

Doyoung exhaled. "Okay, so what are your thoughts?"

You worried your bottom lip between your teeth. What did you think… What did you think?

Even the thought of stepping foot into a practice room made the yelling and screams echo in the caverns of your mind. But you'd missed them—missed the polished wood floors, the floor-to-ceiling mirrors, the people. God, you couldn't even stay away from the people if you tried, no matter how much you tried convincing yourself you could.

You weren't fooling anyone.

You swallowed. You'd always wanted to be a big sister.

What was the harm in giving this a try?

(Changmin. You'd probably run into Changmin a lot more often than if you didn't accept. But you could see him from that one night: the sheepishness, the dimples, the laugh. Why couldn't you get over that interaction?)

You mustered up your courage and straightened in your seat. "I'll still do it. When do we start?"

EPISODE FIVE: OFF THE MARK

IT turned out that Doyoung intended for you and your new recruit, Bae Sumin, to get started right away. With the winter showcase only a couple weeks away, it was imperative that the two of you dived right in.

"—so what made you interested in joining the team?" You asked, shoving your hands into your jacket pockets to hide signs of nervousness from your underclassman peer. The two of you were walking from the Daily's newsroom and over to the performing arts center. It was about a ten minute walk, but you figured that it would give you two the opportunity to get to know one another.

Sumin was a multimedia major, as you had been told earlier when the two of you just met for the first time in the entryway of the Daily newsroom. She was cute and well-dressed—she wore a pleated skirt and sweater with a white collar peeking through. Her smile was dazzling, and reminded you of someone who would do well on stage. No wonder she had theater and performing experience.

"Oh!" She shot you one of those dazzling smiles, her hand shooting up to shift the white, fluffy earmuffs seated over her head. "I actually had a cousin who came here and shared with me some of the Daily's earlier issues. She always said it was kind of competitive to get in, but I figured it wouldn't hurt to try."

You bobbed your head. "That's really cool." A small laugh fell from your lips, "I'm glad you did try! Lots of people just assume they're gonna get turned away and they don't try at all, you know?"

Sumin hummed in understanding.

Something had settled nicely in your chest throughout this walk. Even if your past anxieties were beginning to bubble up to the surface at the sight of the nearing performing arts buildings, Sumin's easy conversation calmed you. It was one less thing to worry about.

Yesterday, when Doyoung had proposed this job for you, you had asked Mark to accompany you and Sumin to the arts buildings. He couldn't walk with you two, but he promised to meet you there. Now, you were kind of glad you got to have this bit of bonding time with her.

“I think Doyoung said that I should introduce you to a few people in particular,” you said offhandedly and pulled your phone out to check yours and Doyoung’s text thread.

Sumin did the same, most likely taking out any notes she had taken from Doyoung’s instructions. “Yeah, something like Lee Minho, Kim Jungwoo… the Hwang?—the Hwang siblings, uhm and Ji Changmin…?”

Your footing faltered for a second, and Sumin asked if you were all right, but you recovered quickly. You let out an embarrassed laugh, feeling heat crawl up your neck. Why in the world did his name catch you off guard like that? Maybe it was because you assumed Doyoung would just let you avoid Changmin, but realistically, if Sumin was going to do an interview with the dance department’s most prominent members, then there was no avoiding Changmin.

You just had to suck it up and be an adult about it.

It was three years ago… What was the big deal?

But as you moved to open the door to the backstage area for Sumin with your ID card, you felt your throat tighten in on itself. You forced a smile to your face as you let Sumin go in before you so you could turn your head out to inhale a large lungful of fresh air. Then, you ducked in after her.

The backstage corridors were as hustle n' bustle as you expected them to be. The lights were dim-looking from the black walls and floors marred with scuff marks from years upon years of use. It was an overwhelming tidal wave of sensory details—what, with the clashing sounds of chatter and music, the smell of some kind of polish (or maybe that was resin?), the warmth of energy in the air and all around you.

The hairs on the back of your neck stood like you could sense someone was coming this way.

You gestured down the opposite direction to Sumin. “Come on; I’m pretty sure they’re down this way.”

It was a curious thing, memory. You could recall late nights of catching the bus to these very practice rooms and backstage rooms from when you were in high school. Performing on the stage was a whole other experience in itself, and though part of you missed it, there were other feelings that dominated the hints of nostalgia now.

You could hear the chatter even clearer now, even if their words were muddled.

The door to one of the larger practice rooms were left ajar, and though you only peered in, you felt the warmth hit you like a wave. Your throat was closing up again—breathe—

“Hey,” you said into the room, catching quite a few eyes. From an initial scan, you determined that Changmin wasn’t amongst the crush of people socializing in here, and you couldn’t identify the feeling manifesting in the pit of your stomach.

Jungwoo was the first to bound over toward you, swiftly followed by Minho and Hyunjin, one of the Hwang siblings. “Yn-ie! I can’t believe you actually came. I thought Doyoung was joking.”

A smile made its way onto your lips and you accepted Jungwoo’s side hug. “Yeah, well Doyoung doesn’t joke around.”

“He really doesn’t,” Hyunjin said with a grimace. “He’s kind of scary, that one.”

“If you can survive Minho,” you said to him, “then you can survive Doyoung.”

Minho made a face at you. “What have I ever done to you, Yn?”

Nothing; this is just me trying to pretend I’m not seconds away from quivering like a leaf in the wind. You laughed. “Nothing yet. Guys, I'd like you to meet Sumin. She’s our new recruit at the Daily, and she’s gonna be the one conducting interviews for the winter showcase this year.”

Sumin didn’t need much prompting to smile and wave at your friends in that same charming way. “Hi, nice to meet you!”

The three dancers before you replied in kind. Jungwoo offered to introduce her to some of the others in the room, and before you knew it, she was swept away.

Hyunjin made a comment about needing to go check up on a friend of his, leaving you and Minho chatting to the side of the room.

“Wow,” Minho said offhandedly as the two of you watched Jungwoo and Sumin work their way around the room, “she’s a natural at this. Where’d Kim find this one?”

“She saw some of our older issues,” you replied. You watched as Sumin ignited a sort of brightness in every conversation she started. You struggled to swallow; now that you didn’t feel obligated to keep up appearances, especially in front of Sumin, your jitteriness was beginning to come on just a little stronger. You absentmindedly massaged your throat, willing it to loosen up.

Minho glanced over at you, his eyes catching your anxious actions. “Must have a lot of confidence in her if he’s throwing her straight into taking charge of interviews. How’re you holding up?” The latter was said lowly and under his breath in case someone just happened to be close enough to catch onto your conversation.

Minho didn’t know your history with the dance department as thoroughly as your close friends did, but it didn’t take a genius to see that you weren’t at your absolute best right now. You gave a stiff shrug. “I’m alright,” you managed to say.

He nodded, though it was probably more for your sake than him saying he believed you. “It’s funny,” he drawled, “one might think that by sending you here on behalf of the paper, that you were behind Opera Glasses.”

Now that, you could let out a genuine chuckle at.

Minho gauged your reaction but smiled to himself. He wasn’t one to really care for the drama and gossip side that came privy to the performing arts review section, but you couldn’t blame him if he was curious.

“That would be really stupid if that was the case,” you mused.

“It would be,” he agreed. “Is this a sign that this will be the end of Opera Glasses then? Finally a face to the name?”

You pursed your lips. “Actually, I’m not too sure what Doyoung will end up doing. I’m sure he’ll call for a board meeting to decide what the review’s fate will be, but it’s not exactly our top priority—”

Your voice and words trailed off as your eyes met a pair coming into the practice room. You and Changmin froze at the sight of one another, two deer caught in headlights, and you felt your heart palpitate violently in your chest. Your breath left your lungs—his expression was filled with surprise, until it morphed into something you couldn’t read.

“What are you doing here?” He deadpanned.

Minho’s eyebrows shot up. “You didn’t know Yn was stopping by? We all got the email from Director Lee, man.”

Changmin pressed his mouth together and it made the dimple in his cheek deepen. He looked you up and down, and he opened his mouth to say something else, but paused when you unconsciously brushed your thumb against the hollow of your throat. (Dear god, why couldn’t you breathe? Breathe, breathe, breathe—)

He seemed to lose whatever he was going to say. You swore the sharpness in his gaze softened.

But then his jaw tightened; you didn’t know why. “I didn’t think you’d actually show,” he muttered under his breath.

Ouch.

The words from his mouth pricked uncomfortably at the back of your mind. You found your voice again. “I’ll be gone before you know it,” you replied tersely.

Your response touched a nerve for him, too. He cut his attention to the rest of the practice room. “Where’s your new girl?”

“Over there,” you said, inclining your head across the room where Sumin and Hwang Yeji were currently swapping contact information. Something soared in your chest at the sight, but you couldn’t tell if it was pride or envy.

Without any additional prompting, you watched Changmin make his way toward Sumin and away from you. You didn’t realize you were holding in a breath until you finally exhaled—

“Yn! Sorry I’m late.” Mark bumbled into the practice room, wiping a drop of sweat from his forehead as he quite literally crashed against the wall next to you and Minho. He was panting and gasping for breath, and you and Minho couldn’t help but express your amusement.

“It’s all cool, dude,” you assured while patting his head.

“I should probably get back to it,” Minho said as he began walking away from you and Mark. “Nice to see you, Mark. Feel free to take a water bottle from the green room.”

Mark thumped his head against the wall with his eyes closed. “Thanks, man,” he huffed.

With a snicker under his breath, Minho went his separate way.

You gave Mark a moment to catch a breath or two, and you slid down next to him against the practice room wall. Folding your knees up against your chest, you copied Mark’s position with his head tilted back as you both inhaled through your nostrils and breathed out through slightly parted lips. While Mark might have been trying to get a moment of rest from (no doubt) running here from the bus stop, you were trying to steady yourself.

The anxiety was starting to make your hands feel numb cold.

“You don’t have to stay, y’know,” came Mark’s voice, followed by the back of his hand gently nudging your arm. When your eyes fluttered open, you found him already looking at you. “You asked for my help; you can go take a breather outside and come back in—or maybe don’t—whatever you’re comfortable with. This can’t be easy.”

You were struggling to swallow again. One of your hands drummed messily against your kneecap. “It’s—” you shook your head, “—I’ll be okay. Thanks for coming though.”

“Yeah, dude. Of course.”

Something prodded at the side of your head, like someone was staring at you, but when you turned to see, it was just Changmin talking to Sumin. They were both smiling and making good conversation, it seemed.

You let out a sigh and closed your eyes again. Wishful thinking.

— ✶

Mark stayed behind to “vibe” with the remaining dancers still at the performing arts building while you and Sumin pushed out into the crisp, cool evening. Even after walking all the way to the bus station, your hands were still numb, and the cold definitely wasn’t helping.

“How do you feel about the dance interviews now?” You found yourself asking Sumin as the two of you sat on the bench at the station waiting for the bus to come pick the two of you up.

Sumin beamed. “I definitely feel a bit more secure about conducting them. I’ll definitely need some help with dance terminology and editing and stuff though.”

You nodded. “No problem at all.”

“The people are all really so chill and nice…” Your eyes definitely weren’t tricking you when you saw the bashfulness that her expression took on, and the little giggle you heard could not have been the wind. “Especially Changmin.”

Ha. What.

A weight fell to the pit of your stomach. Maybe you were hearing things… “Sorry?”

She blinked, and the blush on her cheekbones darkened. “Oh, haha, it’s nothing! I just… he was really sweet, and he has a really pretty smile and stuff—do you—uh, do you know if his previous dance showcase performances are online?”

(Something about that detail—he has a really pretty smile—rang a bell for you.)

It was really an innocent question, but you knew if Sumin went searching online for Changmin, and if she went deep enough, she’d find you there, too. You sucked in a breath. “I can—” you winced inwardly, “—send you some of his performances, if you want?”

You couldn’t deny the warm and fuzzy feeling in your chest when Sumin practically lit up at your suggestion. “Would you? I would really appreciate it, Yn! You’re the best.”

From your periphery, you saw the bus approach from down the street, and you gestured for the both of you to stand up and get your ID cards ready to board. You sent her a small smile—at least it felt good to help her out. You could pretend for a second that this was just a little crush or infatuation on some other colleague of yours that Sumin had. “Yeah, no worries.” No worries at all.

EPISODE SIX: OFF THE [TOP OF YOUR] HEAD

FRIDAY night brought you, Seungkwan, and Doyoung to the hotpot place located in the university district. The three of you were the unconventional combination of your friends, but Kun and Ten were supposedly on their way over as of five minutes ago. Thus, with the last of your party nearing, the three of you deigned to begin ordering almost everything off the menu—just to whet your appetites, of course.

Doyoung slumped down in his seat across from you and Seungkwan as soon as the waiter left to input your table's hefty order. "Ugggggggh."

Seungkwan snorted. "Ah, my favorite sound."

Doyoung passed him a dirty look over his lenses. "Is that sarcasm I hear, Boo Seungkwan?"

"I have no idea what you mean," he said with feigned innocence as he looked away and scratched the side of his head.

You chuckled to yourself, drawing your phone out from the inner pocket of your puffer jacket when you heard the series of buzzes. Your screen lit up with notifications from Sumin, all of them thanking you profusely for the spam of links you'd sent her way. These were on top of the videos you had dug up from your secret locked folder in your phone—and here you were, wondering why in the world you were doing this to yourself and for her?

"I can't decide if I dread Doyoung's noises of discontent or your expressions of pain more," Seungkwan commented, effectively pulling your focus away from your phone.

Both of your friends were now looking at you, patiently awaiting your answer to what ailed you tonight. Where should you begin?

"I'm not in pain," you scoffed. You set your phone facedown on the table next to you to avoid looking at the notifications. Huh. "Did I look like I was in pain?"

Doyoung's smile was wide like his eyes as he nodded. "Yup," he chirped in that sweet sarcasm of his. "Like you'd just watched a video of someone stubbing their toe against a doorframe."

Seungkwan blinked. "That's so—specific."

"You do not want to know what my For You Page looks like—"

You recreated the look of pain from earlier, holding your palm up. "Respectfully, Doie? I don't."

Seungkwan let out another snort of delight and had to hold a hand in front of his mouth.

Doyoung leveled a half-hearted scowl at you. "You're lucky I'm not your boss right now."

"As opposed to every other moment in time?"

"You have a mouth on you tonight."

"I do like to use it every so often," you quipped, the corner of your mouth lifting in an amused smirk.

Doyoung sighed, raking a hand through his hair. "I don't get paid enough for this."

"You're literally not getting paid at all—" Your words were sliced off at their end when you gasped—it was all a blur: a mass of reddish-brown hair, your phone snatched from right in front of you— "SEUNGKWAN!"

Seungkwan held his breath with an impish grin as he turned his back to you and shielded your phone from your attempts to get it back. "I just wanna see!" He said with a cackle. "Every time you've looked at your phone today, you looked like you wanted to fall into an abyss."

You glared at him, pulling away to cross your arms firmly over your chest. "You can't just steal my phone, dude!"

"What's so important on your phone anyway, Yn-ie?" Doyoung asked good naturedly, reaching for his glass of ice water. "You're usually not so attached to that thing."

Your lips snapped shut and you wondered if the heat creeping up to your face was obvious.

"You've been sending Changmin videos to Sumin?!" Seungkwan bursted out, his eyes so wide that you could see your reflection in his pupils. As you'd feared, Seungkwan still had his fingerprint registered into your phone from before (long story; don't ask), and had cracked the device open, as well as your most recently opened application—yours and Sumin's text messages.

You did nothing but stare at the table like you were getting war flashbacks, while Doyoung had even gotten up out of his seat to take a peek at your phone, too.

"I haven't even seen this video before," Seungkwan hissed as if you weren't right there.

You fixed them both with a stink eye, but at the same time, maybe this was for your benefit. They could help you without you actually asking for help—

Doyoung's face contorted into a laughable expression of shock (eyes wide, mouth wider, eyebrows pinched, nose wrinkled) as he viewed what Seungkwan had selected. "Oh my god. He's a child in this!"

"Actually he was a senior in high school—" You slapped a hand over your mouth. Whoops.

Both of their heads whipped over toward you. "I thought you deleted all your high school shit!" They chorused together. If it had been any other situation or context, you might have laughed at the hilarity if it all.

Instead, you averted your gaze, making a show of looking for the waiter or maybe even Kun or Ten. What was taking them so long anyway?

"Yn," Seungkwan addressed with a tone akin to that of a parent on the verge of lecturing their child, "what in the name of god are you sending Sumin and why?"

Helpless, you held both your palms up in a sheepish shrug. "The kid has a crush on him, and being the best mentor figure ever, I… did some compiling for her." You paused, "Now that I say it out loud, it does sound pretty stupid."

Doyoung returned to his seat. "Ya think?"

You wrinkled your nose at him. "Hey! Sometimes, some of us have bad nights and we wanna feel something." Out of context, this was a really suspicious conversation.

"Isn't this just you torturing yourself?"

Seungkwan slapped his hand against the table, and both you and Doyoung startled. "That's it! I'm calling for an intervention."

Your mouth parted open. "Right now?"

He deadpanned at you. "No, when Kun and Ten get here—of course, right now!"

You returned his deadpan expression. The adrenaline from all this back and forth was slowly fading, and what you were left with was something that felt like emptiness. So… now they knew.

Doyoung and Seungkwan exchanged looks with another from across the table, but it was the former who spoke first. "Why do you still have videos from back then, Yn-ie? I thought you told us you deleted them all?"

"I mean, we're not trying to be judgmental or anything," Seungkwan added firmly, but not unkindly, "they're your videos and photos, your past and memories, but… based on everything you've already told us before, wouldn't it be best to delete them?"

You didn't like the emptiness. The adrenaline had stripped you of energy and confidence when it faded. "I," you stammered, "I just… I couldn't bring myself to delete them." Your voice was quiet, almost inaudible compared to the liveliness of the hotpot shop around you and your friends. "I mean, how could I? Sometimes, I want to watch them and try to find the courage to say that I'm sorry first."

Yeah, you wanted to feel something. That "something" was actually a lot of things—courage, happiness, nostalgia, anger, melancholy, love, passion, pride. A life and childhood you had lost; who's fault was it but your own? You felt nothing short of pathetic.

Seungkwan frowned deeply, his eyes softening. He leaned forward and drew you into his embrace, his hold warm and comforting. "Oh, Yn. I'm sorry; I shouldn't have pried like that."

You wrapped your arms around him, eyes shuddering closed. "Yeah, you shouldn't have."

He grunted into your shoulder, a noise of defiance and attitude.

Doyoung had a similar expression of sympathy present on his face. You didn't often see something like that from him, but after years of friendship and working together, you'd begun to see a lot more of him. "I'm sorry too, Yn. It probably still hurts, and I know I was probably really insensitive when I asked you to introduce Sumin to the dance department—"

"Hey guys! Sorry we're late."

Everyone jolted at the sight of Kun and Ten arriving at your table. Kun sent Ten a sharp look along with a sharp jab with his elbow for interrupting. Kun shot you an apologetic look. "Sorry, we didn't interrupt anything, did we?"

You shook your head as Seungkwan pulled away. Doyoung and Seungkwan were both looking to you to make the decision of whether or not you would let Kun and Ten in on the prior conversation.

No, you didn't want to put a damper on dinner any longer. "Ah, no worries. We were just… discussing a couple work things. What took you guys so long?"

Luckily, no one (namely Ten) called you out and the two newcomers slid into their respective seats. Dinner would arrive soon, and you could fill your belly with something other than negative thoughts for once.

