#I have so many more that either haven’t met but are in the same media OR are crossover characters

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

upon his grace 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, power dynamics, cheating, bullying, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You are called to court after the end of the civil war, but find yourself facing many challenges, expected and not. (fantasy medieval au)

Characters: king!Steve Rogers

Note: bro, Idk how I start at point A and get to fucking outer space. Also happy bday to Steverino.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

The gardens of Astra Castle are unlike any you’ve seen before. Certainly, you’ve never been to a royal castle previously. Your father’s own hold is modest, still bearing the wooden foundation, whereas the rich lords have poured mortar and built in stone. 

So, it is a great honour to be among the noble women chosen to serve the queen. Most unexpected. As a daughter of a lower house, it is rather unusual, but it comes with the newly set writ tabled at the end of the uprising. That is how your father tells it anyhow. 

King Steven is as newly crowned as he is newlywed. After a lengthy revolt against the previous king, the land has settled, and upon his victory, the new ruler promises the expansion of prosperity to all. The very precedence of his war rested on the greed of the former court and its covetous lords. 

To those who took up his mantle, he has made good his word. To the commoners, he has sent bread and ale, livestock and alms; to the nobles, he has granted titles and lands. You were of the same doubt as your father, however, you expected to be forgotten in the disarray. 

Yet, you were not. You’re there with several other ladies. A set of blond twins borne of a duke and duchess, the sole heir of a widowed countess, and several earl’s daughters such as yourself. Unlike them, you do not wear satin or silk, not muslin either. You have only the dyed linen your mother attempted to enhance with some embroidery around the cuffs and collar. 

“Marcia and Marigold,” the twins introduce themselves as you cluster together in the gardens, grooms and servants bustling around carriages and chests. “Lady Calliope,” they call out the countess’ daughter, “we met prior, yes? Your mother is near Estrela.” 

“She is,” Calliope answers in her stern manner, herself seeming a widow in her black dress. The shimmery fabric makes up for its single tone. 

“Ameri, Dorida, and... Selene,” they point to the other girls, themselves clothed in scarlet, rose, and azure respectively. “We know the earls, your fathers. They gathered at our father’s hold for the battle near Caffre.” 

The twins take turns speak so that sometimes you cannot track whose lips are moving. It is even that they trade off in the middle of sentences. You find yourself almost as lost by their words as your new surroundings. 

“And you...” The twins turn their jade eyes upon you. It is there you have found the only difference in them; they have the same heights, the same hair, the same gowns even, but there is a sliver of grey through Marcia’s green iris. “We haven’t figured who you are.” 

“My father is an earl. In Woodsdam.” 

“Woodsdam,” they echo in unison and share a look. They are perplexed. 

“A minor house,” Calliope provides. “a farmer more than a noble, if I’m not mistaken.” 

“We have vast lands and we tend to them, yes,” you assure. You expect their condescension. Your father warned you for it but he bid that you keep your chin up. The king has given him a mission of his own and so you will represent the family for the time. “We keep our people well and we fed the king’s troops when they marched." 

“Mm, sounds very... common,” Marigold grins and her sister snorts into her hand. 

“We know many lords like us, yes. They work hard amidst their vassals. It keeps the lands strong so that we may better serve the crown,” you return evenly.  

Your mother helped you prepare. She coached you to keep your manners and your spine. The latter is much more difficult as you face these ladies and their bobbles with only a ribbon in your hair and a pair of patched gloves. 

“Woodsdam? I think I rode through it once on the way to my grandfather’s summer castle,” Ameri tuts, “it was little more than a swamp.” 

“It must’ve been the spring rains, perhaps, lady,” you offer. 

“Summer house,” she enunciates, “one travels there in the summer.” 

Your cheek twitches at her barbed retort. Very well. You are not used to their sharpness. Their chittering has thus far centered on gossip and the cost of their new caps. 

“A wonder the pauper’s daughter received an invite. Are you certain you can read, lady?” Dorida snipes and looks to the twins for approval. You notice how they all tend to do so. 

“It was sent to my father, Lord Eldon,” your voice quavers. You are not so strong as your mother bid you to be.  

They cackle at your meek response, “the precious maiden of Woodsdam.” 

You put your head down as the activity all around threatens to swallow you up. You wish the ground would rent and you would fall right through. All your excitement has dissipated to a sludge in your veins. You touch your cheek as you try not to show your embarrassment. 

“The Lord of Woodsdam,” a deep voice startles you as boots approach from behind, “is that what I heard?” 

You stiffen up as the ladies before you hush and blink, almost in tandem. They curtsey as their faces wash over in shock and you turn to face the newcomer. A man in a deep blue vest over black sleeves and grey breeches. He wears belt of gold and a circlet across his brow in a similar hue. It is that which betrays his statues. 

You lower your eyes and mimic the other women, mortified to be faced with new king so informally. You would not think him wandering out in the yard. Still, he has vowed to be unlike the former leige. That he would be of the people. 

“King Steven, your majesty,” the others titter in a messy chant and you murmur your own propriety as you back away. You find yourself still to the shoulder of the king as the other ladies give no room for you to join. 

The vision of him stains your mind. He is tall, with dark blond tresses that extend past his neck, and blue eyes which put his own attire to shame. He has a jaw which looks etched in stone and a bearing which matches his rank. He is tall and broad and a finely built knight. 

“It is an honour,” Marcia says most boldly. 

“You may rise,” he allows in a breezy timbre. “I did hear my wife would receive new ladies. Young ladies.” 

“Your majesty,” the murmur rolls across each lip. 

“It is much needed. We have so many established ladies at court and yet we need to think of the future. Of the next generation,” he declares as he emphasizes his words with his large hand. You watch his garnet ring to keep from so brazenly looking him in the face. 

“Certainly, your majesty,” Marcia and Marigold chime in unision. 

“And don’t worry for there are many young lords as well,” the king laughs galely at the quip which makes the ladies, yourself included, blush. “Ah, then, Woodsdam I believe we were speaking of...” 

You blink and glance at the other ladies. They are cowed, unsure if they were overheard in their derision. You hope as much as they that they were not. It is rather unflattering. 

“My father, Lord Eldon,” you explain, “your majesty.” 

“You? You are the young lady of Woodsdam I heard so much of.” 

“You did? Er, your majesty,” you curtsey apologetically; unnecessarily. 

“Certainly, I did. Your father was a great assistance in me holding counsel with the lower lords. He is very patient. “When not about his duty, he spoke of you oft. Though what matters are more important than family?” 

“Yes, your majesty,” you can’t help a smile, “my father is a very kind man.” 

“Kind and courageous. I’m certain you’ve inherited as much,” the king praises, “and these other ladies. The twins who belong to Mawsley, the Countess of Clovers daughter, and the three earls daughters from the White Plains.” 

The ladies each bow their heads as he proclaims them by their forebearers’ titles. You watch from aside, feeling even more out-of-place. The king recites them all proudly as he extends a finger for each. 

“Allow me myself to extend a welcome to Astra. When you are sorted, my wife shall receive you all and have you acquainted with the grounds. I hope you enjoy them, we’ve had the gardeners at work day and night,” he pronounces, “for now, I must be off, for a king has many obligations and not so much time.” 

He bows and turns on his heel, marching off with his shoulder straight and head high. He walks as a soldier does, not some lord. You’ve seen the difference before, more recently in the aftermath of battle. A soldier is more akin to a farmer, much as your father, whereas a Lord tends to keep his steps tight. 

“Wow, oh my,” Dorida fans herself, “he is rather handsome.” 

“Oh yes,” Marcia and Marigold say, the latter forging ahead, “we met him at our father’s castle. He is ever so charming.” 

“Hm, and the queen would love to hear it, I’m certain,” Calliope intones brusquely. 

“The queen is not here,” Ameri sneers, “so what does it matter? Besides, is it so wrong to state a truth?” 

“He is very elegant,” Selene agrees. 

“Much too kind, as well,” Marigold snips, “Woodsdam? He speaks as if it more than some paltry farmhouse.” 

“You’d never even heard of it,” Calliope remarks. 

“And how had you, hm? You seem the bookish type. Perhaps you should leave the maps to the men. What good will a river or road do for a widow’s welp?” 

“Needn’t be cruel,” Calliope rebuffs. 

“Pity if this is the lot they send,” Marcia shakes her head as the sisters share another cryptic look. 

You keep to yourself. That is all you can do. It is better to watch and learn than to leap and land wherever you might. Your mother always said so and she was your best teacher. 

“Right, there must be some maid who might show us to our rooms,” Marigold stands on her toes and waves at each passing servant. “I tire of the sunlight and boorish company.” 

👑

You have two trunks awaiting you in your chambers. Not as the other ladies who had at least a dozen each. Less humble than your lunger are the rooms themselves.

There is an antechamber hung with tapestries showing wildlife and flora, a table set for two and cushioned bench by the window. The bedroom is draped in similar hangings with a four-post bed and a grand hearth. A desk, another bench, a woven carpet, and fine accouterments on square tables. And a closet for the commode as well and a pot in the far corner of the bedchamber. 

If only your mother and father could see this. They would be just as amazed. You can’t help but admire all of it. To touch the curtains as you approach the window and stare off at the afternoon sky. The gardens are a medley of hues; petals and thorns; leaves and dirt. It’s all so wonderful, you can still hardly believe it. 

Seems those other ladies can’t either. You can’t help but think of their words anon. They said so outrightly what you doubted inwardly. You don’t belong here. It must be so clear to them. 

You lean on the ledge and peer down into the garden pathways. It is almost a labyrinth with how intricately they’ve laid out the hedges. You lower yourself down to your elbows and cross your arms as you sigh. 

Your eyes are drawn from the swaying roses to the dark speck that appears below. You squint at first. From the second floor, it is harder to discern. It is the glimmer of gold in his hair and the defined gait that gives away the king. For an instant, you believe you might be dreaming. 

He walks along one path and to the next. There is another with him. A man with darker hair and a stauncher figure. They speak and stop just as they enter a circled walkway centered by a large vase of flowers. The other man talks, though you can hear neither, and the king rubs his chin. 

You should turn away. They might think you an eavesdropper. Oh, too late! You don’t dare move as the king tilts his head. You wouldn’t want to pique his attention. You cannot tell if he has spotted you. Not until he raises a hand and waves. The other man stops and looks to follow the gesture. 

You stand up straight but before you can flee in horror, you recall yourself. It is improper to turn your back to the king. You lift your hand and return the wave. He dips his head and turns to clap his companion’s shoulder, pointing him onward. 

Oh, you hope he is not unhappy. If you pray, perhaps he will not have recognised you. You needn’t an enemy of the king as well. 

[the-fiction-witch]

I Like Him

Media - House Of The Dragon Character - Oscar Tully Couple - Oscar X Reader Reader - (OC) Jaerra Targaryen [Daughter of Daemon Targaryen & Rhea Royce] Rating - 12 Word Count - 1121

Requested -

Hello Miss Witch! Can I request an Oscar Tully story in your “Boys Yet To Have Books” please? The reader is a Targaryen (probably just the same age as him and named Jaerra) and has a he-dragon, she flew to Harrenhal to accompany Daemon and then met Oscar and just some cute interactions between them that grew into something. It’s up to how you will write it and can have lots of parts too because I will love it either way. I hope you read this request. Thank you! <33

The dark echos of Harrenhal seem to sicken Daemon the longer he remains, food seems to turn to ashes in his mouth, wine soured, his mind a mess of his own failings and falls.

“I’m surrounded, by witches, and idiots.” He sighed to himself,

Suddenly a familiar sound echoes through Harrenhal’s half-melted halls, the sound of a dragon's triumphant cry. Which caused Daemon to perk up and move quickly for the first time in months. He headed out to the courtyard part of him hopeful to see Syrax across the sky, or perhaps even MoonDancer.

But a deep blue dragon with shimmering white scales fluttered down onto the grass,

“Iēdar lilagon…” he sighed, He approached the dragon glaring down at its rider, “Why did she send you?”

“Because you're causing chaos on your own,” Jaerra answered as she climbed down from her dragon, wearing her tall boots and grey washed-out leather trousers, a deep blue jacket with a high low skirt and dragon clasps down her chest, her long Targaryen blonde hair with a single dark brown streak by her face knotted up into a tight braid.

“I already have enough to deal with,” He sighed,

“Hence why I’m here.” She said pulling off her leather gloves and walking past him, “You’ve been causing enough problems around here, so she thought I’d be best to come. Plus everyone else is far too busy to be your babysitter.”

“Busy!” He said as he followed her,

“Her grace is busy, planning wars and alliances,”

“And what does she think I’ve been doing!”

She rolled her eyes and continued, “Jacaerys is defending his claim at her side -”

“Baela and Rheana?”

“Baela is beside her betrothal, as she should be. Rheana is with Aegon and Viserys in the Vale.”

He sighed, “I’d have taken Corlys before you.”

“He is of far to high priority.” She glared, “You get me. If you’d have been more careful I wouldn’t be needed and I could be patrolling.”

“So that’s what she’s got you doing? Patrolling?”

“Ravens are slow, men even slower. Dragonback is the best way to get sights of our lands and the movements on them.” She explained, “Speaking of which, the riverlords are here.”

“They haven’t-”

“They haven’t arrived yet but they will in an hour, I flew over them.” She answered before she went inside,

“...Fucking-” He sighed following her, “We have an hour, time to change into a gown for the Riverland lords.”

“Alright,” She shrugged, “Off you go, to get dressed.” She glared,

“I meant you.”

“Seems a waste of my time.” she sighed, “We are at war, gowns seem pointless at this point,”

“You are … so much of your mother,” He barked,

She chuckled, “Is that meant to insult me?” She smiled, “I’d rather be a spitting image of my mother… than anything like you.” she spat, “Now let's get this sorted out before we all end up on spikes in Kings Landing.”

Daemon sat at the head of the table in Harrenhalls Grand chamber, Jaerra to his side with two seats between them, as in walked the Lord of the river lands. Jaerra raised an eyebrow given this was not the man from the many lords she saw from Dragonback whom she expected to be the lord. Lord Oscar Tully made his way in dressed in his fine amour, curls messy from his helmet. He simply nodded as a greeting to Daemon and his eyes flicked to Jaerra, he did a double take but focused his eyes forward.

“My condolences on the passing of your grandser.” Daemon spoke, “But the crown congratulates you on your ascension to the head of your house. And Lord Paramount of the Riverlands” He explained, “Truly Glorious well done,”

“I did nothing,” Oscar answered,

“Nevertheless, you are here which is the important thing.” Daemon nodded,

“You were quick enough to dismiss me before.”

“You were of no significance to me then.”

Jaerra sighed, rolling her eyes a little.

“Now. I shall have my great host you have a decision to make.” Daemon stood from his chair mostly to avoid the eyes of Jaerra, “Presume it is clear to you which is the right one.”

“You will forgive me, your grace… I am green. In this sort of matter. As you so kindly point out, but it does seem to me that you’ve made rather a mess here.” Oscar explained making sure to meet Daemon's eyes as he walked around him, “Countenancing barbarities in the queen's name.”

Jaerra choked back a small laugh but made no secret of her smile, as she rested her feet on the table,

“Who’s side are you on?” Daemon glared the boy down,

“... The river lands are held together by oaths.” Oscar nodded, “House Tully swore on oath to King Viserys Targaryen, We recognize the authority of the named heir Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen… And your own as her king consort.”

“Good.” Daemon nodded, “Then we should go to face your vassals and you shall call your banners to war,”

“That might be difficult my king,”

“Well… I was told they would come to heal When house tully declared it’s allegiance.”

“That… may be the case,” Oscar nodded, “But it is yet to be seen that they will heed my authority, as young as it is.”

“You are no older than my daughter.” Daemon chuckled as his eyes met Jaerra,

“... I’d further follow her than you.”

“Power and control don’t have an age. Merely a mindset.” Jaerra smiled,

Oscar nodded to her, “And there is another problem… they all hate you.” he turned back to Daemon,

“Everyone hates him.” Jaerra spoke up again, “Never stopped him before.”

“I don’t need their love, I need their swords.” Daemon glared,

The two in a deep moment of staring before the door opened,

“You’re grace, My lord, the river lords await. I fear we cannot delay them any longer.”

“Of course,” Daemon nodded, “Come along lord Oscar,”

Oscar nodded and walked out hand on his sword,

“You too.” He demanded to Jaerra,

She sighed setting her feet down on the stone floor and made her way out the door, but turned around as she passed Daemon walking backwards out the door, “I like him.”

“You would.” he glared, forcing her out with him.  

[wishingicouldfly]

Why I Believe Larry Is Real

It’s been a long time since I’ve done one of my opinion essays. This week I was asked to justify my belief that Larry is real, and that Harry and Louis are together. It feels like it’s time. 

::cracks knuckles::

I’ve thought about how to reply to the demand, which came from someone on X (formerly Twitter). I cannot compel someone who isn’t inclined to believe in Larry to suddenly change their mind. If someone doesn’t want to interpret the signs the same way I do, that’s their prerogative. But that said, I decided to give some thought about how to answer the question. 

I’ve been inspired by IndiaAlphaWhiskey and her recent reply to a similar question. I loved the way she answered by talking about long term love and how it’s steady and doesn't need to have a lot of fireworks visible from the outside. It’s hard to put that into words that make sense to someone who hasn’t witnessed it. Here’s her original reply:

The reality is we do not have solid proof that they were or - as I believe - still are in a relationship. Nor should we. H&L are closeted celebrities who keep their private life private. They are closeted, so you won’t see them admitting to being in a relationship in interviews; that would defeat the point of being closeted. In fact, you may think you’ve heard them outright deny being together. Again, if you’re not looking at the clues, and you only want to take this at face value, you’re not going to see any other possible narrative. Full stop. If that’s the case, you’re not going to agree with me, and that’s fine.

If you really want to go down a rabbit hole, my friend @bkatie617 keeps a running spreadsheet on perceived coincidences in the current era. 

https://x.com/BKatie617/status/1739715223244742755?s=20

I can list out a hundred things that, to me, are coded messages H&L have signaled to either us or to each other. You can debunk/deny/laugh-out-loud at all of them, if you want. You might call something coincidence or debunk one or more of these pieces. And yes, there are things out there that aren’t true, that are completely coincidence or debatable – or wildly unbelievable.

I get that. In fact, I have a whole thread of debunks on my Twitter bio. My debunk thread focuses on factual, hard-proof debunks to help veterans and newcomers keep the story straight.

https://x.com/Rosann_1986/status/1670101749267406848?s=20

But there are a hundred more things that are real. Or at least open to interpretation. At some point, it becomes really, really unlikely that everything is a coincidence over the last decade, and you have to admit that H&L are in collaboration with their messaging. For me, once you admit they are in collaboration in their messaging, it doesn’t take a huge leap to believe they are together romantically. Why else would their teams coordinate messaging to the media and the masses?

Harry even said, in 2022, “There’s not many [clues and tidbits] that get left behind. Most of the time, they usually pick up on pretty much everything, along with a couple of hilarious coincidences that were never meant to be, never meant to be kind of clues in the first place that happen… end up being clues.”

Source: Harry Styles talks to the Morning Mash Up about his new single, 'As It Was', Coachella, and more (siriusxm.ca)

You don’t have to believe any of it. I’m fine with that. But because you don’t believe it, doesn’t mean I’m not completely, unwavering, solidly adamant in my own belief that it’s real. Especially if you’re not providing any evidence to sway my beliefs.

Here’s what I think: I think Harry and Louis met and fell in love during X-Factor in 2010, began dating, and continued to fall while on the X-Factor tour and the recording of the first single and album. I believe they made it official in 2011. Over the years, they went through hard times through career changes, loss of family members, solo career ups and downs, differences in career trajectory, doubts and fears, and then the pandemic. I believe they weathered all that and are together and committed to this day. 

I think they live a private life and have no intention of coming out or going public any time soon. Harry said to Rolling Stone last year that he hasn’t publicly “been with anyone.” I also think, even though they are determined to stay private, they like the idea of some fans knowing and supporting them. Seeing their true, authentic selves. So, they’ve gotten good at messaging their truth to fans who want to see it and support it. 

Due to industry pressure and 'image' clauses in their contract, I think they were encouraged by record execs and management to keep their relationship quiet, but rebelled (as teenagers, young adults, and fools in love will do) by insinuating double meanings in interviews and signaling to those in the know ever since. 

I think the signaling started in One Direction days when fans began to pick up on the signs they gave each other - the secret looks, the thumbs up, their complementary tattoos. 

When they saw fans remaining loyal, despite the idea they might be gay/queer and together, the signals turned more outward and louder, with Harry’s blue bandana, lyrics, the rainbow bears, and more. I think it continues today with graphic t-shirts, even more lyrics, matching merch, intentional mirroring in stage lighting and costumes, and more. 

Evidence Larry are together Now

Understand that there’s no solid “proof” that H&L are together now. So, if that’s what you’re here looking for, you won’t find it. They are closeted still, both portraying a heterosexual narrative in the media.

My lens (admittedly biased) is that they are together and hint to us, but that most of what they do these days is for each other. Little inside jokes from across the world or across the room to show they are together. Despite them being separated for work a lot, I believe these little nods to each other helps keep their connection healthy and strong across the time apart.

What follows is a small sampling of what I think is intentional messaging from H&L, meant to suggest to those following that they are still together. Nothing is a proof. Nothing by itself is anything more than coincidence. But taken together, these along with other examples, show two men who are speaking through their actions, in my humble opinion.

They have strikingly similar patterns in their merch for FITF and HSLOT. 

Harry’s merch looks like it would be comfortable at Louis’ show.

Harry drew H and L on his trainers on May 10, 2022 on a pap walk in Italy. 

Both Harry and Louis used some of the same songs for their pre- and post-show playlists. https://www.tumblr.com/bluewinnerangel/702446259292831744/do-you-see-any-commonalities-between-harry-and

They both had really intentional blue/green stage lights at their shows. For anyone who doesn’t know, blue and green were their respective assigned colors when they were in One Direction. Certainly not a proof on its own but coupled with other things adds to the intentionality.

Complementary stage outfits. See this whole thread by @grete418 on X. It’s tongue in cheek, but it demonstrates what I mean about outfits matching/complementing each other. https://twitter.com/Grete418/status/1536453046611369989

Harry dressed as Danny Zuko at Harryween 2022 (coincidentally, Louis’ one and only lead role in a high school musical). https://twitter.com/UpdateHLD/status/1587297649572585473

Louis namechecked his unreleased song “All Along” in September 2022 (here at about 5:20), which strongly references Harry and a concert they attended together.. https://youtu.be/D9NjoMuz5-s?si=eRB-FwLI9JveMK3N

Louis wearing his 'dancing man' top when the 'dancing Harry' figure is so well known.

Similar visual themes like this. Same assignment, different execution. (Harry’s House/Silver Tongues):

Louis’ new tattoos (2023) appear to be images already seen on Harry’s journal cover and eye motif from HSLOT, plus they add to the existing traditional nautical motif they share. 

T-shirt in Music Video for Music for a Sushi Restaurant reading LT Seniors. 

Louis used fan images of Harry’s tattoos as Spotify cover art in February 2021.

Lyrics that seem to respond to each other, and/or have similar themes

Louis wears a rose (like Harry’s tattoo) on his shirt on 6/26/23…next night Harry wears a very phallic shaped rocket ship that looks a lot like Louis’ dagger tattoo. Seems like a call and response.

Louis singing 7 by Catfish and the Bottlemen, on both his tours. The song begins, “Larry call a load of smoke in…”

Added: (5/29/24). Louis announces his "For Every Question Why" Live Stream event via Veeps on 5/27/24. Two days later (5/29/29), Harry turns up in Florence, Italy, wearing an Elmo shirt with the word Why? via Twitter: (1) Ali ~So Be It! on X: "Just leaving this here. https://t.co/Mdty8DRLDE" / X

So there you have it. I could obviously go on for quite a bit, with many more examples, but I think this is a pretty good sampling. If you’d like to know more, or talk about it, feel free to DM me here or on X (@Rosann_1986). I don’t do this to try to change anyone’s mind. If you don’t believe they are doing these things intentionally, and aren’t curious or approaching this with an open mind, nothing I say will change that for you. 

If you’re new here and you’d like to learn more, there are a lot of places to find master posts. Understand that you have to take everything with a grain of salt and come to your own conclusions. Here are a few places to start:

(2) Be a lover. Give love. Choose love. on Tumblr

It’s a beautiful war 🌈 (tumblr.com)

Great lyric analysis here: it's subjective - My song analyses Last edited December 22nd 2022,... (tumblr.com)

[scrapyardboyfriends]

I miss friendships like Adam and Aaron because they felt like actual friends, though I think the show kind of got lucky because of Adam and Danny’s close friendship, and also Danny seems to have the best on-screen chemistry (platonic or romantic) with actors he is close or friends with in real life (I’ve noticed it with Robron too). We don’t really see that with some of the younger characters as much and imo it comes down to writing mainly, but also acting with some of the characters.

They definitely lucked out with Danny and Adam, though they became friends after they met each other on set. So I guess that could happen for the other kids too. It did with Izzy and Rosie because they came in around the same time so early Gabby and Liv friendship scenes did feel really natural.

In general the teen groups these days are just not as well developed as they were in the past. I mean I think part of the reason the teens don't land as well for me is probably because I'm getting older and more disconnected from that age but I feel like the writers probably are too. I feel like a lot of the writers have been there forever so the average age is probably older now. I think they really struggle with writing modern teens, especially when it gets into the social media area. All of the cyber bullying type stories or anything where all they do is stare at their phones doesn't really work when we're not seeing it. I feel like when April had her whole story we maybe saw one or two posts rather than getting to see things pop up on screen around her like they do in a lot of teen shows these days (or any shows).

Another thing that today's teens really suffer from is a lack of screen time, even when they have bigger stories. For example, in Aaron's first full year, he was in 144 episodes and that wasn't even his coming out story. That started a little towards the end of the year but the bulk of that was in 2010, when he was in 153 episodes. Contrast that to Arthur who was in 26 episodes last year and 28 so far this year and Marshall who has had a more dramatic coming out story with angst but he’s only been in 26 episodes. Cathy who has had a supposedly big story this year that technically was starting at the end of last year has only been in 30 and 27 episodes respectively. And those are the characters with actual story. Even Samson who technically had a big story too was only in 49 episodes last year and only 19 so far this year.

Most of these kids still feel like blank slates because we just don’t see them often enough, not now and not when they were kids either. I mean Robert and Andy were in 57/58 episodes in 1998 when they were 11/12 years old. That’s more episodes than the teens with stories now. Because we just don’t see families together anymore. We don’t see everyday life anymore. The kids just disappear. I mean Angel and Elliot for example haven’t been in more than 6 episodes a year since 2019. Yet Angelica is supposed to be maybe killed in a car crash next week?! I mean care slightly cause I care about Nicola and Jimmy and Angel once had a cute interaction with Robert but otherwise she’s just some random kid we’ve never seen. There's no time for them to be developed as characters with an actual sense of identity or a consistent dynamic with their family and peers. For example, they were building the Robert/Andy dynamic over the course of many years and it remained consistent and layered upon each new thing. These days something will happen like Arthur bullying Archie and then it'll just be dropped entirely and forgotten about (I know that was partially due to Covid but also it was never once mentioned again)

And then there’s the fact that most of this current crop of teens were cast as young children, aside from Marshall. I mean April is still pretty good but she also gets slightly more screen time so she’s slightly more developed as a character and actress. But the rest of these kids…I mean Amelia was great as a precocious child but struggles carrying a bigger dramatic story. Arthur was fine as a little kid saying the odd line or two but his line readings are bit more awkward now. I do think he would have been helped if they’d really tried to get a quality teen actor to play Marshall but Max Fletcher doesn’t really cut it. So it’s just awkward playing against awkward. I mean you’d think the twins who are twins in real life would have more on screen sibling chemistry but…not really. Of course Heath also barely exists as a character so it’s not like they have much to work with.

The other thing I feel like hurts them is that I feel like the previous teen groups were a lot more independent. I do think that could still happen with the Arthur/Marshall/April/Cathy/Heath/Sometimes Elliot group because they're still a bit younger and the Amelia/Samson/Noah group is a bit more independent because they're older. But I feel like Aaron/Adam/Vic/Holly/Daz/Scarlett etc were just running around on their own a lot, in part because their family situations weren't always the best. I mean Vic was being looked after by Andy a lot of the time and Aaron obviously had all his Chas issues and then just had Paddy who was more friend than parent a lot of the time. Adam/Holly/Hannah had a more stable home life but Adam had already left school and was working on the farm. Holly had her art classes at college. Vic and Amy worked at the B&B. Aaron worked at the garage. I feel like we just saw them on their own a lot more doing more grown up things or more independent things without having parents constantly tracking them down and fussing over them. Of course it's important for them to have family dynamics too but it's also important for them to build relationships with each other independently and I feel like that's lacking a bit, also due to the extreme lack of screen time.

So yeah, lack of screen time, lack of every day life to develop the family units and sibling dynamics, actors who were cast very young with no idea if they'd be able to carry bigger stories now and reluctance to recast, writers that feel out of touch with today's teens and then you know the general terribleness of the overall direction of the show right now. It's sad because with so many kids who have grown up in the village entering their teens right now, there could be a lot of good content for them but they really don't do enough with them.

[ledenews]

Thalman Campaign Focusing on Success and Wheeling’s Future

His campaign’s slogan delivered his main message from the beginning, and he is hopeful controversial distractions haven’t overshadowed his service and his vision for Wheeling’s future. Chad Thalman has served as the council representative for Ward 1 and as Vice Mayor since 2016, and now he wishes to follow termed-out Mayor Glenn Elliott in the position. On May 6, however, anonymous campaign mailers concerning the mayoral race were received by many Wheeling residents, and Thalman was forced to address the flyers on Facebook. He stated: “As many of you know, myself and several other candidates for mayor have been the subject of some negative campaigning. … I’ve had nothing to do with this and don’t believe any other candidate has any involvement in this either. I strongly condemn these tactics. I’m disturbed by what is happening. … Those running for mayor maybe my opponents, but they are not my enemies. I believe every single one of them is a good and decent person and I’ve enjoyed our interactions while on the campaign trail.” Vice Mayor Thalman will further address the anonymous mailers, and his campaign, Monday from 5-6 p.m. on River Talk, 100.1FM and AM 1290. “I believe there are a lot of positive things taking place in the city right now, and I want that to continue with me as the mayor of Wheeling. I feel like I know the ingredients after serving on council and as the Vice Mayor for the last eight years,” Thalman said. “I don’t think it’s wise to change horses midstream. Thalman met with Darin "Lurch" Koch to present this certificate last May at the Veteran Amphitheatre at Heritage Port. “I want to continue bringing investment into the city, and that includes all areas of the city,” he explained. “I know the downtown gets a lot of attention, but I want to put a lot of focus on our neighborhoods by continuing to focus on parks and playgrounds while paving even more roads and alleys and continuing demolitions where necessary.” Thalman has participated in the two public panel discussions that were streamed by local media outlets, and he’s explained his beliefs during radio and newspaper interviews as well. Each time he’s explained his experience is key to, yes, continuing the city’s comeback. “I have knocked on a lot of doors and talked to a lot of people, and I keep hearing the same things over … ‘We like what’s happening’ … ‘We like the path we’re on’ … ‘Stay the course’ … ‘You guys are doing a good job’,” Thalman said. “And I agree. Things are happening. “I feel like it’s my obligation to do my part to help the city I love, to help my hometown, and to help the city I’ll be spending the rest of my life in,” he said. “I’m proud of what we’ve done the past eight years, and I want to keep going.” He sees it as simple, too, when it comes to making that slogan become reality. “This year, visiting with residents from around the city has been great, and the people want to know my plans,” Thalman explained. “The people of Wheeling want a mayor that’s going to work hard and who’s going to keep their foot on the pedal. “But, if you want someone as mayor who is just going to sit on their hands and do nothing, I’m not your guy,” he said. “And when you talk to people in the city, they will tell you about the alley they want to be paved or the house in their neighborhood that needs to come down, and I believe we have to look at all of that. I can have ideas and so can the members of Council, but we have to listen to the residents most of all.” Thalman has been a part of many conversations about the future of downtown Wheeling, including this with Mayor Elliott and Kurt Zende, the president of the Wheeling Chamber of Commerce. Creating a New Neighborhood It began under former mayor Andy McKenzie with the introduction of The Stone Lofts in the Stone Center on Main Street, and it continued with Boury Lofts on the corner of 16th and Main streets. Thalman then joined Elliott with The Wheeling-Pitt Lofts project, an initiative held up by the economy and interest rates but one still on the “Possibility Board” when it comes to increasing the number of residential units in the downtown area. “The Doris,” though, was constructed and opened across from the Heritage Center project, and it features 46 one and two-bedroom apartments just in time for Williams-Lea Tag’s renovations for an expansion to a 650-person workforce. “Over the past eight years, we’ve talked about becoming a city that would attract the remote worker because we’re already on our way with updating our downtown for the people who work there and live there so we can make Wheeling a city people want to live in,” Thalman said. “We have good schools, great parks, a low cost of living, the cost of living is very attractive, and our downtown is becoming a new neighborhood itself. “When you work remotely, it usually doesn’t matter where you actually live,” he said. “So, if I’m elected, I would concentrate on how we can develop those amenities and continue upgrading our infrastructure so we can make the city as attractive as possible.” Chad's parents, including his mother, Vicki, were thrilled when he decided to move back home more than a decade ago. A few of those amenities, per se, are included in the ongoing $32 million streetscape scheduled for a July 2025 completion. “And once the streetscape is complete, we’ll have the infrastructure – above and below the ground – that we’ll need to attract even more new businesses, but I don’t want to wait that long. I want to work with developers right now,” Thalman insisted. “We’ll have all of the water and stormwater lines and all of the roads, the sidewalks, and the beauty above the ground so we can promote a great situation for an existing business or for someone just starting out. The opportunity will be here. “Plus, I’ve been talking about the sidewalks for a couple of years now because I would like to see them get fixed throughout the city,” he reported. “I would like to see street trees in our neighborhoods, and I’d like to see more public art in every area. We need more residential housing, and I believe we need more apartments downtown. While serving on Wheeling Council, Thalman says he’s learned the position comes with far more positives than negatives, and he’s also learned, without a doubt, what the residents want most. “All of my goals can be boiled down to one – I want Wheeling to be better than it is now,” he said. “And I’ve learned that’s exactly what the people of this city want, too. They want to see growth, they want to see new, and they want to see that the efforts are being made. “As mayor, I would want progress in every area possible so Wheeling can become what the residents want it to become,” Thalman added. “I’ve seen how it’s done, and now I want to keep it going.” Read the full article

[holisticsoulhealer]

Wishes - A Spiritual Story

It’s really fun helping individuals to realize how special and empowered they are and can be, and to watch as their deepest wishes come true. I’ve been so fortunate to be in that position quite often. My own wishes have been getting more manifested over the last few years as well. It’s best when dealing with wishes that we don’t spin our wheels wishing for things we cannot have. For example, there have been many times when I’ve wished my mum was still around physically (she’s often around me spiritually). I am very much more conscious of not focusing on wishing something were different or not the case, and spending more time wishing for that which I know I can have and create. This is better use of my time here on earth. I recommend this for you, our beloved reader.

The Universe wants to deliver our wishes, especially when they are in alignment with the flow of life. Our job is to be as crystal clear about what our wishes are, so that it’s easy to understand and hard to miss or misinterpret the request.

Many, many years ago I had visions of a man. He only hinted at what the front of him looked like, as he always had his back to me. He wore a long duster coat like cowboys wear, and there was a salt and pepper color hair, with small beard and mustache. He felt large, tall (over 6 ft 2) and was sturdy, not especially heavy, and yet not slim either. He had kind green eyes, with yellow flecks in them, shiny and loving. His eyes were the same color as mine. His smile was almost always there and he swept me up in his protective arms, making me feel safe, warm and loved.

I was a widow when this vision came in full force. I knew there was to be 3 men in my life. My first husband brought me the children and parenting experience I had craved, even though it was washed in fraught with challenge, and ultimately washed away as though it had happened to someone I knew well.

Then there was my father from another lifetime, who came in as the husband who never fully grew up. He was kind, gentle and generous toward me. I stepped into my own life like never before, studying to be a massage therapist and a fully trained Cordon Bleu chef. I wished to be qualified in this World and with my degree, I was qualified in any kitchen.

I loved learning all the cookery techniques, recipes and the creative ideas. I could almost cook anything on most menus I’d ever eaten out at. I loved playing in the food, and became very adept at certain foods. I really loved it. It was more than a wish, it was a dream that came true, and one that I didn’t even know I had.

Over the years it became my wish to experience different aspects of life, learning something new every single year. I particularly focused on the spiritual lanes of study, enjoying every moment. To this day, I am now entering my Masters Degree to my school of study, and then will complete with my PhD in Metaphysical studies. I haven’t done this for ego projection, it’s been for my own interest and great joy.

The best of the growth and stretching of my wishes becoming true, is that I am happily with the partner of my dreams. I met the man in my visions. He turned to face me, and is beside me for the rest of time. It took us a while to get our act together, and now we share the same visions, wish under the same star and are living in harmony together as best friends, amazing lovers and extraordinary partners.

My wishes came true and continually inspire and delight me. I wish the best for you my darling reader. If you're not experiencing this, change it now, and go start afresh, living your best life of wishes and dreams being met.

As always, please share this post with anyone that you feel can benefit from it! Please like us on your social media channels and subscribe to our mailing list if you haven't already done so! We are mailing out a monthly newsletter and a recap each week of our blog posts and interesting tidbits! This is how you can stay informed with what is new in the world of The Holistic Soul Healer!!

Love & Blessings,

Ruth

Get personal with your Angels!! Connect with me and see what they have to say!!

BOOK NOW!!

[my-makeshift-masquerade]

Why Most Child Characters Seem Shallow and How to Avoid It

Ah, kids… They all develop at different rates and display unique characteristics. Yet, when you look at media of any medium or any age demographic, do you feel that child characters are a little…flat? Annoying even? Do you see the same kid character in multiple stories just with slightly different appearances? Are they more like plot devices or objects than fleshed out people?

I find often in writing child characters many creators (the vast majority of which are teens or adults) get trapped in the constraints of cultural ideas about how children supposedly work. I understand most people aren’t going to be able to know every aspect of developmental psychology, and that’s fine! Yet it’s ironic, since we were all kids at one point ourselves. Still, media of all sorts is tempted to group kids into categories based mainly on how they impact the rest of the cast, rather than the child’s developing personality and what factors are influencing its trajectory. I am aware that there are exceptions to every rule and I have seen many great well written child characters. However, in this post, I want to discuss what causes the majority of them to seem shallow, and how to avoid it in your writing!

1. Children Don’t Exist in a Vacuum

Children’s behavior is often framed by society in the lens of how it affects others, rather than considering the valid reasons a child may have to behave in that way. For example, a kid screaming and crying in a public place is seen as a brat throwing a tantrum…until someone realizes they’re hurt or being abducted. As a child, you’re damned if you do, and you’re damned if you don’t. No matter what you do, or why, or how, if you cause inconvenience, adults will likely on some level take it personally. They think to themselves that there were many other reasonable ways this kid could’ve gotten their needs met, but they chose to do this annoying thing.

In reality, kids rely on others reacting to them to get food water and love. That’s why children (who haven’t been abused) do whatever it takes to get their caregivers to pay attention to their needs, and their tactic is dependent on how the caregiver and their environment reacts. So ask yourself, why would this child character you’re writing be behaving in the specific way they are? Has this been the best way for them to get their needs met with their caregivers in the past? Are the characters around them going to understand this, or be annoyed? How does that make the child feel?

2. Kids Aren’t That Stupid

I can’t stress this point enough. Naive or innocent are not just other ways to say unintelligent or unaware. Kids notice almost everything around them, as they’re constantly absorbing information. They can have difficulties focusing on one thing for that reason. A lot of things are going through those little noggins of theirs, so please don’t go to making your 10 year old character act like they have the awareness of a toddler. I understand that maybe this character you’re writing is one you want to come off as innocent, but this isn’t the way to do it.

Child characters, though maybe not having as much experience noticing certain things, will usually notice the feelings of those around them. Kids can tell when adults don’t take them seriously, or when they’re being brushed aside. Don’t fall into the trap of making your child character oblivious to everything going on around them, or limiting their vocabulary to basic words even as they get to school age to make them “sound like a child”. They know more than you give them credit for, so don’t hesitate to let them be a bit more involved in what’s happening.

3. Tiny Human Problems are Real Problems

So, you may think children overrreact to the most trivial things. That’s hindsight talking for you. Kiddos don’t have as much frame of reference as an adult, so they react intensely to things adults may scoff about. This can either be natural because the child doesn’t know what to expect and is a bit spooked, or taught by how extremely others have reacted to similar things around them. A toddler may not know how to react to spilling their drink on the new carpet, and look to others. If someone freaks out over the mess, the child is likely to start crying themselves, and will feel panic if they spill something in the future. When put to a broad perspective, spilling something is not the end of the world. It’s an accident, and it can be cleaned up. But a child won’t know how that it’s not a big catastrophe unless someone else shows them they can remain calm in the situation.

In fact, as a general rule, extremely young children tend to see everything as revolving around them. This isn’t the same as selfishness. It’s more like they haven’t developed their full sense of “me” yet. Instead, everything is framed as “we”. The child and the world are one in the same. Problems for them are problems for the whole world. We are hungry. We are tired. We want that candy bar, etc. They cry and react so extremely because to their developing brains, this isn’t just their problem, but literally everyone else’s problem too. Keep in mind this also means when someone gets upset for a reason that has nothing to do with them, most children believe subconsciously they did something to make it happen. That belief can stay with them even well into adulthood.

[2jaeh]

ORPHIC : YUTA X READER

genre: smut, angst

warnings: mature themes, enemies to lovers kinda, kinda toxic theme, multiple smut scenes, swearing, alcohol, toys. 

slight jenoxreader 

word count : 17,5k (sorrry he’s my ult)

author: sin! 

You and Yuta never had a good relationship within your group of friends. The closest the two of you ever came to even slightly caring about each other was...in bed. After some friendly advice you decide to venture out of this toxicity and an old friend comes to the rescue. Thinking things will finally settle and you are ready to move on, Yuta comes to the realization that he wasn't a fan of you leaving him for someone else. 

A/N: WHOA this took me so long to write and rn its 2am and I barely proofread anything and just wanted to post it already! ALSO I just wanted to add Jeno is practically my ult as well and I wanted to use him for this scenario ! I promise Ill make it up to you guys with a full length fic of him lol Anyways enjoy. 

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

You couldn’t understand why you hated him so much. Was it the way he did his hair ? The way he rolled his eyes at every snarky remark you directed at him ?

Or was it the way he stared at you from across the room, a smirk on his face signaling that it was going to be one of those nights.

You joined this collective of artists or the “blank space” as you were known to the public, a year ago. The team did everything from clothing to organizing crazy exhibitions, and the best part of it all was that the team members remained anonymous.

Now some of the members were already in the spotlight for their personal artworks and collections but anything under blank space was under that name only, promoted only under its respective social media accounts. The collective was founded by Taeyong, an introverted guy you met at a fashion show you once worked at. He approached you the night your art hit the runway and you’ve been working for him ever since.

You didn’t know everybody under Blank Space except for the people Taeyong trusted the most. Which from possibly 50 designers, only reduced to a total of nine close friends.

Taeyong, Johnny, Ten, Renjun, YangYang, Doyoung, Sungchan, Lucas and You.

And then, there was one person you called a friend when the mood was right. When he was not being an absolute pain in the ass.

Yuta Nakamoto.

————————————————————————

“So there’s a launch happening this weekend over at the shed” Taeyong announced to your friend group who were barely paying attention thanks to Yangyang attempting to stuff four marshmallows into his mouth. “Come on you can do one more” Lucas edged him on while Renjun shook his head disapprovingly and Sungchan tried to suppress his laughter.

“Guys please pay attention” Doyoung, the only type of authority around here spoke up, finally quieting down the room and allowing his best friend to speak.

Taeyong cleared his throat and shifted nervously as all eyes were focused on him again. “I’d like all of us to attend, maybe look for a new recruit” the timid pink haired boy spoke and everyone nodded knowing the routine of these launches at this point.

“Can we party hard or is this just one of those save face kinda gigs ?” Yuta raised his hand and the spark in Lucas’s eyes indicated that he may have had the same idea.

You rolled your eyes and crossed your leg over the other, “Yuta’s having a dry spell he wants to find some damsel in distress to get into his bed” you turned to him and he only smirked at your snarky comment.

“Well now y/n it’s only because you haven’t been in the mood for my dick lately” he pouted and Renjun threw his head back, followed by groans from both Johnny and Ten.

“I’m not in the mood for the two of you today seriously” Ten chimed in, rubbing his temples just waiting for this group meeting to be over. “Yeah me too” Johnny added, “you two fight the entire week then hook up over the weekend, we are tired.”

“Why are you guys tired ? Are you doing the fighting and fucking ?” Yuta scoffed and Doyoung jumped to his feet, folding his arms across his chest as he looked down at the scowling black haired man,

“This is a work meeting. If it's not about work” Doyoung eyes moved to you, “then we don’t want to hear about it.”

You nodded after getting reprimanded but Yuta being Yuta just snickered and downed the rest of his coffee, unbothered by what any of the people in the room had to say about him.

“Okay then well I’ll see you guys Friday night, if you find a possible recruitment just text the group chat and we will decide as a team then and there” Taeyong wrapped up the meeting and everyone dispersed back to their work stations to finish up any outstanding projects.

Blank Space had its own office block but you guys were the only ones with a private floor at the very end of the hallway, far away from the part-timers.

Everyone had their own cubicle made up of makeshift drywall, so it was private but not private enough. Taeyong felt that closed offices made no sense for a room of creatives and when working on bigger projects it was easier for members to move their stations to their partners' cubicles.

Your cubicle though had the unfortunate fate of being placed in front of Yuta. The members had tried to swap with either of you but neither of you budged. Moving meant there was a problem and showing that you had an actual problem with the other person meant it could sabotage the team and things may go sour.

So both of you conceded. Trying your absolute best to stay out of the other person's way during work hours. But it was impossible when bickering was just something you guys did.

From the very beginning You and Yuta had disagreed on almost everything. Both of you were pretty stubborn people and had a very similar mindset. Then on a random drunken night Johnny suggested that you and Yuta needed to release your anger in bed and the next day you’d be best friends. Yuta was pretty adamant on the idea and not only did you hook up once, it became this ongoing hell of fighting, building up your anger and releasing it during mind blowing sex.

Neither of you questioned the abnormality of your relationship. Rather, you ignored the red flags and the toxicity of it all and just assumed attraction only happened through liquor, high sexual needs and boredom.

“Hey y/n sorry about snapping like that earlier” Doyoung stepped into your cubicle, his gummy smile showing as he nervously scratched his head.  “It’s no problem, I’m sorry about my stupid comment” you pressed your lips together feeling a tad guilty that it all started because of you.

“You guys really love riling each other up don’t you?” Doyoung took a seat opposite you which was a bit unnatural for anyone who walked by. Doyoung was a very reserved person and never bothered to converse with any of you besides Taeyong. Unlike the rest of you Doyoung was recruited to handle finances and foresee the operation. He appreciated the arts but never delved in it, hence his awkwardness with the openness and unhinged personalities of the group.

“I get that it can be...exhausting” you sighed, propping your elbows up on the counter and pouting.

“Then why do you continue ?” Doyoung quizzed and you shrugged, “stress relief ?”

Doyoung chuckled at your words and pushed his spectacles up his bridge, “you guys are the ones stressing each other out,” Doyoung turned back to look at Yuta who was busy sketching and turned back to face you,

“All I’m saying is that maybe it’s time to look for a stress reliever that doesn’t result in anger the very next day, you guys need to move on.”

Move on.

Doyoung’s words swam in your mind hours after the short conversation had ended and you wondered if it was indeed time to move on. You looked up from your desk and to your surprise Yuta’s eyes were locked with yours as he twirled a lollipop in his mouth.

The issue was, as much as you hated him you couldn’t deny he was so goddamn hot. From the long hair to the edgy attire, physically he was your type. Personality on the other hand, it was like nails against a chalkboard.

Unbearable.

You kept your eyes locked with him until he slowly pulled the sweet out of his mouth, licked his lips and blew you a cheeky kiss from across the room.

“Moron” you mumbled and shook your head trying to ignore his devilish motives and get back to work.

Doyoung was right. You definitely needed to find someone to distract yourself from Yuta’s hold over you.

———————————————————————-

It was the night of the launch and everybody showed up with their own rides and  began mingling with former clients and partners. You arrived with Ten and Lucas who already decided to pre-game drinks just in case ‘there wasn’t enough at the party.’

“Hey please do us a favor and not hook up with Yuta tonight” Ten wrapped his arm around your shoulder as the two of you maneuvered through the groups of people. “Not planning on it” you replied in his ear, “and besides Doyoung already beat you to that pep talk.”

“Doyoung ?” Ten wrinkled his nose before ordering the two of you a mojito from the open bar.

“Yeah he said that I should move on, possibly find a new hookup” you shrugged, retrieving the drink and headed to a balcony that overlooked the first floor of the launch party. There were bodies of people everywhere, networking, checking out merchandise or just getting plain wasted.

“Seems like Lucas has already been cut off from the open bar” Ten pointed out, watching the tall man try to push his way back to the bar but the bouncer refused him to do so.

“Let me go help him out, I'll catch up later” Ten sighed and gave you a pat on your shoulder, “and yeah find a new hookup, if Yuta gets to sleep around so can you.”

You watched Ten disappear into the crowd and twirled the glass in your hand wishing what he had said was that easy.

There were no rules about hooking up with other people or just any reinforcements in general when it came to you and Yuta. But you we’re well aware of his loose sex life. There were many times where Yuta ended up going home with some random person if he wasn’t in the mood to hook up with you. But You on the other hand, never bothered these days because you were either too busy or whoever you met just ended up boring you to death.

“Y/n ?” You heard someone say from behind you and to your surprise it was a face you hadn’t seen in years.

“Jeno ? Oh my God” you quickly gave the blonde boy a quick hug, taken back by how much he had filled out since high school.

Jeno used to help you out from time to time during proms and fashion shows, lending out his strength to build anything from sculptures to installation art in the city.

“I was wondering when I was going to bump into you at one of these shows” his bright smile turned his eyes into crescents as he joined you at the balustrade. The Jeno you knew in high school was a lanky shy kinda guy but the Jeno you saw now was confident, mature and outright gorgeous.

“I’m quite surprised seeing you here actually” you chuckled shyly, “I didn’t know you’d pursue anything in this field to be honest.”

“Wow” Jeno mouthed and cutely grinned, “hmm that kinda hurt considering I’m the one who made the centerpiece of this entire launch”

Your eyes widened as you looked down at the structure of colored sharpies bound together to create a giant rubix cube in the middle of the party. “Holy shit that’s awesome my boss would absolutely love you” you gasped, knowing Taeyong absolutely loved installation art especially at a large scale like this.

“Oh who’s your boss ? I’m actually a free agent right now” Jeno replied and you quickly remembered the reason you were even at the launch in the first place. “Wait! We’re looking for recruits right now, let me just tell the others about it” you said excitedly, handing Jeno your drink and pulled up the group chat on your phone.

A few minutes later everyone confirmed the meeting place of a private room located on the second floor, quiet enough for a quick interview and decision. The best part of this job was everyone was so connected that there was no need to go through the process of a full portfolio look and a million interviews, all you needed was a trusted ally within the group to vouch for you and you were already one foot in.

“Ten and Yangyang took Lucas home after he tried to challenge the bartender to an arm wrestling match” Johnny entered the room and sipped his whiskey while Renjun and Sungchan followed close behind him. Taeyong and Doyoung stood in front of the room discussing something amongst themselves while you and Jeno took a seat on the burgundy couch.

Yuta entered shortly after, drink in hand and you noticed his eyes narrow in on Jeno who sat close to you. “Okay everyone who’s able to make it is here let’s get started” Taeyong clasped his hands together, “everybody this is Jeno Lee and a long time friend of y/n.”

“Not that long but yeah we did work together” Jeno chuckled and got to his feet, “well I’m an installation artist, I actually made the centerpiece in tonight’s launch.”

“Wow, it's amazing!” Renjun complimented and Sungchan agreed, giving Jeno a thumbs up, “yeah man that piece is brilliant.”

Jeno smiled from ear to ear as the meeting proceeded with everyone going through a few of Jenos works and what he could bring to the team. While your teammates concentrated on Jenos work all you could concentrate on was Jeno himself.

You wondered if Jeno knew how gorgeous he was in his effortless tank top and denim jeans combo. You hoped no one caught you staring but someone was well aware of your actions.

Yuta watched how you looked at the young guy, he wasn’t stupid, he knew when you found someone attractive and the way you were ogling Jeno right now, he didn’t like it at all.

The meeting ended and everyone welcomed Jeno to the collective. Johnny gave him a few pointers on which coffee to order from the cafe next to the office and Sungchan exchanged gamer tags with his new friend.

“I’ll see you guys on Monday” you waved as everyone exited the meeting and before you could make your way to catch up with Jeno and Sungchan you were being pulled back into the room.

“Your place or mine ?” Yuta mused and snaked an arm around your waist, looking down at you with dark eyes.

“Neither” you responded, “I’m gonna hang with Jeno and head home, you should find that little damsel to play with”

“Don’t be difficult y/n we're long overdue for our therapy session now” he groaned, pressing his lips to your ear and jaw. As much as he aroused you by just breathing you thought about what Doyoung had said, you needed to move on from this mess.

“Listen I think we need to just stop our sessions” you stepped away from him leaving Yuta slightly taken back from your actions, “let’s move on, be out of each other’s way and not make the group uncomfortable okay ?”

Yuta watched you press your lips together and finally make your exit, leaving him completely alone. You denied his advances for the first time since the two of you started sleeping together and something in him broke.

————————————————————————

Monday came around and the whole team buzzed about Jeno joining the team. Usually a new recruit would hang downstairs with the part time designers but because Taeyong trusted your judgement on Jeno, he was able to integrate with the team.

“Man that Jeno guy seems real chill” Yangyang hopped alongside Johnny and Yuta who were doing the morning coffee run. Yuta kept his composure despite knowing he wasn’t a huge fan of someone new joining the team and throwing off the dynamic. Hands in his pocket he ignored Yangyangs endless questions about the meeting, allowing Johnny to entertain the eager young boy.

“All I know is that having Jeno around means I don’t have to do all the carrying when Lucas bails on me” Johnny sipped his drink as they made their way back to their office. To their surprise Jeno had just arrived, looking like a lost puppy as he examined the names of the floors next to the secretary desk.

“Speak of the devil” Johnny threw his arm around Jeno, startling the boy and led him over to the elevator, “we’re at the top floor newbie, make sure to get an access card from Taeyong.”

“T-thanks” Jeno grinned and bowed politely to both Yuta and Yangyang before stepping into the elevator. The other guys barely bothered with Yuta’s reaction to Jeno because he rarely liked anyone enough to show any sign of enthusiasm. Jeno wasn’t going to change that.

The elevator opened to the top floor and Jeno awed at the chilled atmosphere you all had created here. From Ten’s thousands of plants around the room, Taeyongs fish, a pool table brought in by Lucas and gaming stations set up by Sungchan, it looked like paradise.