— ✶

boss bunny: hey, i didn't get a chance to say this earlier, but i'm so sorry for expecting u to introduce sumin to the dance dept

boss bunny: i didn't think at all abt how that might trigger u, and i still want u to know that u can back out whenever u feel uncomfortable. seriously.

your phone: it's okay, doyoung. i get it, i really do. and i promise that it didn't feel like u were forcing me or assuming that i would do it either

your phone: i knew it would probably trigger me like this too, but i kind of really wanted to be someone's mentor yk? it just… called to me ig

your phone: sounds kind of sad lol

boss bunny: nonono! not at all :( i understand that too

boss bunny: i admire ur strength, yn

your phone: DOIE 🥺

boss bunny: …okay love u and all, but let's not use that emoji yeah? T-T

your phone: okay wtv 🤧 now stop texting cuz ten is starting to realize ur not slick at this

boss bunny: AM TOO. >:(

— ✶

"He kept looking at his phone and then at you, like, every five seconds," Ten giggled, his shoulder absentmindedly brushing against yours as the two of you strolled side by side through the numbing cold night. Dinner had concluded just about half an hour ago, and while Kun ferried Doyoung and Seungkwan home, you and Ten decided to head down a few blocks to get milk tea and hang out.

You clapped your hands together in delight, your laughter lighting up the night. “That’s what I’m saying! He just wasn’t subtle about it and he kept arguing with me that he was.” You shook your head, tongue darting out to lick your lips, “It’s okay though. I think Dad Doyoung’s antics are charming.”

Ten grinned. “Dad Doyoung? I think he’s more of an uncle; ‘Dad’ is Kun’s title.”

“Fair enough.”

“Ayo, Ten!”

Both yours and Ten’s heads whipped upward at the sound of his name being called. You didn’t actually recognize the voice, but when you saw the lineup of four young men coming toward you from the opposite end of the street, you didn’t need to recognize it. Because, well, you recognized their faces.

Huh, you had been running into Changmin and his like a lot more often recently.

Heading straight for you was Changmin, Chanhee, Juyeon, and—you thought his name was Kevin. Kevin was the one who had called out to Ten, and he waved excitedly over to your friend. Based on Changmin’s not-so-subtle frown at Kevin, you could assume that this was not expected. Maybe he was going to advocate crossing the whole street to avoid you.

“Oh, hey Kev!” Ten greeted back cheerily, glancing at you beside him. “Do you know Kevin and Juyeon?”

You bobbed your head. “Briefly,” you replied. The two of your groups met in the middle, two blockades in the smack middle of the sidewalk. Impromptu meetups like this always seemed to end up clogging up the sidewalk for some reason.

After a swift greeting, Chanhee was already gesturing to the direction his group had already been headed in. “Hey, I’ll probably run up the street and get us a table. Haknyeonie says the tables fill up fast after eight o’clock.”

Juyeon perked up. “Oh, I’ll come with!”

Chanhee made eye contact with Changmin from across the group, and a silent form of communication passed between them. You watched this happen quietly, standing to the side with your hands tucked into your pockets while Ten and Kevin caught up from the last time they saw each other (apparently, it was a drawing and painting course from last quarter). However, instead of leaving with Chanhee and Juyeon, Changmin lingered with the three of you.

He naturally came to stand semi-close to you since he wasn’t exactly a part of the “drawing and painting” conversation. The frown from earlier had disappeared, though, and you didn’t know if you could call that a win or not.

Perhaps to you, the tension between the two of you was palpable. There were… far too many things up in the air at this moment, and it was nearly impossible for you to figure out just one thing to start with.

Plus, now was no time to get into all of that baggage. You needed to finish that intervention with Doyoung and Seungkwan before you could handle that kind of conversation—at least, that was what you would have preferred.

But for now, you found yourself clearing your throat and sparing him a glance. “Hey.”

Changmin’s eyes darted over to yours in ill-concealed surprise. “Hey.”

And that was that.

Luckily, Ten nor Kevin dragged on their conversation longer than it needed to be, and soon, you and Ten were passing by Kevin and Changmin as both parties went their separate ways. (You were going to pretend that you hadn’t looked back to watch Changmin walk away. Definitely not.)

“All good?” Ten asked, though, his voice was quieter than it had been before.

You could meet his eyes and nod. “Yeah.”

Ten followed up with an idle sort of humming noise, like he was one of those really loud computer fans (what in the world led you to think of that—?), “A few days ago, I kind of asked Changmin what the deal between the two of you was.”

“Oh?” Nervousness bubbled up the column of your throat. “What’d he say?”

He gave a shrug. “Something like a long-standing grudge.”

You let out a laugh that didn’t exactly sound like a laugh. “Well, I guess that’s one way to put it.” Was that how you would put it? In a way, that was what it was, but there was so much more to that, wasn’t there? Did Changmin think so little of what transpired between the two of you or was he just trying to deflect Ten’s interrogation?

The two of you had arrived at the tea shop by now, and Ten opened the door for you. The shop’s insides were warm and bright, and the tables were already filled up with fellow students who decided to hang out with friends on their Friday evening. You and Ten shifted over to the self-order kiosks to the side of the room and continued your conversation in low volumes.

“How would you put it then?” He asked. When you looked over at him, you realized that there was something scarily disarming about his eyes. “No pressure, of course. I mean, you can call me out on being nosy whenever; I figured it wouldn’t hurt to ask.”

You pursed your lips as you turned back to the screen to absentmindedly swipe down the page to find your preferred order. On the inside, you fought for the right words. “Changmin and I were best friends since we were kids,” you started, inputting your preferred level of sugar and ice like clockwork, “and we met through dance.”

Ten nodded to signal he was still listening, and the two of you swapped places so he could input his order.

You cracked your knuckles and rubbed your palms together to generate some kind of heat between them. “I didn’t really like dance at first. It was just one of those things my parents put me in to occupy my time after school and while they were working. But… well, you know how Changmin is with dance—it was and is his livelihood.”

“Even then?”

A nod. “Even then.”

When your orders were paid for, the two of you moved to a quiet corner of the shop to wait for your number to be called from the counter. You leaned your side against the wall next to Ten, your eyes staring blankly at a crack in the floor. “He was actually the reason I grew to love dancing,” you confessed. “As we got older and went into high school, sneaking out to practice together and performing together on stage became as easy as breathing air and as normal as…” You shook your head. “It was just a lot easier I think, back then.”

Ten tilted his chin toward you. “What happened between you two, Yn?”

You swallowed roughly. “In my first year of high school, my parents got divorced. I always suspected it would happen, but my mom kind of changed after that.” Your eyebrows crinkled as you recalled the memories of your early teenage years and tried to grapple with an adequate way to express them aloud. “And, to be fair, the more I danced, the more I didn’t want to focus on school work, but my mom became really hard on me about all that and I started to crack down on that stuff.

“Eventually, she got tired of taking me to dance practices and shows, and she blew up at me about how useless dance was going to be if I was going to become a doctor or something like that.”

Ten heard your number being called and nudged you to follow after him. He handed you your drink, and the two of you pushed back out into the chilly night. You didn’t really know where you were trying to go, but you didn’t really care. You both ended up in one of the small parking lots squeezed between two fast food restaurants, and you sat yourself down on the curb.

You continued, “And so, she would purposely forget to come home in time to take me to competitions and rehearsals. By the time I realized she wasn’t coming, I was already late every time. I would start walking myself there and taking the bus instead. Changmin started noticing that I was slacking, but I…”

“He didn’t know?”

“No.” You didn’t want him to know. Maybe it was your stupid pride that was preventing you from admitting that aloud. Maybe you were ashamed that your mom wasn't as accepting of dance as his parents were. You let out a shuddering breath and watched it come out in a visible puff in front of your face. “She made me grow spiteful toward dance,” you said stiffly. “I would be trying to stretch or practice movement in my bedroom while studying for exams, and she would come in and berate me.”

The yelling echoed in your mind, all too vividly. Your mother never physically hurt you, but there were still scars. “She’d discourage me from rehearsals or signing up for competitions by telling me I was nowhere near good enough, that dancing wasn’t going to put food on the table, and that I was—” A complete disappointment. You could pick those exact words out of a line up.

Ten’s eyes glistened with silver in the amber glow of the streetlight above you. “Jesus, Yn. I’m so sorry; that’s—that’s awful.”

You didn’t know how to accept the sympathy, even after having received so much from your other friends already. No matter how many times you retold your story, it was never quite right or in the way your brain wanted to portray it. You didn’t want to portray anyone as the villain; you figured that maybe you could have done something back then to prevent this. (You couldn’t have, actually, and that was the most difficult part to accept.)

“Yeah,” you murmured, setting your drink on the ground as you curled in on yourself slightly. “Anyway, by senior year, Changmin was obviously really into dance and was probably really stressed about auditions and end-of-the-year competitions. We basically… we basically took out our anger on each other. He said some things, I said some things. The rest is history.”

It was quiet for a moment as you let the words sink into the open air. Your chest loosened a bit after being able to tell another person about it, but for the most part, your hands still trembled. You reached for your drink again to take a sip and to force some kind of liquid down your throat.

After a while, Ten piped up, “Yn… I hope you know that you are not whoever your mother was trying to make you believe you were. You’ve probably realized that already—or maybe you’re still working on it—but please know that you’re probably one of the strongest people I know. It must have been really hard for you and I…” He exhaled, “Sorry, I’ve never been great at this.”

You sent him a small smile in return. “It’s okay; I still appreciate it.” After a beat, you added, “I know I act like I hate him, but I still want to see him succeed. I can’t think that ill of him, especially when he wasn’t the only one at fault.”

“Ah, that’s why ‘it’s complicated’, huh? I get that.”

“Yeah.” Your hands—god, if they could just stop shaking—

Ten reached over and covered your hands with one of his, and you let the heat of his palm warm yours. “You’re doing great, Yn. You know that, right?”

You couldn’t choke out an answer to that. You could only really say, “I just miss him sometimes.”

A sad smile. “I know. Maybe he does, too.”

You wanted to laugh, or maybe cry, at that. Anyone who got in the way of Changmin’s passions was no one to him. You would know exactly how that felt.

EPISODE SEVEN: [ROLLS RIGHT] OFF THE TONGUE

WHENEVER Changmin was feeling unsure of himself, he would retreat to his safe space: the practice rooms. Even if it was some time in the ungodly morning, like 2am as it was now, he would make the trek beneath molten gold streetlights and barren cobbled streets. It was the one place where he could focus his energy solely on dance, and forget about everything else.

Once upon a time, it had been your safe space just as much as it was his.

Changmin huffed a sigh as he hiked up the remaining flight of stone stairs that led up to the backdoor area of the performing arts building. It was a handful of hours since he and Chanhee parted ways with Kevin and Juyeon after enjoying dinner together. Chanhee was probably dead asleep by now—he was probably going to wake up and continue studying for his exams anyway.

As he turned to his right, his breath hitched as he caught sight of someone standing right outside the door. Usually, he had no trouble getting in and security wasn’t exactly strict in this area of campus. In fact, he almost never bumped into anyone, as strange as it sounded. Maybe he should have counted his blessings.

But then he recognized your jacket from earlier this evening, the very same one you were wearing while walking next to Ten—practically squished up against each other, two peas in a pod. He didn’t like how irked he was by that detail. He still couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that you had said “hey” first.

You weren’t looking at him, rather, your body was completely turned toward the door as if you were trying to decide whether or not you should go in. You were as still as a statue, frozen in time.

The moment, however, faded as quickly as it had come. You must have sensed his presence, and your head whipped around to face him.

There.

His heart leapt into his throat—dear god, why did you look so afraid? And then he noticed that you weren’t frozen still, but rather, channeling all your energy into keeping your body from trembling. Were you cold? What were you doing here so late? Why weren’t you with Ten?

He watched your throat move as you gulped. And then you were walking toward him—no, past him—wait, come back— “So that’s it?”

The grip he had on his duffle bag strap tightened when you stopped next to him just as you were going to walk past him toward the stairs. Your gazes clashed like a pair of twin lightning bolts slicing through the night sky. There had always been a sort of energy between the two of you, and when you were young, he had been so very attracted to that kind of power, one so similar to his… he didn’t think he was mistaken back then.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You said, still there. Your voice was low, but he could detect the edge.

He didn’t know what it was supposed to mean; he just didn’t want you to leave without knowing why you were here. Were you looking for him? “You’re not gonna say anything to me? Why are you here?”

(He swore it wasn’t supposed to come out that brusque-sounding, but he also didn’t know what it was supposed to come out sounding like…? He felt like he didn’t know you anymore.)

There was a narrowing of your eyes, and you both angled your bodies to face one another like a standoff. “No one said I had anything to say to you. And I—” You tripped over your words, “—I don’t know why I’m here. That’s why I was leaving.”

Oh.

Why was he disappointed by that answer?

“So you’re not here with Ten or something?” He asked, unsure what else he could say to keep you here, even for just a couple seconds longer.

Your mouth curled. "Clearly not. Why are you so pressed about me and Ten?"

Changmin pressed his lips together. "I'm not." Okay. Very believable.

The face you made said the same thing. "Okay, yeah. I didn't expect you to care so much anyway."

For a reason he loathed to admit, anger spiked in his blood and he felt the distinct need to defend himself. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"I don't know," you replied sarcastically, your volume rising, "maybe it's that you've never really cared that much about things that concerned me in the first place?"

"Now that's rich coming from you."

Your glare pierced his. "Oh, please. As soon as I started slacking—god, it took so little for you to just abandon me."

His jaw fell slack. Where the fuck did this conversation just turn to? "Abandon you? You abandoned me!" He exclaimed, finger flicking between the two of you as if he could impale both of your chests with the sharp edge of his accusations.

"How could I have possibly been the one to abandon you?" Your face contorted with so much more emotion than Changmin had ever seen from you over the past three years. Suddenly, he could see the underlying desperation and devastation hidden beneath the lines of bitterness and anger. His heart sank, but his blood still boiled and pumped. He couldn't get the distinctly awful hole in his chest to stop aching. He could remember exactly when you just stopped coming to practice with him. He could remember exactly the day he gave up hope.

"You—" you stammered, your hand flying to your throat. It was the same action he had seen from you just a few days ago while you were in the practice room. He recognized it as a habit of yours for when you were anxious or overwhelmed because your throat closed in on itself. If that wasn't enough to make him want to lay down his sword… "—you stopped caring. When did you stop caring? I just want to know."

Everything went silent for him, just for a split second. You thought… you thought he stopped caring? How could he ever stop caring about you? Wasn't that why he was so upset in the first place?

And when the world zapped back into play, he was sure his skin was ashen. His throat bobbed. "How could you think so little of me?"

Your forehead creased. "Little? Changmin, you were everything to me."

Dear heart—

You were shaking your head and taking a step away from him then. "You couldn't possibly understand."

Just like that, there was fire in his veins again. "That's because you never gave me a chance to understand!"

You threw a look back at him and again, he could read everything there like an open book, so much unlike the wall he had been met with all this time. "And I can say the exact same thing about you. If you think I kept things from you, Ji Changmin—" you said with the undertone of a snarl, so fierce that, as you turned on your foot to face him again, your breath came out like that of a dragon's smoke, "—then how much have you kept from me?"

His nostrils flared and his hands gestured wildly, vaguely—he pressed his palms to his eyes with a haggard sigh. "Why are you here, Yn?" He asked again, finally. He lowered his hands and took a step toward you. "Are you here just to pick a fight with me?"

You paused.

He watched you open your mouth, then close it.

You pursed your lips, finally murmuring, "No. I didn't come here for you."

For some reason, that hurt even more.

— ✶

The practice room was colder than it usually was.

Changmin kept the lights dim for the sake of his stinging eyes, and he dumped his duffle bag in the corner of the room before making a beeline for the aux cord for the speaker system. He hooked up his phone and opened up his music files, his forehead pressing against the cool mirror wall.

For a moment, he simply let his eyes flutter shut and his lungs to breathe.

You were long gone by now, and Changmin considered just going back to his apartment, but he knew he would just lie in bed awake for hours if he did.

When he opened his eyes, he swiped out of his music and instead went to a file kept deep down in the depths of his storage. He had purposely named it so it would remain at the absolute bottom of the list when alphabetized, and the pass code on it was supposed to dissuade him from accessing it.

Supposed to.

He punched in the four digits of your birthday and the lock clicked open to reveal a hefty file of video after video. There were photos of you, too, somewhere, but the videos were all at the top of the file because of their size. He didn't know what he was gonna do when his phone ran out of storage; he figured that when that day came, it would either be when you and he finally figured shit out, or he got closure and could delete them all.

He sighed.

His thumb hovered over one of the video files near the top, one where he could see your face in the thumbnail.

When he opened it, his younger face filled the screen. His tongue poked out from his lips as he carefully settled his phone against the wall next to yours as both of your phones recorded the run-through that was about to happen.

"Changminnie! Come on, I'm starting the song!" Your voice echoed against the practice room walls, and his laughter soon followed as he scurried into place next to you.

Changmin watched his younger self transform his expression into something more serious, while you had looked at him through the mirror and burst out laughing.

Younger Changmin broke his facade, the dimples in his cheeks deep, his smile bright. "What?"

You grinned back at him. "Sorry, sorry! Nothing; it's just interesting how you can just shift your facial expression like that."

"You have to practice like you perform though!"

"I know, I know. I just like your smile better, y'know?"

Changmin could see the hearts in his younger self's eyes. Jesus, had he really blushed that hard? Younger Changmin cupped the back of his neck bashfully. "Really?"

You punched his arm playfully. "Yeah. It's really pretty, Changmin. I thought I told you this before."

"Well yeah, but it doesn't hurt to hear it again—yah! Hey, I can bite back, you know—!"

Changmin's eyes shuddered as the familiar melody of the song flowed into his ears. He abruptly slammed his thumb down onto the pause button.

No, he couldn't stomach hearing it. Not when he could recall every move from memory and not when he had no partner to complement those moves. It just reminded him of the gaping hole in his chest and the emptiness of this room.

"Let's get to work, Changmin," he muttered to himself as he swiped out of the folder and back to his music files. He had an actual to-do list in mind, after all, and it did not include a dive into the forbidden folder. (No matter how much he needed to hear your voice again, for once, not arguing with him.)

EPISODE EIGHT: OFF THE HOOK

"HE'S been pissy all morning—"

Changmin suppressed a groan of frustration as he heard his friend's voices nearing the dressing room he was in. All morning, the performing arts building had been a madhouse, even worse than the night of the draft showcase. Everyone just decided to be here today, whether they were his fellow dancers trying to score a practice room, one of the prospective actors auditioning for a part in Hyunjae's best friend's thesis play, or one of the tech members trying to make sure everything worked behind the scenes.

Changmin had gone from room to room in an attempt to find an empty one where he could have some peace in working on his own. He would have just gone home at this point, but Chanhee was stressing over his own exams, so Changmin was stuck here.

So taking all of that into account, including the rough encounter he'd had with you a couple days ago, plus a lack of sleep and coffee—not the happiest squirrel on campus.

(How could you just drop a bomb like "You were everything to me, Changmin" in his lap and expect him not to think of anything else for days on end?)

The door to the dressing room he was hiding in cracked open, and all of the cacophony from the outside flooded in, as well as a crush of his friends.

"Don't you guys have class?" Changmin moaned, his hand coming up to rub his sleep-deprived eyes.

"Well, yeah, but this is much more fun," came Younghoon's teasing chuckle as he walked over to Changmin and clasped a hand on his shoulder.

Changmin made a face. "I just wanted some peace and quiet."

Sunwoo scoffed. "Peace and quiet? You've come to the wrong place, hyung."

"Yeah," Hyunjae added on, "might as well take a break for once and come watch auditions with us! HJ!Yn needs help judging people anyway."

Changmin cocked a brow at the blond. "You should call Chanhee for that then. Shouldn't you be out there, Younghoon?" He nodded toward the tall, lanky drama major present.

Younghoon shook his head, bouncing on the balls of his feet. How did he have so much energy? "Nope. I'm auditioning for a part, so she's gatekeeping me from watching."

Changmin turned from his friends slightly as he reached down for his phone that he had situated on top of the small bluetooth speaker he had the good sense to bring. Then again, maybe he should have just stuck to earbuds… whatever. He was too tired to care. Part of him wanted to add to the chaos anyway.

"What's her thesis play about again?" He asked no one in particular. Sunwoo waddled over to him and stole his phone right from his hands and began browsing through the music selection.

"It's a modern take of one of Shakespeare's plays: Much Ado About Nothing," answered Younghoon. "It was really funny actually, like the original play. Lots of matchmaking, lots of stupidity. I think they dump someone in a lake..."

Hyunjae perked up. "Oh yeah! That was probably my favorite part of the whole script."

Changmin chuckled. "I was expecting you to say something like 'the whole thing's my favorite because my best friend wrote it'."

"Oh, no, that still applies."

Changmin, Sunwoo, and Younghoon all exchanged knowing looks with one another. Mhm… so they thought. There were a few too many in their friend group who had interesting relationships with their other friends. Exhibit A: whatever the fuck was happening with Hyunjae and his.

Hyunjae caught their silent communication and furrowed his eyebrows. "What?"

Sunwoo snorted, but Younghoon was the one to drawl, "It's absolutely nothing."

Changmin pressed his lips into a cheeky smile, brushing the bangs from out of his vision. Hyunjae's lips quirked to the side in a frown, but didn't make any comment on it. It wasn't a new reaction from the group, by any means, but… oh well. That would be a tale for another time.

With that being said, Changmin followed the three of them out of the relative privacy of the dressing room and out into the hustle-bustle of the main backstage corridor. As soon as that dressing room was vacated, however, somebody was swift to occupy it. Changmin cursed inwardly; guess he wouldn't be able to come back to that room later.

With the switching of theater leadership over the past year (a changing of the guard, if you would, but with professors and sponsors), the management of the entire performing arts department was a mess and a half. There were a few stand-out graduate students and undergraduates who were keeping everything in check for all of the events happening over this year—like Hyunjae’s best friend, Lee Jihoon (a graduate student specializing in sound and music production), and Moon Taeil (a graduate who was a soloist in the chamber choir).

As the four young men made their way closer to the immediate backstage, the sound miraculously dulled down. The lights were a lot dimmer here, as the spotlights were turned toward the main stage. Changmin spotted a few people scattered throughout the backstage area with phones or folded script packets in their hands as they recited their lines to themselves, with some even making exaggerated facial expressions and grand hand gestures.

Hyunjae’s best friend was one of the up and coming director-screenwriter “prodigies” that the drama department championed. She was a year older than Changmin was, and he didn’t need to be a genius to know that there were a crowd of people vying for a role in her graduating thesis play. It must have been stressful as fuck, but he knew that she had a good head on her shoulders—

“—I’m gonna stop you right there.”

HJ!Yn’s voice resounded from the other side of the hefty velvet curtains separating the backstage from the main stage. Hyunjae made a show of pressing his index finger to his lips to signal his friends to be quiet—Sunwoo thus made a show of rolling his eyes (“Duh, we’re gonna be quiet.”). They all huddled to the side of the curtain and poked their heads out to see what was going on.

The university performing arts hall was likely one of the most magnificent places on campus. It featured a vast array of floor seating, while also boasting three levels of balcony seats. Changmin remembered once briefly learning the anatomy of the theater seating: the floor or nosebleeds, the slightly lofted box seats, the grand circle, loge circle, and upper circle—the gods. It was all very antiquarian, but it was a place Changmin had become quite familiar with over the years.

The director herself sat in the dimmed nosebleeds section, in the smack middle. Someone had dragged out one of those plastic, foldable tables for her to set her paperwork and a small, battery-operated lamp on top of.

Curiously, sitting next to her was none other than Bae Sumin, your new recruit.

Changmin straightened, accidentally bumping into Younghoon’s shoulder as he did. “Sorry,” he whispered.

Younghoon shook his head to say that it was all good, his hand lifted in acknowledgement.

“Did you know Sumin was here?” He asked his friend.

Younghoon’s expression was thoughtful. “I think so? I left to go find you when I thought I heard someone say they saw her come in. Why? Did she not tell you when the dance department interviews were gonna be held?”

Changmin recalled receiving no notice. “No. I—I figured Yn would be here, too, then. Right?” Was he ready to face you again so soon? Would you even acknowledge him this time—?

Younghoon passed him an amused glance with a small smile fitted over his face. “That would make sense,” he murmured with his arms crossed over his chest. One of his hands reached up to idly massage his jaw. “I’d imagine she would be with her friends, somewhere around here. Though, it would also make sense that she would be sitting with Sumin, too. Then again—”

“You are… no help,” Changmin deadpanned.

His friend chuckled lowly, eyes upturned into slim crescents.

“Uh Jihoon-ah?”

Changmin and Younghoon’s attention flitted over towards the far side of the backstage and they watched as a girl chased after the resident sound producer graduate student. He was, perhaps, smaller than one might anticipate from the intimidating man, but he still harbored so much scary energy and talent within his body. Like all of the staff on the technical team, the pair were clad in all black.

Jihoon glanced up from his clipboard and at the girl. “Hm?”

The girl nodded toward the curtains. “Director is calling for a break and is asking if the house lights can be turned on.”

“Ah okay, come on then. Follow me.”

As the two of them strode across the length of the backstage, the girl’s eyes found Changmin and Younghoon, and… She was looking past him now at someone else. She lifted her hand in a small wave, paired with a smile, “Hi, Sunwoo.”

Changmin whipped his head around, only to realize that Hyunjae had disappeared, but Sunwoo was now standing on Changmin’s other side. He watched in utter delight as his younger friend flushed, even in the dim lighting, at the girl’s greeting. His eyes were wide as he squeaked out a quick, “Hey!” in return.

When Jihoon and his charge had gone out of view, Changmin turned on Sunwoo with a hyena cackle. “Oh my god! Who was that, Kim Sunwoo?”

Sunwoo seemed to shrink into the collar of his hoodie. “No one.”

Changmin’s laughter lit up the room just as the house lights thunk-thunk-thunk’d to life. Younghoon had slipped away, most likely to meet Hyunjae in the nosebleeds, which left only the two of them there alone. “Do you have a crush on her?”

“Yah! You’re such a menace,” Sunwoo groaned, whacking Changmin with the extra length of his sweater paw. “You can’t even talk, dude! You’re in love with a girl who can barely stand to be in the same room—” Sunwoo realized his slip up and slapped a palm over his mouth.

Ouch. The truth hurt, didn’t it? Changmin chuckled, though it was noticeably quieter now. “Well, you’re not wrong—” He shook his head, eyebrows creased together, “—wait, no. Wait, I’m not in love with her!”

Sunwoo rolled his eyes so hard he must have seen his brain up there. “Oh, please. The last time you were drunk and emotional, you showed us that secret little folder in your phone.” He jabbed his finger accusingly at the phone in Changmin’s hand.

Changmin scowled, pressing his phone to his chest as if to protect it in case Sunwoo decided to have wandering hands. “That was told to you in confidence!”

“No, it was told to me in a drunken stupor—” The two of them began to make their way back toward the edge of the curtain, ducking out from its shadow and onto the main stage. Hyunjae and Younghoon were indeed in the nosebleeds now, but Sumin was nowhere to be seen. Maybe she had only been here to observe the audition process. “And you guys say I’m the lightweight.”

“That’s because you are the lightweight.”

Just as the two of them hopped down from the stage and onto the ground floor of seats, Juyeon came in from the doors located at the back of the seats. He raised a hand in greeting to all present, cheerfully waving with that golden retriever-esque grin. “Hey guys! Oh, Changminnie, I was just looking for you.”

Changmin’s eyebrows flew up. “Oh? What’s up, Juyeon?”

Sunwoo retreated into the rows up where Hyunjae and Younghoon were, while Changmin met up with Juyeon in the rightmost aisle.

Juyeon threw a thumb behind him toward the direction he had just come from. “Sumin was asking if you would be willing to do your interview right now.”

His eyes widened slightly. “Right now?”

“That’s what I just said, wasn’t it?”

Changmin pressed his lips together, before nodding. “Uh, for sure. Yeah, lead the way.”

The two dancers hiked their way back up to the back of the area and through the door Juyeon had originally entered through. The main lobby was much less crowded—it was practically barren, which made it the perfect environment to conduct an interview in. Sumin was setting herself up at one of the couches, setting her laptop, phone, and coffee cup on the coffee table opposite to her.

She raised her head when she heard the door open and close, and a bright smile graced her features. “Oh, you found him! Thanks, Juyeonie.”

“Yeah, no problem,” he chirped. “I’ve got a couple things to handle first, but just ask someone to come find me once you and Changmin are done.”

With Juyeon swiftly taking his leave, Changmin was left to take a seat on the other end of the couch that Sumin was sitting at. “Hey, nice to see you again, Sumin,” he said, crossing one ankle over the other and resting his arm along the back of the couch.

The corners of her smile widened. “Nice to see you, too, Changmin! Sorry this was so sudden; I figured that I could get started on some of the interviews while I was here.”

“Oh, yeah, no worries,” he chuckled.

She reached for her phone, fidgeting as she swiped to a simple recording application. “I hope you don’t mind me recording this…?” At his consent, she nodded. “Okay, cool. I did wanna say something before we started.”

He sat up just a bit. “What is it?”

There was a sort of twinkle in her eyes, and if he wasn’t mistaken, her manner became a lot more bashful all of a sudden. “I have to confess that I asked my mentor, Yn, if she could send me some of your dance performance videos and I’m literally in awe of your talent. Like, I wanted to tell you how starstruck I am just being able to tell you this right now, but I just wanted to say this before we started.”

He broke into a boyish grin at this, his dimples becoming craters of joy in the apples of his cheeks. “Ah, thank you—that really means a lot,” he smiled.

Sumin added on, one of her palms pressing against the couch cushion as she leaned toward him slightly, “I mean, I don’t even know how Yn was able to find videos of you from high school, but I’m so glad she did, because—”

Wait what. Changmin was watching Sumin’s mouth move as she talked but he wasn’t truly hearing what she said. His humble, albeit a bit dumbfounded, smile remained, but her words from just before resonated in his head. There were definitely a few of his dance performance videos online from his high school days, but did you keep links to them? Did you keep the recordings on your phone?

The fact that Sumin asked you meant that she probably had no clue about your past, only that you were the person Sumin could rely on if she had any questions.

What did it mean? What did it mean?

His heart pounded in his chest at the thought that maybe he could possibly have an excuse to get you to talk to him, even if it was one, truly dumbass excuse.

“—ready?”

Changmin snapped out of his dazed state. “Sorry?”

Sumin blushed slightly, clearing her throat. At some point, she had pulled her laptop onto her lap and prepped her phone by placing it in between the two of them to record the following conversation. “Are you ready to start?”

He coughed, straightening and adjusting his position. “Oh, yeah—uh, sorry. Yeah, whenever you’re ready.”

Sumin gauged his reaction carefully, but instead of pressing the record button, she hit the power button. “If I may, you seem a little distracted. I don’t really want this to feel like a burden if you’ve got a lot on your plate.”

Shit. “No, I mean,” he shook his head, “I’m sorry. I guess my mind just wanders really easily when…” He huffed a sigh, dragging a hand down his face. “I’m a little tired, that’s all.”

“I totally get that,” she sympathized. “You’ve probably been practicing non-stop lately for the winter showcase. We don’t have to do this today if you’re not in the right headspace.”

He sighed and couldn’t help but feel just a little relieved. He needed to talk to Chanhee about this, math exam or dance practice be damned. But there was a part of him that definitely felt awful about having to cut off her interview even before it began. He gestured to her phone. “How about we reschedule? We could meet up sometime else during the week to redo this and I promise I’ll be all yours.”

He didn’t know what he did, but the pink on her cheeks deepened to a cherry red. “Oh, uh, sure!” She giggled, taking her phone and passing it over to him. “You can just put your phone number in there and I’ll text you to ask when you wanna meet up.”

Changmin nodded his agreement and swiftly inputted his contact information into the given slots. “Definitely,” he said before handing her phone back to her. The phone fumbled between the two of them, but Changmin was already standing up with the goal to go retrieve his bag (wherever it was), and to go consult Chanhee and the man’s infinitesimal opinions. “Really sorry again, Sumin.”

“Yeah, don’t worry about it!” She dismissed his worries with a flick of her wrist. “Would you mind finding Juyeon, though?”

Changmin sent her a thumb’s up over his shoulder on his way to the door. “Yeah, for sure.”

She returned the gesture, watching as he disappeared out of the main lobby. It was only when he was definitely gone, she covered her mouth with her hand and stared at his saved contact in her phone. Then, with a silent scream of happiness, she ran to her text chain with you to tell you all about it.

a/n: PLS STILL REBLOG THIS PART EVEN THO ITS NOT THE FULL THING PLS PLS PLS IM BEGGING

read part two here (also linked at top)

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[dustydaddyyy]

no strings attached | joel miller x fem!reader

pairing: joel miller x fem! reader

summary: you can't deny there's always been something between you and joel miller. The question is, is either of you going to do something about it?

warnings: swearing, unspecified age gap (reader is her late 20s and joel is canon age) canon-typical descriptions of violence, some good old fashioned pining, fluff, mentions of grief/death, implications of sex/smut, no actual smut, joel is disgustingly gentlemanly, no use of y/n

a/n:…………I know this isn't the next chapter of flashpoint guys, I know. But this has been in my drafts forever and I had some inspiration to finish off the final part. and now here it is, so please enjoy!! don't forget to let me know what you thought through reblog/likes/comments/asks, I love to hear all of your thoughts aka pls interact with my work or my motivation to write shrivels and dies inside

You had never been a fan of cold, which was funny, considering it was cold in Jackson almost all year round. Even the summers were mild, but you still found yourself aching for them every time the winter came around, nights getting longer and the days getting shorter. 

You're standing on the main square in Jackson, hands clasped around a steaming mug of something as you look up at the building in front of you, but more specifically, the men standing on the makeshift scaffolding, working on the building. In your other hand you're gripping a large thermos, almost too large for your single grip, but you manage to keep it between your fingers.

They'd been working on the outer façade of the building for the past two weeks, after part of it had collapsed after a particularly rough storm.

There's a presence to your left as your eyes sweep over the scaffolding, and you turn your head to look at Maria as she lets loose a sharp whistle.

"Come have some coffee," she shouts at those working, and you chuckle slightly to yourself as they start to come down.

"Like dogs," you say jokingly, taking a sip of your mug, "Man, I need to learn how to whistle like that,"

"Don't say that to their face," Maria warns you jokingly, "There's much too much ego to go around in that group to take that with any kind of grace,"

You let out another chuckle, shaking your head with a laugh as you look away from her and towards the people walking in your direction. It was a relatively small group, maybe 5 or 6 men, and as they approach, you recognize Eugene's smile.

"Finally came out of your cave, eh?" he asks jokingly, and you narrow your eyes at him as you lift the coffee thermos.

"I'm happy to take this home with me," you inform him, and he laughs, before he extends an arm and pulls you sideways against him, almost spilling your drink.

You'd been in Jackson for 3 years now, having arrived at their large wooden gates early one morning in nothing but a t-shirt and a pair of jeans, severely hypothermic, dehydrated and covered in injuries. You'd been barely conscious, almost collapsing onto the snow but managing long enough to explain your situation to the guard on patrol, who had been Eugene. You'd come from California, more specifically Santa Barbara, where the Rattlers, a group of militaristic slavers, had pillaged your settlement. You'd barely escaped with your life, and it had been a damn near miracle that you'd managed the two-week trek on foot with nothing but a handgun and a limited supply of bullets. Your only advantage had been that you'd had to walk across large parts of Nevada, the state in which you'd grown up and spent the first 9 years of your life before the world went to shit.

Hence the disdain for cold weather.   

"She's cute when she gets all frowny, isn't she?" Eugene jokes again, and you roll your eyes, albeit jokingly.

"Let's see how cute I am when I shove my boot up your ass," you half-threaten, and Eugene lets out a booming laugh as the rest of the men arrive where you'd been standing, and he looks down at you. 

"Cute and violent. . . " he muses, before turning to the group with a raised eyebrow, "Any takers?"

"I'm not cattle," you say with a scoff, shrugging him off of you with a sideways shove, before straightening out, "Now you better drink this coffee before I spit in it, Eugene,"

"I hear ya," he says with a chuckle, taking the thermos from you as you move your gaze towards the group of men talking.

You know most of them pretty well, and you watch as they huddle, taking cups from Maria. Only the two at the back are standing a little away from the group, talking to each other animatedly under their breath.

The Miller brothers had been an interesting addition to Jackson.

Tommy had been here when you'd gotten there, but only a few months himself, and it had been nice to talk to someone who hadn't been living in the settlement for years, already. You'd been fast friends, Tommy's open personality and kind heart matching with your own personality well. You'd watched him fall in love with Maria, even been the one standing by his side as a witness when they'd gotten married. Tommy was easy; and open book, you could almost always tell what was going in his head.

Joel, however. . . Joel had been an entirely different story. You'd only been in Jackson 2 years when he'd first arrived. It had been strange, watching as Tommy had reconnected, albeit not smoothly, with someone he'd only ever told you about. You'd heard stories of Joel, though not many, and so when he came to Jackson, you found yourself slightly disappointed by him. He'd been the most regular man you'd ever laid eyes on, not some superhuman killing machine, and together with Ellie, they'd felt like two feral cats waiting to be rehomed.

Then they'd gone again, only coming back a few weeks later, and you'd known something wasn't right. Ellie had been muted, almost a ghost of the person she'd been when she'd first arrived, and Joel had been. . . you hadn't quite managed to put your finger on it at first, but after a few weeks observing him, some things had started to make sense. He'd had a wound, on his left side, which had been stitched horribly and gotten infected, and hadn't been healing right. You'd never been much of a healer, but when you'd first arrived in Jackson the sick bay is where you'd originally been assigned, to work under one of the few doctors in Jackson, and so you'd been in charge of dressing the wound and making sure it healed, despite Joel's vociferous protests.

You hadn't taken it personally, ignoring his cold exterior and treating him the same way you had everyone else, until finally, he began to accept your help, and your tentative friendship. Still, you hadn't managed to put your finger on what had happened to Joel and Ellie, and every time you talked to him, it felt as though he was holding back, keeping something from you, from everyone.

It wasn't until you'd brought a pair of Joel's pants, which you'd found stuffed into a bag under his bed, to the laundry, and you'd cleaned the spatters of blood running up the side of Joel's pant leg that you'd figured it out. Well, about half of it, anyway.

You'd been discreet, washing the blood off the clothes quietly and without attracting attention, before bringing them with you one day when you had to change his dressing, and dumping them out in front of him.

"Explain," you'd said, your voice calm and your gaze open, raising an eyebrow.

He'd been angry with you at first, eyes widening in shock at the idea that you'd been snooping around in his house, but you had paid him no heed and sat patiently in the chair until his anger subsided and he was ready to talk. 

You hadn't judged him as he'd spoken, and when Joel had told you everything, all the way from Ellie's immunity down to what had gone down in Salt Lake City, you'd sat in silence for a second, processing, before you'd nodded and moved onto treating his wound.

You hadn't talked about it past that, but Joel's attitude towards you had changed that day; he'd been expecting you to yell and scream at him, to be horrified at what he'd done and the fact that he'd probably doomed all of humanity to hell in one split-second decision, but you hadn't.

"I understand," you'd told him, as you cleaned his wound, "We all do horrible things in the name of love,"

In that moment, in the face of his horrible confession, you were calm, collected and accepting, and it was the first time Joel had felt comfortable around someone in Jackson that hadn't been Ellie or Tommy.

What Joel doesn't know, is that the minute you came home, you had hurled the contents of your stomach into your sink.

You didn't know what you'd been expecting, but it hadn't been that.

Maybe it had been a combination of the cold-blooded violence you knew he'd committed, and the idea of a cure so close within the world's grasp, but it had been such a deeply visceral reaction you were shocked you had managed to keep your face so impassive for the time it took for you to finish treating him.

Then again, you did understand. Joel Miller was not the only one who had committed atrocities for the people he loved; god knows your own hands were far from clean in that regard.

"Hey. . . you still with us?" comes a voice through your thoughts, and you shake yourself out of your mind, eyes moving up to look straight into Joel's.

It had been almost a year since his first admission, and since then, despite your initial reaction, you had found yourself getting closer to Joel. You didn't talk about it, and nothing had ever happened between the two of you, but it didn't take a genius to know something was there. Not acting on it had been a conscious choice from your side, and Joel had just never initiated anything either, which you supposed was in character for him.