“This....is so cool oh my God” Jeno stepped in, his eyes wandering all over the place until it locked on you hanging over at the fish tank with Taeyong.

“Y/n!” Jeno jogged over and you greeted him with a wide smile and a tight hug, “Jeno you made it!” You gleamed. Jeno quickly shook Taeyong’s hand unsure of how formal of a boss he actually was.

“Whoa I feel like a principal” Taeyong giggled as he dropped a few fish flakes for his babies. “Wow, does everybody have their own cubicle ?” Jeno strolled around the room taking a peak at the vast versions of decor each cubicle adorned.

“Yeah” you responded, “but I don’t think yours is ready yet right Doyoung ?”

“That’s right,” Doyoung replied and folded his arms across his chest, “you don’t mind sharing for the week do you ?”

Jeno shrugged and looked over at you, “I was hoping to catch up with y/n anyway, I don’t mind sharing if it’s okay with you ?”

“It’s perfectly fine” you assured him and gestured over to your cubicle, “me casa is su casa.”

“I’m just gonna need some admin stuff sorted Jeno can you join me for a bit ?” Doyoung asked and Jeno nodded, giving you a quick hug before heading off to the administration offices with Doyoung. You watched the blonde guy exit and something just felt so much brighter in the office. You felt a sense of excitement of what’s to come now that Jeno was back in your life. But like all sunny days there always comes a thunderstorm and yours was staring you down like he was waiting to rain on your parade.

“What ?” You blinked, and Yuta shrugged as he peeked into your cubicle. “It’s a bit small isn’t it ? Don’t think two people can work in here” he raised his brow and looked over at you.

“It’s fine” you sighed and pushed past him, “it’s only for a week and he’s not a stranger to me, why do you care ?”

“I don’t” Yuta mumbled, dragging his feet back to his cubicle leaving you questioning his slightly odd behavior. Your mind quickly snapped out of it when Jeno had made his way back, that bright smile spread across his face and suddenly it felt like sunshine filled the room once more.

“I’m back!” He sang and pulled a chair opposite you, retrieving his laptop already looking like a regular in the office.

“Did Doyoung tell you about tonight ? Our little welcoming party over at Kleo’s Sky Bar ?” You asked, skimming through your emails for the day. “Oh, yeah he did, I mean you guys don’t have to do all of this” Jeno chuckled shyly, those pretty eyes distracting you for the third time that day.

“Nah we do it for everyone, and it’s better you know everyone drunk to avoid future surprises” you pointed over to Lucas who was coaching Yangyang through a trick shot at the pool table.  “Gotcha” Jeno nodded, as he watched one of the balls fly off the table and nearly knock Renjun in the back. It was chaos absolutely everyday in the office and you knew Jeno was going to love it here.

But even with Jeno in front of you, your new distraction, your new beginning, like Doyoung and Ten had said you needed, it was a habit at this point to look across the room, wondering what Yuta was up to. You watched him remove his cardigan, exposing his arms in those loose tank tops he always loved to wear as he concentrated on a sketch in front of him. Thankfully he was fully immersed in his work for once to take notice of your eyes on him. You continued observing him, watching him nod along to probably some alternative song blaring in his headphones as he sketched away on his iPad. He was so effortlessly attractive when he wasn’t aware of it.

You needed to snap out of this daydream.

“So are you seeing anyone these days ?”

“Hmm ?”

Jeno laughed as you finally realized that he’d been talking to you and you mentally cursed yourself for even being distracted by Yuta of all people.

“I’m sorry..Uhm no I’m not seeing anyone” you replied, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear and Jeno nodded cutely, “uh good...uhm not good that you’re alone but I was hoping you weren’t...God I’m still so bad at this”

You felt your cheeks heat up seeing Jeno fumble over his words and get nervous about asking you such a question. He was so adorable and something in you also wondered if he was like this in a relationship, or in the bedroom.

Was he dominant ? Was he passive ? Yuta was very dominant and you’d even rile him up to the point of him making you shut up with his actions.

“Y/n ?” Jeno waved his hand in front of your face and you shook your head, you couldn’t believe you did it again. What the hell was wrong with you ?

“Oh my God Jeno I'm so sorry...these emails are just a pain in the ass” you lied but thankfully Jeno took the bait and nodded, “it’s okay I’ll let you get back to work, I was going to go down to the cafe, do you want anything ?”

“Yeah a cafe latte would be great thank you” You felt guilty but it was still only two days since you decided to cut off Yuta so adjusting was going to take a bit of time.

Jeno had left for the cafe and you quickly dove straight into your work, hoping the time would just fly by. That was until you heard a knock and watched Yuta saunter into your cubicle and take a seat right in front of you. You watched him prop his elbows on the table and his piercing eyes narrowed down on you as if he were waiting for an answer.

“Why are you here ?” You questioned him, doing your best to divert your attention from his chiseled arms and exposed chest.

“I want an explanation,” Yuta said calmly, his voice deep and monotone.

“To what ?” You knew fully well what he was talking about but you were really  not in the mood to talk to him about this.  Yuta sighed and cocked his head to the side, clearly annoyed by your response. “Why the fuck are we calling it quits when we are nothing to each other ? Can’t we just hook up and ignore each other as usual ?” You sensed the annoyance in his voice. Denying him that night was indeed eating him up since you’ve never done it before.

“Yuta that’s the whole point” you rubbed your temples, “if we are nothing to each other then we shouldn’t be hooking up, it just ties us together for absolutely no reason.”

Yuta stayed quiet for a bit and eventually just nodded, “fine do whatever you want I guess.” You watched him walk out, not bothering to give you a second look and you wondered if the unsettling feeling you were experiencing in this moment was how he felt two days ago.

Nothing made sense.

————————————————————————

The evening arrived and everyone was in good spirits because you were all headed to one of your favourite spots in town. “Lucas you gotta do karaoke tonight” Sungchan threw his arm around the large brown haired man as they entered the bar. “Hmm give me a few rounds of drinks first” Lucas stuck out his tongue as he gestured to the waitress to get the gang the usual table.

Thankfully tonight the bar was fairly empty which meant that the gang could really loosen up without the prying eyes of strangers wishing you’d all just leave.

“Wow this place is pretty cool” Jeno gleamed, allowing you to enter the booth first like a true gentleman before scooting right in next to you. Yuta opted for the seat at the very end as usual, so he could sneak off to smoke without bothering any of friends every couple of minutes. The position also gave him a clear view of you and Jeno who were snuggled up in the corner already lost in your own private conversation.

���Beer ?” Johnny nudged Yuta, snapping him out of his fixation. Yuta nodded and slumped back in his seat trying his best to focus on whatever Renjun and Yangyang were talking about. It’s not like him to feel this way. Usually by now he’d be seated next to you, annoying the shit out of you until he saw those pretty eyes glare at him with rage. Then after you’d have a few drinks you’d be leaning on his shoulder, playing with his rings until he offered to take you home, and then-

“To Jeno!” Lucas yelled, lifting up a shot glass of God knows what and rallied everyone to join in on his toast.

“To Jeno” you grinned leaning into Jeno’s side and clinked glasses with him. Jeno felt warm, comforting, he made it so easy for you to just enjoy having him around rather than it being a task. That’s what a healthy relationship was like wasn’t it ?

“Jeno Im glad and also sorry that you have to join the most annoying group of people ever” Doyoung half smiled and Taeyong waved his hand, “we’re not that annoying Jeno I promise” the pink haired boy reassured him despite Renjun and Ten agreeing with Doyoung’s words. Jeno just laughed it off and turned to you with a bright smile as he draped his arm over your shoulder,

“Kinda feels like fate that I bumped into you huh?”

You know he may have been joking but Jeno was really unaware that his presence really was the antidote to getting rid of the Yuta situation. The team loved him, he was someone you knew and could trust, it was all right there for you, written on paper. Nothing could possibly go wrong… right ?  

“Fourth round is on me” Taeyong held up his card to the waitress despite his tired eyes were quite evident. Everyone was well over tipsy and Lucas had already entertained the bar with his beautiful rendition of “Starboy” by The Weeknd and Johnny stepped in as his air guitar player in the back.

“Gotta go to the bathroom!” You whined while Jeno helped you to your feet as you pushed your way past a sleeping Renjun and a spaced out Sungchan. You could tell tonight was going to take a toll on everyone tomorrow morning.

You quickly exited to the back where the bathrooms were located. You walked down the dim hallway, mentally thanking yourself for not overdoing it with the alcohol as each step became darker and darker.

“Watch your step” someone said and you turned around to see Yuta leaning over a railing with a cigarette sticking out of his mouth.

“Yeah” you managed to say and entered the bathroom before he could say anything else. The lack of alcohol didn’t stop the intrusive thoughts of Yuta filling your mind as you stopped to wash your hands. All you could think about was if he was going to be there when you walked back. Was he going to say anything ? Was he going to do anything ?

Were you going to do anything ?

You stepped outside, head a little more muddled than when you walked in and your first question was answered, Yuta was still there leaning up against the wall looking ahead of him. You slowly began your journey back, keeping your head down to avoid any type of confrontation with him.

“Y/n….” He mumbled, reaching out until he had a grip on your wrist causing your eyes to look up at him. Why did he look so goddamn breathtaking right now, with his stupid black hair all messy and his eyes luring you in like a lion to it’s prey.

“W-what ?” You replied, unsure why you still allowed him to hold you or even have the nerve to stop you from getting back to the rest of your friends. Yuta pushed himself off the wall and turned your body so you were now pressed against the concrete and his body was pressed against you. Your breathing hitched as he ran his fingers lightly down your arms. His eyes concentrated on his movements while yours focused on his face, watching him bite down on his lip as he took in the position the two of you were now in.

“You remember a few weeks back and I had you up against this wall moaning my name ?” His voice was so low that it aroused you, making you mentally curse yourself for the lewd thoughts.

“Yuta…” you sighed but there was a hint of desperation in your voice surprising yourself but not really phasing Yuta at all.

“Yeah just like that” he hummed before pressing his lips to your jaw, and peppered kisses all the way down to your neck. You felt yourself willingly giving him access, melting into every kiss he placed on your warm skin. Yuta’s hands grabbed your waist and pinned you against the wall while your hands instinctively wrapped around his neck and into the soft tufts of his hair.

“Yuta…we shouldn’t…I shouldn’t” you breathed, feeling yourself pulling him closer instead of pushing him away.

“Tell me no and I’ll stop y/n '' Yuta said into your ear to which you responded by pulling him by his belt buckle and pushed yourself up to capture his lips. Yuta’s dominance finally showed when he slipped his leg in between yours, giving you the chance to gain a bit of friction your core so desperately desired at this point. You felt Yuta’s smirk in your kiss when you began grinding down on his thigh showing him the obedient whore you were for him. Nothing Yuta loved more was for you to beg for him, beg for his touch, need him. That was until the two of you heard footsteps and to your dismay it was the last person you’d ever want to see you trapped against a wall with the man you hated.

It was Lee Jeno.

“I’m sorry I - I’m sorry I’ll leave you guys alone-“ Jeno stumbled, he felt his cheeks heat up and made his quick exit out of the hallway.

“Jeno!” You called, pushing Yuta off and tried to neaten yourself. Yuta felt a heated sensation overcoming his body the moment he saw the look in your eye when you saw Jeno and the way you pushed him off like he was a piece of trash. Like he was nothing.

“You know maybe if you’d stop pretending like you don’t wanna fuck me then we can go back to normal” Yuta spat, not caring about the unfortunate situation that had just unfolded.

You turned around to face him and the next words that came out of your mouth you weren’t sure if you were going to regret it or not.

“You’re right Yuta that’s all you are to me and that’s all you ever will be, a good fuck for about an hour and that’s it. Other than that there’s no use for you. At all.”

You stormed away before Yuta could respond, but by now you would have heard his curses echoing throughout the hallway, the whole damn bar would’ve heard it. But there was nothing.

Absolute silence.

———————————————————————

It had been two weeks since the interaction with Yuta at the bar and what you had to him still resonated with you, wanting so badly to apologize. But each time you saw him at the office he paid you little to no attention, going on about his day peacefully and you didn’t want to interrupt that.

Jeno thankfully understood the situation and was more than willing to be the rebound guy, his only rule being that besides work related matters you needed to cut off communication with Yuta altogether.

‘It was the only way you’d get full closure and my mind would be at peace’ Jeno had said after you gave him the rundown of everything that had happened.

Jeno and you agreed to just casually date, nothing official and nothing too serious. You guys went on movie dates, cafe dates and kept the physical aspect to a minimum. It was simple. Laidback. A very normal form of dating.

“Y/n I’m gonna need you on a photo shoot set in a few hours” Taeyong peeped his head into your cubicle and you looked up at him with a frown, “I thought we were working on that rappers record party ?”

“Yeah that rapper wants you, Yangyang and Yuta to tag up the wall for a video segment of his photo shoot” Taeyong replied with a shrug and left you bewildered.

Yuta. From all the damn people he could’ve chosen you had to work beside the person who practically called trash in your last meeting.

Great.

You wrapped up the last of your work and headed downstairs to the parking lot where an Uber was waiting for you. Thankfully Yangyang  could talk anyone’s head off because just sitting next to Yuta during the car ride felt tense. Normally he’d be pushing you into Yangyang or commenting on how his tattoos were better than yours. But all he did was look out of the window watching as the buildings moved past, keeping his airpods in to avoid any type of communication with anyone.

“You guys are finally here! Good Mark Lee is waiting for you at the shoot location” a woman dressed in all black led you into what looked like a gymnasium turned into a giant canvas.

“Are we going to paint all of this ? Man this is going to take forever” Yangyang gasped as the three of you walked through cans of paint, staff members and models.

“You guys are the designers from black space who did that painting over at Jynx Club ?” A young guy approached who you quickly realized was the new hot rapper around town, Mark Lee.

“Uh yeah, that’s us” you chuckled shyly and looked around, “are we really doing up the entire room ?”

“Oh hell nah just the backdrop behind me” Mark waved his hand, “we just laid everything out for a few cgi effects but you guys, do ya thing over there!” You watched the hyped boy get called over by the director leaving the three of you faced with a gigantic piece of white board and no idea.

“Since you guys are uncultured and probably don’t listen to Mark Lee, let me be in charge of this piece” Yangyang pulled out his iPad and began scrolling through some of his sketches. “Be my guest” Yuta shrugged, completely disinterested in the topic and most likely just wanted to get done and go home.

Yangyang finally settled on something that utilized all three of your styles and you all put  on your white overalls, immediately getting to work.

The vibe of the whole job was quite chilled and because of the fumes most of the staff had left the gymnasium leaving the three of you to work in peace. “God I need to pee so bad,” Yangyang groaned as he dangled from a ladder, an aerosol can in hand and a nearly completed section in his corner.

“Dude take a break we’re way behind you anyway” you walked over to steady the ladder as Yangyang finally made his way down. “Thanks guys, be back in 20” he shot you a thumbs up and disappeared into the tunnel leading to the gym lockers.

The tension returned but it was somehow worse than ever before. Even though Yuta was minding his own business for the first time while retrieving a paintbrush he looked at you. There was no unsettling glare or the feeling that he was pissed off at you, he just looked at you like he’d look at anyone else.

And somehow that felt even worse.

“Yuta…do you mind if we talk for a bit” you cleared your throat and he looked over at you and removed one of his airpods signaling to you that he was listening.

“Okay Uhm well I want to apologize for what I said that night” you bit down on your lip, “I didn’t mean it, and it was selfish of me to even think of you like that after coming onto you in the first place.”

Yuta blinked and eventually just nodded, “apology accepted, and I can see that you like Jeno so I’m trying to stay out of the way” he shrugged and continued painting as if this conversation wasn’t that deep to begin with.

“Are you not going to get me back? Are you sure you’re Yuta ?” You raised a brow and Yuta’s manic laugh echoed throughout the gymnasium, “you want me to be mean to you ? Wow y/n that’s truly some kink you got there”

“Ugh you know what I mean” you shoved him playfully, unaware that the brush you were wearing was still wet and now Yuta’s jaw adorned a light shade of orange.

“Oh shit I’m sorry” you quickly said but Yuta had already responded by swiping his red painted fingertips across your cheek and smirked, “now we’re even.”

“Hey mine is way worse than yours!” You grumbled and flicked more paint at Yuta which then enabled a paint war between the two of you. Yuta giggled so much that for a second you forgot how silent he actually had been the past two weeks. He was back to his usual self and so were you, playfully making a mess with him until Yangyang emerged from the tunnel and yelled,  “What are you morons doing ?!”

You and Yuta stood still in the middle of the room both covered head to toe in paint but the scene was way too comical to hold in your laughter any longer.

“Yangyang we’re so sorry but look, it gave the canvas a little more color” you gestured to it and you weren’t lying, it actually did look a lot better than before.

“Fine you two can go on break, I'll finish up so we’re not sitting around until midnight” Yangyang huffed and returned to his masterpiece. “Is there a place to clean up here ?” Yuta asked and the woman from earlier on walked in and pointed to the tunnel located in the back of the gym, “there are bathrooms and showers back there, our crew provided fresh towels as well so go ahead” she smiled and you silently thanked her before heading to the tunnel with Yuta.

“God I have paint everywhere” you whined as you took a look at yourself in the mirror. Yuta chuckled as he began inspecting himself, looking at the peculiar fingerprints all over his face and neck. “This shit better not stain my skin” he grumbled as he picked away a piece of paint from a crevice in his ear.  “Tell me about it” you responded and began removing the overalls. All you could think of was jumping into that shower stall and allowing the hot water to melt away all the grime and paint when you noticed Yuta was already down to his boxers.

Your gasp made Yuta snicker to himself as he walked around the bathroom looking for the ideal stall to take his shower in.

“Nothing you haven’t seen before” you heard him say before hopping into one of the stalls and drawing the curtain. Despite his words being correct it still made your cheeks heat up with embarrassment. You guys were comfortable like this before, not now, not with Jeno in your life.

You shook your head and entered a stall opposite Yuta and a few rows down, just so you weren’t close to him but not far enough that made you feel alone.

“Fuck how is their paint on my ass ? That’s impossible!” Yuta groaned and you couldn’t help but laugh, “TMI, Yuta” you replied and Yuta scoffed, “says the person who’s responsible for this.” The banter ended and again all you heard was the sound of both showers hitting your bodies simultaneously, the air filled with steam and more unusual tension.

“Y/n ?”

“Yeah?”

Yuta was silent for a while and then you heard his water turn off. “Do you uhm mind checking if I got all the paint off my back ? I’ll uhm put my boxers on” he mumbled and you felt your heartbeat speed up.

First of all the Yuta you knew would’ve just walked over butt ass naked and pulled your curtain aside not caring at all. The way he acted now was out of character, but somewhat familiar.

“Yuta I’m still in the shower and naked” you chewed on the inside of your cheek while you waited in silence.

“I’ll close my eyes, I just don’t want this shit to dry up when we get back to work later” he replied and you heard his light footsteps coming toward you. Quickly moving your hair back and holding the curtain against your body, you slowly peeled back the material to reveal Yuta with his back facing you and with his eyes closed, like he said.

You peered down at his golden skin, taking in his broad shoulders and tiny waist as you inspected for any more signs of acrylic paint.

“Uhm yeah you have a little on your shoulder blade and lower back”

“Do…you mind…”

You bit down on your lip knowing this was already crossing the line. But you had just made up and it was your fault that he had paint on his back in the first place. It was innocent. That’s what you had to keep telling yourself while staring at one of the sexiest people you had ever met.

You began rubbing away pieces of the paint, ignoring Yuta’s whines when you used too much pressure. Your hands traced down to his lower back, settling in the dip as you tried to remove a very stubborn piece of paint.

“Ugh this one is not coming off” you scratched at it and to your surprise Yuta had let out a moan instead of the usual wincing.

“I don’t mean to kink shame but-“

Yuta spun around and glared at you, challenging you to finish your sentence but you were more concerned at the fact that the only thing protecting your nude body from Yuta right now was a thin piece of fabric.

“Yuta!” You scolded and he rolled his eyes, “oh please y/n I’ve seen it all, now can you please help me with the paint ?”

You watched wide eyed as Yuta stepped into the shower going back on his word to close his eyes and face the wall. You couldn’t believe what was happening right now but the quicker you removed the paint the quicker he’d be out of here.

“Aren’t your boxers…going to get wet ?” You watched him step closer to water already allowing his hair to soak up the warm stream. “Well you’re not gonna let me take them off with you in here and I’ll probably just go commando when we get back to the office” Yuta shrugged and you should’ve known that was one of his options since he has done it in the past.

You sighed and let go of the curtain allowing your naked body to be free and go back to work on his paint splatter. Yuta was calm and collected throughout the process, you silently commended him on his restraint, that was until he decided to turn around and look at you.

“Y-Yuta you promised” your voice was small but you still didn’t do much to cover up your body. Yuta leaned against the cold ceramic wall as he stared at you, his stare was dark, inviting you in like that night at the bar.

“I’m not going to do anything y/n unless you want me to” he reassured you, still maintaining a distance and doing absolutely nothing to persuade you. But did you need persuasion when all he needed to do was be in the same room as you?

The two of you stared in each other’s eyes for a few minutes and you had no idea who actually made the first move but there you were in the center of the shower stall, in a random gymnasium, kissing Yuta Nakamoto.

Yuta’s bare body was pressed against yours as the two of you fought for dominance in the kiss. You placed your hands on his chest to which he responded by wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you closer until his hardened member twitched against your stomach. There were no words, just actions. Each kiss only made you more desperate for him, not feeling this type of arousal since that night at the bar. He was the only person who could turn you on to the point that every image of Jeno was erased from your mind.

You tugged down his boxers with urgency and Yuta helped you quicken the process, quickly kicking away the piece of clothing and had you pushed up against the wall with your legs wrapped around his waist. Yuta pulled away from your lips with a sultry bite on your bottom lip and lined up his member with your core. He kept his eyes on you the entire time from the moment he slipped into your wetness to the harsh thrusts he was now giving to you against the coldness of the wall. You felt like you were complete, filled with the right amount of passion and ecstasy. God you hated to admit it but nobody could fuck you the way Yuta did. Absolutely no one.

Yuta slowed down his thrusts and you brought your feet back to the ground, gesturing for him to take a seat on the floor and got on top of his member once more. Yuta threw his head back as you rode him relentlessly, grabbing onto your ass as he tried to meet your rhythm. The sight of him partially under the water and his swollen lips was delicious, you couldn’t ask for a better view right now. Yuta on the hand was also enjoying having you bounce on his length, quickly realizing that the women he had bedded during his time without you were not worth it. Not a single one of them made him feel the way you did. Even the times you guys were fucking around he’d sleep with other women because he didn’t want to admit that you are his best. You will always be his best.

“G-gonna cum” you panted and Yuta quickly rubbed circles on your clit to help you reach your orgasm. He watched your body spasm and you threw your head back with a soft moan. The sight alone made him come undone straight after you, filling you up completely.

You slowly got to your feet with the help of Yuta offering his hand and managed to finally catch your breath.

What the fuck did you just do ?

“Before you say this was a mistake and you hate me, hear me out” Yuta spoke up, “I need to know something”

You bit down on your lip. “Yeah?”

“Do you like me ?”

“What ?” You quietly questioned and Yuta sighed, rubbing his temples, “do you like me y/n ? actually like me ? Or is it you just like fucking me ?”

“I don’t know Yuta you know that I’m seeing Je-“you began explaining before Yuta quickly cut you off. “Don’t say his name, listen I know you like fucking me because that’s what happened right now despite whatever feelings you have for…Jen..him.”

“So what am I supposed to do ?” You asked, still unsure of how you were even going to face Jeno back at the office after this.

“Use me,” Yuta deadpanned, “keep me as your dirty little secret and I won’t tell a soul. I just don’t want this to end. I’m fucking addicted to this, and clearly you’re in need of me just as much as I need you.”

Yuta took a step forward and cupped your cheek with the palm of his hand. “I just crave you all goddamn day and nothing is fulfilling that need until right now.”

You knew exactly what he was talking about but you couldn’t bring yourself to share how much you ached for him. Late nights when you were alone you even pleased yourself with memories of him. You were unsure if it was lust at this point or you actually missed being around him. Despite every fight and argument the two of you had, there was something always drawing you in.

“First of all I don’t hate you” you sighed and he chuckled dryly before you continued, “I don’t know if this is a good idea but I’m only agreeing because Jeno and I aren’t serious yet and if we are-“

“I’ll back off I promise” Yuta quickly added and you nodded, “he can’t know about this, nobody can.”

“You have my word” Yuta pressed his lips together and for the first time he looked absolutely serious. Something in you made you trust that he wouldn’t fuck this up, because that would mean the one thing he wanted most right now would fall through.

You just hoped that this little need the two of you had for each other wasn’t turning into an…obsession.

————————————————————————-

“You guys are finally back” Ten stretched his arms above his head as you, Yangyang and Yuta returned back to the office after quite an eventful afternoon.

“Wanna see pics ? It turned out great!” Yangyang grinned quickly, running over to the older guys, showing off his artwork. Jeno was over at the game area with Sungchan completely invested in beating his friend in a round of Call Of Duty.

“Hey you” you sunk into the beanbag next to Jeno who shot you a quick glance before concentrating on his next move, “your hairs wet, why ?”

“Showered after the painting session” you answered diligently hoping there were no follow up questions. Thankfully he was way too invested in his video game to care much, you really weren't in the mood for an interrogation after half a day with Yuta.

Jeno asked a lot of questions when he felt insecure about something. Even though time had been short with him, it still somehow felt like a 2 year relationship. For a young guy Jeno was pretty old fashioned, he made you pick all the date places and never bothered to make the first move physically until you hinted to him that it was okay.

He was so different to what you were used to and you were afraid that if you didn’t speed things up with him this little secret with Yuta would turn into a reality.

“Hey y/n can you help me with lunch ?” Doyoung called from the makeshift kitchen area a few feet away and you silently thanked him for distracting you from your thoughts.

“Hey Doyoung” you smiled as you began opening containers from the Chinese delivery you guys frequented. “Just wanted to check in with you” Doyoung sweetly said as he grabbed a few utensils, “you and Jeno huh ? Was that part of my advice ?”

You pressed your lips together and nodded. “Yeah I guess so, it also helps that I’ve known him for a while now and he did actually have a thing for me in high school” Doyoung cocked his head at your words and leaned in, “and you liked him back or you’re seeing something in him now that you didn’t see before ?”

“U-uhm I think he’s hot” you chewed on your lip and Doyoung chuckled softly, “you know not everything is about looks or…hooking up, do you enjoy his time ? His interests ? His company ?”

You turned back to where Jeno was still playing his video games and you did feel a little confused as to what you guys actually did have in common. “I mean…” you began, crossing your arms across your chest, “we’ve only been seeing each other romantically for two weeks I think it’s too soon to tell.”

Doyoung combed back his hair and instead of bringing forth his insight in order to make you see things clearer he just nodded.

“You’re probably right, well I wish you guys all the best, it’s better than being with someone who doesn’t care emotionally right ?”

You slowly nodded and with that Doyoung began taking the food to the dining area leaving you with more confusing thoughts than you had before.

Lunch and the rest of the evening went on smoothly. Yuta stayed out of your way and there was absolutely no sign that the two of you we’re together that day. It was easier to fake seeing Yuta since the group knew the two of you would’ve been bickering straight after hooking up. It was the perfect illusion.

“Mark Lee’s party is at 9pm tomorrow night you guys, don’t forget” Taeyong looked around the room until he heard a confirmation from every single mouth.

“9pm ? Shit would it be okay if I only stuck around for an hour ?” Jeno sighed and looked over at Taeyong, “my brothers in town and I promised I'd get him from the airport at 10:30.”

“Well you’d have to show one of the guys here how to turn the installation on” Doyoung’s worried look matched Taeyong.

“I’ll be there to turn it on I’ll just need to leave straight after” Jeno assured them and squeezed your hand under the table, “it’s all really sudden but you’ll be okay right ?”

“I’ll be fine, I’m probably going to head home after the music video airing anyway” you smiled at him and he placed a soft kiss on your forehead earning a whistle from Lucas.

Yuta awkwardly shuffled at the sudden PDA and he hoped no one at the table noticed but it caught the attention of none other than Johnny Suh who narrowed his eyes at his coffee run mate.

The evening had wrapped up and everyone had already headed home except for Yuta and Johnny who were adamant on finishing a photography project for a band they were working with.

“Trouble in paradise ?” Johnny hummed as he edited an image on his laptop. Yuta, who was busy sorting out the Polaroids, turned to face his large best friend with a lost expression.

“Huh?” He raised a brow to which Johnny shook his head still staring at his screen.

“I can’t believe this, after all these fucking hellish months now you realize you like her?”

Yuta leaned in on the desk. “What the heck are you on about Johnny ?”

“Y/n” Johnny sighed and your name made Yuta’s heart race a bit, hoping Johnny hadn’t found out about the shower incident. God you’d hate him forever if anyone found out.

“Listen Johnny we-“

“You like her! After all those months of fighting I knew you were secretly in love and now” Johnny threw his hands in the air, “now that Jeno has entered the arena you have ruined your chances. Way to go buddy.”

“Wait what ?! I’m not in love with y/n!” Yuta scoffed. Saying that sentence out loud felt like a lie even though he couldn’t fully convince himself.  Was he in love ? Was Johnny mistaking love for just lust ?

That’s all it was and ever was right ?

You enjoyed fucking around with him and he was okay with it. That’s what he wanted too. Even if you didn’t answer his question of whether you liked him or not, it was okay. Whatever you wanted was okay as long he got to be with you.

“I’m not in love with y/n.”

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

You and Jeno arrived at the party with Yangyang and Sungchan all helping carry equipment for Jeno’s installation. The piece was a pixel art board that formed Mark Lee’s latest EP cover, and once plugged in it gave it an animated effect, basically bringing the EP cover to life. You marvelled at the hard work Jeno had put in, it was just a shame that he wasn't sticking around to receive praise from everyone who attended.

“Are you sure you’ll be okay here ? I know how much you hate these parties” Jeno pressed his lips together as he brought you into a tight hug. You hummed and looked up at him smiling, “Only been dragged to one of these parties a million times, another round won't hurt.” Jeno responded by pressing his lips to your forehead before joining Sungchan in setting up the installation. You always wondered why Jeno opted for your forehead instead of your lips most of the time despite already having your first real kiss. You understood he wasn't big on PDA, but the only time you ever got to kiss him was at your apartment door when a date had ended or when you sneaked in a kiss at the cinema. As much as you liked his chivalry, God at times you just wished he took initiative and bent you over your kitchen counter and had his way with you. It was kinda humorous how Jeno was the ideal type of any women out there but for you, you needed an unhinged, sex-crazed maniac to match your energy.

You needed Yu-

“It looks really good Jeno.” Your breathing hitched when you heard Yuta’s voice from behind you. You turned around but to your surprise he wasn't alone. Yuta was accompanied by a familiar face, Mei, a part-time designer from a few floors down. The way she held onto his arm made something stir inside of you. Your cheeks burned up and you dare say it for the first time you felt...jealous.

You were used to seeing Yuta with many different girls but it was always some nobody that he never bothered to introduce to the group. He always made sure none of them integrated with his work life but Mei, Mei was the first person you actually knew.

“y/n its been a while, Oh my God you look great” she said sweetly and you returned a friendly smile despite your awkwardness. Yuta gave you a quick glance not really paying you any mind as he kept a steady hand on Mei’s lower back, the two of them practically looking like a couple. It made you feel uneasy. After all he had said to you that afternoon in the shower, It seemed like he didn't mean it.

“It’s perfect Jeno you really outdid yourself” Taeyong applauded as the rest of the team finally arrived, all congratulating Jeno on his first big project under Blank Space. Jeno shyly thanked everyone and checked his watch, sighing that it was already time for him to depart.

“You're going now ?” You walked over to wrap your arms around his waist. You didn't care much before about Jeno leaving early, before Yuta decided to bring a date to the party which meant you would definitely be on your own. Jeno pouted and stroked your head, “yeah, we're still on for Sunday though right ?” and you replied with a nod before sinking into one of his very warm hugs. You had no idea why, but the need to ease your jealousy and get back at Yuta was so strong that you ended up pulling out of the hug and kissed Jeno in front of everyone. Thankfully Jeno didn't shy away and maybe the guilt of leaving you made him return the kiss, wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you against your body.

“Get a room you guys” Ten joked when the two of you finally pulled away, and Jeno chuckled shyly before leaning into your ear, “let’s do that more often” he cheekily smiled and pecked your lips once more before making his way to the exit. Johnny watched as Yuta still looked visibly uncomfortable, more so now than before. But Johnny also knew how damn stubborn Yuta was and watched him throw his arm around Mei, departing from the group most likely for the rest of the night.

It was late into the night and Yuta was already way too many shots down to call himself sober. Mei was talking but he was not listening. Mei was a nice girl who had made it known to him that she liked him for a while now, but unfortunately for her she was not you. All Yuta wanted was you and again he cursed himself for being so fucking hooked. He wanted to make you jealous but after he saw you kiss Jeno it just came back to him ten thousand times harder. He came to terms with his addiction now in his drunken state he was scanning the crowd for a glimpse of the only person he cared about.

You.

“Hey I'm going to leave now...do you want to come with ?” Mei nervously bit down on her lip hoping the man she's been pining for months will finally take notice of her.

“Nah im good, I’m probably going to wait until my friends leave” Yuta replied coldly, his eyes still scanning the crowd as he took another sip from his jack daniels and coca-cola concoction. Mei nodded, disappointed that her night had not gone as planned and left silently, leaving her date to finally gain his freedom.

Yuta scanned the crowd for the tenth time until he did a double take at a figure in the back corner, dancing on their own with no care in the world. Downing the rest of his drink Yuta kept his eyes focused on you despite the alcohol blurring his vision and his body feeling heavy, he had to get to you.

You were in the same state as him, most likely worse since Lucas challenged you to a drink off. You had no clue when you separated from the rest of the group so you stuck a little corner hoping to sober up before heading home. As you swayed along to the music you felt someone wrap their hands around your waist and the familiar scent of that Tom Ford perfume made you realize who it was.

“Yuta…” you groaned, pulling his hands away from your body, still remembering how awful he made you feel a few hours earlier. God were you the rebound chick now ? The thought alone was sickening.

Yuta, still blissfully unaware that you were mad at him, still pushed his body against yours until your back was pressed against the wall and you had no choice but to look up at him. You watched him move his face down in order to capture your lips, but you quickly evaded it with a turn of your head. Yuta scoffed and sufficed for your neck, giving you soft wet kisses all the way down to your collarbones until you pushed him off yet again.

“What the fuck ?” He growled in your ear, “I thought we had a deal.” You rolled your eyes at him, there was the side of Yuta you hated the most. You wondered how long it would be until he factory reseted back to an asshole.

“I thought I was first choice” you snapped at him, “all your talk about no one can satisfy you like I can, use me y/n, I only want you” you mimicked his voice and flipped him off with your finger. Yuta knew you were jealous but it was kind of ironic given the situation. You were the one in a relationship, not him. “Oh so I'm supposed to see you suck face with Jeno but I can't have any fun y/n ?” Yuta had you back against the wall, this time his hand was locked on your jaw with his lips against your ear.

“Maybe I should've fucked Mei” Yuta’s voice was dark, you felt him smirk against your ear when his words clearly affected you, “Maybe if I fucked her she would've been so good that i would forget all about you y/n.” Your eyes darted to him and he cocked his head, challenging you, waiting to see how much you could take before you caved. Normally you’d be the one getting Yuta riled up like this. It was common knowledge that Yuta was a very jealous person and just mentioning another man sexually he would lose his mind. Once you were craving his attention and casually mentioned to him that if Doyoung was interested you’d let him screw you on his office desk, and Yuta responded by fucking you senseless in the supply closet until the only name that escaped your lips was his.

But now the tables were turned and you didn't want to hear about Mei. You didn't want to picture her next to Yuta let alone in bed with him. It was selfish on your part considering Jeno, but you wanted Yuta all to yourself.

“Shut up” you narrowed your eyes at him and grabbed a fist full of his shirt and brought him closer. Yuta traced his thumb over your lips and smiled, already knowing he won this round.

“Tell me why I cant fuck her right now y/n, tell me” he coaxed, and you responded by pulling him into a sensual kiss, your tongue slipping into his mouth and your hand palming his member until you heard him groan in your ear,

You pulled away from the kiss and pressed your swollen lips to his ear, “Because...you're mine.” Yuta licked his own lips at your words and grabbed at your ass,

“Show me I'm yours, baby.”

You had no idea when and how the both of you got to Yuta’s apartment in one piece but the moment he had his foot in the door, Yuta was tugging your dress over your head. “Fuck why do you always wear the most  complicated things” Yuta whined which you found cute even though you would never let him know that you were well aware of his adorable side. Sighing from victory, Yuta finally got your dress off and pulled you into his familiar bedroom, which you honestly missed so fucking much.

Taking in the familiar scent of his perfume and his slightly messy room, with posters on the walls, and a rack of band shirts - it was his little heaven and you loved it.

You walked over to lie on his bed, sinking into the soft fabric of the bed sheets as a familiar rock song began playing from Yuta’s stereo. You watched him as he discarded his shirt and ripped jeans, showing off his chest tattoos and belly ring, just the sight of him was already making you wet. Yuta was none the better, groaning as his boner pushed against the fabric of his underwear as his eyes took in your body, sexily laid out for him like you used to be.

“Fuck…” his lips parted as he watched you spread your legs, waiting for him obediently. Yuta crawled up onto the bed and nestled in between your thighs, his mischievous eyes looking up at yours before he began peeling away the thin piece of fabric revealing your core.

“You're…so…wet baby” he said in a low voice and leaned in to give your heat a soft kiss. The instant contact made your body shiver, reaching down to play with his dark curls. “Yuta…please” you whined as he continued his light kisses, not giving you the pressure you desired. Yuta looked up with an innocent face and cocked his head, “Why should I do it ?” His fingers traced circles on your hips and abdomen, waiting for an answer.

“Because…you’re mine Yuta, I want you…all to myself…I want to please me, only me” you threw your head back. Not having sex for over a month was really getting to you and the frustration had you saying just about anything. Yuta watched you squirm and after hearing those words he figured it was a good enough reward for his dear fuck-buddy. Yuta kissed your core once more but this time his tongue darted out every once in a while, awarding you with a better sensation. You moaned inaudible words as he began eating you out like a pro, lapping away like his life depended on it before inserting two fingers inside you.

“Yuta wait I’m gonna-“ you grabbed onto his hair, feeling your orgasm come on way too early for your liking as his fingers moved rapidly and his tongue licked away at your clit. Yuta ignored your plea knowing this was only the first of many and honestly he was glad that he was still the only man giving you orgasms for the past couple of months.

Yuta pulled away, a devilish smirk spread across his face as he watched you cum all over his fingers and just as your vision was in focus you had the pleasure of seeing him lick his fingers clean as if he just had the most amazing meal ever,

“Mmmm tasty” he bit down on his lip and winked at you. God he was so damn cocky, and it didn’t take you long to recover from that orgasm to make room for another. You got to your knees and sat back, your face now level with Yuta’s clothed member.

Yuta groaned as you palmed him, his length already twitching against your touch. He wouldn’t admit it to anyone but since the night you had called it off with him, his desire had subsided and he wondered if you were the sole reason for his high sex drive. You placed your lips against his belly ring, giving it a kiss before pulling down his boxers and allowing his member to spring free. Yuta cursed as your tongue swiped across the tip and you looked up at him with those large eyes, and Yuta knew exactly what you were waiting for. Positioning your mouth over his tip, you waited until Yuta grabbed a fistful of your hair and guided you down on his length, groaning loudly as you took in all of him.

Yuta’s hips began to meet your rhythm and the grip on your hair tightened, the sudden roughness made you shiver with excitement. You and Yuta always liked it rough, since it took out your anger on each other and any type of nurturing or romance would throw off the dynamic.  

Yuta threw his head back as he released, keeping you on him until you swallowed every bit. He muttered curse words as he pulled out and watched you lick your lips, swiping the corner of your mouth with your thumb and sucked it off.

“Yum” you mimicked his words from earlier with a smirk essentially driving Yuta crazy with lust. You giggled as he pushed you onto the bed and attacked you with bites and kisses, leading from your neck down to the valley of your breasts. “How long until you get hard again?” You sighed playfully but winced when Yuta’s teeth sunk into your skin, punishing you for your words.

“Cocky aren’t we ?” He moved back up to your lips and kissed you passionately. Just as you began melting into the kiss, Yuta pulled away and jumped off his bed heading to his closet.

“What are you doing ?” You groaned as you watched him sift through the mess of his closet until he finally retrieved a familiar box. “Yuta you’re literally hard right now, come on let’s just fuck already” you whined, knowing that when Yuta brought out that box it was his way of getting rid of your bratty attitude.

“If you wanna be impatient two can play at that game” he grinned and hopped onto the bed, pulling out his favorite pair of hair cuffs and with ease, cuffed you to his headboard. You watched him look through his box of toys, rubbing your thighs together excited about what his choice will be.

Yuta grabbed something out of the box and discarded the rest onto the floor, making his way back up to your body and pressed his lips against your ear, “you remember the safe word baby ?” Yuta pecked you when you nodded and you watched him insert a mini vibrator in your core and roll off the bed with the remote in his hand.

“I wasn’t even that mean to you” you grumbled, still getting used to the device inserted in you. Yuta shrugged and turned the device on, keeping it on a low setting as he watched you stir in his bed.

“I’m not punishing you for that actually, I’m punishing you for something else you did” he said calmly, pacing around the room butt ass naked.  You frowned and thought back to the party when he had found you, what did you say to him ?

“I’m sorry I pushed you…away” you pouted but a moan escaped your lips when you felt the setting turn higher and you watched Yuta shake his head, “nope that’s not it.” You groaned and threw your head back, unable to even think what the hell he could be on about. Yuta would get mad at every little thing so it honestly could’ve been anything.

“Can’t I have a hint or something ?” You pleaded and Yuta raised his eyebrow and eventually sighed, giving in too easily. “It happened in the beginning at the party” he said annoyingly, and finally something in your brain clicked.

“The kiss ? You’re mad over the kiss ?” Your words fell off when you felt the vibrator go another setting higher, the new speed was decent enough to start building a second orgasm. “You don’t sound like you’re apologizing for it” Yuta scoffed and dangled the remote in front of your face, “this goes up 4 more speeds y/n.”

“Why do I need to apologize for kissing my boyfriend when-“

Another setting higher.

“Fuck wait Yuta” you breathed, it was impossible to even keep focused at the new speed and the sensation was now running throughout your entire body. “You kissed him in front of me to make me jealous didn't you?” Yuta questioned and you nodded frantically, pressing your thighs together to ease the intensity, “yes yes oh my God, I wanted to make you….jealous because you brought someone else…and..fuck” just as you felt your body finally build up a perfect orgasm the vibrator suddenly turned off and you were met with Yuta’s cocky smile.

“You like to have it all don’t you y/n” he hummed as flung the remote aside and knelt between your thighs that were shaking from the orgasm denial. “You want to fuck me, but not let me fuck anyone else, you want Jeno but you don’t want me to get mad over it” he continued as he pulled the dripping wet toy out of your core and tossed it to the floor. Yuta placed his hands on either side of you and looked down at your defeated face and smiled, “Do you want me to fuck someone else?”

You shook your head and Yuta undid one of the handcuffs. He pressed a soft kiss to your cheek and again asked you another question, “Do you want to fuck me ?” and you quickly nodded, earning your second hand free from the cuffs allowing them to fall to your sides. Yuta placed his hand around your throat and squeezed gently, smirking as you arched your back, thirsting for him so desperately.

“Who would fuck you better, me or Jeno ?” Yuta mused as his hand released a bit of pressure on your throat. “Y-you” your voice was small and Yuta released your throat and his hand moved down to smack your thigh.

“Say it, say who will fuck you better” he hissed.

“You Yuta, you will fuck me better than anyone…better than Jeno” Yuta grinned at your words, a little surprised that you used Jeno’s name in such a blasphemous way. He was in euphoria at this point. It was all he needed to hear after continuously seeing you and Jeno look as if you were in love with each other.

It was all wrong.

You and him loved each other.

Fuck. He loved you. He really did.

Yuta pushed his length into your core and groaned as the realization of his thoughts and his conversation with Johnny all hit him at once. The sight of you beneath him, moaning his name and your confession that you wanted him over Jeno. It was all too much.

You moaned as he thrusted into you, his hips violently hitting against yours as your nails dug into his lower back. The lewd sounds filled the room and for a second the two of you looked into each other’s eyes, both feeling something…different. Usually Yuta would be fucking you from behind, his favourite position because he loved looking at your ass but tonight especially after his sudden questioning, he took care of you differently.

You don’t know what came over you and it was yet another thing you never did during sex but you pulled him down to kiss you. Your lips moved passionately against his, desperately clinging to his body as his strokes became longer and more powerful. Yuta sighed into the kiss, palming your cheek and his movements suddenly became more gentle as if he were making love to you, not fucking you.

“Yuta…I’m close” you moaned into his ear, loving this new feeling of him on your body. Yuta hummed in response and quickened his pace, making sure to sneak in a kiss every now and then until he finally brought you to your long awaited orgasm. You watched him bite down on his lip as he thrusted into you, chasing his own orgasm until he pressed his against your ear and said the words you never thought you’d hear from him.

“I love you y/n”

Your body slightly froze as Yuta finally came and he rolled off your body, mentally cursing himself for allowing those words to escape his mouth at this moment. But it’s what he felt.

Johnny was right.

“W-what ?” You finally managed to say and turned to him. Yuta licked his lips and kept his focus on the ceiling above him.

“You heard me right” he said calmly and you felt your heart race. Where was this coming from ? He was the one who always implemented the no romance rule and he chooses now, the moment you’re seeing someone else to confess to you.

“I have to go” you murmured and jumped off the bed, starting to collect your clothes from the floor. You heard the bed creak and Yuta sat up and watched you dress up. “It’s late now y/n and you drank, stay the night and leave when the suns up” he insisted, eventually grabbing his own boxers,

“Here you can sleep in one of my shirts and you’re welcome to sleep in my bed for the night.”

“Y-you…that was one of the rules…no staying over” you were biting on your nails, everything that had happened in the last ten minutes made no sense. Yuta shoved the shirt into your hands and sighed, “Look, we don’t have to talk about what I said or what happened, just stay the night and you can go back to your perfect life with Jeno.” Yuta began making his way to his door when you grabbed onto his arm making him stop in his tracks,

“Where are you going ?” You asked him softly.

Yuta looked at you and sighed, “I’m going to sleep on the couch.”

“Yuta..”

“What ?”

“Stay with me.”

—-—————————————————————

You had no idea why you had told him to stay in bed with you considering all that had happened a few minutes ago. But here you were, curled into his chest listening to his heartbeat as he lightly stroked your hair.

“How…long ?” You broke the silence and felt his heartbeat slightly race, “The realization came recently but I’ve…always liked you y/n” Yuta responded softly.

“Well you don’t have a good way of showing it” you rolled your eyes and Yuta’s soft laughter filled the room. “Well at first you actually were annoying but I did find you cute” He replied and shifted until you were on your back looking up at him,

“You put up with me and we’re not afraid to fight back. You know it’s not even about the sex, I think we’ve always enjoyed each other’s company, we just have a weird way of showing it.” You listened to his words and did a bit of reflection for yourself. You were already well aware that he occupied your mind 24/7 and did not enjoy seeing him around other girls he would eventually sleep with. But was this…love ? You weren't so sure.

“Do you ever think it’s more of an addiction rather than…love ?” You looked up at him, hoping your words did not offend his sudden confession in any way. Yuta sighed and rolled onto his back, staring up at the ceiling deep in thought.

“What is love then ?” He murmured, clearly by the look on his face he had been pondering on this question for a while now. You joined him in laying on your back and looked up at the ceiling, “love is when the other person completes you” you began, “when you’re having a dull day and just the sight of them could turn that around. Love is wanting to protect that person all the time, it’s just love.”

Yuta turned to you, “have you ever been in love ?”

You shook your head. “I don’t think so.”  Yuta shrugged and returned his focus above him, “whatever you just described is how I feel, but maybe I’m just still hung up on the Jeno situation.” You felt a pang in your chest as if you just completely destroyed his spirit. You always saw Yuta as a strong confident presence, yet the person next to you seemed lost, he looked broken. But deep down you knew that whatever he was describing had floated in your head from time to time, maybe it needed to be said out loud for you to finally realize.

“Give me a week”

“Huh ?” Yuta’s eyebrows raised at you.

“Give me a week to figure all of this out and we will have this talk again” you sat up and looked back at him. Yuta propped himself up on his elbows and shook his head, “y/n, if you don’t feel the same way it’s okay I won’t come in between you and…Jeno anymore.”

“Yuta”

“Hmm?”

You pulled the boy by his shirt until you were able to lock your lips with his, slipping your tongue into his mouth and he mimicked your actions before pulling away, a confused expression spreading across his face.

“I don’t know where this is going to go and whether we’re right for each other,” you chuckled dryly, “but I will always want you Yuta, you’re not coming between Jeno and I because the one who wants… .”

————————————————————————

It was finally Monday and you already regretted seeing Jeno at the office since you faked a terrible hangover to get out of the Sunday date, something that wasn’t entirely a lie. You spent the whole of Sunday laying in your bed thinking about the night you spent with Yuta and all that was shared during the morning.

You thought back on your own words about what your version of love was. Protecting someone. You reminisced about the days when Yuta got sick after a night out and you were the one to take care of him despite his protests. You thought back to when the two of you were working on a project, arguing as usual and you managed to slip on a wet paint spot, causing you to sprain your ankle. Yuta was the one to help you around the office when needed, he wasn’t appointed to you nor did he have to use up his own time to help you but he did it anyway.

When you were having a dull day the person you loved would find a way to brighten it up, just the sight of them was enough. There was an occasion where a client got real mean with you in the office, and hated the project you worked almost a month on, refusing to pay you for the labor you had put in. Yuta had seen the commotion and joined you in your booth and the two of you flooded the clients company with hilarious bad reviews anonymously until you were literally tearing up from laughter. That was one of the rare days the two of you didn’t get into an argument and the moment completely slipped your mind. You had  forgotten that Yuta and you actually shared fond memories of each other outside the bedroom.

You thought about every moment you got to the office and Yuta would be sticking his tongue out at you, calling you names and being a jerk as usual. But days when he had to work out of the office felt boring, empty, it wasn’t worth sitting in your cubicle without seeing him across from you.

But then after feeling the warm fuzziness of knowing Yuta felt the same way about you, your phone buzzed with Jeno’s name across the screen. Why were you doing this to him ? Why was Jeno in the crossfire when all he wanted to do was get to know you better ?

All you ever wanted was a distraction from the man you were scared to fall in love with.

“Heyyy you, you feeling okay ?” Jeno beamed when you entered the office, immediately bringing you into a tight hug and ending with a kiss on the cheek. You nodded and the sense of guilt over took your body as you looked up at his cheery smile.

“I heard you guys got so wasted at the party, damn I wish I stayed” Jeno giggled as the two of you walked hand in hand over to your cubicle. “Yeah it was…crazy” you faked a smile before settling in your seat. You looked across, a force of habit and you were greeted by a soft smile from Yuta before quietly returning to his work.

“I was thinking we should go see that new marvel movie tonight, what do you think ?” Jeno’s eyes were so bright and full of energy that everytime you looked into them it just made it harder to keep up your facade. “I’m pretty busy this week but hey Friday you can come over, I…need to talk to you anyway” you bit down on your lip and Jeno’s expression changed from excited to slightly wary, clearly noticing that something wasn’t quite right.

“Is….everything okay?” He asked in a staggered voice, and you slowly nodded and reached to squeeze his hand, “yeah let’s hang out on Friday okay ?” You smiled and Jeno pressed his lips together and nodded. You watched him exit your cubicle and all that was left in your view was the only person you wanted to see today, Yuta.

Yuta looked up and caught your stare, smiling softly as he rested his chin on the palm of his hand and winked at you. It was sweet and innocent, nothing like how he usually acted from across the room. You found yourself blushing and hid your face until you heard a beep come from your phone. Opening the messenger app you were greeted by a picture of yourself hiding your crimson cheeks with the message ‘Cute’ attached to it.

y/n: didn’t take you for a simp.

yutaa: fuck off, I have a folder like this.

You stifled your laughter when Yuta sent a screenshot with a folder just of you in your cubicle. From you flipping him off, to you glaring at him clearly pissed off at something he had said, and one of you trying your best to pay attention to whatever story Yangyang was on about.

y/n: oh my god you’re a BIG SIMP.

yutaa: maybe.

y/n: well I do have ONE of you that I don’t have the heart to delete.

yutaa: oh really ?

You sent Yuta a picture you absolutely treasured of him in your bed fast asleep hugging one of your plushies. It was one of the last nights you had with him before things got sour. Normally you’d never allow him to nap in your bed after a hookup but he looked so at peace and so adorable  that you decided to bend the rules a little.

yutaa: that was a good ass nap. yutaa: simp.

y/n: maybe.

The rest of the day went on and honestly you felt as if you were on cloud nine, chatting to Yuta like he was your high school crush. Smiling every time he texted back and glancing up every now and then, waiting for him to look at you with that cheeky grin. But as reality set in and Yuta’s smile faded, you were still dating another man. Who now had his arms wrapped around your waist peppering kisses all over your neck and shoulder while Yuta looked on, not being able to do a thing about it.

————————————————————————

The team decided to head out for dinner the next day, and something in Jeno had switched. After Yuta had watched him cuddle you until the day was over, you barely even got the chance to talk to Yuta face to face since Jeno offered to take you home. He was being suspiciously clingy and you wondered if he suspected anything.

“You’re okay with sharing a pasta and plate of fries ?” Jeno smiled over at you, one hand rubbing your waist and the other holding up the wooden menu. You nodded and Jeno placed his order in with Johnny who was doing the rounds for everyone. Yuta sat across from you and you could feel his stare on you from time to time, and the moments it felt like he was staring, Jeno’s grip on your waist got tighter.

“Is...is something wrong ?” you leaned into Jeno as he took a sip of his water. Even though he was smiling, his jaw was clenched signaling that he was trying to suppress himself from doing or saying something. “I'm just really tired” he rubbed your back and to your surprise leaned in to capture your lips. It was innocent but your lack of effort to mind his feelings wasn't good enough for Yuta. Frankly he had no idea where you two stood at the moment, for all he knew you could be playing him right now. It probably wasn't the case though, but Yuta was not really used to his life getting a happy ending. The night drove on and the group split with you, Ten, Doyoung, Taeyong and Renjun seated at the table while the rest of the guys were hanging around the bar babysitting their drinks. Jeno was really a changed man since high school. He was so confident, well-built and a good socialite with the team. You watched him lean against the bar counter, drink in hand entertaining whatever story Lucas had for the night.

“So you and y/n huh ? Have you scored yet ?” Lucas raised his brow cheekily to which Jeno chuckled and shook his head, “Really Lucas ? were talking about my sex life now ?” Yuta was in conversation with Johnny and Sungchan but he couldn't help but overhear your name in the chat next to him.

“Yeah man, I'm sure she’s good too after locking down my boy Yuta” Lucas smirked and Yuta flinched when the boisterous man grabbed onto his shoulder and pulled him into the conversation. “Even though they hate each other I just know they had the best hook ups” Lucas laughed despite Johnny trying to make him shut up.