"Yeah," you say, blinking a few times as you clear your throat and give him a weak smile, "Just zoned out a little,"

"You look tired," he offers, his eyebrows knitting into a slight frown, "You sleeping okay?"

"Gee, thanks," you let out in a scoff, and he gives you a look as you cover your exhaustion with a chuckle, "I'm sleeping fine, but it's good to know I apparently don't look that way,"

Joel lets out a breath through his nose at your tone, rolling his eyes slightly at your joke. "You ain't funny," 

The truth? Joel was right, you hadn't been sleeping.

You'd always suffered from night terrors as a child, sometimes waking up in all hours of the night screaming and crying and inconsolable for long period of time until your parents would wake you up and snap you out of it. You'd grown out of them, though, or so you thought.

They'd started up again a few months ago, ranging anywhere from waking up in the middle of the night in your bed with tears running down your face, to bouts of stomach-churning sleep paralysis that would leave you so shaken you wouldn't be able to sleep for the rest of the night. 

"Miller!" comes Eugene's voice from your left, "You want some coffee, or do you get your kicks out of chatting up younger women?"

"He's doing it a right sight better than you ever did," you fire back, almost immediately, "So you really shouldn't be saying shit,"

The men around Eugene burst into raucous laughter, and you watch as the corners of Joel's mouth turn up into the hint of a smile as his gaze moves down to his feet for a second, before he clears his throat and looks back up at you.

"Nice," he comments, and you give him a smirk, raising a confident eyebrow and bowing your head.

"Why thank you," you say jokingly, your chest blooming with the compliment, and he shakes his head slightly with a chuckle, before stepping away from you for a second to get some coffee. You watch him go, eyes following him as he pours himself a mug, eyes running over the expanse of his large hands–

You hadn't even noticed Maria coming to stand next to you until she'd cleared her throat, forcing you to look away from Joel hastily and to her. She's giving you a look, raising a single eyebrow as her eyes move between you and him.

"Not a word," you tell her, and purses her lips with a smile, shaking her head.

"Wasn't going to say anything," she muses, and you roll your eyes, before taking a deep breath.

"I think I'm gonna go,"

"Already?" comes Tommy's voice as he steps towards the both of you with a steaming cup in his hand, "You just got here,"

"I did what I came to do," you tell him, before raising a brow, "I ain't got all day,"

Maria's nose crinkles. "Ain't?" she repeats, before raising her eyebrows at you, "Some of that Texan charm rubbing off on you, kiddo?"

"I resent that nickname," you inform her, actively avoiding answering her question, your underlying tone humorous, "As if we aren't only a decade apart,"

"Hmm," Maria hums sarcastically into her cup, "That's a generous definition of decade,"

"You not sleeping well, kiddo? You look tired," Tommy asks, brow creased in concern as he looks at you, and you let out a groan, hands coming up slightly in exasperation.

"Jesus Christ," you mutter, just as Joel steps back towards your group, his ears picking up the tail end of your sentence, "What is it with you Millers? You really tell it like it is, don't you?"

"You look radiant," Maria supplies, and you give her a false, sweet smile.

"Oh, thank you," you half-mutter, before shaking your head with a smile, "But I'm wrecked. . . I worked the double shift for Seth last night and again tomorrow night, so I need to just take a day and sleep,"

"That's fair enough," Tommy says with a grimace, before he gives your shoulder a pet, "Sweet dreams,"

"Thanks," you breathe through a laugh, before you look at Joel with a small smile, "I'll see you later,"

He gives you one of those rare smiles of his own, and it makes his features only more handsome, "See you later,"

Your gaze tears away from him to nod at Maria, who gives you a strangely knowing smile which you ignore, turning on your heel and trudging back through the snow.

Joel had never meant to be standing on your doorstep later that day. Yet, here he was, fingers twitching nervously at his side as he knocks on your door.

He's not even sure you're awake, but it's evening now, the sun slowly disappearing behind the horizon and darkening the sky, so he guesses you might be. He's holding a plastic bag of groceries; it's nothing much, just some fruit and vegetables and some sausages he'd managed to trade for yesterday because Ellie loved them so much. But Ellie hadn't been in when Joel had got home that afternoon, leaving a note that she was spending the evening with a friend, but would be home for the night. He'd sat in his living room for a few hours, reading and trying to occupy himself, before deciding he didn't want to eat alone, and packing a few things from the fridge into a bag.

And now, here he was.

At your door.  

After almost an entire minute of silence, Joel thinks to himself that you're probably still passed out somewhere, and just as he's about to turn and leave, the door flies inward.

The first thing Joel notices is your eyes. They're wet, as if you'd been crying, but somehow still filled with a groggy sleep at the same time. Your chest is moving quickly as your eyes focus on him standing on your doorstep, and some of the concern in your features melts.

"Joel," you let out his name, and your voice small, and tired, before you clear your throat, "Hi,"

"Are you okay?" he asks almost immediately, frowning slightly at your appearance, and he sounds alarmed, "What's wrong?"

"I'm fine," she reassures him, shaking your head slightly, "I was just having a nightmare. . . I'm kind of glad your loud ass knocking woke me,"

You say that last part with a weak chuckle, voice lightening slightly as you try for a smile, "What can I do for you?"

Shit, Joel thinks to himself, and he finds himself rooted to the spot.

"I uh–" he clears his throat, "Ellie isn't in tonight, and, well. . . no one's seen you all day, so I assumed you didn't have any dinner plans,"

"You're not wrong. . . if I have my way it's going to be some stale crackers and cheese," you comment with a grimace. 

"Not very nutritious," Joel hums, and you chuckle, nodding, "I'm no chef but I can definitely do better than crackers and cheese," 

Another beat of silence passes, before your eyes go slightly wide and you open the door further. "Sorry, sorry. . . forgot this was the part where I invite you in, I'm still half-asleep. . . come on in, please,"

Joel doesn't need to be asked twice, following you through over threshold of your front door as you disappear down the hall and into the kitchen, back of your hand coming up to wipe your eyes.

Joel isn't often in your house; it isn't entirely your own, and he'd heard from Tommy when he'd first gotten here that houses in Jackson were often shared to maximize space. He'd met your housemate, Bonnie, only a handful of times, including most of that handful when he'd fixed the wobbly bannister of your staircase a few months ago.

The house looks different since the last time he's been, and he can't help but notice new paintings hanging on your wall. They're strange, a haphazard mix of colored strokes with no particular pattern or purpose, but they're nice nevertheless. 

"Where'd you get those?"

"You want the honest answer?" you ask, as you step out of the kitchen and watch him looking, and Joel frowns jokingly as he looks at you, waiting for you to go on, "Bonnie and I got high last month and painted them,"

Joel's eyebrows fly up his forehead. "You what?"

Your smile becomes bashful as you purse your lips, Joel's inquisitive look making you squirm slightly.

"Yeah. . . " you say, clearing your throat with another bashful smile, before you try to shrug it off, "Eugene has–. . . anyways, it doesn't matter,"

You disappear back into the kitchen, and Joel looks back at the paintings, considering the new bit of context you'd supplied him with.

"You want a drink?" you half-holler, and you hear Joel's footsteps enter the kitchen as you reach into one of the cabinets, "I have tea or. . . gin, honestly. I know you're more of a whiskey man, but Bonnie makes it in the basement, and it isn't even half-bad,"

"You make gin in your basement?" Joel asks, and again you hear the same surprise in his voice as earlier, "Do you also run an undercover gambling ring, or. . . ?"

"Oh yeah," you respond, playing along as you step onto your tip toes reach into the back of the cupboard for two clean glasses, "We also occasionally organize cock fights, they're a big hit," 

Joel chuckles, setting the groceries down on your kitchen table, before he notices you struggling.

"Jesus Bonnie," you mutter to yourself, "Why do you always have to put the glasses in the back?"

"Here," Joel says, and he doesn't even think as he steps towards you, arm extending over yours to reach the glasses you're aiming for, the front of his chest brushing up against your shoulder as he grabs them, "I got it,"

The sound of his gravelly voice so close in your ear, and the feeling of his breath on the nape of your neck, makes you fight an urge to shiver, deciding instead to take a deep breath as you swivel around, facing him just as his arm comes down, two glasses clamped between his fingers.

"Thanks," you say with a soft smile as you look up at him, and Joel nods, eyes looking down and resting on yours for a second. You're standing almost face to face, the front of his flannel ghosting your own shirt. Then, he clears his throat, stepping backwards and away from you.

"I'll try some of that gin," he tells you, and your smile widens knowingly.

"I promise you won't go blind," you tell him with a laugh, and then you're on the move around your kitchen again, reaching into a cabinet and pulling out what looks like an old milk bottle filled with clear liquid, "Bonnie's good at it, believe it or not,"

"How do you even start brewing gin?" Joel asks as he sets the glasses down, and you chuckle slightly.

"We went on patrol once, in Grand Teton?" you explain, "She'd been making vodka by then already, but she saw a juniper bush and almost shit herself with excitement. . . it took us an hour to strip the damn thing clean of berries,"

"She a big drinker?" he asks as you unstopper the bottle, before pouring some of the stuff into both glasses, and you shake your head.

"Not more than me," you tell him, "But it keeps her busy, gives her something to do that isn't just patrol, y'know?"

Joel nods silently, before you hold the glass out to him. He takes it from you, ignoring his fingers brushing over yours and the way it makes his heart skip in his chest. You're not done with your drink, reaching into the fridge to grab another bottle, which looks like juice. It's a rich, dark pink color, and the little sticker on the side has a hastily scribbled 'Cherry' in your cursive handwriting.  

"Takes the edge off," you say with a sigh as you watch him read the label, and Joel nods, before he takes a sip of his gin.

It's quite pleasant, much smoother than the bootleg Whiskey he used to drink in the QZ, but as it travels down his gullet, it brings with it a burn Joel knows is going to make him regret drinking it, later.

"You weren't wrong," he notes, clearing his throat after having swallowed it down, "That's actually quite pleasant,"

"Right?" you ask, before you take a sip of your own drink. A sip is generous, and before Joel knows it, you've downed the entirety of your glass, frowning for a second as the liquid burns down your throat.

You can tell he wants to open his mouth and say something, but you're grateful he doesn't, instead putting his glass down with a breath and grabbing the bag of groceries.

"Sit," he instructs you, motioning towards the chair at the dining table that's in the middle of the kitchen, and you don't protest, only moving to pour yourself another drink.

It's silent for a moment as he unpacks the vegetables, but after a second, Joel speaks up as he runs the carrots under the tap.

"Are you sure you're alright?" Joel asks, "That the reason you haven't been sleeping? Nightmares?" 

Your response isn't immediate, and it's only when Joel looks back at you and sees your expression that he realizes this may be a sensitive topic. You give an uneasy smile, before shaking your head.

"Yeah," you manage to bring out, pursing your lips, "They're nothing too serious, I just wake up and then I can't sleep anymore, don't know why," 

You do know why. You know that sometimes the dreams are so intense, so scary, that you don't dare close your eyes again, at least not by yourself. Sometimes, you'd go downstairs, and crawl into bed with Bonnie. She'd been there, once, waking you from the middle of a dream while you'd been screaming the house down, and she'd not hesitated in taking you downstairs with her to sleep in her bed after you'd confessed to being scared out of your wits of being left alone.

Joel hums, nodding as he turns back towards what he'd been cooking, and you can't tell whether or not he's bought your lie.

"Ellie not home tonight then?" you ask after a second, and Joel nods, clearing his throat as chops some vegetables on one of your two cutting boards.

"She'll be home later," he informs you, "But she's out now, yeah,"

You give an agreeing hum, and for a second there's another silence that weighs heavy in the room.

"Joel," you let out, your voice a half groan, and he hums in question, peering over his shoulder, "The silence is killing me,"

Joel can't help the chuckle that escapes his lips as he goes back to dinner, shaking his head with a joking air. "Forgot you couldn't handle that,"

"I really can't," you agree, taking another sip, and Joel chuckles again. You watch the expanse of his shoulders and his back under the denim shirt as they move with his laughter, finding your fingers itching to just reach out and run your hand over the smooth lines of his muscles.

"You're in the wrong company for that then, darlin',"

The nickname jars you out of your thoughts, but it does absolutely nothing to quell the desire that had reared its head in your chest just seconds ago.

"I digress," you declare, trying to distract yourself from staring at him too much, "You're a good conversationalist when you want to be, Miller,"

"I'm so flattered you think so," Joel retorts sarcastically, and you smile into your drink, letting out something that sounds halfway between a giggle and a chuckle.

The sound bounces off the walls of the kitchen, and it makes Joel smile, aware that he's turned away from you and you can't see his reaction to your laugh.

"How was your day?" you ask after a second, your voice exaggerated.

"It was good," Joel says simply, aware that it's making you want to tear your hair out, "Fixin' the barn,"

"That was six words, Joel," you say, voice jokingly incredulous, "This is seriously like pulling teeth,"

Joel chuckles again, shrugging his shoulder, before he turns to look at you, grabbing his glass as he leans against the counter.

"Sounds like you got a decent challenge ahead of you then," he tells you, raising a teasing eyebrow as he takes a sip of his gin, corner of his mouth pulled into what can best be described as a troublemaker smile.

You love this side of Joel. Underneath all the rugged, surly exterior, he has something else to him; a witty remark, a teasing smile, a flirty comment. . .he has more depth to him than you'd ever expected at first glance, and something that spells trouble, something that drives you absolutely crazy.

"Never one to shirk from an honest challenge," you say, raising your own eyebrows, before you clear your throat.

Another silence fills the room as you look at each other, waiting for the other to say something.

"Okay," you say in a breath, rolling your eyes, "I guess it's up to me. . .but you actually have to answer some of my questions, okay? You can't just give me a wall of silence," you tell Joel, and he raises a joking eyebrow.

"Wall of silence?" he asks, and you give him a look.

"You know exactly what I mean," you tell him, pressing your lips together in thought, before you give a victorious expression, ". . . in fact, every time you pass on a question you have to drink," Joel chuckles, shaking his head as he crosses his arms over his chest, still leaning against the counter.  "I can do that," "Okay. . .what is-. . .," you trail off as your eyes sweep across the kitchen as you think of what to ask Joel, "-your favorite color?' "My favorite color?" Joel repeats, and he gives you a mocking impressed face, "Those keen conversational skills really helping you along aren't they?' "Joel," you warningly, and he sighs, arms uncrossing. "It's green," he tells you, "My favorite color is green. . .what's your favorite color?" "I'm asking the questions!" you say with a small laugh, and Joel gives you a furrowed brow, corners of his mouth pulling into a smile. "Come on, you really think I'm going to let you interrogate me without at least getting to return the favor?" he asks you, eyes boring into yours You press your lips together as you let out a joking scoff through your nose. "Fine, you can ask me questions, too–"

"And If I have to drink when I pass–" he muses, to which you roll your eyes again.

"–so will I," you assure him, before grimacing, "Though with my tolerance, I might not make it to dinner,"

Joel snorts, eyebrows raising slightly in agreement as he turns back to the counter. "You didn't answer my question,"

"My favorite color is yellow," you inform him, and you watch as the back of his head nods.

"That makes sense," you hear him say, as your fingers tap nervously on the table, thinking of what to ask.

"Dream job?" you ask, before adding, "And you can't say contractor,"

Joel is silent for a second. "Farmer,"

You don't say anything, despite your eyebrows raising in surprise, and Joel peers over his shoulder when you stay quiet.

"Favorite season?" he asks, and you smile, giving him a pained look.

"Summer," you say in a groan, and he laughs, shaking his head as he continues chopping, "Which sucks because Jackson mostly has winter,"

"The summers here can be nice," Joel notes, and you let out a breath.

"Sure," you agree, "They can be nice. . . nothing compared to the ones we used to get in Nevada, though,"

"I bet," he notes, and you let out another wistful breath.

"Do you need help?" you ask him, and he shakes his head.

"Think I can manage some dinner,"

"But it'll be faster if I help," you protest, "Come on, I can chop some vegetables, or something,"

"Alright," Joel eventually agrees, and you get to your feet, making your way over to stand next to him, before holding out your hand.

"Put me in chef," you tell him half seriously, but the corners of your mouth are pulled up into that smile.

You're standing close to him, but not so close that you're crowding him. Your smell nevertheless tickles Joel's nostrils in a pleasant way.

Joel's own mouth twitches in mild amusement as he hands you the knife, handle down, and slides the cutting board over. "You chop these, then. . . I'll get started on the onions,"

"Good thing, too," you say with a nod, before getting to work as Joel moves away from you, "Onions make me cry like a baby. . . cutting board is in the third drawer under the stove,"

Joel chuckles as he rummages around for another cutting board and a knife, grabbing an onion from the bag.

"Okay," you hum, nothing but the sound of chopping filling the kitchen, "Any hobbies?"

"I thought you were helping," Joel comments pointedly, and you snort.

"You're not getting away from me that easy," you tell him, "I can help and interrogate, at the same time,"

"That so?" Joel hums as he chops the onions, eyes moving to you for a second and meeting your gaze.

"Yes," you tell him, nodding as a mischievous smile overtakes our features, "I'm a very good multitasker. . . now. . . hobbies,"

Almost the entire bottle and an entire dinner later, you and Joel are sitting on opposite sides of the dinner table, dirty dishes forgotten in the sink. You'd just stood up to reach into the cupboard for another bottle of something to replace the almost empty one on the table, reaching up into the cupboard. The shirt you're wearing rides up as you do, and Joel finds his eyes drawn to the exposed skin of your waist.

"I got one," you declare as you pause from reaching in the cupboard "Any tattoos?"

Joel actually laughs, head tilting back for a minute before he returns with his eyebrows raised but his smile intact. "An old man like me?"

"I'm sure you were young once," you counter with a laugh, and he shakes his head with another chuckle.

"Very funny," he tells you as you pull a bottle of wine from the cupboard, "Where'd that come from?"

"Emergencies," you tell him with a cheeky smile, before pursing your lips, "Or nice dinners,"

"I'm going to take that as a compliment," Joel tells you, before downing the sip of gin that was still in his glass, and you hum as you come to sit back down.

"It was," you tell him, and when Joel looks at you, you give him an expectant look, "You never answered my question,"

"I have one," Joel says with a sigh, "But I got it when I was drunk, with Tommy. . . it's a stupid one,"

You let out a laugh as you open the bottle of wine. "No way! Where is it?"

"That's two questions," Joel reminds you, and you snort sarcastically, raising a single eyebrow.

"Didn't know we were actually keeping count, Miller," you retort, and Joel just smiles as he shakes his head, before he clears his throat as he sits up a little straighter.

"It's on my thigh," he tells you eventually, and a grin spreads over your face as you shake your head, before pouring him some wine.

"Classic," you say in a laugh, "I bet it was popular,"

"It was," Joel says in a humorous tone, nodding as he watches you pour yourself a drink, "What about you?"

Your eyes look up at him as your put the bottle down, tongue kissing your teeth.

"I do," you say, deliberately not elaborating, and Joel's eyebrows raise a little.

"I shared, darlin', now it's your turn," he tells you, and you laugh a little, teeth chewing into your lip as you look away, maybe a little bashfully.

When you look back at him, you speak. "I have four,"

Joel's eyes go a little wide as he looks at you in surprise. "Four? How come I haven't noticed four tattoos?"

"It's not that many," you defend, before shrugging nonchalantly, "Besides, they're not in places I usually show a lot of people,"

"Like exclusive access?" Joel jokes, and you give a full laugh, head tipping back slightly as your shoulders shake.

"Exactly like exclusive access," you return in between laughs, and for a second, it's just the two of you, sitting in your kitchen, laughing.

It feels almost normal, like you're just two adults, having dinner; no Jackson, no cordyceps, no apocalypse.

You take another sip of wine, eye calculating as you think about your next question.

"Do you believe in love at first sight?" you ask him finally, putting down your glass.  

Joel thinks about this one, leaning back in his chair, legs parting slightly in such a way that makes you fight the desire in your belly, pressing your legs together slightly as your heartbeat skips slightly. You fight an urge to blush at your own thoughts, chastising yourself for sitting here drooling over a man that's nearly twice your age.

"Yes," he says eventually, nodding, and your mouth parts slightly in disbelief, mouth curling into a teasing smile.

"You believe in love at first sight? You? Ice King Joel Miller believes in love at first sight?"

"Ice king?" Joel asks, raising an eyebrow, "You're giving me a bad rap, darlin',"

"You did that all by yourself," you note, half under your breath, taking a sip of your drink, and he frowns slightly.

"What do you mean?" he asks you, his interest peaked, and something bashful crosses your face.

"Nothing," you say in a nonchalant voice as you pour yourself more wine, the bottle already emptying way faster than you intended it to, and Joel raises an eyebrow as he sits back in his chair again. It's taking a lot of willpower for you not to stare at the way his legs spread or his arms cross, making the biceps under his t-shirt bulge.  

"I'm going to try that again," he tells you, and his voice is almost chastising as his eyes pierce yours, "And this time you aren't going to lie to me,"

"Or what?" you ask him, shaking your head with a small smirk, drinking again. You don't know why you challenge him, but you feel some enjoyment at the way Joel's eyebrows fly up his forehead in surprise and he kisses his teeth in mild annoyance as you let out a sarcastic chuckle into your glass, "You going to put me over your knee, grandpa?"

"Who says I won't?" Joel retorts swiftly, and he raises a single eyebrow as his eyes bore into yours.

It makes your heart skip, and something about his level, raspy tone sets something alight in your lower belly, which you try desperately to ignore. Joel enjoys the way your eyes flash with surprise and something he thinks he recognizes as lust, but it's gone so fast he can't say it with any certainty.

You're silent as you press your lips together, before you eventually let out a breath. "It's nothing major. . . just a bit of a reputation you have going,"

"As what?" Joel asks, frown deepening, but eyes still alight with curiosity as he scrutinizes your face.

"Emotionally unavailable, I guess?" you supply, and you try your hardest to keep your tone as neutral as possible, despite the knots of unease in your stomach.

Saying it about Joel was one thing; saying it to Joel? Awkward as fuck.    

Joel seems to think about that, staying silent as you fight an urge to wring your hands.

"Listen, it's nothing too bad," you tell him, giving him a tense smile, "I mean, it could be worse. . ."

"Worse?" Joel asks you, almost jokingly, and you grimace.

"Eugene's blacklisted for being selfish," you offer, "That's pretty bad,"

"Blacklisted?" Joel lets out in a splutter, putting down his glass with a thunk, "By who?"

You shrug. "Women talk, Joel. . . this is a small community, word gets around,"

Joel seems to consider this, before he reaches over the table and grabs the bottle from where it had been standing in front you.

"And," he says, pouring himself another glass, "Is he?"

"Is who?" you ask, frowning quizzically, and Joel looks up at you as he takes a sip front the glass.

"Eugene," he tells you patiently, eyes curious, "He really selfish?"

"How am I supposed to know that?" you ask him, before you narrow your eyes at him, "You asking me if I've slept with Eugene, Joel?"

Joel stays still for a second, shrugging. "Just wonderin' whether you have any proof to back up these claims,"

"I have plenty of proof," you retort, giving him a look, "He went on a few dates with Jeannie last year and she told me he barely even touched her when they–"

You stop yourself, clamping your mouth shut and pressing your lips together, before you shake your head. "We're getting off topic,"

"Off topic?" Joel asks humorously, "I'd say we just got on topic,"

"I'm not talking any more about this," you tell him, but the corners of your mouth pulling up into a smile betray you.  

"You can't just bring it up and leave me guessing," Joel replies, and you let out a frustrated breath, "Now I sort of want to know how selfish Eugene is,"

"Didn't have you pegged for a gossip, Miller," you tell him, raising your eyebrows, and he shrugs.  

"There's a lot of things you don't know about me, darlin',"

"Hence the game we were playing,"

"Mmh," Joel hums non-commitally, "Still waiting on that answer,"  

"Listen, all I know is that when Bonnie slept with him a few months ago, he didn't reciprocate much. . . apparently it lasted all of 5 minutes and not one was spent on her,"

Joel grimaces, nodding in agreement. "That sounds pretty bad,"

"I told you," you say victoriously, and he chuckles lightly, shaking his head.

"You sound entirely too pleased about it," he comments, and you snort.

"I'm not surprised, is what I am," you inform him, taking a sip of your wine, "Eugene is. . . well, Eugene,"

"You seem pretty close," Joel notes, and you don't know if you hear something else in his voice other than curiosity. You raise a single eyebrow.

"You asking something?" you ask him. 

"I'm not asking nothin'," Joel denies, putting his hands up, and you shake your head, corners of your mouth twitching into a smile. Then, you let out a small breath.

"When I first got to Jackson, Eugene's the one that let me in. . . I was a mess. . . hypothermic, covered in blood, barely alive, and for all he knew I could've been part of some elaborate raiding scheme, or infected. He had every reason not to let me in, but he did. . . he's the reason I'm alive," you explain to Joel, before clearing your throat, "Maria was furious with him, which I guess I understand. . . she has her own people to protect. . . but he never let up. He didn't even know me, and he stood up for me when they were still considering throwing me back out,"

"I didn't know that," Joel comments, and you let out a small chuckle.

"You know the old bank building?" you ask, and he nods.

"Maria said it worked as a jail but they'd never used it,"

"Oh, they used it alright," you say with a curt smile, "They hadn't learned to train those nifty dogs yet when I got to Jackson, and I was covered in so many cuts and scrapes they couldn't figure out whether or not I'd been bitten. . . didn't matter what I said. I was in there for two whole weeks while they waited it out, and Eugene came to see me every single day. . . Tommy, too, but it took him a few days before he started showing up. . . he'd only been there a few months himself, and I guess he wasn't keen to step on anybody's toes, which I understood,"

"Jesus," Joel mutters, and you can see the flash of unease in his eyes at the thought of you locked up in one of the makeshift cells of the bank, "Not the warmest welcome,"

"I can't blame them," you remark, raising your shoulders in a half-shrug, "It's a miracle this place has survived as long as it has. . . I would also have been apprehensive,"

"But, to answer your earlier question–" you say, clearing your throat as you sit up straight.

Because we both know what you were really asking.

"–Eugene tried to kiss on me once, and I laughed at him, so safe to say we are friends," 

Joel makes another grimace, trying to hide the pleased expression on his face as best he can, but you can still see it in his eyes. "Nothing like laughter to crush a man's ego,"

"Some egos need crushing," you tell him with a single raised eyebrow, before taking a sip of your drink.

"That's true enough," he agrees, before a silence falls over the two of you. After a second, you let out a breath, looking at the pile of dishes in your sink.

"I better do those before Bonnie comes home," you tell him, getting to your feet, "She has a thing about dishes in the sink,"

Joel gives a rare, knowing smile. "I'll help ya out,"

"Thanks," you say with a small smile as you reach the sink, turning the tap on as Joel comes to stand next to you, "Grab that towel? You're on drying duty,"

"Yes, ma'am," he jokes, grabbing one of the towels hanging off the handle of the cabinet.

"Ok, your turn to ask questions, now," you inform him as you start cleaning off some of the plates, "I'm out of ideas,"

"Alright," he says with a nod, before pausing to think, "You never told me what your tattoos were,"

"Now what did we say about exclusive access?" you retort, turning your head to raise a playful eyebrow at him, and he turns to look at you, corners of his mouth twitching slightly. You're practically standing shoulder to shoulder like this, his arm and leg brushing against yours from time to time, sending shockwaves up your spine.

"You tellin' me I gotta find a way to figure it out for myself?" he asks you, and his tone is lower than it was before as he looks at you, his eyes dancing with humor in the light of the kitchen as you give an innocent shrug, sucking some air between your teeth in a teasing sound, lips pulled into an almost-smile.

"Can't just go around telling everyone, now can I? Kinda defeats the whole 'exclusive' point," you muse, and he lets out something that sounds like a chuckle as he raises his eyebrows, nodding slightly as his tongue runs alongside the inside of his cheek.

Joel is so close to you now, you can smell the gin and wine on his breath. He doesn't say anything, he doesn't have to, his gaze saying enough for the both of you as it briefly moves from your eyes to the other features on your face, lingering on your lips a second longer. You feel something which you think are his fingertips, ghost the side of your hand, which is resting on the edge of the sink, and you swallow as you look up at him.

"What?" you ask him, quietly, raising an eyebrow, and he shrugs slightly. 

"I didn't say anything,"

"You're looking at me," you say pointedly, and Joel's mouth curls into a gentle, but teasing smile.

"Is it illegal to look at a beautiful woman?"

You swallow, hard, your chest thumping underneath your shirt.

"Are you calling me beautiful?" you ask him, and to your surprise, he nods.

"Yes," he says simply, confidently, his breath fanning over your lips, "Is that a problem?"

You're silent for a second, eyes looking into his as he watches your reaction. "No,"

The smile on Joel's mouth widens slightly as he leans closer to you, lips getting closer to your.

"Good," he whispers, before he moves to kiss you.

Except he doesn't.

Joel doesn't kiss you because at the last minute, heart beating furiously against your ribcage, you turn your head slightly to the side. His lips barely brush over the corner of your mouth before Joel freezes, which makes you cringe.

Stupid.

Joel pulls away from you slightly to look at you, and despite the amount of drinks you've had, your heart is beating a million miles per hour as you and Joel stare at each other, embarrassment dawning in his eyes as he pulls away from you more, closing his mouth and swallowing.

It's at that exact moment that you hear the front door swing open.

"Hello? You home, hot-stuff?"

Your eyes widen slightly as Bonnie's voice travels through the house, her nickname for you making your cheeks burn. Joel fully steps away from you now, putting quite a bit of distance between the two of you as he steps away from the sink and the counter, putting the towel down on the counter.

"Joel–" you start as you move away from the counter, but Bonnie's voice interrupts whatever you were going to say.

"I was working in the fucking school all day, and then we had movie night," she continues as her voice gets closer and you try and catch Joel's eye, but he isn't looking at you, "I know everyone loves the kid, but I swear little Johnny Raster is such a little cun– Oh, hello,"

Bonnie is a tall and broad-shouldered woman, and even though she looks relatively imposing to those who don't know her, she happens to be one of the friendliest people in Jackson. That's not to say she takes shit; quite the opposite, really, she has an even lower tolerance for it than you do, and you wouldn't recommend pissing her off.  She's standing in the doorway, dark hair pulled into a ponytail behind her head, green eyes observing the scene carefully. "Didn't know we were expecting company,"

"I was just on my way out, actually," Joel says, clearing his throat as he gives a slight, curt smile, "Ellie will have gotten home by now,"

"Yeah, I thought I saw the light at your place," Bonnie tells him, and Joel nods, still not looking your way.

"Right, that's my cue, then," he says, clearing his throat again, demeanour beyond awkward, before he looks up at you very briefly, "Thanks for the drinks. . . good night,"

"Good night, Joel," you say, your voice soft, and you try to disguise the undertone of pity.

You want to explain yourself desperately, but something about the look on Joel's face makes you think that wouldn't go down very well right now, anyway.

He grunts out a 'Bye' to Bonnie as he practically flees out of the kitchen, his footsteps echoing down the hall before you hear the distinct noise of the front door opening and closing.

"What's with him?" Bonnie asks, one eyebrow creasing down quizzically crunching her face as steps into the kitchen, "He seems even surlier than usual," 

"Don't know," you say airily, and she directs her scrutinous gaze at you as she picks up the bottle of wine, sniffing it.

"That's a pile of bullshit," she tells you disbelievingly, "What happened?"

You're silent for a minute, before letting out a sigh. "He tried to kiss me,"

"And you didn't want him to. . .?" Bonnie suggests, her tone confused as her sentence hangs in the air, before she frowns slightly, "He's hot,"

"I sort of dodged him," you tell her, grimacing.

"Ouch," Bonnie groans out, sucking some air between her teeth, "Well, that explains it,"

"Yeah," you agree, chewing on your lip, "It was really stupid,"

"I mean you're allowed to say no," Bonnie reassures you, "But did you want to say no?"

"I don't know," you tell her honestly, chewing on your lip as your stomach swirls with conflicting feelings, and she hums.

"Well, you better figure it out fast, hot-stuff," she tells you, putting the glasses in the sink, "Because if we can't call Joel when the banister in the hall acts up again, I'm going to need to learn to be a contractor real quick,"

You don't see Joel at all the next day; not in the town, not at the small market in the square you know he usually goes to on Saturday mornings. You think you spot him working on the scaffolding with the same group as yesterday, but you don't go and investigate, partly out of your own embarrassment, and partly out of respect for the fact that he's probably avoiding you for a reason.

Instead you spend the day cleaning the house, and helping Bonnie with her projects, and before you know it the sky is darkening again and you're on your way to the Tipsy Bison for your shift. You don't mind bartending, and there was no doubt you were a right sight better at it then you were at healing.

The bar is relatively empty when you arrive at 6pm, and doesn't start to fill up until around half past seven, when people typically finish up dinner and the patrons start trickling in. To make matters even more crowded, it's Saturday, and given the Tipsy Bison is the only bar in Jackson, Saturdays are usually the busiest nights of the week. Not that you weren't used to it; when you'd started a year and a half ago, Seth, who ran the place, hadn't hesitated to put you on Saturdays almost immediately, because, to quote "Who doesn't like to be served beer by a pretty girl on their night off?"

The people didn't really bother you, and to be honest, you'd gotten used to it pretty quickly, becoming a near expert in warding off any unwanted attention in a graceful way.

"Can I get a whiskey?" comes a familiar voice from behind the bar just as you're filling up a beer, and you look to meet Tommy's kind eyes, your face breaking into a smile.

"Whiskey?" you ask, frowning jokingly as you set the beer down for another patron, "That isn't your usual order,"

Tommy's eyes flash with something that looks like unease, and it takes a second for your eyes to move from Tommy over the bar, eventually falling on the one person you know likes himself a whiskey. Joel is sitting at one of the tables with the rest of the guys, observing your interaction, but when your eyes move towards him, he pretends to busy himself talking to Eugene. Your stomach sinks.

"Ah," you let out, your tone awkward as you look back at Tommy, your smile having dropped from genuine to half-disappointed as your eyes flash with something akin to sadness, "That's because it's not for you,"  

Tommy clears his throat. "Look, I told him to just–"

You raise your hand to interrupt him, giving him a small smile as you shake your head. "It's okay, Tommy. . . you don't have to explain anything to me,"

"Right," he says, clearing his throat with an awkward smile as you pour the drink.

"Can I get you anything?" you ask him pointedly, and he nods, swallowing.

"Just a beer for me, thanks,"

It takes a second for you to make the drinks, and you strike up a conversation with him as you do. "You guys finished fixing the building yet?"

"Almost," Tommy says with a nod, "Though we missed your usual coffee delivery today,"

"Sorry," you grimace slightly, eyes flicking over to Joel for a second before they fall back on Tommy, "I, uh–. . . didn't want to make anybody uncomfortable, y'know?"

You're almost positive Tommy knows what went down between you and Joel last night; either his brother told him, or he guessed it when Joel sent him over here to order him a drink, but you can see it in the way his expression morphs into one of awkward understanding.

"Well, I can't speak for everyone, but you could never make me uncomfortable, kiddo," Tommy informs you, and the smile you give him is genuine.

"I appreciate that," you tell him, laughing slightly as you put down the two drinks, "here you are,"

Tommy nods as he picks up the drinks, before he seems to hesitate.

"For what it's worth, I told him he should talk to you about it, at least,"

"Well, you can lead a horse to water. . . " you say with a tight-lipped smile, and Tommy nods with a snort.

"Too fucking right you are," he notes, which makes you chuckle.

"Have a nice night, Tommy,"

"You too, kiddo. . . anybody gives you trouble we'll be right over there,"

"Thanks," you say with a small chuckle.

The rest of the evening goes by relatively smoothly, save for a few over-zealous customers near the end of your shift that you manage to handle, but not before you notice from the corner of your eye how Joel straightens in his seat, eyes boring into the side of your face as he gages the situation.

You weren't surprised; ever since that incident with Sean Mixon a few months back, when you'd first started doing closing shifts on busy nights, Joel had stayed close by. It hadn't been anything too serious, but you'd ended up on Joel and Ellie's porch after closing time on the verge of tears to ask if he'd had any antiseptic for a grizzly looking cut on your arm. You'd gotten it after Sean had flown into a drunken rage and hurled a glass at your head when you'd asked him to leave, and one of the ricocheting shards had caught your skin. It hadn't necessarily been the worst of cuts, but you'd been pretty shaken up nevertheless, and given Bonnie had been away on a night patrol at the time, you'd ended up sleeping on their couch. 

After that, Joel had been there every time you worked a closing shift, come rain or shine, always staying all the way until the end. Even though he'd generally leave along with the last customer, you could always see Joel's living room light on and the curtains open as you walked home, sat in a chair reading or playing guitar but always keeping an eye on your porch as you got home.

This evening was no different, and it felt admittedly comforting to know Joel wasn't so angry with you he wasn't here as usual.

You'd spent the last 10 minutes doing most of your cleanup so you could corner Joel on your way out. You'd had pretty much the entire night to think and watch him, which had culminated into you talking yourself into what would probably be a relatively awkward confrontation about what had happened yesterday.

You wait and watch as Joel leaves, not looking in your direction, before you grab your coat off the chair and flick the light off, hurrying out of the door after him.

"Joel!" you call, watching as he stops in his tracks and turns back towards you, "Wait a second,"

You turn back to the door, locking it hastily, almost afraid he'll have taken off by the time you turn back, but he hasn't. He's standing still, half-facing you, hands stuffed into his jean pockets and shoulder hunched against the cold as you give him an awkward smile, jogging to catch up with him.

"Look, about earlier. . . " you start as you level with him, and Joel has to admit to himself he's surprised by the fact you get right to it. He had at least been expecting an attempt at some uneasy small talk.

"It's okay," Joel assures you quickly, hands still in his pockets, "I promise I can handle getting rejected. . . I was just a little caught off guard, yesterday, I thought–. . . well, it doesn't matter,"

"It's not that I'm not interested," you offer, almost timidly, and Joel feels a jolt in his chest at your words, despite himself, eyes moving from the ground to meet yours, "I just–. . . I want us to be on the same page,"

Joel raises his eyebrows slightly, his look urging you to continue.

You wring your hands slightly, letting out a breath that curls into the cold night air as your turns and start walking home, Joel falling into step with you. "Look, I'm not really a dater. . .um–. . . I lost someone I loved a few years ago and it was the most pain I think I've ever felt in my life,"

Joel is silent as you walk, hands in his pockets as he listens to you speak, patient, open.

He can see the grief in your eyes, but also a peace, one he'd longed to find for so many years and had only partially regained when he'd met Ellie. Sarah was a part of him he would always miss; the pain had only gotten less frequent, but it was never gone entirely, lingering within him like a smouldering flame.

"I'm just not eager to feel that again," you explain, giving him a watery smile, "So I just don't really get, er, involved. . . with, people. . . that's why I kind of dodged you, yesterday,"

Joel watches as your brow frowns slightly as you seem to cringe at your own words, taking another nervous breath as your fingers hang by your side, tapping your leg uneasily.

"At all?" Joel asks after a second, and your eyes shoot up from where they'd been on your feet to meet his.

His gaze is earnest, and you can tell he's genuinely curious, too. There's something else there, too, which you can't identify but gives you the nagging feeling you might've read Joel Miller wrong, after all.

"I mean, not at all," you bring out, frowning slightly as the corner of your mouth pull up into a slight smile, "I might be emotionally unavailable, but I'm not a nun,"

Joel lets out a small laugh, steps slowing as they come to a stop, and you look at him with a smile, stopping to face him. It's not very close to him, but Joel's steps carry him a little closer to you, closing the gap further until you're standing face to face. 

"Good to know you're still open to enjoying the finer things in life," he jokes, and now it's your turn to laugh, shaking your head as Joel watches the smile on your features.

"Yes, I am," you say with a remaining chuckle, clearing your throat slightly as you look up at him.

"So–" he speaks after a second, swallowing as his eyes draw you in, voice slightly deeper than it had been a second ago, "If I were to kiss you, say, right now–"

His gaze moves for a split second from your eyes down to your lips, "You wouldn't object?"