“Well that’s all over now” Jeno’s eyes narrowed on Yuta before looking up at Lucas, “she invited me over tonight and considering the type of pictures she sent me, i'm guessing it’s going to be one hell of a night.” Yuta’s chest felt tight not only at the possibility that you may have invited him over to finally sleep with him but mainly because of the way Jeno spoke about you. He probably only shared that information to appease Lucas but hinting at you sending him nudes was not something you would like the guys to know about.

“She’s really been trying to speed up the process between us too it's cute actually” Jeno continued as Yangyang and Lucas egged him on, “that night after that painting you guys did for Mark Lee she was practically begging me to fuck her after our movie date. God if my brother didn't give me all those errands I would've done so right on the kitchen counter.”

Yuta shot back the rest of his drink and stormed off as Lucas and Yangyang hyped up Jeno, pouring him another shot and laughing erratically in their drunken state. From where you were seated you saw Yuta storm off and watched Johnny run after him worriedly, making you slightly anxious.

“Yuta don't listen to them man '' Johnny huffed as he finally caught up to his friend a few blocks down from the restaurant. “I dont fucking care man I really dont” Yuta chuckled dryly and ran his fingers through his hair, “It doesnt matter because at the end of the day im still the worthless piece of shit and guys like him are God fucking sent.” Johnny watched Yuta’s expression change and he turned around to find you standing there, desperately looking between them for context.

“Yuta what happened ?” you asked in a small voice and the familiar sting in his chest returned, hearing you call out his name, following him out here while Jeno was still inside, it was all just confusing to him.

“I thought you giving us a week meant you felt the same way and I could finally relax knowing you were going to be with me y/n” Yuta groaned in frustration while Johnny took a step away from the heated exchange. You shook your head as you approached him, “yes I did, so what's the problem ?” Yuta scoffed and folded his arms. “What's the problem ? doesn't look like anything’s changed y/n. I have to see you act like the couple of the year after telling you how I felt about you ? That's brilliant.”

“I told you I would speak to him this week” you snapped, unbothered by the now random onlookers who were concerned at the scene taking place. “But fine honestly Yuta if you really want me to say it you have my permission to fuck some random girl until im finally free.” You rolled your eyes about to turn on your heels to leave when you felt a tug on your wrist and Yuta pulled you into a kiss. He held your face in his hands as he kissed you passionately, sighing as he slowly pulled away and pressed his forehead against yours,

“When I said I loved you I fucking meant it y/n, I only want you. But please, if youre going to invite him over or send him dirty...pictures atleast tell him not to tell the whole fucking world about it.”

You took a step back and frowned at his words, “What ? What pictures ?”

“The ones he told Lucas about, y/n honestly I don't care I was just mad that he was airing your business out like that” Yuta bit down on his lip and yet again you were deeply confused as to what he was on about.

“I...I didn't send him anything” you responded, “I didn't invite him over tonight and I definitely haven't sent him any...nudes.”

“Tell that to him then”

You turned around and noticed most of the team was now outside watching the commotion go down and right in front was Jeno, who by the look on his face had most likely seen the kiss you just shared with Yuta.

Jeno approached the both of you with an irritated groan and scoffed, “I was going to ignore the signs but God I was so right, you were still fucking him this entire time ?” You lowered your head and Yuta glared at Jeno, “If you knew all this time why didn't you just break up with her and move on ?”

Jeno rolled his eyes and took a step closer to Yuta to which Johnny quickly responded by placing a firm hand on Jeno’s shoulder making sure the boy was at safe distance from his best friend.

“I'm not like you Yuta” Jeno licked his lips, “unlike you I respect her, I understand that she was going back to you because you like to play around, you never cared about her until I showed up. You were threatened by the fact that you were no longer in control of her.”

“Nobody is in control of me first of all” you chimed in, “and second what’s this about me inviting you over and sending you nudes that apparently the whole fucking bar knows about”

“It's just banter y/n” Jeno shook his head.

“Banter ?” Yuta repeated, “didnt know talking about how you were going to fuck your girlfriend on the kitchen counter in front of her coworkers is banter.”

“What?” you walked up to Jeno, “W-where is this coming from Jeno ? you’re not like this.”

“Well how am I supposed to be y/n ?” Jeno raised his voice, “you wouldn't mind if he said that to you. You're always letting him get away with shit. Im the one sitting around here knowing my damn girlfriend is fucking around with someone else yet somehow still trying to forgive you and figure this out.”

“Why, though ?” you shrugged, “Is it because you want to prove to other people that you're the bigger person ?”

“Would you rather be with someone like him ? someone who will probably throw you aside after he’s bored, or someone like me who was always patient, always willing to put you first no matter what” Jeno reached for your hand, his eyes widening when you shrugged him off.

“Someone who I barely know that talks about me to my friends like im just some kind of whore or someone i've known for a while and not once shared anything intimate that happened between us,” you looked over at Yuta, “It was my one rule, the same rule I gave you Jeno and he was, Yuta is the only one who has abided to it.”

“y/n Im sorry,” Jeno lowered his voice, “we hurt each other and I want to fix that, just make your final decision...me or Yuta”

“Jeno….I apologize for using you, I'm sorry for leading and hurting your feelings” you began and Yuta slowly shook his head and turned around ready to hear the bad news that always seemed to follow him,

“But as crazy as it may sound to everyone here, I'm most like myself when I'm with Yuta, I love the person I am when I'm around him” Yuta turned at your words and instead of the sting he felt a sense of warmth. Hearing you say that in front of everyone who wanted the two of you apart, besides Johnny ofcourse, was absolute bliss.

“Who knows maybe it won't work and it will explode but I really want to try, that's the thing I'm most sure of, I really really want to try” you smiled as Yuta made his way over to you and pulled you into a tight hug.

“Let's get out of here” Yuta whispered before placing a kiss on your cheek and draping his arm over your shoulder as the two of you exited the street walking away from the mess and not even giving it a second glance.

The two of you ended up at your apartment full of smiles and giggles as you slowly discarded your clothes on the way to the bedroom. Once your back touched your soft duvet covers Yuta pressed his body against yours and peppered your skin with kisses all the way up to your ear. “I want to try something different” he whispered and you nodded in response while Yuta pulled his shirt over his head and discarded his jeans. Yuta pulled you on top of his body and returned to your lips, kissing you slowly and passionately. His touches were so delicate and nurturing that every time his fingers ran down your back you felt butterflies in your stomach. You unhooked your bra shimmied out of it, still attached to the addictive taste of Yuta’s lips. He slowly rolled you onto your back and left soft kisses all the way down your neck, down the valley of your breasts until he reached your abdomen. You watched as he pulled your underwear off, looking at your body like it was the most beautiful thing he had seen. That was it. Instead of lust he looked at you with love. He looked like he wanted to take care of you, be gentle with you, savour every moment he had with you. Your breathing hitched when you quickly realized that he inserted himself inside of you and used one arm to steady himself on the bed as he lent down to meet your lips. His strokes were slow but sharp, digging his nails into your thigh from time to time, preventing himself from losing control. Wanting to feel more of him you signaled that you wanted to switch positions and Yuta licked his lips as he watched you place your knees on either side of him and sit down on his member. “F-fuck” he cursed as you began to ride him, keeping to his wishes of keeping things calm and slow. Yuta wrapped his arms tightly around your waist as the two of you kissed in between your moans, twirling your tongue with his as your hips slammed into his.

“Y-Yuta…” you moaned, feeling a tear escape your eye as the long night and the building orgasm caught up with you.

“Yes baby ?” he hummed in your ear.

“I really fucking love you” you sighed, just the words finally leaving your mouth made you sob with joy. It felt so fucking good to finally say it out loud.

Yuta responded by flipping you onto your back and chased both his and your orgasm, fucking you with his usual intensity until you came and he followed straight after, filling the room with heavy pants and both of you trying to catch your breath.

“I love you too y/n” He finally said, bringing you to his chest and pressed his lips against your forehead.

The two of you lay in your bed both napping for a bit until the first sight of dawn began filling the bedroom. You winced at the sun and hid your face in Yuta’s arms as he grinned at your actions.

“I don't want to go to work!” you grumbled.

“Fuck go to work after all the drama you caused ?” Yuta pinched your cheek playfully, earning a nudge in his side from you.

“Anyway” Yuta continued, “I got an email from Taeyong and he said if we want we can work remotely, he gave us the Okinawa project.” You sat up in bed and turned to face him, “the Okinawa project ? Its 9 months in Japan, the same project the whole damn building was trying to get” you blinked, still unsure if Yuta was just fucking with you.

“That's the one” Yuta shrugged, “anyways he said he was going to send either of us anyway since he knows we always get the job done. Oh and he actually said something really funny actually”

“What ?” you raised your brow and watched Yuta reread the text message on his phone.

“He said Doyoung was the one who suggested the two of us be the ones to go, who would've thought ?” Yuta closed the messages and tucked himself back into bed.

“Yeah” you smiled, “Who would've thought.”

THE END

[theinvisiblecapricorn]

Surprise, surprise.

Author's note: This is my first ever written one shot. The inspiration popped into my head during my shower. Please let me know what you think. Enjoy

Fluffy one shot.

Part 1.

// Introduction //

A little info about Y/N and Vinnie.

So, you guys met during the first Covid lockdown.

You weren’t really seeing anyone of your friends during this time because you didn’t feel like taking any risks. So the only way for you to interact with anyone, was via social media. Before lockdown you also kind of give up on the idea of finding a lover because the last time you gave it a shot it didn’t work out.

You remember one of your best friends told you ‘’ Once you start focusing on yourself, it’ll come to you. ‘’ Well, what better way to focus on yourself other than during quarantine?

That’s when Vinnie came into the picture.

After many failed attempts of having a normal conversation with serval people, the last thing Vinnie expected was to meet someone like you. A lot of the time people tried to take advantage of the fact that he was famous. They would post his personal info on social media and share their conversations for clout. Just like you, Vinnie was kind of over the idea of meeting someone who would like him for his personality instead of his name.

You guys instantly clicked. It felt like talking to someone you’ve known your entire life. There wasn’t a thing you couldn’t share with another. But because the two of you lived in different time zones you couldn’t talk as much as you’d like, but you made it manageable. There was only one problem; traveling was not an option due to Covid, so the two of you had never seen each other in real life.

Until now…

// End of introduction //

Alex (Warren) set up his camera to make a video.

He clicked on record and looked into the camera.

‘’ So as you guys know, Vinnie and Y/N met online in the beginning of Covid, but they’ve never officially seen each other in real life. Now that traveling is allowed again and Vinnie hasn’t been feeling himself lately, I thought it was a good idea to surprise him. I bought y/n a plan ticket so she can come over and hopefully cheer Vinnie up. And I will document the entire journey. ‘’

// Vinnie’s POV //

It’s noon. I lay on my bed, scrolling on my phone through TikTok. I haven’t heard from Y/N all day. Normally she would call me before going to bed herself, but she never did. I tried texting her but no reply.

Y/NNNN????

Yo bro, you there???

I miss your voiceeee

Please don’t be asleep already 

Pick up!!!!!! Or else I’m coming for you.

God, I wish I could just fly to wherever she was at and kiss her entire face. Because, yes, I am indeed in love with her, and she feels the same way about me. I just never thought I could recognize so much of myself in someone else. She’s the most kind, beautiful and loving person I know, and I can’t wait to hold her in my arms one day and never let go.

I’m starting to daydream about a life with y/n without the long distance, because it truly sucks. Then I hear a knock on the door and before I know it Alex comes rushing in with his camera in his hand.

( Vinnie & Alex )

‘’ Vinnie, say hello to everyone! ‘’

‘’ Hello everyone. Alex what do you want? ‘’

‘’ Why are you assuming I want something from you? ‘’

‘’ Because you only enter my room if you either have one of your crazy ideas to share or if you want me to get involved in something I probably shouldn’t get involved into. ‘’

‘’ Pfft, not true. My ideas aren’t crazy, they’re brilliant in their own way. ‘’

Alex grins at me. Suspiciously.

‘’ Anyways that’s not the point Vincent, I actually came in to see if you would join me to get some groceries because the only thing left are rise waffles and I’m starving. ‘’

Alex is blinking his eyes with the same grin he has had on from the moment he came into my room.

He’s not going to leave until I agree on coming. So before I know it, we’re on our way to the grocery store.

// Y/N’s POV //

I received a text from Alex a few weeks ago. He told me about his idea to surprise Vinnie. I couldn’t be more excited. Ever since Vinnie and I started talking I have pushed many of my personal boundaries. In a positive way. Vinnie has helped me regain trust in others and has showed me that love is real. I have lost my faith in love due to my previous experiences. That’s why the connection that I have with Vinnie is so important to me.

I have arrived at the airport as I turn on my phone. My phone starts to receive all the missed text messages and calls from Vinnie. I smile as I read through them.

‘’ Oh Vin, if only you knew ‘’ I think to myself.

I hear someone yelling my name behind me. As I turn around, I see Nailea running towards me.

Nailea is a close friend of Vinnie so of course she was the first to know about Vinnie’s contact with me. She’s been super kind to me, and I consider her as the sister I never had.

Nailea hugs me once she has approached me.

( Y/N & Nailea )

‘’ OH MY GOD. Girl, I am so happy that you’re finally hereeeee!!! ’’

I laugh as I see people around looking at us.

‘’ I am also very happy to be here. To finally meet everyone. For real. ‘’

‘’ Yea, now tell me, does my nose look bigger on the screen than in real life? ‘’

‘’ Hahaha, no Nai. You look fantastic on the screen and even better in real life. ‘’

Nailea and I take my stuff and walk out of the airport.

Once settled in the car, I receive a text from Alex:

We’re almost at the store. He hasn’t got a clue. See you there.

This is all a part of Alex his big plan. First, I will act like a regular costumer shopping at the same store as Vinnie and Alex. Then once they get back, Alex will distract Vinnie just a little longer, so he won’t notice me walking past the car right away. Brilliant.

// Vinnie’s POV //

Alex and I walk into the store.

‘’ Alright, what do we need? ‘’

‘’ Anything but rise waffles. ‘’

I shake my head, laughing, as I walk to the lemonade aisle.

Alex is taking out his camera and starts filming me from a far.

I start singing Paparazzi by Lady Gaga as I act like I'm hiding from him.

‘’ Oh, you should also take a few cans of coke. ‘’ Alex suggests.

As I walk towards the aisle with cans of lemonade, I notice a girl standing in front of it. Her hair instantly reminds me of Y/N. The exact same length, color and texture. Call me a simp, but I just pay a lot of attention to the girl I love. I slowly approach the girl before Alex attacks be by throwing a teddy bear on my head.

‘’ Hey, watch it! ‘’ I fix my hair.

‘’ Sorry man, I just know how much you like teddy bears. ‘’ Alex’s laughing out loud as he zooms in to my face.

I laugh, as I start to think back to the day Alex thought it would be funny to buy a giant teddy bear and have Patrick in it to scare me.

Just then, I notice the girl was gone. I didn’t see her anywhere else again.

After collecting all the stuff, we needed, we went home.

Once we arrived home, Alex stopped me before I opened my car door.

‘’ Let’s just sit here for a bit and talk about some stuff. ‘’ I stare at Alex with a confused look on my face.

‘’ Yea, because the viewers want to know, how are things going between you and Y/N? ‘’

I scratch the back of my neck and start feeling the heat take over my cheeks.

‘’ I mean, it’s hard sometimes. She’s one of the most important people in my life, yet I haven’t even met her in person. But I just know that once I do, that everything will naturally fall into it’s place. ‘’

Alex pouts as he listens to all the sweet things I have to say.

‘’ You really like her, don’t you? ‘’

‘’ I mean, yea I do. I really do. ‘’

‘’ Alright, so imagine her standing in front of you right now, what would you do? ‘’

I look at my hands as I start to imagine a situation like that.

‘’ Uh… If she was standing in front of me right now.. I would.. ‘’ My eyes scan a figure walking past the car and I couldn’t believe my eyes.

// Y/N’s POV //

Shit, I almost got caught. The plan was to go into the store, just to admire Vinnie from a far. I didn’t plan to stand in the exact aisle, where he needed to get something from. Luckily, Alex had a plan to distract Vinnie while I fled to the exit. Phew, that was close.

Alex texted me, saying they were on their way home. That’s when it hit me, I am going to be able to see, touch and kiss Vinnie for the first time ever. Nailea noticed my anxiety kicking in and she told me everything would be just fine.

It didn’t take long before Alex’s car pulled up on the driveway. Alex and Vinnie stayed in the car for a bit. My phone started buzzing as I read the notification: ‘’ Now!’’ That was my cue.

As nervous as one can be, I walked past the car with the person who’s the other half of my heart in it. I didn’t dare to look in his direction.

// Vinnie’s POV //

I couldn’t believe my eyes. This isn’t real right? Was I dreaming? I mean, I didn’t get a lot of sleep last night because I was worried sick due to Y/N not responding to me anymore.

I rub my eyes as I watch in the direction of the person again and there’s no way it couldn’t be her.

Then she turns her face into my direction and my heart starts pounding. There she is, the love of my life, the only person who can make my day just by popping up in my notifications, Y/N.

As I try to open my door, I hear Alex locking it.

‘’ Let me out! ‘’ I look at Alex as I try to unlock the door, but unable because he keeps his hand infront of the lock.

‘’ You haven’t answered my question yet. ‘’ Alex smirks at me, but I do not find it funny at all.

‘’ Please, let me out and I’ll show you what I would do if she were to stand in front of me ‘’

And with, I heard the door unlock. I jumped out of the car and ran as fast as I could to the person who I longed for the most.

Click here for part two;

[ptergwen]

smoke and mirrors

⇢ richkid!tom x richkid!reader ⇠

w/c: 4.1k

warnings: swearing, drinking, light angst, and implied smut

summary: because of your mother’s insistence on a pristine family image and tom’s messy one, you deny your true feelings for him

a/n: ok ok ok the pics of tom in monaco really made me think and i had to get everything out of my system so here we are! thank you and enjoy x

-

your living room is engulfed by a hushed chatter that comes from far too many guests. half the people, you hardly know. it’s overcrowded, superficial, and the last place you want to be. it’s one of your mother’s get-togethers, as she likes to call them. these things are always far from the casual affairs they sound like.

weeks go into planning, caterers and decorators making themselves at home in yours. the family’s image is everything to your mom, so being a good hostess is her top priority. ironically, she’s more concerned with throwing her gatherings than raising you. so much for family, huh?

the only reason you agreed to make an appearance tonight is that tom might do the same. he’s a really good friend, someone you’ve been able to count on through all the mess that is your lives. you met in high school, when he moved from london to the states. his dad was offered a job promotion he couldn’t pass up. plus, tom and his brothers would be receiving a stellar private education here in america.

it was a win for everyone, especially you. the freckle faced boy who got lost on his way to english class became your closest confidant. tom’s company is such a sweet escape. he’s not interested in opera or the stock market like most people you meet are. he sneaks you out to go on walks at dawn and does shots with you until you can’t stand straight.

as you two continue to grow together, revelations about yourselves have come to light. what you want beyond your inheritances, who you want beyond friendship. you figured out the second part on a faithful night recently. tom showed up to your place with a bottle of tequila. after you drank it down through lots of lime chasers and giggles, he kissed you. you didn’t kiss back.

your heart said to go for it, but your mind pulled you back in. you were so shocked and overcome with new feelings, you froze up. that, and you’d infuriate your mother. although she cares about tom a great deal, she loathes his public figure. he’s always getting papped in places and with people he shouldn’t be. the two of you together would just destroy her.

you still want to please your mom at the end of the day, no matter how deep under your skin she gets.

tom immediately apologized and tried play it off as him being drunk. you grew up with him, became part of each other’s families, which means you know him well enough to know he was lying. he meant every second his lips were on yours.

what you need to do now is something you’ve meant to for a while. the only problem is that you’re stuck at your mother’s party, and tom hasn’t shown up yet.

“y/n, darling,” your mom calls for your attention. she’s dragged you into a conversation with some bloggers, but you haven’t spoken a word. “why don’t you tell us about your trip to spain last summer?” she plasters on her award winning grin and squeezes your shoulder. it’s time to play along.

“oh, it was beautiful,” you halfheartedly reply, more to the bloggers than her. they nod in clear interest. one jots down notes. “we went for a few weeks and visited a bunch of different cities. i’d love to go back sometime.” the typical press formatted answer earns your mom’s approval. you’re off the hook. your eyes start to wander around the room, hoping to set on tom.

“we?” the woman taking notes asks. must everyone pry? “my friend and i,” you shortly reply. you’re standing up on your tiptoes to see over the crowd. you’d think six inch heels would do the trick. “i’m actually looking for him right now, so if you’ll excuse me,” you offer a polite smile and silently pray they won’t ask who. unfortunately, your wishes don’t come true.

the other blogger, a short and stubborn man, speaks up. “just a friend you say? come on, tell us. who’s the lucky fella?” he inquires. your mother raises a firm eyebrow, signaling for you not to.

tom has a reputation for his reckless behavior. it’s your mom’s worst nightmare when the media associates your names under most circumstances. you’re representing her, so she does whatever she can to control how you’re seen. you’re constantly in the papers, being a young socialite and all. it sucks.

“he’d like to stay out of the tabloids, sorry,” you cover for tom, on your mom’s behalf. “i should really go. it was nice meeting you.” the bloggers don’t bother to hide their disappointment as you shake their hands. your mother rubs your back in approval. “thank you for doing that. we’ll talk later,” she speaks lowly. “bye, mom!” you practically make a run for it. 

weaving through the sea of people, you end up by the main entrance. it’s hard not to get lost even though it’s your house. the place is packed with girls just a couple years older than you, wearing pearls around their necks. men’s strong colognes flow through the air. you’re in a form fitting red slip dress and louboutins yourself.

smoke and mirrors is what they call it. you show the pretty parts to distract from your ugly ones.

harrison suddenly comes waltzing in with a lady on either of his arms. you’d expect nothing less. he’s tom’s best friend besides you, considering the failed kiss attempt didn’t change that. their parents worked at the london branch of the same company. they each came to the states and met you. you happily introduced them to your world, helping to make it theirs as well.

“haz!” you meet him at the front door. he’s smirking while he leads the women inside. “fancy seeing you here, isn’t it?” he jokes. “very funny. i died laughing,” you deadpan, curiously eyeing harrison’s plus two. they merely giggle. “listen, have you seen tom anywhere? if he’s coming.” you’re fighting back a frown. “why wouldn’t he be?” harrison questions in a more serious tone this time.

“long story. you have guests to entertain, so i won’t get into it now,” you decide and manage a small smile instead. he perks up. “right. i’ll let you know if i see him?” nodding, you give him a wave goodbye. “enjoy yourself.” “you too, love. cheers!” the girls lean into him, harrison wiggling his eyebrows at you. he’s ridiculous.

hours pass by without word of tom. it isn’t like him to miss an event, especially if you’re in attendance. you despise these exhausting nights, and he’s supposed to be your rock during them. he should have his arm draped around your shoulders, whispering silly remarks to you while you hide out somewhere. you miss him more than you thought possible.

you’re just about to give up when you spot nikki ushering her husband inside. behind them follows tom, clad in a grey checkered suit with his locks perfectly tousled. he’s here. you waited the whole night, and he finally came.

tom kisses his mom on the cheek before strutting over to the drink table, not without a few reporters hassling him. they’re probably looking for another holland scandal to break. he declines their requests for comments on this and opinions on that, instead pulling up a chair next to harrison. the two exchange hugs and fix themselves glasses of champagne, you watching their encounter.

harrison fills tom in on the drama he’s missed tonight while they sip their drinks. tom keeps forcing smiles that don’t reach his eyes. he’s fiddling with his fingers, leg bouncing up and down steadily. those are the telltale signs he needs saving. however awkward it may be, you’re going to have to break your silence. it was bound to happen eventually.

“mate, i’m telling you. she fit her entire first right up her-“ “boys,” you cut into harrison’s story, greeting him and tom. his face tints deep pink upon your arrival. “don’t let me stop you. finish your charming anecdote,” you encourage him and subtly glance over at tom. he’s biting back a grin as he sets his elbows on the table.

“not with a lady present. let’s just… pretend you didn’t hear that,” harrison chuckles nervously and hops to his feet. “i’m gonna leave you two to chat.” humming, you move to take his chair. tom sucks in a breath. “what happened to the girls you brought?” you wonder. “they left. said they got bored,” harrison admits, tom stifling laughter. he elbows his friend for that.

“oh, fuck off. i’ll see you later,” he mopes, flicking your arm for good measure. tom salutes him and grabs his nearly empty champagne. “so long, bruv.”

it’s just you and tom now, seated side by side, silently so. he has no intentions of speaking first. he’s too embarrassed, and you don’t blame him. this is on you. you clear your throat before starting the conversation.

“can i top you off?” you tap the bottom of his glass with a tiny smile. tom shakes his head. “i’m alright, thanks.” he finishes the last sip and sets it down, turning to face you. your smile has vanished. “wasn’t sure you were gonna make it. i’m glad you did,” you change the subject. as if he’s considering the sincerity behind your words, tom furrows his eyebrows.

“mum wanted us to. she dragged me and dad straight off the golf course,” he explains and clasps his hands in his lap. his fingers interlock with each other. you fight off the urge to replace them with yours. “we would’ve been here sooner, but the paps are camped outside.” the hint of a smile forms on his lips, at last. “guess it’s not often you get the town’s finest under one roof.”

“you think i’m one of the town’s finest?” you tease, resting your chin in your palm. something flashes behind tom’s eyes. he looks right into yours, scooting closer. “absolutely. you’re the most eligible bachelorette in this whole building.” you allow a toothy grin to spread across your face. “tommy, stop it. you’re too nice to me.”

the nickname is music to his ears. tom looks you up and down, licking his lips simultaneously. “no, seriously. you look gorgeous,” he muses, you pushing at his chest. he exhales a breathy laugh, and you giggle yourself. “red’s definitely your color.” “reverse card. you wear it way better than i do,” you insist. your fingers tug at the collar of his suit. “too bad you didn’t match me.”

you’re relieved you two can talk like you usually do, light flirting and good vibes. it might not be so hard to put the kiss behind you. well, you can’t go on pretending it didn’t happen. you have to at least discuss the fiasco. tom should know why you didn’t reciprocate, then you can take it from there. whether he still has feelings for you, assuming he ever did, will depend on how that turns out.

“not to ruin the fun, but we still have to talk,” you murmur, tom’s body stiffening across from yours. he’s not sure he’s ready to discuss that. “can it wait? we’re at a party,” tom reminds you, running a hand through his styled locks. “yeah, my mother’s. don’t tell me you’re having a good time,” you playfully chastise him. he simply shrugs. “hardly. you’re the best part.”

you ignore the butterflies roaming about your body.

“you won’t mind a quick convo, then. it is with me,” you attempt to persuade him and place a hand on his knee. tom coughs a bit too loudly, the contact surprising him. “you know what? i think i’ll take you up on that drink first,” he decides with a mustered up smile. “coming right up.” you pat his leg before taking his glass. he chews on his lower lip while you poor the bubbling liquid. that was certainly… odd.

you slide tom his champagne back with an exaggerated wink. tom scoffs at this. “mm, thanks. care to join me?” he brings the alcohol to his lips, eyes never leaving yours. your mother specifically said no drinking tonight, since the press would be here. screw your mother, though. “please. could you hand me a glass?” you eagerly grab the champagne bottle. tom searches for an empty cup next to him.

you two are unspoken drinking buddies at this point.

“here you are, darling,” tom drawls, holding out the glass for you. every time he calls you that, you completely melt. “thanks, tommy,” you purr in response. you’re finally pouring your own drink when someone taps you on the shoulder, and hard. you look behind you to find your mother standing with her hands on her hips, less than thrilled. speak of the devil.