"Joel. . ." you say his name in half-warning, but you can already feel the pads of his finger ghosting the fabric of your coat, and you swallow, "We can't get involved. . . this can't become a mess,"

Joel hums slightly, and you feel his hand move, pressing his palm over the curve of your waist as his eyes look for yours, "Heard you the first time, darlin'. . . I can be casual. . . that's what you're saying, ain't it?"

You look up at him, into his eyes, and Joel can tell you're fighting with yourself.

You are. Parts of you are protesting that this is a slippery slope, that this is dangerous, and then the other parts of you are drawn to him; his presence, his smell, his eyes. . .god, those eyes. He has an almost irresistible look in his eyes, coupled with the beginnings of that troublemaker smile he has that's oh so rare – but oh so attractive.

It's like a moth to a flame, and when you feel Joel's hand move under the hem of your coat, thumb pressing a gentle circle on your lower waist over the fabric of your t-shirt, you can barely stop yourself from throwing yourself at him right then and there. You draw in a sharp breath, and feel the corners of your mouth pull up into a coquettish smile as you give in to him.

"Well then," you say, and your voice is almost a whisper, your breath fanning Joel's lips, "You going to kiss me then, Miller? Or are you going to wait around for the grass to grow?"

He chuckles, and it's low in his chest as you feel his hand flatten against your waist, pulling you flush against him so your lips are mere inches from his, looking down at you through half-lidded eyes. "You got a smart mouth on you, you know that?"

"Trust me, it's good for other things, too," you suggest, your voice half teasing, and Joel chuckles again, his nose bumping up against yours as his eyes dive deep into yours, rich and intoxicating and darkening slightly at your words.

"Well, in that case. . . "

Joel doesn't finish he sentence before he leans in, pressing his lips firmly to yours.

It's everything you imagined kissing Joel would be like, and as your lips move, reciprocating, you feel his other hand come up, fingers ghosting the side of your neck before you feel the pads of his fingers on your jaw line. When you press further against him, his hand moves to cup your cheek, fingertips grazing the hair at the base of your skull, under your ear, pulling you closer to him as you melt against his chest.

Finally, after a second, you pull away from each other to catch your breath, but as you do, you trap Joel's bottom lip between your teeth gently, tugging on it slightly as you pull away from him. You feel his hands tighten around your waist, and it makes the corners of your mouth twitch upwards in a smirk as you open your eyes to look back him. He's looking down at you, pupils blown wide and a half-conflicted look in his eyes.

"What?" you ask him, voice almost a whisper, and he shrugs.

"I'm trying to decide if it's too crass to ask to take you home tonight," Joel says, almost carefully, and your smile grows slightly as you chuckle, before you lean in and kiss him again.

This one is longer, more inviting, and your hand moves Joel's from your waist down to the curve of your ass. Joel lets something akin to a groan against your mouth as his fingers dig into your ass, and you pull away from him with another teasing smile.

"I'd be a little disappointed if you didn't take me home, Miller," you muse, and now Joel's mouth curls into a genuine smile as you feel his hand take yours.

"What are we still standing around talking for, then, darlin'? Let's go home,"   

[bluehwale]

okay so idk if you’re taking requests or not, BUT BUT BUT could u please write ateez as chb demigods (kind of like the jongho one), the scream i let out when i read demigod on the post was a bit embarrassing tbh

also hi new follower 👋 gonna go stalk ur masterlist/s don’t mind me :))

the rainbow thief | demigods! poly ateez au

02 / ‘the rainbow thief’ masterpost / prev / next

summary. eight demigods find themselves ecstatic over finally mustering up enough courage to let you know about their unbridled feelings for you, only to find a threat looming upon them; a rainbow thief that's set out to steal you.

or alternatively,

your best friends are oblivious to your reciprocating feelings.

pairing(s). ot8 demigods! ateez x daughter of iris! reader (son of hades! hongjoong, son of athena! hwa, son of apollo! yunho, son of poseidon! yeosang, son of zeus! san, son of aphrodite! mingi, son of dionysus! wooyoung & son of ares! jongho)

word count. 3.1k

genre. pure crack, angst if you squint real hard until ur eyes close, tons of fluff, literally the dumbest thing i've written help, basically idiots2lovers, ateez are chronic simps to the point where it's hard to watch, borderline unhinged behavior, they are also himbos!

warnings. alcohol intake (wooyoung and his wine), cursing, not proofread sorry </3

note. hi! this has been sitting in my drafts for a long while and i'm so sorry it took so long to be posted (almost d worded bc of my assignments) anyways, i kinda added a spin on this req by making it a poly fic, i hope you don't mind! thankyou so so much for being my first ever request<3 hv a great day!! ily ^3^ ++ feedback would be greatly appreciated pls i need to improve my writing

masterlist

San thinks this is definitely a level nine code red.

To give you an understanding of San’s Catastrophe Indicator, here’s some scale to context; a level eight would be Wooyoung somehow finding out his deepest darkest secret— that he still sleeps with his plushies every night; and a level ten would be getting zapped on the ass by his dad’s lightning bolt (and potentially having to stay in the infirmary for a week). So yes, a level nine is alarming, if not, exceptionally lethal.

It’s been exactly 53 minutes and 46 seconds since San has been watching you enthusiastically converse with an unfamiliar boy who’s sitting a little too close to you for his liking. His heart aches at the way you throw your head back as you let out your endearing giggles and how you teasingly shove his arm while the boy looks over to you with a grin, probably proud of a joke he told that made you laugh.

(It has also been 53 minutes and 46 seconds since the pink haired boy remains frozen behind a tree— the perfect hiding spot, he mused— all the while trembling like a leaf as he struggles to resist the temptation of flying in your direction curled up as a ball to hopefully cannonball the boy off the bench beside you.)

San huffs, he won’t let this be! It’s supposed to be the special day where he and the boys finally let you know about their feelings, and he would rather backflip off a cliff than let this undeniably handsome, seemingly perfect, flawlessly flirty guy who looks like he jumped out of a popular romance anime seduce you!

He falters, however, when he sees you stand up and grasp the boy’s hand to rise along with you. 

The poor boy’s eyes almost popped out of their sockets when he sees you inch closer to the blue haired boy, a pretty smile evident on your face as he then wraps an arm around you, pulling you close while whispering something into your ear that makes you blush. 

This can’t be happening! 

San’s hands turn jittery as he unconsciously moves away from his hiding spot, needing to get closer to you, his best friend that he’s been hopelessly in love with for years, but he can feel his heart finally breaking when you excitedly pull the boy into a warm embrace.

Snap!

Your head looks up to see San pausing his steps after accidentally stepping on a tree branch with eyes as wide as a deer caught in headlights. You innocently wave at him and San prays that the ground would swallow him whole.

He feels his hands grow clammy as he ungracefully dives behind a trash can to (unsuccessfully) hide himself from you and the unfamiliar boy walking together towards his direction. But of course, with the unmistaken pop of his pink hair, it’s hard not to notice him— especially for you.

“San!”

The demigod curses under his breath when he sees you in front of him and sheepishly stands up to meet your amused eyes. The blue-haired boy beside you stifles a laugh with an unconvincing cough and San thinks he hears the male mumble, “Oh, is this one of them—” before you elbow him on the stomach, cutting him off as he groans.

You pay no attention to the boy beside you as he doubles over in pain to clutch his gut, you turn to brightly grin at your best friend instead. “Meet Yeonjun! He just got here yesterday and, oh, he’s an Aphrodite kid! I think you both would get along pretty well.”

San feels his eye twitch. He tunes out your voice that rings throughout the air as you introduce him to your new friend.

A son of Aphrodite. Your new friend.

Aphrodite. The goddess of beauty and love. 

His heart sinks into his stomach.

This might be even worse than a code red level nine.

  ‍  ‍  ‍  ‍  ‍  ‍  ‍  ‍  ‍  ‍  ‍  ‍  ‍  ‍  ‍  ‍  ‍  ‍  ‍  ‍  ‍  ✺◟( • ω • )◞✺

“There better be a good reason for San to drag me here in the middle of drafting up my Capture the Flag strategy plans.” Seonghwa, the brain and only hope of the group, crosses his arms and tsks. 

The state of an emergency calls San and Mingi (an Aphrodite kid and the first San ran to for consultation) to round up everyone in the infirmary, an unfitting spot to hold their “emergency meeting” but the two boys couldn’t wait for Yunho’s healer shift to end. Mingi taps his feet anxiously when it looks like San’s unwillingness to speak due to his sullen mood means that he will have to be the one to break the news.

Ever the poster child of rationality, he slowly starts, “We think… _____ might be interested in someone.”

“You mean some people,” Wooyoung cackles, sipping his wine from an ‘I LOVE DIONYSUS’ mug as he gestures to his best friends sitting around in a circle. “There’s nothing to worry about, everyone in camp told me she’s 100% gonna accept our confession. They even think we’re all already dating.” The boy proudly smiles, taking another sip of his wine as his stomach flutters at the thought of you.

“She’s in love with an Aphrodite kid,” San blurts out.

Splatters of red wine burst out of Wooyoung’s mouth when San’s words finally registers in his mind, leaving him to stammer and gape wordlessly as chaos ensues with the rest of the boys.

“What are you talking about?!” gasped Seonghwa, any previous thought of his strategy plans immediately forgotten.

“But— but we were supposed to tell her today!” Yunho, ever in tune with his emotions, wails while his hands slap his face to cover his already leaking eyes. “What are we gonna do with the humongous bouquet I requested the Demeter kids to make last night?!” He reaches out a shaky finger to point at the flower bouquet and an equally large teddy bear taking up a whole corner of the infirmary. 

Amidst the commotion, Mingi locks his arms around Yeosang who seems to have resigned from his body completely and looks like he’d willingly give himself up as lunch for any nearby sea monster. “Guys, calm down, maybe this is all just a misunderstanding—”

“An Aphrodite kid, you say?” interrupted Jongho, already rolling up his sleeves to relieve his bulging biceps from ripping his shirt apart. “What’s this guy’s name and what does he look like?”

“Jongho, you’re not killing anyone—”

“Mingi’s right,” Hongjoong sighs, eerily calm besides the smoke fuming from his nostrils and his eyes that glint devilishly. “Instead of killing him, making him suffer throughout his afterlife sounds much better, I’ll make sure my dad takes note of him.” 

“That’s not what I meant!” interjects Mingi who, still grasping a Yeosang who’s ready to jump up and dash off into the ocean, shoots a desperate look begging for help to the eldest. 

“Maybe he’s trying to seduce her into a pyramid scheme?” Seonghwa supplies weakly, brain racking to find any other reason to support the idea that maybe you’re merely close with this person as friends and not because you’re in love with him.

“And why the fuck would he do that?”

“We demigods aren’t immune to capitalism.”

“It’s hopeless,” counters San, shutting everyone else up. They look over to him with furrowed brows and trembling lips, one that matches his own. “You weren’t there– you didn’t see what I saw. She looked so happy.”

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The eight sulky boys toddle around mopily as they pick apart the romance-themed decorations littered around the hidden area you all claimed as your group’s private hangout place. They can’t help but feel dejected over the fact that you— their best friend who they’ve been in love with for years, like someone else.

“Thought I’d find you guys here.”

Speak of the devil.

Their heads snap to find you walking on the path of rose petals they prepared earlier today, dressed in a baby blue mini dress you reserve only for special occasions instead of your usual get up of the orange Camp Half-Blood shirt and jeans. An easy smile rests on your face as you greet your best friends and they can’t help but feel their hearts grow heavier at the sight (except for Yeosang who is too busy panicking over you possibly noticing the ‘We Love You _____!’ banner that is still on display).

“______, what are you doing here?” The glint in your eyes visibly falters at Seonghwa’s question, your excitement twisting into unbridled nerves that settles uncomfortably in your gut when you notice everyone staring at you as if you shouldn’t be here.

Word spreads crazy fast in camp and it didn’t take long for you to overhear about the surprise the boys had planned for you. Although it unsettles you that the boys might be upset at their spoiled attempt of surprising you, you can’t help but feel giddy at the thought of them liking you back after all these years of you believing that your feelings went unreciprocated. 

So imagine your confusion when none of your best friends showed up to lead you to your surprise and that, after happily skipping all the way here, you find them hostile in your presence.

“Uh,” you trail off, nervously picking at the skin around your fingernails as you try to gauge their reactions. “It’s just… I didn’t see any of you today except for San. I missed you guys.”

It seems like that was the wrong thing to say as the boys, to your confusion, suddenly broke in tears.

“You can’t say things like that!” Yeosang hiccups, bringing a hand to his face to wipe the steady stream of tears falling from his eyes and earning broken mutters of agreement from the other boys.

"Wha—What?" you stammer, surprised at their reactions. What’s going on?

“You shouldn’t say things like that when you know we can’t have you.”

“What do you mean? Why can’t you?”

“Because you’re in love with someone else!”

You pause. “Huh?” Any trace of your previous nervousness vanished, instead replaced with rejoicement at the thought of them being jealous over you with someone else. You restrain the urge to giggle.

“It’s okay, ____. We understand,” sniffles Seonghwa, clamping his hand over Wooyoung’s mouth who was clinging onto his arm while yelling: ‘NO, WE DO NOT UNDERSTAND!’ It took awhile for the eldest to eventually tackle the younger to the ground, suppressing him by placing his weight over him while Wooyoung continues to let out muffled yelps as he struggles. Seonghwa turns to you and offers a weak smile, the usual shine in his eyes nowhere to be seen. “We’re happy for you.”

You try to contain your amusement. “You are?”

“We are,” Yunho nods, hastily wiping away his own tears to hold both of your hands in his (you can distinctly hear Wooyoung’s muffled scream of ‘WE’RE NOT!’ in the background). “We’ll always be here for you. We’ll always be your best friends.”

“That’s gonna be a problem, though,” you chide lightly, feeling the smile you’ve been trying to mask creep up to your face. “I want you to be more than just best friends.”

It took a couple seconds for the sulky boys to register what you said and when they did, you’d think they’d won the lottery or something (you’re pretty sure Jongho leaped three feet up in the air). 

“But what about that Aphrodite kid?”

You turn to Hongjoong in confusion. “What Aphrodite kid?”

Everyone turns to accusingly look at a certain pink haired boy. 

San gulps. “Yeonjun,” he mutters. It comes out sounding more like a question than a statement.

“...Yeonjun?” you burst into laughter, uncontrollable giggles escaping you from how ridiculous this is. “We’re just friends and he has a boyfriend. I was even talking about you guys all day to him!”

“Y—you were?” San stutters, already feeling the pointed glares burning on his back. “I—I thought you liked him…” 

“I don’t,” you reassure them with a smile. “How could I when I’m in love with you guys?”

Mingi lets out a relieved scream, enveloping you in a tight hug to bury his face in your hair and inhale his favorite scent— the sweet smell of coconuts; you. “You don’t know how happy I am to hear that. We’ve been in love with you too.”

You take a peek from Mingi’s embrace to see the other boys celebrating; Wooyoung’s already chugging down a freshly opened bottle of wine while the rest of the boys are simultaneously doing tiny hops in a group hug and letting out excited yelps. Your cheeks ache from grinning too hard at how cute your boys are.

“_____! We need to go to the infirmary, we prepared something for you!” Yunho excitedly pulls at your arm, just remembering the bouquet and teddy bear for you, separating you from the blonde giant who’s now sporting a pout at you leaving him. 

You and Yunho both merrily skip your way to the infirmary with your hands intertwined and pink dusting your cheeks, unknowingly leaving a pink haired boy to meet his doom.

“Aha, who would’ve thought that she’s not actually in love with another guy?” San forced out a nervous chuckle, slowly backing up from his best friends and wishing he could disappear just about right now. “No hard feelings right? Everyone makes mistakes—”

“Shut up. Come here.”

Not too long after, a loud scream rings throughout the camp.

(“That sounds so much like San, don’t you think?” you worriedly ask the boy beside you who’s dwarfed behind the huge teddy bear he’s helping you carry to the Iris Cabin. 

“Nah, that’s not San.” Yunho calmly shrugs, his smirk hidden behind the gigantic bear plushie as he thinks of his own revenge against the culprit for his whirlwind of emotions he went through earlier today.)

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INTERLOGUE

BEFORE THE EMERGENCY MEET UP IN THE INFIRMARY…

“Mingi.”

“Huh?” The blonde boy in question looks up to see San barging into his room, looking as if he ran a marathon to Aphrodite’s cabin (which is exactly what he did). “How did you even get inside?”

San ignores his question. “You have a new brother?”

“Oh, Yeonjun?” Mingi nonchalantly asks, missing the way San’s figure goes rigid at his name as he returns to applying black polish on his nails. “Yeah, he just got here yesterday. Cool guy. What’s up?”

“I think _____’s in love with him.”

“What?!”

[apprenticestanheight]

Work Stress- Adam Stanheight x gn! reader

ALLLLLLL RIGHT, welcome to the monthly "my mental health is shit" fic that I bestow upon the people whenever my mental health isn't as great as it could be, which--in fairness--is nearly all the fucking time.

Two of these might be coming out this month, though! I have not had the greatest streak of days without anxiety lately and I write fics whenever it gets really bad. The day I finished this one, I was like "I am going to write something. for chainshipping (again)" so a chainshipping fic will probably be out by the end of the week

On some other notes, A: while it's not explicitly stated, the reader is what's traditionally considered midsized as that's what I am and I wanted to write a fic with my body type. As per usual with me, the reader is generally gn but as I know the anatomy best, they're AFAB. B: requests are starting to get looked at! I have one waiting to be finished, edited and posted sitting in my drafts but otherwise will have probably looked through and decided which requests I will do vs which ones I won't by the time this has been posted. Things will probably start coming out at the end of this week and keep coming out into next.

Fic type- this jumps into a lot of differing areas, but the main genres are quite possibly the oddest combination I've ever written--smut and angst.

Warnings- as this fic contains smut it caters to an audience of people 18+, so minors, DO NOT INTERACT. There is A LOT here--p in v, oral (both recieve, even if on Adams end the oral is only mentioned), doggy style, fingering, petplay kind of (I was trying to think of a gender neutral petname and puppy was the only thing my brain could think of at first. It's literally just used as a petname and gets overshadowed by 'baby' after a point bc I remembered that that word existed--I wrote a lot of this while tired, pls take some of the stuff in it with a grain of salt), as for sfw warnings: there's a mention of loss of appetite in relation to extreme stress

It's no secret to Adam that you've been having a very, very rough year.

You've been living together since just a couple weeks after he'd escaped the trap--he was taken from his apartment and found it too anxiety inducing to stay there so you let him move into yours.

You'd been dating since you were twenty one and at twenty six, moving in was bound to happen eventually, but getting out of his lease was taking a hell of a lot more time than Adam had originally anticipated.

He noticed every rough day in the bags that you'd begun to sport underneath your eyes, how late you came to bed and your reluctancy to be very affectionate with him--whenever things got bad, be it at work or with stuff going on in your head, you withdrew and pushed him away--and in the fact that you weren't eating as much, in that you always looked like your mind was somewhere else, wandering off completely.

So, one day near the middle of November--where he'd started to notice your bad days in very early March--he joins you in the kitchen while you speak to one of your bosses via phone call.

He presses a kiss to your forehead, grabs your hand, gives it a squeeze. He wants to cheer you up--you're prone to bad days due to insecurity and because of a long-standing not so great track record where your mental health is concerned--and, in that particular moment, finds himself willing to do anything.

You give your best go at grinning back at him, but it comes out looking like more of a grimace. You let Adams hand go to run a stressed hand through your hair, returning your hand to Adams and letting him interlace your fingers thereafter.

"Yes," you whisper. "I understand that things are always tough in the last quarter, but--" you sigh dejectedly as your boss cuts you off, and Adam presses another kiss to your forehead, letting his lips linger for a minute.

"Yes, Earle--but you're not seeing the point here. I'm eligible for the raise because I've kept the teams afloat! The only reason you're not also eligible for the raise is because you took an eight month vacation with PTO that you quite literally stole from other employees, myself included, and just because Monica isn't willing to fire you over that doesn't mean your actions didn't warrant alternative punishments," you lean forward, press a kiss to Adams shoulder. Adams grin widens slightly as he notices that you're visibly relaxing from his touches.

A solid two minutes of shouting pass by on the other end. Adam gives your hand a supportive squeeze whenever Earles voice raises another octave in his shouting, pressing kisses against your temple when you let him pull you into a half hug. He keeps hold of your hand when the position changes, your torso pressing against the counter as Adam stands in front of you.

"Earle--I am eligible for the raise because you took six weeks of PTO from me, which I only get thanks to our companies union," You snap. "Now, because I had to spend so much time doing my fucking job, unlike you, I'm eligible for enough of a raise to make me capable of buying a home by '06, and if you're pissed off at me for that, I genuinely cannot help you any further. I have a boyfriend who I would much rather be talking to over your sorry arse, so I'm going to hang up now and if you call me back, I will ignore it. Have the day you deserve, asshat."

You hang up the phone and sigh, gaze meeting Adams in an instant.

"'M sorry," you whisper, biting your top lip for a few seconds as you look at him. "Work has been a fuckin' mess since like, the end of February. I just--damn it all."

"Eh, Earle sounds like a dickhead," Adam laughs. "How does one even get away with--eight full months? Of PTO? How?"

"Per the union agreement we have, we get six weeks a year," you start. "It's why I'm always off in December--I like staying home when it gets cold, gives me an excuse to read and drink more tea than I should--but we've moved to digitizing off time recently. Took the six weeks I'd planned to pace between the end of this month and all of next and switched them up for himself. Did that with five other employees and still, Monica doesn't fire him. Just makes me eligible for a raise of fifteen dollars on company dime because the off time I lost out on forced me to do more while I was there. Our company has one hundred and eighty-six employees in the Jersey branch and a bunch of 'em like taking spaces in the last six months of the year off, so it was me managing two teams of eighty people. Not easy work at all."

Adam blinks. "Did Monica even offer to give you the PTO back?"

"She gave me hers," you shrug. "Earle can have a lot of fuckin' fun managing one hundred and sixty people by himself. I'll find out if I get the raise tomorrow morning and my PTO will kick in then, too. He can eat shit as far as I'm concerned, I have a long list of books and two boxes of my favorite tea to drink my way through as of tomorrow."

You let Adam lead you into your shared bedroom, humming as you lay down on your bed and close your eyes.

"Are you okay?" Adam asks.

"Been a very, very stressful eight months," you laugh. "Trying to think of what I need and only one thing continually comes to mind."

"What's that?" You can hear the eagerness behind the teasing tone in Adams voice.

"I need--uh--" You laugh, suddenly feeling a little awkward. Propositioning Adam for sex was not typically done with words but kisses and your hands on his chest, relishing in the way that he looked when he lead you to your bedroom and fucked you senseless.

"Go on, baby," Adam whispers, his lips suddenly near your ear. "Gonna say it?"

You hum, suddenly embarrassed at yourself, and Adam laughs.

"Use your words, puppy," He whispers, pressing a kiss against your earlobe. "How am I supposed to know what you want me to do if you don't use your words?"

You moan helplessly in response.

"You really are cute," Adam says. "Tough while at work, one phone call later and now you're helpless that you can't even speak. Can't even say one word."

"Adam," you breathe, both because it's the one word that's coming to mind and also because you know he loves the way you say his name when all you want is for him to fuck you.

"Good puppy," Adam presses a kiss to your cheek. "Tell me what you want me to do, mm? I'll do whatever you want, but if you want me to fuck you, know that you'll be in bed for a long time once we go to sleep. You're going to come a lot tonight, puppy. You deserve it."

You moan in response. "Please," you whisper.

"You want me to fuck you, puppy?"

"Yeah," you nod. "Adam--I need you to. Don't wanna think anymore. In eight months, I've thought enough for eight lifetimes. Fuck me senseless, please."

"Whatever you want," Adam says, pulling you into a long kiss that has your head spinning.

You spend the next few minutes like that, in a kiss that's so intense, so loving and so fucking good that you wonder how you've been able to go so long being fine with quick kisses and self gratification.

The first kiss reminds you of how amazing it is to be kissed by Adam whenever the more dominant side of him comes out for a bit of fun, the way that his hands anchor themselves on your hips before one slides up your torso to cup your face, the sureness of his tongue in your mouth--everything feels amazing, and it's almost like it's too good to be true.

And then Adam pulls away for air and your eyes are opening and his lips are against your clothed shoulder, breathing in deeply with a smile on his face.

"I'm sorry we've not been--well--" you start. Adam tilts your chin upward and presses a kiss on the underside of your jaw. "I've been a terrible--"

"I've missed this, sure," Adam says, pressing another kiss against the underside of your jaw. "Yeah. Of course I've missed it, Y/N, but I absolutely understand that you've been busy. Work has kept me busy, too, so I'm just glad we can have tonight. I've missed you so much and I just wanna make you forget about how shitty the past months have been. Wanna make sure the only word you remember how to stay is my name, and that's what I'm going to do tonight, puppy. Sounds good?"

You nod eagerly, which makes Adam laugh as the hand that's on your hip gives it a squeeze.

Your gaze becomes affixed to a random point on the ceiling as Adams kisses rove across the scope of your neck, one hand on your jaw to move your head whenever he wants better access.

After a point, you start to realize that his kisses are getting longer and not too long thereafter you realize that Adam is carefully laying hickeys over your neck and is taking his time with doing it.

You want to murmur a quip, do something to jab at the possessiveness hickeys usually carry, but right as you go to do so his lips and tongue find a home on the pulse point on the right side of your neck and all you can do is moan softly, one hand finding his hair.

"Adam," you whisper. "Fucking hell, Adam--you're going to drive me insane. Please don't stop."

You hear Adams laugh, slow, amused, a little sadistic. "Well, if I'm the one who drives you to insanity, I think that means I'm the one who has to pull you out of it, doesn't it, puppy?"

With the use of that one, silly nickname, you're reduced to what is basically a human shaped puddle, and Adam knows it. Whenever he calls you his puppy in a slightly dominant tone, your knees are at risk of giving out and the look you give him is tantamount to torture if he intends to tease you until you're begging.

"Mhm," you hum, moaning as Adams lips press in a peck against your pulse point. "Also means the same if you put me into subspace with all this foreplay, Adam."

Adam grins, and you let him tilt your chin so that your head turns to meet his gaze.

"Of course," he says. "I'm basically an aftercare god, despite the fact that Scott dunked on me for it while believing a cigarette afterwards is anything less than the bare minimum--I'll take good care of you once the session is done, puppy. I promise."

Your shoulders relax at the reassurance, and you grin as Adams lips press against your forehead.

You nod after a second. "Okay," you say. "I--thank you, for this. Pre-emptively."

Deep enough into subspace and you'll borderline on mute, only able to focus on how Adams ministrations feel. You have no doubt he intends to take you there tonight, so you feel the need to thank him before you slink that far in and have to wait for it to wear off to speak a coherent sentence to him again.

"We both need it, so it's my pleasure," Adam says, starting to undo the buttons of the black long sleeved button up you'd worn to work and had yet to take off that day. "And yours--it's both of us. I promise I'll start getting more dominant in a sec, these buttons hate me."

You laugh a little, helping him undo the rest of the buttons. "They're square. They hate everybody, me included. Getting this shirt on was a nightmare this morning and I've been reminded as to why I never wear the damn thing."

Adam uses the small of your back to guide you off the bed just enough to be able to completely take the shirt off, following it by the oddly quick--Adam is very, very good at undoing the pesky little hooks that hold bras together, oddly--removal of your bra.

His lips are on yours again, one hand on your bare hip while the other finds itself cupping your face, tongue gliding across your lip in asking for entrance which you grant as your arms wrap around his shoulders.

Kissing Adam in moments like that is always amazing--kissing him has been one of your favorite things since your romance started, even quick and chaste kisses that don't last more than a few seconds. Kissing Adam has never ceased to be an absolute delight, whether it led to sex or was used as an alternative form of "hello" "goodbye" "good night" or "good morning."

And then his lips start traversing down your neck once more, and then they go further.

Adam starts draping kiss after kiss across your torso, lips pressing against you in a way that allows his tongue to poke through his teeth as he kisses you with his mouth slightly open. Every single touch of his cold tongue against your warm skin makes you clench around nothing, quickens your heart rate and feels so impossibly delightful. Adam is kissing you in a way that damn near drives you insane, and you feel yourself sinking into how good his lips and tongue feel against you as he delivers praise between kisses.

"Such a good puppy for me, mm?" Adam murmurs when he's close to your belly button. "Taking all of this so well even though you probably just want me inside you already. Such a good cumdump for me, puppy. Perfect."

You hum in response, eyes drifting down to meet his gaze as he looks up at you. He smiles, briefly, before continuing with his kisses, letting himself spend a lot of time on your hips before his kisses rove across your stomach.

He kisses along your v-line slowly and in a way that makes you want to start begging, hands roving up from your hips to your biceps.

He glances at you for a second in the asking, waiting for you to nod. You do so and Adams hands move to your pants, taking them off along with your underwear before laughing at himself.

"I've got you here, lookin' fucking perfect," he says, kissing your bicep. "And yet I'm still clothed."

Your hands go to the hem of his shirt and he lets you pull it off, kissing the side of your shoulder as he watches you toss it near the laundry hamper in the far left corner of the room. Next come his pants and his boxers, which Adam takes off in a manner that's somehow effortless despite his continued kisses to your biceps throughout the process.

"I forget how much I love your arms until I'm kissing your biceps again," Adam says, laughing a little. "Fuck, baby. Your arms are fucking gorgeous."

You hum, pressing your head into the pillow behind you as Adams kisses start up again and his hands start wandering. One settles against your face, cupping it softly, and the other goes wandering delightfully down your torso, not stopping until his fingers are millimeters above your clit.

He pauses, gaze meeting yours in a way that feels almost a little sadistic.

"Gonna make you come so many times tonight, baby," he says. "Safe word?"

"Hibiscus," you whisper. It's a precaution for when you get really kinky, a word you came up with but, five years into your relationship, have yet to actually use.

Adams lips press against the center of your collarbone, "good puppy," he whispers against the skin.

His fingers start making slow, tantalizing circles around your clit, and his kisses continue, roving down your torso and staying in the general area of your hips and stomach.

A few minutes pass you by, and right when Adam has picked up the speed and is bringing you to the edge of an orgasm, he stops.

When he notices the disappointment in the way your head falls back onto the pillow, he wastes no time in licking his fingers clean of the wetness spread across them.

"Didn't think I'd let you come so soon, did you, puppy?" Adam moves up, lips near your ear. "I did say I'd make you come multiple times tonight, but I said nothing of letting you do so without a little edging first. Gonna edge you until the sun goes down, at least, and then make you cum until at least one or two in the morning. Gonna call in sick tomorrow, too, so that I'm not worrying about waking up and going into work."

"How much more time until the sunset?" You ask. It's four--the sunset can't really be so far off, can it?

"An hour," Adam says. "But--to be fair, a lot more can be done in an hour than one might think. Also--eight hours between five and one am. Assuming that the session exhausts you, you'll probably wake up close to noon tomorrow, but there's snow in the forecast and I'll probably make you a cup of tea if I wake up before you do."

You hum. "Thank you, Adam," you whisper. He kisses you deeply, and you can still taste yourself on his tongue.

"Don't thank me," he says when he's pulled away. "It's what good partners do, especially when I'll have practically rearranged your guts and it'll be a reward for doing good anyway."

You laugh. Adam presses a kiss to your forehead as his hands once again ground themselves on your hips and yours find his shoulders, holding him close.

"I love you, baby," he says. "Sorry that work has been shit."

"I love you too," you respond. "And--that's not your fault. Please don't blame yourself for mistakes that aren't yours, Adam. Please, just kiss me. Wanna forget about work and stupid fucking Earle--just wanna think about how good it feels to be touched and kissed by you. Please."

Adams lips press against your forehead again, his hands cupping your face.

"Gonna make sure you do," he says. His lips move to your biceps again, and you shudder an intake of breath as he leaves a hickey in the wake of one of his kisses.

You have a thought to call him a hickey fiend but don't--the risk of joking with him when Adam is in dom mode is not worth the reward even slightly.

His kisses trail down your face to your neck, and from your neck to your chest. You moan a little when his lips find your nipples, biting gently as his hands give your hips a contented squeeze.

Your head falls back onto the pillow beneath it, and you smile slightly as you hear Adams contented hum as he kisses along your chest from one nipple to the other.

The next several minutes are spent in pretty much the same state. Adam kisses your chest and neck with an open mouth, tongue all too eager to leave a trail of saliva behind his kisses. He's mostly quiet as he goes about it, but every time he does something to make you moan his hands squeeze your hips in acknowledgement.

And then his lips move to your stomach, spending an absurd amount of time leaving hickeys in the less obvious places. He spends more time on your hips which tells you you'll have dark hickeys to look forward to once you have the time to investigate the state of your body in a mirror, but he's not always the dominant one when you two are having sex--you'll find your moment where he's in a particularly submissive mood and douse his body with light-ish hickeys in some very obvious spots.

His lips move down to your thighs, and his gaze meets yours.

"You're feeling all right?" He asks, lips pressing gloriously against the top of your right thigh. "Need you to make space for me, puppy. Haven't paid your thighs attention in so fucking long--'nother minute of waiting and I will go insane."

You laugh as you spread your legs and Adam positions himself in between them, lips moving across your thighs as his arms slip under them and his hands find your hips.

The amount of attention he devotes to your legs alone is almost a little excessive--it takes him ten minutes before he's content to move from your right leg to your left, and then he's focusing on that leg just as long.

Then again--Adam has always loved your thighs. You've had moments of insecurity that they were too big to handle but he's always met your insecurity with reassurance, promised that he'd tell you if he was having trouble breathing whenever he asked you to sit on his face. He loves your thighs and your biceps, which are two of the areas where you find most of your insecurity.

And then you feel his breath against your folds, and you breathe in deeply while clenching around nothing.

"Wanna taste you, puppy," Adam says. You're nodding eagerly before he can even finish the sentence, wondering how it was that you managed to go eight months without feeling Adams mouth over your folds, his lips on your clit.

Adam is good at giving oral--he is fucking amazing at it, and as his tongue presses flat against your folds, his gaze holding yours, you find that it seems he's still as good as he was eight months ago.

His tongue runs through your folds for a very long few seconds before it presses against your clit. You moan at the contact, eyes nearly rolling into the back of your head as his tongue moves in circles around the bundle of nerves.

His tongue moves back to your folds, and your hand goes to his hair. You don't hold him in a tight grip or anything, just enough to ground yourself and keep yourself from slipping away.

It's hard not to slip into it, though. The grip that Adam has on your hips, the way he's eating you out like a man starved and that goddamned nickname he always uses whenever he's domming. All of it is so much combined, so much after eight months, and all you want to do is slip into subspace and just let Adam use you however he wants.

He keeps going until you're so close--teetering on the edge, nearly ready to come on his face--and then he stops, pulling away with a glistening mouth to take a breath.

And then he's lifting himself off of you, pulling himself up to press kiss after kiss after kiss to the spot where your neck meets your shoulder, and his hand is cupping your face.

"Please, puppy," he says. "Don't wanna go eight months without this ever again. Missed it."

It takes everything in you to drum up a response, still working through the second almost-orgasm of the evening.

"Never," you manage to mumble as your head turns, seeking Adams lips. He kisses you slowly, meaningfully, and you have a moment--just a moment--where you hate yourself for letting sex get away from you for such a long time.

Work has been eight months of never ending stress, eight months of managing one hundred and sixty people, dealing with a boss who claims to care about the team but only offers a raise to the five people from whom a guy stole off time rather than firing the idiot. You feel bad--work has taken the majority of your head space since March, and that doesn't feel fair in the fucking slightest.

"Adam," you whisper. He presses a peck to your lower lip and darts his tongue out to wet his own.

"Yeah, puppy?"

"Missed you," you respond. "'M sorry about work. I promise I didn't mean to get so busy, it's just--Earle and his fucking scheme, and Monica refusing to fire his sorry ass while he has the time of his goddamned life in Monaco, and--ugh. I don't mean to ruin the mood but it's just not leaving my head."

Adam laughs, presses a kiss to your forehead. "I know how you get, Y/N," he says. "I'm too drunk on the thought of your thighs around my head to even get slightly turned off right now but that's not the point."

He laughs again, thumb gliding across your bottom lip. "I've been worried about you but I knew work was probably the reason for your late nights, baby. I promise, it just made me cherish our lazy mornings even more. If you don't like working there, you can always quit, too--you've got your rainy day savings, and my job lets me cover the rent and have money left for groceries if you don't get something right away. Has anything else been bugging you or is it just work?"

"Just been in a funk," you respond. "The sex is helping a lot, but I've always found that being with you helps me like nothing else can. Needed this, Adam. Even if you've kept me from orgasming twice so far."

"Fifteen more minutes til sundown," Adam says. "You'll be so sick of coming when I finally start letting you, baby. I think I have it in me to last eight hours, but that's because I'll be giving myself a reprieve. You, however, might not get one. Dunno--it depends on if you'll want one, really."

"You'll know I do if I use the safe word," you respond. "Just--be soft with me, mm? I don't think I can handle being degraded too much, if at all. I'm scared that if you call me a slut with a mean tone I'll just fall to pieces and start crying."

Adam laughs, presses a kiss to your temple. "Think I've done enough edging," he says. "Kind of just wanna kiss you until you're begging me for more, baby. Sound okay?"

You nod, arms wrapping around his shoulders. "You really wouldn't be mad if I quit my job?"

"I would be the opposite of angry at you if you just announced it and didn't even give your two weeks," Adam says. "You've spent the majority of the last year giving them an arm and both of your legs in the effort it's taken to keep things afloat. You're up for a significant raise which I would wait to see if you got, but there are places that pay the amount you'd be getting after your raise as the starting salary, which only goes up after the first six months. I'd start applying to those places if I were in your shoes and I didn't get the raise I fuckin' deserved."

Adams lips drop to your collarbone. "'M so in love with you," he says. "And I'm sorry that work has been such a shitstorm lately. If you want, you can switch from a marketing job to working for a salary that covers rent and groceries with me at the bookshop? They're hiring all the fucking time and it means I can basically just...spend the entirety of my break just kissing you relentlessly if you do decide to join up."

You laugh, pulling a hand through his hair. "Maybe," you say. "If I don't get the raise."

Adam laughs, gently biting against your collarbone as his hands find your hips again.

"Love your hips, puppy," he says. "Will probably have to put lotion on the hickeys I left on 'em. Got a little carried away."

"I'll get my revenge somehow," you respond. "If you ever find yourself in a submissive mood, I will absolutely cover your neck in them."

"I like hickeys in obvious places, so long as you keep them light,"

"Oh, they will be. Everywhere but your pulse point--I happen to like your pulse point, Adam. Might get carried away worse than you did with my hips."

Adam bites your collarbone again, kissing up the center of it to the underside of your jaw before his lips are once again against yours.

"I love you so fucking much," Adam says into the kiss, giving your hips a hard squeeze. "Fuck, Y/N. Gonna make sure all of your stress is gone from your mind completely. Just want you to be thinking about me, puppy."

All you can do in response is moan into Adams mouth, closing your eyes and moaning once more as he uses your moaning to slip his tongue into your mouth, one hand coming up to cup your face.

You spend the next little eternity kissing, moaning whenever Adams hands squeeze whichever part of your body they've ended up near or on--typically your ass, just below it on your thigh, your hips, or your tits--and occasionally tugging at the hairs near the nape of his neck, where one of your hands rests.

And then, Adam pulls away. You gaze at him as he holds himself up by his elbows, a handsome smirk on his face.

"You're all right?" He asks.

The truth is, all you can think about is the memory of his cock inside you and you're convinced it's slowly driving you nuts, but by all other accounts, yeah.

You nod. "I'm amazing, Adam," you say. "Need to feel you."

As you speak the words, Adam is already reaching for his night stand on his side of the bed, grabbing a condom.