“hello, mother. can i help you?” you make sure to ask rudely. she responds with a smile that’s obviously fake. if tom weren’t here, you’d be getting scolded. “yes, my darling. those bloggers from earlier were hoping you’d finish your interview.” your mom shakes your shoulder in a motherly way. you squint up at her. “didn’t they leave hours ago-“ “they’re back,” she sharply informs you.

she’s lying, and you have a hunch as to why.

frowning, you hold tom’s hand in both of yours. “sorry, this won’t take long. why don’t you go find tuwaine?” you suggest instead. “he’s around here somewhere.” tom gives you an understanding nod and laces your fingers together, even if it’s only for a moment. “must be chatting up some producers or whatnot. i’ll see if i can help.” he’s such an incredible friend to everyone. he deserves the same from you.

“thomas, so lovely to see you,” your mom interrupts. tom stands up, kissing both her cheeks out of courtesy. “you, too. what a wonderful party. thank you for having us.” despite what the rest of the world believes, his manners are impeccable. “of course. give nikki my best, will you?” your mom puts her hands on his shoulders. he grins at her. “definitely. take care, mrs. y/l/n.” “always a pleasure,” she states, nudging you to come along with her.

you shoot tom one last apologetic look as your mother pulls you along and towards the crowd.

tom is no idiot. he’s well aware how she really feels about him.

when a swarm of guests is surrounding you, your mom lets go. you scowl, crossing your arms over your chest. “why would you do that? i haven’t seen tom in days.” she sighs without a care. “isn’t it time you branch out? expand your social circle?” her manicured fingers ruffle your hair. you push away her touch. “i’m social enough. we were in the middle of something really important.”

you begin to walk away, but your mother takes your arm. “whatever you’re about to do, it’s a mistake. he’ll make a fool of you,” she practically spits. yanking your arm from her grasp, you laugh bitterly. “of me, or of the family name? look around, mom.” you gesture to the spot beside her where your dad should be. “as far as i’m concerned, i have no family except tom. i’m gonna go check on him.”

you’re gone before your mom can stop you. she simply stands there, utterly mortified by what you said.

you run around the house to find tom, stumbling in your heels and not giving a fuck. you’d truly meant the part about him being your family. all the holland’s, honestly. they’re the most genuine and caring souls, and you don’t want to lose the one you’re closest to because of your mother’s delusions. 

tom is in a circle with harrison and tuwaine, the three of them chuckling amongst themselves. you’d hate to bug him, but this can’t wait anymore.

“uh, tom?” you mumble his name, appearing behind him. he steps away with another quiet laugh. “hey, y/n/n. that was quick, hm?” your face gives away your distress. his whole demeanor shifting, tom reaches for your hands. “what is it, love? is something the matter?” “just… come with me,” you croak out.

you manage to smile at harrison and tuwaine, dropping one of tom’s hands so you can lead him upstairs. they each return the smile and share curious looks.

following behind you, tom keeps your hand tight in his own. he’d thought you were going to grill him about the kiss that barely happened. it seems like this is a much more pressing matter. his outburst of emotions can be discussed another time. now, it’s time to deal with yours.

you drag tom into the first room on the second floor, which is your dad’s study. he’s away on business this weekend, so he luckily couldn’t make the party. tom sits down in the office chair. you sit up on the desk, in front of him. your lip quivers the second his worried features come into view.

“y/n/n, what’s going on? why are we in here?” tom wonders, his tone soft. your heart clenches. “i- i wanted us to have some privacy when i told you this,” you sniffle out and blink back the tears forming. you’re sort of shaken from the conversation with your mother, and mostly because you have no idea how tom will react to your confession.

his hands come to stay on your thighs, right below your dress. they feel warm against your bare skin.

“tell me what? i’m listening, yeah?” tom gazes up at you with so much love. “lay it all out for me.” god, he’s fucking amazing. if only you knew where to start. “do you, um…” you trail off, letting your tears subside and words settle. “do you remember when your family made your big debut in town?”

a grin replaces tom’s frown, painting his beautiful face. “how could i forget? you made it quite memorable.” he traces circles on your thigh and elicits a giggle from you. “i spilled a whole thing of soda on your white fucking button down,” you recount with a lighthearted sigh. “right before your dad was supposed to introduce you to everyone, too.”

tom presses his tongue into his cheek to hold back another grin. “took ages to get it out. dad went mad when i didn’t show.” he cocks his head to the side, you leaning back on your hands. “you held me hostage in the laundry room so you could do that bloody stain stick.” your mouth drops open in mock offense. “i had to clean up my mess! i wasn’t gonna let the world meet you covered in pepsi.”

that was one of your earliest memories together. the holland’s threw a party and invited everyone who was willing to attend. they had been hoping to properly introduce themselves to the town, and this was their way of doing so. although yours and tom’s friendship was fairly new, you spent all night together because you had experience with such events.

tom’s dad was making a speech to thank the guests for coming. you and him listened from the snack table, until his name was called. he rushed to go up there while you were pouring yourself a drink. he’d bumped into you, and the bottle ended up all over him. you snuck tom right off to his laundry room.

you’d felt terrible as he stood there shirtless and blushing, you aggressively swiping his button down with a stain stick.

“why do you bring that up?” tom questions and continues circling your skin. you purse your lips. “i dunno. it was the last party i actually enjoyed,” you admit, putting your hand over his that rests on your thigh. “like to reminisce when i’m suffering through one of my mother’s.” his eyes shift to where your hands are laced. “i see,” he affirms. “so, is that… all you wanted to talk about?” “not even close,” you laugh out.

a burst of courage coursing through your body, you say it. “when you kissed me the other night-“ “i won’t do it again,” tom cuts in, trying to avoid the rejection he thinks you’ll give him. “it was a mistake, and i’m so sorry. our friendship is more important than my feelings.” you seem excited to hear that, though it’s not for the reason tom expects. “you do have feelings for me?”

he’d forgotten about his i was drunk excuse.

“um, yeah. i do,” he admits, cheeks rosy and lip caught in his teeth. “but, i’ll learn to put them aside, if that’s what’s best.” “no, no. it isn’t,” you dismiss him and put your free hand on his chest. “i love you, tom. that’s what i was really trying to tell you.” your words bring an instant grin to his face. he chuckles in disbelief, standing from the chair.

“fuck, thank god. that’s all i’ve ever wanted to hear.” he’s between your legs now, his hands moving up to your hips. you’re beaming at him as your arms snake around his neck. a burning question comes to tom’s mind. “hang on. why didn’t you kiss me back, then?” he almost whispers, thumb brushing over your hipbone. “this is gonna sound weird, but… my mom,” you reluctantly let out.

“you’re gonna have to elaborate,” tom prompts you and raises an eyebrow. you can’t hold back your eye roll. “she’s never been a fan of the person you are in the media.” his lips form a line. “i gathered.” your fingers tangle in his curls at the nape of his neck reassuringly. “i was subconsciously scared i would be letting her down in some way, if we were together.”

tom allows your hands to work their way up to his scalp. he exhales contentedly as you play with his ever so soft hair. “i understand, she’s intimidating. what’s changed that brilliant mind of yours about coming clean?” your nose scrunches up when he pokes one of your temples. “oh, yeah. i yelled at her earlier ‘cuz she stole me away from you.” his face lights up. “sexy.” “shut up,” you groan. “someone had to tell her off.”

“good thing it got to be you,” tom agrees with a squeeze at your hip. “‘m proud of you, y/n/n. it’s not easy, standing up to mummy dearest.” you tug on his hair. “like you’d know. nikki is a saint.” “that’s what she’ll have you believe,” he says under his breath, you gasping. his lips turn up in a smirk. “on that note… i love you, too.”

“would’ve been embarrassing if you didn’t say it back,” you acknowledge with a cheesy smile. tom dips his head down to rest his forehead against yours. “yeah, yeah. save the attitude for your mum.” your legs easily wrap around his waist, tom’s breath hot as it hits your face. “let’s give that kiss another go,” you mewl. he doesn’t hesitate to reply. “with pleasure.”

tom’s lips land on yours, you kissing back right away. he smiles into it as your lips gently move together. “about fucking time,” he grumbles, your hands situating in his chocolate curls once again. he’s savoring every second you touch him, kiss him, love him. the taste of your mouth is one he’s craved for longer than you could imagine.

it doesn’t take long for things to heat up, you messing with tom’s hair and tom rubbing your hips. you lay back on the desk as his tongue enters your mouth. holding you by your waist, tom hovers over you. his tongue tangles with yours in a deep kiss. between that and his fingers beginning to massage your thigh, you’re done for. you’re ready to take this a step further by the time he’s kissing down your neck.

“tommy?” you grab onto his shoulders, your head back. his lips detach from your skin with a grin. “yeah, love? ‘s everything okay?” he coos, pressing a final kiss to your collarbone. “more than.” you tilt his chin up to peck his lips. “you wouldn’t happen to have a condom, would you? just thinking ahead.” he laughs breathlessly, reaching into his suit pocket.

“conveniently enough, i do. not sure your dad would like me fucking you on his desk, though.” tom sets his hand on your leg that’s still hooked around his waist. “my room’s always available. carry me?” you make grabby hands and bat your lashes. he hoists you up by your waist, not lifting you just yet. “that would break the news of us, no? your mum’s gonna go apeshit.” he keeps his arms around you, chuckling.

“let her. besides, i know a couple of bloggers that would love to announce our status update.” you peck tom’s lips, grinning as you do. you’re suddenly in the air and being picked up by tom. the surprise of it makes you squeal, clutching onto his broad shoulders instinctively. he gives you the look of adoration that’s reserved for you only.

“we’ll go pop a few bottles with everyone, then we’re celebrating on our own.”

[cdroloisms]

take a shot - dsmp!mcc fic

MCC FIC! MCC FIC! MCC FIC! To be clear, I outlined this weeks back, when teams were first announced, and I took very very little from the actual MCC itself when it came to actually writing this - all I have are the same teams, but it really exists in its own continuity outside of Real Life MCC (obviously, as it’s using the dsmp characters) and everything like that as a whole! Just to be clear :D)

The worldbuilding is also Absolutely Bullshitted start to finish, as well as any and all medical information. Rip. We’re here for a good time, not for a long or particularly accurate one - hope you guys enjoy regardless!! I had a LOT of fun writing this fic, dsmp!mcc aus my BELOVED

title obviously from win it all by derivakat

---

Michael loves MCC.

But it’s one thing to love the normal Championships and quite another when his team looks like it’s falling apart from the inside out - and as the games progress, it becomes more and more obvious that losing, this time, might not be an option.

tws: C!QUACKITY CRITICAL (sorry i promise i love him but he is NOT portrayed very nicely here, very dark portrayal of him), implied trauma, abuse, torture, panic attacks, manipulation, gaslighting, needles, hospitals, MCC-typical violence, emotional distress, prison arc, pandora’s vault themes

(16k words !! :D long boi) 

Michael loves MCC.

Of course he does! It’s fucking MCC - like, who wouldn’t love it? MCC is how he met so many people, how he met Dream, that one time, the two of them teamed with Techno and Burren and winning it all - MCC is a goddamn blast and he’s thankful every time he gets the invite that he’s able to compete. 

Still- it’s hard not to be a little more nervous, now. 

Dream gave him an invite to his SMP right after they teamed, but it wasn’t until months later that Michael actually cashed it in. Entering the server, it became very obvious very quickly that the DreamSMP, as it’s known, isn’t quite the same as its shiny media appearance. The spawn was covered in blocks, creeper holes littering the ground. The people he passed were grey-faced, too stoic to be the same, smiling faces he remembers from only less than a year ago. The air stings of gunpowder and iron. Worst of all are The Crater, shoddily covered in glass that does nothing to hide the damage done, rending the server in two straight down to bedrock, and the Prison, looming on the horizon. Absent-mindedly, Michael rubs at his left shoulder, remembering the Warden setting the prongs of his trident against the skin in warning, just hard enough to barely draw blood. Yeah, that place is bad news. 

The fact of the matter is the server is a mess. And like, okay, whatever, Michael gets it. Everyone has their issues - it’s just the DreamSMP seems to have more than most. Despite his original worries, it’s honestly not been as bad as he originally feared upon logging in; yeah, Bad and Puffy and Foolish and the rest of them are a little more trigger-happy than he might’ve expected (and he’s not going to say that Bad crying over turtles wasn’t a little startling when he first joined, but honestly he thinks Bad is just Like That.) There’s way more death than he’s really comfortable with, and Puffy keeps mentioning Bad murdering her son (Foolish? He thinks? The guy is also a literal God but like, families are weird, who’s he to judge) in a way that’s way too casual to come from anyone entirely well-adjusted, but overall his experience has been alright. 

Still, he gets the feeling that nobody exactly wants the outside world to know about the issues with the place. It’s not an issue for him usually, not when his sleeping schedule is the exact opposite of most of the people he knows and he spends most of his time screwing around on the server, anyway (usually harassing the Warden until the asscrack of dawn if he’s being honest) but with MCC, with everyone watching - he’s starting to get why everyone from the SMP was so damn tense all the time, now. 

Anyway- he loves MCC, he really does. But even that doesn’t stop him from wincing when he sees his team card, the names Dream and Quackity and Sapnap written in Scott’s looping handwriting. He’s not seen Sapnap at all since joining the server, has only heard a little about his place (something Kingdom, not that he was paying attention) from Foolish, and has no idea what the man has been up to. Quackity is his own unique can of worms; Michael doesn’t know exactly what’s up with him and his country, but everything he’s heard so far has sounded like nothing but bad news, casinos and schemes and a trail of wreckage following wherever he goes. And Dream-

Michael looks out his window, chewing on his lip, looking directly in the direction where he knows the prison stands, impenetrable, intimidating. Where Dream’s cell is, in line with his house, where he’s been hidden for months without a trace. Where the Warden had confronted him that one night, a dangerous gleam in his eyes, blood splattered on his boots. 

There’s no real ignoring an MCC invite - not without good reason, not without the admins picking up on something being up. There’s not really a choice, here, but for Michael to duck his head down and pretend everything’s fine just like everyone else from the SMP. He directs one last glance at the prison before walking away, setting the invite on his counter. If he’s lucky, everything will turn out fine. 

(He ignores the part of him that asks what’s going to happen if they’re not. No point in worrying about what hasn’t happened yet - right?) 

---

Weeks pass, the tournament creeping closer, and Michael gets no alerts from his teammates on his comm. No one comes to his house to check in, say hi, not even a ‘hey, we’re kinda competing in a massive tournament in like, seven days, you ready?’ Hell, he even starts checking his goddamn mailbox for a letter or something only to come up empty-handed every time. Never mind performing well - it’ll be a miracle if their team manages to arrive at the tournament at all. 

It isn’t until the day before MCC, the sun high in the sky at what must be near noon, when he finally gets a message on his comm. Michael fishes it out with a frustrated huff, seeing Quackity’s name pop up first when he manages to turn on the screen. 

Quackity whispers to you: you down for some practice?

It takes a couple seconds for him to blink away his shock - out of everyone he expected to arrange practice for their team, Quackity was definitely not at the top of the list. He half-thought they would have to drag him to the tournament kicking and screaming; from what he’s heard, he’s been nothing if not devoted to his country. Shaking his head, he goes to reply; practice is practice, and their team really needs it. 

You whisper to Quackity: sure. practice server?

Quackity whispers to you: yes

Pulling up his server list, Michael scrolls for the practice server, finding it and then letting the server transfer do the rest. A few nausea-inducing seconds later, he’s at the practice server spawn, standing in the middle of a neatly paved road surrounded by colorful arenas and signs. 

“Michael!” 

He turns; there, by the Battle Box arenas, Quackity is waving at him, already dressed in a red varsity jacket and a pair of shorts, the jacket bearing a front pocket embroidered with a rabbit and a large R stitched onto the back. He reaches behind him for a red bag, throws it his way for Michael to catch mid-air. 

“Got these outfits for us last minute - hope it’s alright with you,” Quackity smiles, and Michael tries to prevent his eyes from clinging to the scar spanning the entire left side of his face. “Anyway- how are you, man? I feel like we haven’t seen each other at all on the server. How’s it been?”

“I’m good- it’s been good.” Michael opens the drawstring bag, cataloguing the contents - there’s a jacket, just like Quackity’s, a pair of shorts and sweatpants, a t-shirt, and a headband, all in varying shades of red and white. “Nice outfit- thank you. Is anyone else around?”

Quackity waves a hand behind him. “Yeah- Dream’s here. Should be coming out of the arena soon, actually.” Michael looks over behind his shoulder to where he’s pointing - there, walking down the stairs, is another figure wearing all red that must be Dream. “There he is- hey Dream! Michael’s here!” 

Dream hurries down the stairs; unlike Quackity, he is wearing the sweatpants along with the same jacket, hands stuffed in his pockets. His hair is a lot longer than Michael remembers, pulled back behind his head in a ponytail, mask, as usual, fastened over his face. He settles behind Quackity, giving Michael a small wave; his hands are covered by a pair of fingerless gloves. 

“Hey, Dream!” Michael grins; it’s been such a long time since he’s seen his old teammate, and despite the circumstances and everything that’s apparently happened since then, it’s still pretty damn nice to see him. “How’ve you been?”

Dream seems to freeze for a moment, before shaking his head. “Good,” he says, quiet, sounding almost breathless. Michael’s eyes go to the slivers of skin that show on either side of his face, to the slight shake to his hands. 

“You alright? You look a little pale,” Michael asks, and he definitely doesn’t miss the way Dream stills at the words, muscles tensing, gaze averting to the side even with the mask - doesn’t miss how Quackity steps forward, looking Michael in the eye as he tosses a casual arm around Dream’s shoulder, smiling brightly. 

“Don’t worry. This idiot has just been practicing a bit too much before you got here,” Quackity gestures with a flippant twist of his wrist, “You know how he gets. Right, Dream?” 

“Um- yeah. Ha,” Dream responds just a little too late to be strictly normal, shoulders tight and nearly pulled to his ears under Quackity’s arm. “Practice- I’m a little out of shape.” 

“You sure?” Dream’s breathing hitches and Quackity steps forward, just a little bit, eyes still fixed firmly on Michael’s own even as he shifts his gaze to try and look at Dream. “We can take a break if you need, Dream-”

“I’m fine!” Dream smiles with a little stuttered breath that turns into a small laugh, “It’s- uh. It’s fine. Thanks Michael, but we can practice. Not much time left to waste, you know?”

“You sure, Dream?” Quackity says, suddenly, voice soft and sincere. “I guess it has been a while since you’ve been able to practice- you sure you don’t need a break?”

Dream shakes his head firmly. “No- it’s fine. Really- where’s Sapnap? He should be coming soon, right?”

“If you say so, pal,” Quackity replies, doubt coloring his tone as he pulls out his communicator. “I told Sapnap to come, he replied a couple minutes back; he should be here soon, I think. You want to go meet him at spawn?”

Dream nods, and they begin to set out towards the center of the server, Quackity and Dream quickly taking the lead as Michael falls back. After a minute, Quackity falls into casual conversation, rambling about something as Dream nods, Michael trailing behind the two of them and adding his own input as he sees fit. Sapnap arrives soon after, and the noise level picks up even more after that, Sapnap and Quackity falling into an easy rhythm of banter and quips as they set out to practice Battle Box and Parkour Tag, carefully working their way through the different games under Dream’s tutelage and advice. 

And here’s the thing- Michael isn’t stupid. Yeah, he’d hardly consider himself a top tier MCC player, and he’ll be the first to say that he’s nowhere near qualified to deal with the literal laundry list of issues that affect every member of the SMP, but even so, he’s not clueless. He’s good at looking at multiple sides of a situation, doesn’t easily give into intimidation or manipulation, and he’s observant as all hell. So when Quackity wraps his hand around Dream’s wrist, fingers wrapping all the way around until his knuckles pale, when Dream winces, muscles in his arm locking before letting it go limp, not protesting when Quackity drags him forward except in the tiny, tight expressions that flit across his face every few moments, tight and gasping and shaky at the corners - Michael notices. 

“See you at the tourney, yeah?” Quackity calls to him after practice with a wink before clapping Dream on the back, Michael watching silently as the muscles of Dream’s neck pull tight, head ducking to his chest. “Good job, big guy,” he says, laughing. “Keep this up for tomorrow and we’ll be good.”

“Mmhm,” Dream mutters after a brief second, “We’re- we’re gonna win.”

“Betting on it, pal,” Quackity replies, voice light in a way that completely fails to explain Dream’s full-body flinch. “MCC, huh? Can’t fucking wait.”

“See you tomorrow, Quackity,” Michael says as he presses DreamSMP on his server list, pretending that a chill doesn’t crawl down his spine at the smile that the other man throws his way in return. 

---

There’s no real easy answer.

Michael comes to that conclusion at some point in the middle of the night, restless and pumped on way too much adrenaline to go to sleep. He can’t outright antagonize Quackity, can’t let him know he knows something’s up - not when Quackity had already spent the majority of practice keeping one dark, narrowed eye on him at all times, lips pursed in a slight frown whenever he thought Michael wasn’t looking. He’s not stupid; whatever’s happening between Dream and Quackity is secret, and kept that way for a reason. His mind goes back to the brief flashes of anxiety that had moved over Dream’s face before he could react fast enough to school them back into a carefully neutral position; whatever it is, he doubts it bodes well for Dream in the slightest. 

Unfortunately, his hands are pretty damn tied. He knows public opinion on the masked man in the server is overwhelmingly negative, but has no damn idea how far it extends. How many people are in on whatever’s happening in that damn prison? How many people know what would make Dream, bold and bright and recklessly confident in all of Michael’s (rather limited) memories, into someone so quiet, unimposing, nervous? His head spins with the possibilities, with the ever-present reminder to not make a fuss, let the tournament pass on, to never, ever let anyone find out what’s going on within the SMP. Should he do anything at all? 

Too soon, it’s morning, and he drags himself out of bed with a groan to glare at the sun streaming through his window. Somewhere, Quackity and Dream and Sapnap are also waking up, are preparing to compete in one of the biggest damn tournaments to exist. Michael sighs, glancing over to where he’s set out his outfit, freshly pressed and waiting. Any other day, and he’d probably be fucking ecstatic. Here, he buries his head in his hands, muffling a frustrated groan against the palm of his hands. 

He loves MCC, but he sure as hell doesn’t like whatever the hell is going on with the rest of his team. 

Getting into the server goes smoothly enough. The outfit is comfortable and looks damn good, props to whoever made the thing, and the sight of the multicolored crowd successfully manages to tamp down some of his nerves. He busies himself with saying hi to all of the members waiting in the lobby, happy for the chance to talk to some people he hasn’t seen in ages, feels the night of anxieties wash away with every stupid joke told and burst of laughter drawn from his lungs. 

They come back the moment Scott steps up in front of the lobby. “Teams, it’s time to head to your team rooms! The tournament will begin in fifteen minutes,” Scott says, expression sunny and bright, “we’re wishing you all luck for a great performance today! May the best team win!” 

In a flurry of movement, they’re all whisked to their rooms for a final few minutes of preparation and morale-boosting, and Michael enters the glorified dressing room to Quackity, Dream, and Sapnap already standing there, seemingly in the middle of conversation. 

“You ready to win?” Sapnap yells, and Quackity whoops, and Michael manages a small cheer of his own. They’re all visibly nervous; Quackity has scarcely stopped moving, pacing from one side of the room to the next; Sapnap is basically jumping in place where he stands. Dream stands at the very back of the room, looking tense; Michael directs a wave his way and gets a small one in return. 

“Game plan, game plan,” Quackity mutters, “do we know what games we’re playing first? Dream?”

He nods at Dream, and Dream stands up straighter, mouth falling open.

“Oh- um,” he hesitates, a strand of hair flopping forwards as he tilts his head in thought. “We’ll want to save Parkour Tag and Battle Box towards the end- maybe something more high-risk at the beginning, but not first, just to boost morale,” his teeth catch on his bottom lip, “Maybe something like To Get To The Other Side? If they have that- or Build Mart, if we can get it out of the way.” He shakes his head. “If that’s alright- I mean-”

“Great,” Quackity cuts in smoothly. “Sapnap? Michael? Does that sound good to you?”

Sapnap flashes a thumbs up, and Michael nods. “Yeah, sounds great. Thanks, Dream.”

Dream’s head snaps towards him, mouth slightly open in shock. The sight of it makes Michael’s gut twist uncomfortably; there’s something about how surprised he is, at the nervous hesitancy with which he spoke that was nothing like what Michael remembers of his easy leadership in that MCC with Techno, that doesn’t sit right at all in his stomach. Even with his expression largely hidden, there’s no mistaking the clear, genuine surprise on his face at the idea of someone thanking him - Michael tries to tell himself that he’s reading too much into it as Quackity continues to speak. 

“We’re going to win,” he grins, just a little too sharp at the edges, “so get out there and play like your lives depend on it, yeah?” 

Sapnap cheers, and again, Michael and Dream follow. It’s not until he’s outside the door, within the clamor of screaming teams and people counting down with the timer that Michael realizes that Quackity was staring at Dream the entire time. 

---

Michael curses, frustrated, when he’s knocked off a platform again, making sure to flip Krinios the bird before he falls into the Void entirely. When he makes it to the other side, Quackity and Dream are already deep in conversation - if you can call it that. Even from here, it looks worryingly one-sided.

“-were you thinking, falling off there-” Quackity’s hand is on Dream’s shoulder, Dream standing stock-still in front of him, “you better be taking this seriously, Dream.”

“Hey- sorry about that,” Michael calls with a wave, “I swear Krinios had it out for me. At least I made it across, right?” 

Quackity turns, startled, and in the split-second that it takes for him to register Michael’s appearance, his expression smooths over into something friendlier, more inviting. “Michael!” He says, enthusiastic, and it’s like the anger that had filled his words just seconds before was never there at all. “Don’t- don’t worry about it, man. We all kinda dropped the ball on that one, right Dream?” 

The words should be encouraging, just simple ribbing between teammates. Dream’s mask is still ducked down, facing the floor, shoulders slightly hunched in. 

“Um- Sapnap did pretty good,” Dream says, quiet, “he got top ten, right?” 

Michael looks over to where Sapnap is standing a little ways away, seemingly busy typing on his communicator. Quackity laughs, sharp and loud. 

“True,” he punches Dream lightly on the upper arm, and Michael watches the way he freezes the second the fist makes contact with his jacket, “come on, man, you’re losing your touch. You really gonna let yourself get beat by Sapnap?” he shakes his head, still laughing as he pulls open his communicator. “Jesus- even I beat you in that last round. Watch your spot, Dream, I’m coming for you.” 

“I mean,” Michael says when a second passes and it becomes clear Dream isn’t going to respond, “Dream was doing pretty well with the last two rounds, right? I thought I saw his name pretty far up there.” 

Quackity takes a second before responding, again, staring at Michael oddly as he does. “That’s true,” he concedes, “hey- I was just making a joke, don’t worry. It’s all for fun, right Dream?”

His gaze goes to Dream, and automatically, Michael follows. Dream seems to startle under the attention, twitching Quackity’s direction in the awkward silence that results. Michael watches as the mask slants slightly to face Quackity, as Quackity looks back at him with an intense, unreadable expression, shoulders strangely tense. Whatever unsaid conversation that seems to pass between them is entirely lost on Michael as Dream finally responds with a sudden, almost strangled bark of laughter. 

“Yeah- just jokes,” his fingers twist over one another, hands held close together in front of his body, “Though Qu- Q’s right, I- I should probably pick it up. We’re playing to win.” 

A ding alerts them to the end of the round, and Michael steadies himself in preparation for the teleport to the next map. As he turns, he catches Quackity’s expression, once again, and the self-satisfied smirk on his face as he continues to look at Dream. 