You roll it onto his length, one of your hands overlapping the hand he places on your hip as you lie back down.

Adam positions himself at your entrance, pushing into you slowly even despite how wet you are--you're more than ready to feel him, but Adam still goes slow to be cautious.

When he bottoms out, both of you moan. Your lips are almost right next to Adams ear, his forehead pressing against your shoulder, so the sound of you moaning just makes Adam want you more. One of his hands is on your breast, and he squeezes it, rolling the nipple between his first finger and thumb as you clench around his length.

After a minute, you're telling Adam he can start moving and his thrusts come to a slow start as Adam figures out the pace he wants to start with.

His lips have dipped close to your ear when he whispers, "you're so wet for me," and he kisses the side of your head before adding "such a good puppy. Fuck--you're amazing."

And you're moaning in response, starting to get cockdrunk as Adam moves in calculated thrusts, one hand propping himself up by the elbow and the other against your hip.

Your thighs wrap around his waist to keep him in place, and Adam laughs as he lifts the hand on your hip to cup your face.

"You like this, baby?" He asks. You moan, nodding slightly as your eyes close, giving his shoulder a squeeze.

"Such a good puppy for me," he says. "So good, baby. You're doing so good."

And then you moan again, and Adam presses a kiss to the corner of your lips. He quickens the pace of his thrusts, lips moving to your neck as the hand that was on your face moves to your clit, rubbing circles around it and delighting in the moans it brings from your throat.

Your release spurs his on, and while you moan and release around him Adam releases into the condom, thrusting his way through the aftershocks and the way that your legs start shaking with them.

He pulls out and discards the condom, heading back to you quickly and peppering your face with kisses.

You find yourself in a state of complete and total relaxation and euphoria. Adams hands on you make you sink further in, and Adam laughs a little--you're looking at him like he's the love of your life while you're practically drowning in post-orgasm bliss, which is a delightful and meaningful addition to the times in which you've looked at him like that, particularly whenever he's decided to surprise you with breakfast or when you wake up to find him admiring you as he'd woken up before you had.

"You're feeling all right?" The orgasm had been a little intense.

You nod, and Adam presses his nose against the apple of your cheek, pressing a quick kiss there as his hands find your face.

"Going quiet?" He presses his lips to your forehead. "Not for long, baby. I have at least seven more hours with you, yeah?"

You nod, and Adams lips are on yours again.

A lot of the time, you start to realize, will be passed with Adams lips against yours, his hands going somewhere on your body as you moan and whine at his touches.

You don't hate the idea, though--Adam is a damn good kisser and absolutely knows what he's doing with his lips and tongue. You've proven yourself capable of lazily making out with Adam for hours several times, though that was when the two of you were kiss fiends in the honeymoon phase and couldn't go more than twenty minutes without it.

But then, Adams lips trail from your lips to your chest, paying attention to it as his hands move from your face to your hips. Once he's paid satisfactory attention to your chest, he moves to your stomach, where, per the presence of your hips close by, he stays for a long ten minutes.

Then his lips are on your inner thighs and your hand is in his hair and all you can do is moan, one word waiting and ready at the tip of your tongue but not falling off of it.

You watch through half lidded eyes as Adams eyes lock on your cunt, nod fervently when his gaze meets yours and his head tilts in the asking.

His tongue finds your clit and he moves one finger, slowly, into your hole as his lips follow his tongue. You turn your head and moan into the pillow in an effort to silence yourself, but the noise level at which the moan sits is still so obscene that Adam chuckles, shaking his head as his left arm slips under your thigh and his hand finds purchase at your chest.

Adams tongue moves around your clit in evenly paced circles, finger moving at a calculated pace as he adds another. Adams fingers curl around your g-spot once every fifteen-ish seconds, and every time your moans get louder because of the action, Adam laughs a little and presses his tongue flat against your clit.

Adam has you pushed to your orgasm in fifteen minutes. You barely have time to warn him before you're coming over his mouth, chin, and his hand, but Adam hardly cares. He only licks his fingers to clean them and juts his tongue out to run it over his lips, all while holding your gaze.

And then he's kissing you and you're tasting yourself, humming into the kiss as Adam reaches one arm out and fumbles for the nightstand in search of another condom.

Adam gets it and rips it open, sliding it onto his length and motioning for you to get on your knees and turn around. You do as he says and Adam slowly slides into you, the both of you moaning slightly as he bottoms out.

Adam waits a minute for you to adjust to him, and once you have he starts thrusting. He sets an even, quick pace and moves a hand to your clit, moaning as you lean back and press your back against his front.

Adams lips find a spot in the space between your neck and shoulder, and every last one of the sounds you make spurs him on. His moans are low, typically comorbid with yours, and they come in between the praise he manages to mumble out as he moves and you start moving back onto him.

"So good," he mutters, biting gently against your shoulder. "Fuck--"

You moan in response, unable to form any coherent thought other than Adams name.

"Adam," you whisper as the pace at which Adams finger touches your clit increases. "Adam--"

You feel him smile against your skin, a cocky grin taking up his face.

"Yes, baby?" He asks, moaning as you clench around him. "Gonna use your words for me, mm?"

"Adam," it's the only word that comes to mind right now, though it'll be one of ten, at best, once he's pushed you to orgasm again.

"Adam, oh--" You moan as he snaps his hips up into you.

Adam keeps the pace he's set and it's not long before you're moaning loudly as Adams lips and tongue suck a hickey into the space where your neck meets your shoulder, your release occurring just seconds before his own, before he's a moaning mess as he thrusts into you through the aftershocks.

Adam pulls out and lays you back onto the bed before rolling the condom off and tossing it into the trash.

The cycle continues that way until you find yourselves nearing one in the morning. Your lips are wet with your own saliva after you've pulled off of Adams length and he's being sweet, your face in his hands as you start moving to sit on the bed.

"One more for me, baby," he says. In eight hours, you've come more than eight times, your legs are basically jelly, and all you have on your mind is Adam. "Just one more, mm? Then I'll run us a bath and we can just relax, I promise. Aftercare god, remember?" He laughs a little at the tail end of his sentence, cringing at himself a little bit.

And you're nodding, smiling at Adam as his lips find your inner thighs and you're blissed out on post-orgasm euphoria--Adam had let you touch yourself while sucking his dick, and you'd come over your hand as he shot his load into your mouth, which you'd agreed to let him do--and it's fifteen minutes til one and Adams lips against your thighs is absolutely amazing.

And then his lips and tongue go to your cunt, and you're moaning as your thighs wrap around his head, which leads to him laughing and squeezing your hips.

And Adam eats you out carefully, slowly, moaning as he does so. He's taking his time with you because you're blissed out and will definitively need to be easy on yourself in terms of walking after all that's been done. He's moaning, tongue moving through your folds in a way that feels incredible to both you and him, and his lips find your clit as he moves to start fingering you.

Adam sets a good pace, quick but not too quick, and curls his fingers at your g-spot with every thrust. You're moaning loudly despite the time and Adam is loving it, and then you're coming on his lips and his tongue and Adam is licking it off your cunt and his lips with a focused precision.

Then Adam is getting up, pressing a kiss to your forehead and telling you he'll be back in a few minutes. He tells you he loves you but doesn't expect a response--you're absolutely too blissed out to say much of anything, and he loves it because it's the first time in eight months where you've looked so relaxed, the first time in eight months where you've felt it.

Your eyes close as Adam leaves your shared bedroom, and you hear him starting up a bath. You smile to yourself, pressing your cheek against the pillow, having a brief, floaty thought of I am so lucky before Adam comes into the room again, smile on his clean face.

He kisses your eyelids, hands finding and interlacing themselves with yours.

"C'mon," he says. "I've run us a bath, baby. Gonna relax your legs, which are definitely sore by this point."

And then your eyes are opening and he's helping you stand as he tells you how much he loves you and how amazing you were during the session, and his lips are against your forehead in a kiss.

You're mostly quiet as Adam leads you to the bathroom, humming as you get into the tub with him.

You press your chin against Adams shoulder and in the next few minutes, you're still tired but the water is still hot and you're starting to form coherent thoughts again.

"Thank you," you whisper, pressing a kiss to Adams wet shoulder. He hums, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

"For what?" Adam asks.

"For the last nine hours," you say. "For making me forget about work stress and for the sex."

Adam laughs, pressing another kiss to your forehead. "The sex was enjoyable for both parties, then," he says. "And--you're welcome, but you don't need to thank me. Just wanted to help you de-stress a little, and I'm glad I could do that."

You're in the bath together for thirty-ish minutes after that, and you let Adam wash your hair as he peppers your hickied neck with kisses and his hands run along your biceps. You wash his, and you spend the time waiting for the conditioner to set talking about your plans for the day as the day has turned.

Adam intends to let you sleep in and to make breakfast, and you intend to at least move from the bedroom to the living room after you've woken up so that you can read from the comfort of your couch.

You get out of the bath and, because your legs are still pretty sore, have barely any choice but to let Adam help you back to your room and sit on the bed as Adam gets dressed and grabs you clothes.

You get dressed into a pair of black boxers--they, Adam decides, will be comfier than sweatpants--and a hoodie Adam had during his baggy clothes phase that's baggy on you, too, and covers two thirds of your thigh before your knee amidst laughter and kisses that you share in the relative dark.

You and Adam end up going to sleep on the couch anyway so as to avoid halfhearted fighting about who sleeps on the wet spot on the bed from the sweat emitted during sex, curled up in each others arms with a thick, warm and fuzzy blanket covering you both up to your shoulders.

[ugh-yoongi]

your hand is touching mine and i can't stop myself from taking it & Yoongi

thank you for the request! i've had this sitting in my drafts forever, so it gave me an excuse to finish it (and why it's so long dgkjd one day i will learn what a drabble is). i hope you enjoy it. <3

i call this yoongi's romantic comedy of errors.

pairing: yoongi x f. reader

genre: friends to lovers, miscommunication, fluff/comedy

warnings: reader is taehyung's sister, they're coworkers, yoongi is really bad at asking people out on dates someone pls help our boy, some swearing. this was long and i was too lazy to edit it, so if you see any mistakes no you didn't.

wordcount: 2100

taking valentine's day drabble requests here ♡

Yoongi reaches for his wallet, cheeks aching from hours spent laughing.

He’s glad he did this—took a chance, asked you out properly. There’s none of the usual awkwardness that comes along with nights out, none of the dread of having to turn someone down, none of the guilt. No, this had gone well. Better than he ever could’ve imagined, and instead of preparing his trademark I had a great time, but… speech, he’s trying to figure out how to ask you out again without being a floundering, incompetent mess.

But then you reach for your wallet, too, and Yoongi—

“What are you doing?” he laughs, aiming for casual.

It works. You laugh softly, quirking an eyebrow. “Getting my card so we can split the bill.”

The words are out of his mouth before his brain can catch up. “What? I can’t let you pay on a—”

Everything comes to a screeching halt. A record-scratch moment. Because he finally figures out what’s going on, sees the way your eyes widen in panic at Yoongi calling this a date. Surely, he’d been clear enough when he asked you to dinner. He had to have been. He distinctly remembers wearing his best shirt into the office that day. He’d even worn the expensive cologne—the one he’d carefully rationed because you’d complimented it before and he didn’t want it to run out before he got a chance to use it properly.

No, he couldn’t have been that dumb. Still—he wracks his brain, tries to remember how he’d worded it, except now he’s in survival mode and everything’s coming up blank. So he does the only thing he can think of—“I can’t let you pay for your birthday dinner.”—and lies.

What a fucking idiot.

“Yoongi,” you say slowly, like you’re talking to the idiot he most definitely is. “My birthday isn’t for another four months.”

The laugh he forces out can only be described as a hellish witch cackle. “I know that,” he insists, “but I just figured why not, you know! Who says you can’t take your friends to birthday dinners four months early?”

You’re nearly stunned into silence. “But this isn’t even our traditional birthday dinner restaurant.”

“I wanted to try something new,” he answers, even though it comes out more like a question. He had wanted to try something new, and look where that’s gotten him. “Hoseok said this place was nice.”

“Yeah, but Hoseok’s been with his partner for eighty years.”

Yoongi’s laugh is pained, now. No more witch cackle, just the dying wheezes of a man running out of excuses and time. One of his favorite things about you is how smart and unwilling to put up with bullshit you are. A week ago, he never would’ve entertained being on the receiving end of it, but now it’s all he can do to tread water. “Oh, really?” he asks, playing stupid. “I didn’t think this place had, like, partner vibes.”

“There’s a little candle on the table,” you deadpan. “There’s a woman in the corner playing a violin. It absolutely has partner vibes.”

“Maybe I just wanted to splurge?”

Your stare is pointed, gaze full of suspicion. “Did you, now.”

There’s a moment where the light breaks through the clouds. Clarity, and Yoongi doesn’t make the same mistake twice. You’re not buying anything he’s selling, so he’s not going to force it. This wasn’t a date for you. He’ll tuck his tail between his legs and take the loss, and it’ll hurt, sure, and it’ll be one of those things that keeps him up at night years into the future, the embarrassment agonizing, but keeping your friendship intact is more important.

So he just sighs. Hands your credit card back to you and ignores your protests. “Of course I did,” he answers. Tries handing the envelope with just his card inside to a passing waiter, but you throw your arm into the aisle to stop him.

“Quit playing with me and tell me what’s going on,” you snap. “You’re being weird and I don’t like it.”

The waiter side-steps your arm and says, “Please unhand me, ma’am.”

(God, Yoongi’s going to have to triple his tip.)

“Shut up, Taehyung, I’m not even touching you.”

(Quadruple it, by the looks of it.)

Taehyung just sighs. “Fuck you, dude. I didn’t bother you the entire time you were on your date, and now you wanna mess with me when I’m just trying to cash out and go home.”

Yoongi says—“Oh, do you know him?”

—at the same time you say, “He’s my broth—what do you mean my date?”

Taehyung looks at you the way you’d looked at Yoongi. “Do you know where you are right now?”

You snap your fingers. “Because it has partner vibes, right?”

“Definitely has partner vibes,” Taehyung agrees. “There’s little candles on the tables.”

You turn to Yoongi. “I told you!” All he can do is shrug. Candles aren’t really his thing, mostly just ambiance, so what does he know.

Taehyung looks between the two of you, clearly running numbers in his head. How to not lose his tip, probably, or maybe envisioning what Yoongi would be like as a brother-in-law. No, wait—

“Okay, I’m gonna go. This is really weird and you’re both very stupid. Bye.”

You roll your eyes. “Yoongi’s just—”

“I literally do not care who my sister is dating! It’s none of my business!” Taehyung calls over his shoulder, much to Yoongi’s horror and the dismay of the rest of the patrons.

Once he’s gone, the two of you sit in awkward silence. He’s surprised you’re sticking around. The night has turned into an absolute shitshow, and Yoongi wouldn’t blame you a bit for leaving, though the fact that you haven’t has him hesitantly optimistic. Maybe he can salvage this, figure out a way to explain the miscommunication in a way that doesn’t sound condescending, because I’m sorry I thought I asked you out properly makes you sound like a dunce who can’t comprehend when they’re being asked out properly.

What a mess.

It’s not until Taehyung returns with his card, he’s tipped 50%, and he’s moving to put on his jacket do you speak. “Was he right?”

“Your brother?” Yoongi asks reflexively. You nod and his palms get all sweaty. “Um. I’m not really sure how to answer that.”

You snort. “Honestly, for a start.”

“I—okay,” he acquiesces. “Maybe not here, though. People are still staring and it’s making me want to throw up.”

The two of you move to his car. He turns it on and lets it idle, turns on your seat warmer and the heat because it’s cold outside and he’s already sweating buckets so what difference does it make. He’s got the anxiety shakes, anyway. And it’s not lost on him that this is new, too. Before, the two of you always met up in the city. Separate cars, separate ways. He’d picked you up tonight. Right at seven, just like he’d said, so he can’t figure out where everything had gone sideways.

“Okay, I’m just gonna—I did think this was a date,” he says. Feels good to get it out there, he supposes, but the way your jaw drops doesn’t make him feel too great.

You snap it shut. “Oh. Okay.”

He picks at his dress pants. He knows the fabric is expensive but not what it is. The salesperson at the store said it was one of their best and the charge on his card confirmed it. He’d bought three-million won pants for a date and he’d managed to fuck it all up. “Yeah. Sorry.”

“For what?”

“Huh? What d’you mean for what. For thinking it was a date when it wasn’t.”

Friendships have survived worse, right? There’s a guy who works with both of you who divorced his wife of ten years and they still go on vacations together all the time, so the two of you are going to be fine. Shit, would Yoongi be able to go to Saint-Tropez with you after a divorce? That’s some heavy shit. That’s almost insane, he thinks. Does he have that kind of maturity? Is it maturity? The guy works in the communications department, so maybe he’s just… good at that? Maybe Yoongi should’ve asked him for some pointers.

“Can I just ask,” you start, and it’s the way you turn in your seat, angling your body towards him, that activates his fight-or-flight. Yoongi’s anxiety is not built for this kind of confrontation. Not at all. “What made you think it was a date?”

“My pants are three-million won,” he blurts out.

“You thought this was a date because… you’re wearing expensive pants?”

He groans. Bonks his head against the steering wheel and nearly has a heart attack when the horn beeps, far too loud for this parking garage. “No, it’s not just the pants. I thought I’d been very clear when I asked you to dinner that it was, like, a date. And then I almost said that and you looked really panicked, like you’d rather be buried alive, so I lied and said it was a birthday dinner even though it obviously wasn’t, and then your brother—and, yeah. I don’t know. Clearly I’m not as good at this as I thought I was.”

“Okay, first of all: yikes.” Yoongi nearly wails. “Secondly: Yoongi, you said you don’t date coworkers! Why the hell would I have thought this was a date?”

“In my defense, I said that a long time ago.”

“And never rescinded it!” you argue back. “Why would I think that’d changed?”

“Well—because!” Your stare is blank. “Because I picked you up—”

“I told you my car is in the shop three days ago—”

“And I’m pretty sure when I asked, I said, do you want to go to dinner with me—”

“Sure,” you concede, “as friends! We always go to dinner together!”

“But…” He sighs, runs his hands down his face. Might as well rip off the bandaid. “My pants.”

“Yoongi, all of your pants are expensive. You make an ungodly amount of money a year.”

“It’s Valentine’s Day?” he tries again.

You groan. “Yeah, and I’m supposed to give you a gift.” You run your hands over your face, and it’s really stupid, Yoongi thinks, because you’re wearing makeup. Did you always wear makeup when the two of you went to dinner? He can’t remember. He knows “no makeup” makeup is a thing, so he’s not all that confident he could tell what is and isn’t makeup, and it hits him for the millionth time this evening how bad he is at this.

“Look,” you continue, “let’s just… go somewhere else.”

“Maybe you should pick, since…” He gestures vaguely at himself.

You nod. “Yeah, good idea. That new ice cream place is close. We could go there.”

Yoongi glances out the window. It’s cold outside. A little gray, too, so it’s probably going to snow, considering it’s the middle of February and it’s been unseasonably cold, even for winter. But it’s not an outright rejection. It’s your idea, and if he dares to think it, the look you’re giving him is hopeful. He’s sure the wires in his brain will overheat and start crackling at the mere thought of you wanting to spend more time with him, so he’s agreeing before he can think twice. If his fucking pants are three-million won, they better keep him warm.

He doesn’t know what to do once you’re out of the car. Does he try to hold your hand? Does he loop his arm through yours? Throw an arm over your shoulders and pull you against his side? He’s already ten steps behind. He’s got a few centimeters on you, but your legs are longer, and it’s a little embarrassing, the hurried waddle he does to catch up. And he must sidle up too close, because your hand brushes against his.

Still warm, even though it’s going to snow. Even though you aren’t wearing gloves. All he can think is that the two of you are on your way to some new ice cream place because you wanted to go there, even though he’s put you through the ringer tonight, so he exchanges his stupidity for bravery. Closes in a little more, smiles when you look up at him and cock an eyebrow.

Because your hand is brushing against his, and he can’t stop himself from taking it.

For the first time all night, he knows it’s the right move when you smile.