“Good luck,” he calls just before they enter the next round, and tries not to think too much about what he’s saying it for. 

---

They manage pretty well for the rest of To Get To The Other Side, finishing with a second place overall that got cheers from Sapnap and even a slight smile from Dream. Hole in the Wall, on the other hand, has been a lot less successful - though Michael will be the first to say that it’s his fault. His practice in the last few months has been lackluster (at best) and it definitely showed in the arena. 

He leans over the railing, watching Dream and Sapnap through the crowd of participants left that have yet to be knocked out by the giant walls of slime. Quackity’s standing next to him, having been similarly thrown off the platform early in the round, expression tight and lips set in a small frown, and looking at him for too long makes Michael uneasy so he looks down at the arena again. They’re in the last round, and they’re supposed to be making callouts anyway for their teammates still participating below.

Without thinking, once again, Michael looks over at Dream. Sue him, he knows the guy best and Dream has been acting odd all day, to put it lightly. Even ignoring the part of him that’s screaming that something’s wrong, that there’s something up that has everything to do with the beanie-wearing man standing besides him, it only takes a few minutes of observation to see that Dream is - for the lack of a better word - off. Michael watches as he vaults over another wall, only barely managing to bring himself to his feet in time on the other side. Dream’s movements - even to his untrained eye - have always been fluid, effortless. He jumped and vaulted and ran like gravity didn’t exist, like every physics-bending maneuver he made was as easy as breathing. Michael remembers watching him sprint over the parkour course before, time completely unmatched as he appraised each obstacle and basically flew his way through, sounding hardly even winded when he whooped loudly in victory from the top of the salmon ladder. In total contrast, Dream jerks away from the coming wall again, movements sloppy and harsh as he scrambles to the other side of the disc-shaped arena. He’s still fast, and still making jumps, but everything is strangely angled where it had once been fluid, stopping and starting suddenly, moving in bursts of speed and then skidding to sudden stops. 

“WEST!” Quackity shouts, and Michael watches as Dream’s head turns jerkily at the noise before he dives out of the way of the incoming wall and manages, barely, to twist around the side. Michael winces at the tumble he takes on the opposite side, clutching his chest slightly as he stands back up again. 

“North!” Michael calls, because he should probably actually help his teammates, huh, and Dream manages to move around this one better, jumping through a hole in the wall and tucking and rolling as he lands. “Nice jump- East!” 

It’s an easy wall, thankfully, and both Sapnap and Dream visibly take a breath as they stand in place for the wall to pass over them. As it passes, a droning buzz comes from the speakers, and the walls below them speed up. 

“South-to your right!” Michael shouts as they turn, eyes turning between all of the false walls before finally focusing on the right one, his shout echoed by a similar one from Quackity. At each one of the calls from the man besides him, Dream seems to tighten further, movements increasingly erratic as he dodges and weaves around the walls. There’s still a lot of people left - Michael follows Dream through the crowd with a frown, watching as he and Sapnap jump the next wall, Dream’s foot nearly catching on the top edge. 

“West-” Dream flinches, jumping over the two-high wall at the last possible second, landing completely off-balance on the other side and falling to the ground. He scrambles to his feet, but there’s already a wall at the west edge of the platform - his head turns, still searching for the wall - Quackity yells.

“LEFT!”

Something in Dream’s movements seem to shift, even in the distance - Michael watches as he immediately, almost robotically, steps to the left at Quackity’s voice, not even jumping, not turning his head to take in his surroundings, just moving instinctually at the words, and slams into the coming wall hard enough to get flung into the middle hole in the platform. Quackity curses, fist crashing into the railing as Dream falls and the chat message shows on their communicators, and a second later he’s materialized beside them, face oddly slack and mask focused somewhere faraway. 

“Shit,” Dream mutters when he seems to come back into himself, shaking his head and then turning to the two of them, still by the railing, “Dammit. Sorry, I-“ 

“Don’t worry about it,” Michael cuts in before Quackity can speak. “You did good.” 

“I-” Dream catches Quackity’s gaze, then pushes his head away, mask facing the ground. Something about it and his raised shoulders and the dark, angry glare that Quackity directs over the railing when Michael looks back makes him shift in place, uneasy. “Could’ve done better, ha. Sorry.” 

The three of them watch, silent, as Sapnap continues to compete. He manages to get pretty damn far, making it to the top three, but getting knocked off-balance by a wall and off the platform just before the timer sounds. Michael cringes back at the sound of it over the speakers, watches the other contestants settle into place, panting, in victory.

“Great job, Sapnap,” Michael shouts when he materializes in front of them, and the other two are quick to echo his sentiments. If they sound a little duller than they should be, if Quackity’s jaw seems clenched and Dream’s all coiled up like a spring, far too tense, it’s from placing lower than they wanted and slipping in the rankings, not anything else.

Keep your head down, Michael reminds himself, and everything’s gonna be fine. And if the words ring more and more hollow with every repetition, well, that’s for him to ignore and for everyone else to never, ever find out. 

---

Buildmart is chosen next, which they all groan at, but at least it’s going to be out early and not left to ruin all of their scores later. Michael takes his place at his build, one third from the left side - it’s some abomination of colored glass and white concrete meant, if he is to guess, to emulate a stained glass window. He’s between Dream and Sapnap, the former positioned in front of a flower-dotted grass field with a picnic table, the latter staring down a miniature car with black concrete for tires and stone buttons for detailing. He breathes a steady breath as they await the countdown, already planning for his trip to the Colors section to grab materials for his build and the others’- Buildmart isn’t his strongest game, but it’s not his worst either, and he’s damn well going to try his best. 

He skids into the portal with an armful of colored concrete and glass, spilling half of its contents inside a chest before running to his build. He pulls himself to the crafting bench to craft - he squints at his build - he needs four red glass panes and 3 yellow, right. As he brings the panes to his inventory and begins laying out the frame of the build in concrete, he looks over to Dream, who is noticeably struggling with placing the flowers in his build and getting the placements to match that of the original. He knocks away a white tulip with a muffled curse, sounding frantic as he looks back to the original, and places it again to no avail. 

It seems that his struggle hasn’t only caught Michael’s attention, as the statue to the leftmost side of the room explodes in gold coins and confetti - Quackity has finished his build and is now looking at Dream with narrowed eyes. Dream places the flower again, and the build refuses to respond. Quackity’s gaze narrows further, and he opens his mouth-

“Hey Quackity!” Michael starts speaking before he’s even noticed that he’s opened his mouth, fumbling as he regains awareness of what he’s doing and tries to find a direction for his sentence to go, “do you have any concrete?”

Quackity looks at him like he’s grown a second head, which is fair, considering there’s a block of white concrete pretty obviously visible in his hand. “Um- no? Weren’t you supposed to go to Colors?”

Dream finally manages to place the tulip where it belongs, and the build between them disappears in another explosion of gold glitter. Michael laughs awkwardly. 

“Sorry- haha. I got a little mixed up.” He places the last piece of white concrete, watching as his own build disappears. A little wooden cottage takes its place, made of what appears to be just oak wood and cobblestone. “Are you going to get wood? Or should I?”

“I- You get wood,” Quackity shakes his head, visibly frustrated, “And I’ll get stone. We have to hurry, we’re falling behind.” 

After that, Michael finds it a little too easy - or maybe not easy, but at least tolerable, to interrupt when Quackity looks a little like he’s about to fall on the side of being angry versus just annoyed, stepping between his angry glares at Dream with a forced smile and an incessant string of annoying questions- 

“Hey Quackity, do you have any spare iron?”

“Hey Quackity, I think you placed that a little too far back.”

“Hey Quackity, can you take a look to see what I placed wrong?” 

It’s not perfect. It’s hardly even functional; Michael knows that Quackity has begun with the habit of directing death glares at his back whenever he thinks he’s not looking, his responses to Michael’s questions becoming more and more clipped, often paired with irritated grumbles and sighs. Sapnap, when Michael looks at him, seems largely engrossed with his own builds, but he’s also begun looking over at the two of them with a vaguely dissatisfied expression, and Dream only seems to be getting more jumpy with every frustrated growl out of Quackity’s mouth. Even Michael’s forced levity and falsely ignorant questions can’t do much against Quackity’s anger when they walk out of Buildmart dead last for the minigame, dropping their team all the way down to seventh in the overall rankings, and the tension within the team as they walk out - Quackity nearly stomping, Dream following with his hands wringing around each other and head ducked fearfully - is almost enough to make Michael scream. He looks at the scoreboard with a worried expression as he enters the Decision Dome, trying to quell the sinking feeling in his gut. 

There’s still five more games to go, and he’s not sure how long they can last before something snaps. 

---

Battle Box is chosen next, and they react to the game with quiet cheers and slightly grim faces. Michael’s been in enough MCCs to know that this game, of any, is crucial - after their lacking performances in the last two games, a good showing at Battle Box will be crucial to pull them back into the competition and raise morale. With Sapnap and Dream, if this were any normal game, they should be able to sweep through a good amount of the competition without much effort. As it is, though, Michael looks at the two more combat-oriented members of his team with a worried expression, the two barely even able to meet each other’s eyes. Their interactions so far have been less than promising- if they can’t hold it together for this round, well. 

Michael shakes his head. They’ll do fine. They have to. 

Even so, the first round only seems to confirm his concerns - they get woolrushed almost immediately, and in Dream and Sapnap’s stumbling to get to mid, nearly crashing into each other and focusing their efforts on the same player by accident, the other team manages to fill out the wool, sending them back to the spawn box even more frustrated than before. 

“Amazing teamwork, guys,” Quackity snarks immediately, and Michael rolls his eyes. 

“Like you did that much.” 

Sapnap is still staring at Dream oddly, Dream turning his head to avoid his gaze. The two of them look largely oblivious to Quackity and his whole deal, even as Quackity whirls around to give him the stink eye. 

“You didn’t do anything either, if I remember correctly,” Quackity mutters, and Michael shrugs. 

“Fair.” 

A ding alerts them to the round’s end, and they resign themselves to preparing for the next round. Michael picks the extra arrows from the wall, knowing that no one else will want the kit, and watches as Dream anxiously runs his hands over the crossbow. 

The next round goes better, barely; Michael and Quackity end up knocked out pretty early, but Dream and Sapnap manage to kill the rest of the team soon after. He watches from the box as they fill in the wool, Dream looking awfully tense as he shears away the white wool for Sapnap to fill it with red. Quackity watches them both with a tight expression, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. 

Michael turns away, ignoring him, going back to watching Dream and Sapnap still standing within the arena. Both of them look awkward, oddly out of step with each other - Michael’s not watched them fight much, but he knows that they have a reputation as a pair, was there for the Sky Battle round where they completely wiped through the competition. Even here, Sapnap moves forward and Dream flinches back - there’s something heavy and tense between them, lingering in the few words they’ve spoken to each other, if they’ve even spoken to each other at all, one always rushing forward too fast or following just a little too slow. They’re still brilliant fighters, almost unrivaled in hand-to-hand combat and with swords, but the faltering communication is sure to hurt them more in the future. 

His worries come true just three rounds later, the two in between being narrow wins for their team, each a little more shaky than would be comfortable. Michael has found himself easing off the worst of his anxiety in verbally sparring with Quackity, jabbing at the other with offhand remarks and little needling jokes to keep his attention off the other two, especially as his glare has become more pronounced and his words more angry. Even so, nothing he does or can do will fix the odd tension between Dream and Sapnap, whose communication remains as stilted and awkward as ever. 

They’re facing a stronger team, PVP wise, with Punz and Seapeekay, and Michael ends up falling in a bow duel against Jack. He watches as the Captain falls to a potion by Sapnap, then as Jack is taken out by a crossbow bolt courtesy of Dream, just before Quackity falls to a well-timed bow shot from the opposing team. 

That leaves the strongest PVPers to battle it out, and Dream and Sapnap manage to team up and kill CPK - but not without taking a nasty damage potion to the face that must leave the two of them low. Michael watches Punz, booking it to mid with a crossbow, anxiously - both of them would be a oneshot with the thing, and on the condition that he takes no damage before fighting with either of them outright, he’s probably got enough health to hold out a few hits. 

Sapnap pulls out a health potion, and Michael grins - that’ll be good for the two of them, and should secure them the win - only for him to gesture roughly with his sword and for Dream to stagger backwards, panic flashing over his face. He only seems to grow more fearful at the sound of glass shattering on the ground, falling backwards further - far enough to be largely out of range of health pot - and in their shock, Punz manages to catch both of them off guard and nail Sapnap with a crossbow bolt that downs him for the round before similarly dispatching Dream in two hits of his sword.

Sapnap explodes upon respawn in the box - “What was that? I had a health pot!”

“I-” Dream fumbles, face still oddly pale, “Sorry I didn’t- I- I-”

“We had that round!” Sapnap’s arms flail forward as he gestures angrily, Dream freezing further as one hand skims past his shoulder. “I can’t believe- I had a health pot! Punz was on, like, half! We could’ve killed him!”

“Easy, easy,” Quackity moves forward, putting a hand on both of their shoulders - Sapnap seems to relax immediately, while Dream, if anything, only looks more tense. “It’s time for the next round - we’ll talk about this later, alright?” 

Dream nods, movements overly tense, and Quackity flashes a toothy smile his way as Sapnap moves back, still mumbling to himself. He and Quackity move to talk in the back corner, words quiet enough that Michael cannot make them out, and something sick and cold slithers over his spine. Sapnap and Quackity are fiancés, aren’t they? 

Michael looks over at Dream, mask still covering his face as he looks away through the glass to the arena, shoulders still tight as Michael’s pretty sure they’ve been for as long as he’s seen him since he came onto the server. He remembers the panic that make itself obvious on his face every time Quackity came up to him, even as covered as it is, the similar- if not the same- fear that had painted his face when he respawned fresh off of the Battle Box round after Sapnap’s sword had passed a little too close to his body. 

Quackity and Dream- he’s sure, even if he doesn’t want to admit it, that there’s something going on there, dark and dreadful and poisonous. Who’s to say that Sapnap isn’t involved, as well? 

---

They finish Battle Box decently well, but not as well as they’d hoped, pulling them up to fifth place with a decently large gap between them and fourth. Quackity and Dream disappear immediately as the Audience Votes begin coming in, leaving Sapnap and Michael to stand awkwardly in the lobby to wait for the rest of their team to come back. Michael watches the crowd for a glimpse of Quackity and Dream, comes up empty. A sigh fizzles through his teeth as he looks up into the sky, the endless blue doing little to ease his nerves - he’s worried, even if he doesn’t want to think about it, for his teammates. For Dream. 

It doesn’t take a genius to see that the man is scared of Quackity, that there’s an odd sort of history there that Michael conveniently has no information about. Whatever it is, it’s left Dream unsure and uncharacteristically nervous, left the entire team floundering without proper leadership to tie them all together. Really, a part of him knows that the Championships should be the least of his concerns - if he were braver, or a little better at combat, or a little less inclined to just let things pass as they always have, then he’d be raising a fuss. Getting in the way, talking to Dream, doing something other than making backhanded compliments to Quackity that he’s sure have been doing little more than annoy the man further. 

“Michael?” Sapnap comes within his line of sight, lips pressed together in a carefully put-together expression that Michael is sure will collapse the moment they’re away from others’ prying eyes, “Can we speak for a moment?”

Michael forces another easy smile to his face as he turns towards his teammate, feels a little disgusted at the amount of them he’s had to use to simply function with the rest of his team. “Sure! Where to?”

They walk at a brisk pace to the team room, Sapnap’s eyes focused forwards the entire time, not speaking. If he’s being honest, it’s a little awkward, but the lighthearted comment on his tongue to break the silence dies out the minute Sapnap closes the door and looks back at him with fierce, focused eyes boring into him. 

“What’s your deal?” He hisses immediately, words pitched low even though he doesn’t really have to - there’s no one nearby, and the team rooms are decently soundproofed. Michael feels his hackles rising as Sapnap’s arms cross in front of him, eyes still focused on his own as he talks. “I’m not going to lie- I don’t know you that well, even though you’re on the SMP now, but can you quit it with Quackity already?”

“Quit what?” Michael snarks - sue him - matching Sapnap’s tone with irritation of his own. 

“Don’t- you’ve been antagonizing Quackity all day,” Sapnap’s hand runs through his hair, messing up his hair and tangling it into knots, “And I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but we’re kind of in the middle of a competition here? So it’d be really nice if you could save the fighting for until after we’re done?”

“Says you?” Michael can’t help the retort this time, huffing irately at the offended expression that flashes over the other’s face, “I don’t really know if you’ve noticed, but your teamwork has been a little less than stellar, today. Pot calling the kettle black, much?”

“What-” Sapnap looks confused, even through his anger, gesturing more and more wildly. “What do you even mean?”

“Oh, so are we just ignoring what just happened in Battle Box then?” 

Sapnap’s eyes flash as he closes into himself again, hands gripping at his upper arms as he crosses his arms in front of his chest once again. “That- that’s different. That’s because of Dream.”

“Oh, just keep blaming it on the other guy, why don’t you?”

“No-” Sapnap shakes his head furiously. “You haven’t been on here for nearly as long, you don’t get it, Michael. Dream- he’s-,” Sapnap flails, and Michael groans at the familiar words. 

“Dream’s what? I was on the team with the guy before, you know. It’s kind of the reason why he invited me in the first place?” He raises an eyebrow. “We worked together perfectly well then - am I supposed to believe that his self-proclaimed ‘best friend’ can’t do the same?” 

“You don’t understand,” Sapnap repeats, expression hard and oddly far away, “Dream- he’s changed- he’s done so many terrible things. I don’t know what he’s said to convince you, but he’s bad news, man. He’s hurt- so many people.” 

“Oh- you want to talk about hurting people?” 

Michael isn’t quite sure what comes over him - only really realizes a white-hot flash of rage lancing through his chest, a sleepless night and half a competition’s  worth of anxiety and frustration and build up combining into a sizzling spike of fury that briefly tinges his vision red. 

“How about the way Dream looks like he’s about to keel over whenever anyone gets close to him? How about how he flinches back at literally every loud noise and fast movement? How about how Quackity’s been making these stupid, angry comments at him for the entire competition that make him freeze for a minute each time? Or how about when you were in Battle Box and Dream backed away from your sword like he thought you were gonna drive it through his chest?” Michael barely feels himself stepping forward with each word, jabbing his index finger into the other’s chest. “You want to talk about hurting people? How about you go talk to that fiancé of yours and then come back to talk?” 

A loud, droning buzz comes over the speakers, alerting them of the end of the break. Michael steps back, face flushed in embarrassment, before the world whirls away and they’re teleported back into the Decision Dome. 

He adamantly refuses to meet Sapnap’s eyes as Quackity and Dream materialize in the sector with them, Quackity’s hand clamped around Dream’s upper arm as the other man keeps his eyes fixed firmly on the floor, looking even more panicked and frozen than before the break. 

“You ready to win?” Quackity laughs, and Michael watches as his hand tightens around the sleeve of Dream’s jacket, knuckles paling from the strain. 

“Yeah,” Michael tries to cheer, and it feels like ash on his tongue. “Let’s do this.” 

---

Survival Games ends up being picked next - Quackity and Sapnap quickly pull up to the front of the group, close enough to be within eyesight but too far to really pick up their conversation. Michael keeps an eye out for the reddish glow of their bodies as they scout the surrounding areas for chest, staying back with Dream as they look at the other side of the road. He’d be lying if he said that he didn’t feel a smug sort of satisfaction of Sapnap seemingly confronting Quackity about whatever the hell has been going on, as awkward as his whole outburst had been. As it is, some time with Dream is nice without Quackity watching over his shoulder like a hawk - he directs a small, genuine smile at the man by his side that Dream seems to do a double take at before shyly returning it with one of his own. 

“There- I think I see a chest,” Michael points under a lamppost, running to the wooden box and flicking the lid upwards. He pulls out a chain chestplate that he promptly puts on himself, then throws over the iron boots to his teammate as well as a small stone axe that he’s sure Dream will make better use of. “We should probably catch up to the others - don’t want to be caught off guard while separated.”

Dream nods, and the two of them pick up the pace before finding another chest that Dream rummages through, this time, finding an iron sword that Michael takes for himself and a cake. 

“You’ve been doing really well so far,” Michael says after a few minutes of quiet, words becoming more firm when Dream looks up at him with a surprised expression. “Seriously- you’ve been doing great, man.”

“Thanks,” Dream smiles, words quiet and terribly sincere, and the sinking pit in Michael’s gut returns at the tone. “Not as good as I should, though. I’ve been underperforming a lot,” he laughs a little at the words, but even to Michael’s ears it rings hollow. “It’s not over yet, though.”

“No it’s not,” Michael concedes, rearranging his inventory as they run. “But it’s good enough, man, really - just look at my rankings.”

Dream huffs. “You’ve been doing good, Michael.”

“And you’ve been doing a hell of a lot better than me,” Michael tips his head in his direction. “Give yourself some more credit, man. You’ve been playing well.”

Dream smiles again, but even now the corners of his mouth seem tight, tense. “I need to play better, though, if we want to win,” he says, matter-of-fact, analytical to a damn fault. Michael rolls his eyes, but nods to concede the point. 

“Sure, but that goes for all of us, Dream,” he shakes his head. “And it’s okay if we don’t win, you know?”

“No.” 

Michael turns, frowning. Dream’s tone has become oddly flat, eyes dead as he continues to stare at the pavement under their feet. He seems to be chewing on his lip anxiously, startled out of his own thoughts when he looks up to meet Michael’s gaze. “I mean- I don’t know. I really have- want to win.” 

There’s something so carefully worded about the admission, quiet and scraped open and raw in the slow sincerity of the words. Michael wants to poke at it, wants to understand what’s left him so unsure of every step, what determination lies behind the words that has left desperation clinging to every shallow breath he draws. A crack of thunder on the horizon, heralding a player’s death, reminds him that now is not the time. 

Keep your head down. 

“Alright,” he smiles thinly, hoping that the fracturing, yawning pit of emptiness in his chest isn’t obvious in the words. “Then we’re going to win.” 

---

Michael skids to a stop at the finish line, feeling the elytra deequip as he’s thrown into spectator mode. He runs his hands through his wind-tousled hair, feeling it strain against his fingers as he roughly finger-combs it back into place. Dream and Sapnap are off to the side, standing next to each other but seemingly not speaking - Michael smiles as he floats over, still shaking the adrenaline off from the race. 

“Hey,” the two look up, smile in recognition, and Dream waves; there’s a small smile on his face, strained but present. “You both did really good!” 

“Thanks, Michael,” Dream laughs, earnest, “I did decent, I guess- haha. Top ten at least.” 

Sapnap whoops. “We’re popping off!” Michael cheers in agreement, and their efforts manage to pull Dream’s smile a little wider as he ducks his head to look away again. 

“Thanks, guys.” 

They watch as Quackity flies through the finish line, appearing in front of them and shaking his arms out as he gets his bearings. 

“Geez- that trident,” he shakes his head, looks up. “Hey, there you guys are. How’d we do?” 

“Dream got seventh,” Sapnap scrolls through his comm, looking through the rows of contestants and their times as they come in, interspersed by the occasional chat message, “And I got 10th. Michael got- 28th, I think? And you got 32nd.” 

“Hmm,” Quackity hums, “What do you think, Dream? Is that good enough to pull us to Dodgebolt?”

Once again, Michael watches as Dream stiffens under the scrutiny, head ducking down and looking for all the world like he’d rather be anywhere else. “Um- I don’t know,” Dream mumbles, “I messed up a trident- fell into the void once, probably could’ve done better otherwise-” his voice trails off, tensing further as Quackity takes his usual spot by his side, jabbing an elbow none-too-lightly into his ribs. 

“But you didn’t, though,” Quackity says, tone flippant, “so what do you think? With those placements- is it going to be enough?” 

“Hey, we did great, man,” Michael glares at him, more forward than he’d usually be - but all he can see is the shoulder that he has pressed against Dream’s arm, the way Dream’s stood stock still since the moment he made contact, “Lay off of Dream, would you? He did great.”

“Yeah, Q,” Michael’s eyebrows raise in surprise as Sapnap chimes in from the side, rising further when Sapnap moves forward to link his arm with Quackity’s own and half-drag him away from Dream. “Chill out, man, we popped off. We’re gonna fucking win this, ok?”

Quackity’s lips press together; he’s still smiling, but there’s no mistaking the seething darkness that lingers in his narrowed eyes and furrowed eyebrows, gaze still trained on the pale off-white disk of Dream’s mask. Still, with the rest of the team against him, he’s in a losing fight and he knows it; Michael watches as he visibly backs down, rolling his shoulders back as he lets Sapnap pull him further back. 

“We’re going to fucking win this,” he repeats, and Michael wonders how he manages to make the words sound so much like a threat.

---

“Sky battle,” Sapnap calls as the decision dome below them lights up in confirmation of the penultimate game, expression immediately becoming more focused as he turns back to the rest of the team. “Alright- strats, what are we thinking?”

“There’s the iron at spawn,” Dream starts, interrupted by the teleport to the Sky Battle arena, making him cut himself off comically and take a second to shake off the resulting disorientation, “And then there’s the iron in the nearby island. We gotta pick one, tower as soon as we can.”

“Got it,” Sapnap looks down, seemingly calculating, before looking up again - Michael has heard him compared to fire before, but he thinks this is the first time he’s really seen it; there’s a veritable blaze burning in his eyes as he looks at each member of the team, easily taking charge as they prepare for the first round. “Same buddy system as Survival Games - Q, stick with me, Michael, stick with Dream. I’ll tower to the next island- Dream, you good with getting the iron at spawn and crafting armor for us?” 

Dream startles, before flashing a small thumbs up at the other - Sapnap smiles wider, teeth bared dangerously.

“This is our game,” he cheers, and Michael enthusiastically whoops in reply, “we’re winning this, you got that team? Let’s go!” 

This, Michael thinks, is the way the games should’ve gone - they jump into action upon the start of the game, Michael watching as Dream races through both chests on the spawn island, getting the iron and jumping down cleanly with a water bucket before following Sapnap’s bridge to the other island. He tosses over a pair of leggings and boots as he lands, then takes Sapnap’s excess iron to craft the other pieces of iron for himself and Sapnap as the other man begins shooting at opposing teams. Their communication is near wordless, simple one- or two-word requests communicating all they need as they follow each other seamlessly into the main arena area, sealing off their entrance as they search the ring for other teams.

Sapnap, especially, seems to have shifted - instead of waiting for Dream to take the lead, he seems comfortable barrelling on forward on his own, trusting for Dream to follow his steps. Michael watches as the two of them easily work through the two lagging members of Orange, shooting through a gap in the wall to catch an unsuspecting Yellow player chased by the border. Michael ends up dying to an unlucky block of TNT placed on his head - curses out what appears to be Quig, bounding over to the other side of the arena, and follows Dream and Sapnap as they continue to fight their way through the competition. 

It’s not perfect, for sure - Dream hesitates at a bad place a minute later, ending with Sapnap getting 2v1ed and exploding in a flash of red sparkles. Dream is similarly dispatched a few seconds after, and the three of them watch Quackity, caught in the crossfire of two other teams, before he also goes down. 

“Good work, team,” Sapnap says as he appears, disoriented, in spectator mode, and they watch the remaining two teams battling in a rapidly shrinking border before Fruit falls as well, leaving Pink as the winners. “That was close- we’ve got this.” The conviction in his voice leaves no room for argument, and Michael, briefly, feels bad for anyone that stands in the way of it. 

With the second round, they once again fall into rhythm without any major hiccups - someone tries to cut them off before entering the main arena, but are made quick work of by Sapnap’s relentless onslaught. As Michael watches, Dream seems to regain confidence as well, moving more to fight with Sapnap side by side instead of just playing support, tugging him back from a risky play and catching Punz in a nasty combo that does him in when he manages to slip past Sapnap. 

The four of them end up in the final stand off in the middle, but end up getting caught too high up and killed by the border before they can jump down. Sapnap hisses at the narrow defeat, but the disappointment has hardly seemed to dim his determination - if anything, it seems to burn brighter. 

“Last round,” he mutters, and Michael watches as Dream walks up to him, bumping him lightly with his shoulder. 

“This is our game,” he says, a small smile appearing on his face, and Sapnap returns it with a fiery, blinding one of his own. 

“Ours,” he says, and even just standing on the side, watching - Michael believes it. 

Still, his concerns have yet to disappear - they linger in his mind as they jump into an adrenaline-filled last round, jumpy from excitement and victory just within their grasps. Dream is still more jittery than he should be, taking a second more than usual to react to fights, and his teamwork with Sapnap - while good - is still noticeably rusty. Michael’s lips thin at the memory of Dream backing away from Sapnap’s sword in Battle Box, hunched into himself, almost on the floor, with a clearly desperate edge to his expression - and no matter how he tries, he can’t quite manage to shake it off. 

Unfortunately enough, the third round doesn’t bode well for them from the start - Quackity gets bowed off while bridging to the main arena, and upon entrance there they end up flanked, hard, by another team in a conflict that gets Michael killed within seconds. Sapnap and Dream book it to the other side of the arena, where they manage to work through a full team without too much trouble - but the next minute brings another half-team flying at them from the back, catching them in the middle of trying to recuperate. The two focus Dream in the middle of eating a steak, and Michael watches as Dream steps back instead of moving forward to fight, that same shade of fear making his muscles seize as he stands, stock still, watching helplessly as swords fly his way- Michael cries out, but there’s nothing he can do-

Between one blink and the next, Sapnap is standing in front of Dream, a snarl painting his features as he whirls through both players in a fury. Michael watches, awed, as his sword weaves and dances between the two attacking Dream, making quick work of them both until they’re no more than items scattered over the ground, then grabs Dream by the wrist and drags him up a nearby ladder onto the upper floor, plopping him by the wall and then backing off. 

Sapnap stands back as Dream sits against the wall, breathing fast and labored, dropping to his knees with his hands in front of him, palms up, no weapons in hand. Michael watches, frantic, for the signs of any teams nearby - with Dream panicking and Sapnap’s back to the rest of the arena, they’d be easy pickings - but for once, luck seems to be on their side, because no one comes. Dream heaves a breath through his lungs, deep and shuddery - Sapnap watches, lips flat from concern, but doesn’t speak. 

“You good to continue?” he asks, when Dream seems calm enough to recognize his surroundings, and Dream looks up at the words, jaw slack from shock and disorientation, before his head dips in a firm nod. 

“Good,” Sapnap smiles, tight-lipped and fiercely determined, fiercely loyal, as he reaches out a hand that Dream moves to take. “Let’s go fuck them up, yeah? You and me, just like we used to.”

Michael watches, heart in his chest, as they stand together to face the rest of the competition, towering towards the middle and facing off with the remaining teams,  watches as they move forwards through explosions and buckets of lava, coalescing onto the middle island, as they battle through the remaining opponents as one in a clean spiral of clashing blades and flying arrows, fighting with their backs to each other in the center of the arena. He watches as a well-placed fishing rod by Dream knocks their final opponent off the platform, leaving them in the middle, triumphant, as the only remaining team - 

Watches, a brilliant, bubbling laugh in his chest as Dream and Sapnap take their spots in the middle of the arena, standing side by side as Sapnap raises Dream’s hand in victory, both laughing and cheering  into the sky.

---

Their performance in Sky Battle manages to pull them to third - but second place still stands a few hundred coins away, and they watch anxiously as Parkour Tag is chosen as the last game and they are transported over the arena. 

“Last game,” Sapnap calls, “We’ve got this, alright?” 

He gets terse, short nods in return - it’ll be a close game, and even Michael is feeling the pressure. He breathes a soft, quiet breath through his teeth as they prepare, looking over to the opposite team as they choose their hunters and runners. 

“Dream, you up to hunting first four?” Sapnap seems to be watching the effects of his words more, waiting for Dream’s agreement before moving forward, sliding into the position of leader easily when Dream seems to struggle. Dream nods and steps into the hunter’s box, lips pressed together, flat and focused, and Michael turns back to the arena to plan out his route. 

Parkour, by far, is not his strong suit. It hadn’t been his strong suit during Parkour Warrior and sure as hell isn’t it now - he enjoys it well enough, but with the pressure of a hunter on him or the time creeping past and the competition standings hanging over his head like a guillotine, he’s prone to slipping up and he knows it. The map is full of dizzying, multi-colored structures and difficult jumps, the twists and turns of the arena making his head spin. Being good at parkour is more than being good at movement - it involves being able to make split-second decisions and execute them with no time to hesitate. Unfortunately, Michael isn’t particularly good at any of that, so Parkour Tag mostly just stresses him the hell out. 

He sets out to the arena, listening for callouts over comms as he fumbles over the buildings. Halfway through the game, Dream’s voice comes through comms, quiet, focused. 

“Gottem.” 

“Nice, Dream,” Michael smiles, trying not to trip over a particularly hard jump, only to fall to being tagged in the back by the opposing team’s hunter - Ant, if he remembers right. “Sapnap and Q are still in- we’ve got this.”

Once again, each time, Dream races through the opposing team in seconds, seemingly going faster with each round. Michael has heard his reputation as a hunter before, but only now is he really appreciating the extent - the speed at which he manages to dispatch all three opponents is downright terrifying. They manage to win all four rounds, lingering around second place overall on the leaderboards, before Sapnap and Dream switch off for hunting. 

With each round, Michael watches Dream in the lobby, watching as he tenses further in focus and determination and no small degree of fear, but it hadn’t been nearly as obvious in between rounds. Now, with him in the arena with Quackity and himself, Dream’s jumpiness is all that more palpable, adrenaline making him pace and jump in place from where he stands at the edge of the place. The glass lowers, and he explodes into motion, bounding on top of the nearest tower to wait for the hunter to come towards them. 

Michael ends up caught first, early in the round, once again, and resolves to following Dream over the glass to watch his movements and make callouts for the hunter chasing behind him. Watching Dream move through the arena, dodging below fixtures and through tunnels and jumping from tower to tower with seemingly no regard for gravity pulling him down, it’s become all the more obvious that this is his element. He makes another hairpin turn around a pole, kicking himself up over a tower and then diving from it to a nearby building, landing on a ledge inside it, hands clutching the wall - Michael watches, quietly awed, as he outlasts the hunter, landing in small, panting breaths in the lobby. 

“Great work,” he cheers, quiet, as Dream shakes off the last dregs of the adrenaline, all of them watching the leaderboard anxiously, “Just three more rounds, alright?” 

The rounds that follow continue in much of the same vein - Dream, once he’s gotten started, seems near-impossible to chase down; Michael and Quackity provide support, distracting the hunter for as long as they can until they get tagged, but part of him wonders if it’s all even necessary. Dream flies from structure to structure seemingly unhindered by The Laws That Be, expression firm, if a little frantic, as he parkours his way through the arena. To their credit, the hunters chase, and several come pretty close - but Dream, worked up on adrenaline or anxiety or some twisted mix of the two, races over and around the buildings within the arena like his life depends on it.

It’s a surprisingly (if sickeningly) apt description - the skill in parkour is far from unacknowledged on Dream’s record; they all know his reputation with Parkour Warrior, all know that there are little that can match his skill as a traucer - but there’s something newly desperate in the way he runs, the muscles of his body tight and taut even in between rounds, expression permanently tight at the corners from fear. His movements, lacking in their usual fluidity, are made up with sheer speed and mad scrambles up walls that no one else seems to dare replicate. It’s concerning, even to Michael’s untrained eye, how frantic he seems the entire time, the flashes of expressions that he’ll direct towards the hunter like being caught by them will be his end, but- if anything, at least it’s effective. 

Between his parkour and Sapnap’s own skill, they manage to dominate the other teams without much issue, and the bonuses from eliminating the other team first combined with Dream’s survival points each round land them a first place for the game by just a few hundred coins. The four of them watch with bated breaths for the event standings, whooping and cheering together when it shows the red rabbits in second - 

“DODGEBOLT, BABY!” Quackity cheers, loudly, and the rest of them join him, laughing and screaming incoherently, “LET’S FUCKING GO!” 

“LET’S FUCKING GO!” Sapnap punches the air with a loud, resolute whoop of joy, and Dream - still shaking off the jitters of his last round in Parkour Tag - soon joins in with a few cheers of his own. 

Michael watches them all with a smile on his face as they cheer in victory - Dodgebolt has them against the Yellow Yaks, which will be a hard match up, but between Dream and Sapnap’s skill, if they all stay focused, they shouldn’t have any issue. 

They’ve done it. They’ve made it to Dodgebolt - if they keep their heads in the game, then they should win. All he has to do is keep his head down a little longer, long enough to win them the game, long enough for them to go home with new crowns and new coins, long enough for him to go back to living his quaint little life in his quaint little house - going back to heckling the Warden at night and hanging with Bad and Puffy, working on builds and living life away from the rest and pretending that nothing is wrong. The server will go back to normal come tomorrow, and it will all be okay. 

The smile slips off his face. 

They’ve done it. And then they’ll go back to the SMP, and Dream might evade whatever immediate consequences come with losing, but there’s no evidence that whatever’s caused that heartstopping, devastating fear that has characterized his every move is going to stop. They’ll win, and they’ll go back to the SMP, and they’ll keep dying and fighting wars and keep pretending that the world they live in is normal; they’ll go back to the server, and Michael will go back in his house while Dream goes back into his cell directly across from it, still locked in a black box with no way in or out, no means of communication with anyone outside, locked away with the key thrown away for anything to happen with no one to know-

Michael glances over to Dream, to the tense edge of his shoulders that has never left for as long as the tournament has continued and long before. To the grey-faced, grey-eyed inhabitants of the SMP, coming to the Championships with sealed lips and a shared determination to never reveal that anything is wrong, to pretend that things are normal and move on. 

Michael’s hands clench into fists at his side, then unclench, the helplessness cutting through his excitement like a splash of cold water straight through his chest. They’ll win the Championship, and then what? They’ll go back to the server, and then what? 

He looks up at the sky, avoiding the eyes of the rest of his team as they are teleported to the arena. Around him, nothing comes in reply. 

---

“Shit-”

Sapnap disappears in a flourish of red particles, and Michael winces as Dream picks up the arrow he left behind, biting his lip as he watches the opposite side maneuver on the ice.

Both of Dream’s shots hit true, and Michael switches to dodging over the ice as the opposing team begins to shoot. His mind is still buzzing with uncertainty, questions whirling around his skull and making his head spin, the reminder to just let things be raging against the anxiety that has wormed its way deep into his bones for the better part of the day. His performance has fallen a bit as a result, and they’re tied, 2-2, for the last round of Dodgebolt against Yellow - winner takes all. 

He doesn’t know what to do. He wants to tell, but he wants to fall back into the background. He wants to make a difference, but also wants nothing more than to go on pretending that everything is fine. It would be so, so easy to move on and wash his hands of the whole affair - it’s not like anyone else will know, only himself and the guilt that he’s sure will haunt him to remind him of his failures. Is there even anything he can do? He’s no genius at combat, or parkour, or strategy- all he has are his eyes, his ability to see what the hell is happening with no means to change any of it. 

An arrow whizzes towards him, too low to hit, and falls to the ice by his feet. Michael feels it plop into his inventory as he runs past it, shivering slightly from the cold or adrenaline or some mix of the two - not that he can really tell. The other team still has an arrow, the gleaming arrowhead catching the light as the person shooting - Jack, it looks like - moves it from one side to the other, looking for someone to aim. Michael lets the arrow into his hand, feeling its weight.

A sudden shock of clarity. 

He staggers back and nearly trips over his own feet, feeling relief rock his body when he manages to catch his balance - his eyes rake over the rest of his team, still dodging over the ice, completely focused on the opposing side. He worries his lip between his teeth - it’s a risk. It’s a hell of a risk, and if he messes up - they’re fucked. They’re more than fucked. There’s a good chance that this does more harm than good, a good chance that it won’t do anything at all. 

Michael takes a deep breath, and nocks his arrow. 

With his bow pointed to the floor, he doesn’t think anyone’s noticed yet - especially the rest of his team, gazes still trained over the centerline to the other side of the arena. Michael plants his feet, raises his bow, aims - he’s standing still, too still, and he can already see Jack swinging the bow towards him from the corner of his eye, preparing to let the arrow fly directly at him. That’s fine. It doesn’t matter.

Keep your head down. 

Michael lets go, and Quackity manages to turn just in time to see the arrow hit him between his eyes.

Not this time.

Michael just manages a wicked, satisfied smirk before the world disappears in a flash of red. 

---

“What the hell was that?” 

Michael teleports into the middle of the MCC main lobby, finding Quackity already mid-yell in front of the podium, where the Yellow Yaks have taken their places as the winners of the Championships, new, shining crowns on their heads as they greet the crowd with smiles and cheers. Michael turns to where the rest of the team has gathered in the corner, Quackity hissing angrily at Dream, curled into himself against the fence. 

“I- I-”

“You lost us the fucking game, that’s what you did,” Quackity grabs him by the arm, rage painting his features as he yanks Dream closer to him, ignoring the other’s panicked yell at the proximity and flailing to get away. “What the fuck- you had both the arrows. How the fuck did you miss that?” 

“Back the hell off, Quackity.”

Michael steps forward, bodily shoving Quackity out of the way - Dream’s head rises just enough for the two eyes painted on his mask to look  above where they’d been hidden behind his arms, though Michael’s far too lost in his own anger to pay any mind to him at the moment. Quackity turns his furious direction towards Michael, only seeming to get angrier as he meets his eyes. 

“Oh, fuck off, Michael- you-” he rakes a hand through his hair, “You fucking- we fucking lost because of you, you know that? We had that! We were going to win that, you fucker-” 

“And then what, Quackity?” The words Michael had been pushing back the entire day come forth, mixed with his simmering anxiety and muffled anger that he’d been forced to push down, game after game after game, one bubbling mess of emotion underscoring his tone and making Quackity rear back, “Then you’ll go back the SMP and pretend that everything’s fine and dandy? Go back to your shiny little country with a shiny new coin, beat up Dream a few times to work off the adrenaline because, hey, it’s not like anyone else is gonna know if he’s black and blue inside of that shitstain of a prison, is that right?” 

The flash of panic that makes its way over Quackity’s face is more than enough to confirm the worst of Michael’s assumptions, and the rage that has made a home in his chest only burns hotter. 

“What- what the fuck did he say?” Quackity barely manages to catch onto his tone, pressing harder with narrowed eyes and a snarl, “He’s lying, you fucking idiot, that’s all he ever fucking does-” 

“He’s not told me shit,” Michael presses forward, forcefully pushing Quackity away from Dream, who is cowering from both of them behind him, “But you would know a hell of a lot about that, wouldn’t you Quackity?”

“I have no fuckin’ clue what you’re on about, pal,” Quackity shakes his head, hair whipping past his eyes, “And I’d recommend you shut your fucking mouth before you go around hurling baseless accusations- I could have you sued for defamation, you know-”

“Oh, we’re talking law, now? Fine! We’ll talk legalities- how about we start with that casino of yours and work from there?” 

Sapnap moves over, quiet thus far as he watched from the sidelines, and Michael watches as Quackity relaxes, minisculely, at his approach - only to tense further when Sapnap presses a hand to his shoulder, meeting his eyes with blazing eyes staring right at his.

“Q,” Sapnap says, voice uncharacteristically serious, “tell the truth, now- what did you do?”

Quackity laughs - it sounds unsure, even in Michael’s ears, “Sapnap? You can’t tell me you believe-” he waves his hands frantically, “this- this fucking asshole, now, do you hear him? He sounds- he’s literally out of his fucking mind-”

Sapnap shakes his head, firm. “Quackity, I’ll need you to cut the bullshit. What did you do?” 

“He’s backing up Dream, Sapnap,” Quackity focuses his gaze on Sapnap, something creeping up in his tone, sweet and cloying despite the bitter tone, that Michael can’t quite recognize, “You know what Dream is like- he pulled the same shit with you, remember? You and George? Tommy?” He waves a hand at Dream, who ducks down further at the attention, “He hasn’t changed, man! He’s still pulling the same bullshit, still manipulating people for the hell of it- you know, the exact same thing he did to you? Don’t fall for that again, man.”

“I-” Sapnap seems to hesitate, conflict warring over his features. 

“Look at me, Sap - you know what Dream’s like. He pretends to be your friend, makes up some stupid bullshit to justify his shit - Michael hasn’t been around for as long, not like the two of us, remember? He doesn’t know.” Quackity brings his hand to Sapnap’s own, ignoring Michael’s protests as he laces their fingers together, “I care about you, Sap. All of this- I’m just worried that he’ll end up manipulating you again. I’m just trying to protect you.” 

“...liar.” 

“What?”

Sapnap steps back, wrenching his hand out of Quackity’s own. His expression, out of what Michael can see from the sliver of his face that is facing him, is stormy with fury and no small amount of regret - Quackity steps back, unease finally beginning to flicker in the corners of his self-satisfied expression as Sapnap stares him down. 

“You’re a liar, Quackity.” Sapnap draws himself up. “Now, I’m asking this for the last time- what did you do?”

Quackity’s expression stutters, falls, as Sapnap stands back next to Michael, the two of them between him and Dream. His eyes flick between their faces, then to Dream, then back again, frown deepening with every pass he makes between the three of them. Michael keeps his arms crossed in front of his chest, feeling his muscles tense with every second of silence that ticks by, Quackity seeming to grow more and more angry and tense under their scrutiny and unforgiving stances-

-a second passes, and he throws himself forward. 

“Quackity!” 

Michael only manages to throw himself out of the way of the man barrelling towards him just in time - too late, he realizes that he wasn’t Quackity’s intended target. He tackles Dream to the ground, pinning the taller man underneath himself onto the ground in a rough thump that seems to knock all the air out of him. Dream immediately begins to thrash aimlessly, jaw going slack in panic as Quackity levels his arm against his neck, going still as Quackity presses harder against his windpipe. Michael is only barely close enough to pick up what he says over the sound of the surrounding screaming, Sapnap rushing forward to pull Quackity off to no avail-

“-make what I did two weeks ago look like a fucking joke when we get back, going to make you wish you fucking died-” 

The world explodes into white.

When Michael’s vision clears, he’s face to face to the stony face of one of the MCC admins, their status displayed by the proud red [Admin] by their nametags and the fact that they’re floating several inches off the fucking floor. He backs away, strangely winded - probably from the panic or adrenaline or yelling or, more accurately, all three, as Quackity is pulled back effortlessly by an admin, easily caging his flailing limbs with a snap of code as he is frozen into place - and Michael whoops. 

“LET’S GO!” 

(The arrow hits Michael in the shoulder, and he disappears in a flash of red - only instead of going to his usual place above the Dodgebolt arena, standing with the other competitors, he finds himself teleported in front of a dizzying array of screens and buttons, too many to have any idea where they connect and how they work. Michael turns to meet the faces of the MCC Admins, each one looking at him with odd, concerned expressions and furrowed brows. 

“You shot your teammate,” one says - Noxite - and Michael nods to concede the point, not quite finding the words to speak. “Why?”

“If you had such a big issue with the teams, you could’ve just talked to Scott,” another one pipes up from the back, “I’m sure we could’ve worked something out.”

“I know, I know,” Michael runs his hand through his hair, both relieved at the plan working better than he could’ve ever fucking imagined and suddenly lost for words in front of the admins, each one looking at him with their full attention. Every nerve in his body rails against the scrutiny, reminds him to pretend that nothing is wrong - but it’s too late to pretend, now. It’s been too late for a long, long time. 

He remembers Dream, looking away all competition, voice dead and lacking all of its former vitality - remembers Puffy, hair a little greyer from stress, grief painting her face whenever she thought anyone wasn’t looking - remembers Bad, hands still shaking despite his attempts to hide it - the prison, looming on the horizon, unbeatable, impenetrable - himself, helpless, for all this time, to do anything but watch and wait. Until now. He takes a deep breath, steels himself- 

“Something’s wrong with Dream.”)

“Thank you for your information, Michael,” Noxite smiles at him, and relief throws itself through his system so fast that it makes him dizzy- “We’ll handle this from here. Good job.” 

“Holy shit- when did you get time to contact the fucking admins, Michael?” 

Michael ignores the clamor around him as the lobby bursts into activity and people talking over each other, each one probably trying to figure out what the hell just happened, ignores Sapnap muttering, awed, from beside him, to move towards Dream, still sprawled out over the floor. There’s an admin by him, standing by to seemingly keep the crowd away but not engaging with Dream directly, and Michael ducks by them to kneel down by Dream and meet his gaze. 

“Hey,” Michael smiles, still shaking from the leftover adrenaline as he presses his hands to the ground to try and hide it, “We’ve got you. It’s over- Quackity’s gone. You’re safe now.” 

“Michael?” Dream’s voice is so damn small when his head twists to look over, hair having fallen largely fallen out of his ponytail to land in wisps all around his face. “You- how-”

“Don’t worry about it,” Michael shushes him, chest twisting painfully. “It’s alright.”

“...I don’t feel so good.”

Dream coughs harshly, and Michael quickly maneuvers him to a sitting position as his shoulders shake with another one, hand flying to his mouth as he is wracked with loud, wet-sounding coughs. Concern wells up in his throat, watching as Dream shakes with more coughing, nearly choking as he curls into himself, muscles tense. After what feels like an eternity, he pulls his hand back, and Michael gasps at the sight.

“Dream-”

There’s blood, and a lot of it - mixed with the saliva in his palm, shiny and stringy over the planes of his hand, dribbling past his lips and down his chin. His teeth are similarly stained red when his mouth opens slightly, stance wobbling before he collapses altogether against Michael’s body - Michael can barely hear himself shouting for a medic as Dream heaves a rattling, wet sounding breath into his shoulder. 

“Th’ts not g’d,” he mumbles, quiet, before going completely limp. 

---

When you first get strong enough to go to the Nether and collect blaze rods and brew potions for the first time, the first thing that gets beaten into your head forwards, backwards, left, right, and every way in between is that health and regen aren’t a replacement for actual recovery. Instant health pots are famous for their tendency to heal everything affected to the same degree - which is bad when you have a particularly deep injury, as it’ll often finish healing it near the surface while the injury persists underneath. Regen pots tend to be better at that front, but even they cannot completely fix a serious injury - the two can only act as a temporary, emergency fix for severe wounds, often being an invaluable resource to stop the worst of the bleeding and hold everything together for long enough to bring someone to proper medical attention. 

Unfortunately, when someone tries to use health pots and regens to completely bypass the time and rest needed for the body to properly heal itself and recover, what usually ends up happening is internal injuries - not completely healed by the potions alone - continue to be jostled and irritated, which can lead to further, worse, problems with internal bleeding and bones shifting out of place if they’ve been broken, which can then pierce through muscle and organ tissue - to be honest, Michael was never the best with all the medical stuff, and he’s half-sure that the horror stories he’s heard were exaggerated to beat it into his head never to be an idiot that thinks that potions can solve everything, but either way, he’s never tested his luck with the things.

Unfortunately, Dream doesn’t seem to have done the same, as the entire day’s worth of intense activity, between practices and MCC itself, were more than enough to fuck over the healing effects of whatever health potions he apparently downed before coming to the Championships. From what Michael has heard, it got a little harried after he was first brought into the hospital, but he’s apparently stabilized since - recovery will be slow, both physically and mentally, but at least he’s out of that damn prison to actually start on that path.

“Simply put, your teammate is a bit of an idiot,” Scott tells him when he finally catches him in the waiting room, hair fluffed up at the sides from where he’s evidently messed it up in Admin-related stress. “But he should be alright now, with proper medical attention and lots of rest - make sure to tell him to actually rest, will ya? No more parkouring for him - he can wait until after he’s out of the hospital to show us all how it’s done.” 

Michael laughs, relief settling into his chest, “Thanks, Scott.” He directs a playfully accusing look towards the other, a grin tugging at his lips, “but you know, he’s only my teammate because you made it that way. Kinda sounds like your own fault there..” 

“Oh, quiet, you.” Scott laughs- he looks stressed, and Michael feels a twinge of sympathy. The administrative side of things after his whole stunt at Dodgebolt, and then especially with what happened in the main lobby, must be an absolute nightmare. “Anyway, I need to go back - Admin meeting,” he shakes his head, already looking at his comm. “You should go see Dream, by the way. I think he’s awake.” 

“Thanks for everything, Scott.” 

Scott smiles at him, soft, sincere. “Go see your friend.” 

He disappears in a flash of white light, teleporting away, and Michael looks at the empty space where he stood for a few seconds before standing up out of his chair to move towards the door. He hesitates at it for a second, hand on the doorknob but not yet turning it to the side - it’s suddenly awkward, without the pressure of the competition at his back and the relentless questions of what he should do. He doesn’t even know if Dream knows what happened, or if he’ll be happy with him - for all he knows, Dream was the one who started the whole ‘don’t tell the Championships what happens in the server’ deal. His teeth catch on his lip as he stands, lost in thought, at the door.

Well. Here goes nothing. 

He eases the door open, getting a glimpse inside the room - it’s white, clean-looking, the smell of disinfectant heavy in the air. There’s a bed in the middle of the room, a chair on the side with his Championships clothing and what appears to be some sort of padded body armor laid over the cushions. Dream, as expected, is lying down in the bed, unmoving; for a second, Michael thinks he’s sleeping, before he suddenly twists his head over to look at him.

“Michael?” 

“Hey,” Michael smiles, moving into the room and closing the door behind him. For the first time today, Dream’s face isn’t masked, a glimpse of it visible behind him on the dresser by the bed. He blinks up at him owlishly, eyes wide and green, looking even bigger combined with the hollow planes of his cheeks, overlaid by pale, slightly raised scars. “How are you feeling, man?” 

“Um-” Dream tries to pull himself up, visibly struggling, and Michael rolls his eyes as he hurries over to help raise the back of the cot because you’re supposed to be resting, Dream, just let the fancy bed do its job, and settles back with an odd look on his face as Michael pulls over a chair. “Good? I think? I mean-” he flails his hands a bit, “this is weird. And I kind of hate this gown- but um. Yeah.” 

“That’s fair,” Michael laughs, and Dream huffs a small laugh out of his own, settling back into his pillow. He looks strangely small, with all the layers stripped away, frail and skinny against the sheets. His skin isn’t that same paper-white shade it had been when he collapsed in the middle of the fucking lobby, but it’s still pale enough to be vaguely worrying, especially combined with the IV and other wires hooked up to him. 

“Apparently, I’m dehydrated,” Dream drawls when he catches Michael staring at the IV, making a small, frustrated sound through his teeth as Michael turns to look at him, “figures, I guess, but still sucks. I hate needles.” 

“Ouch,” Michael winces in sympathy, “yeah, those don’t look that fun.” Dream smiles up at him, before his expression shutters, dulls, and he looks away, not meeting his eyes. The sight of it makes Michael frown, quiet, remembering the way he’d drawn back from them all over and over again throughout the day - that fear and trauma won’t go away in a day, but it hurts all that much more to see his face as panic flashes across it and he pulls back, gaze carefully detached. 

“Dream?” Michael moves closer, but is careful not to make contact, “you alright?”

“Hmm?” Dream directs another small, tight smile his way, strained at the corners as his eyes flick away to the floor once again, “yeah- I’m- I’m fine.” 

Michael sighs, but decides not to push it. “Have you done anything else here, yet?”

Dream shakes his head. “No- I think that someone’s going to bring food over soon, I’m not sure. Not really hungry,” he mutters, half to himself, and Michael tamps down the concern that wells up in protest, “But we’ll see, I guess.” 

“That’s good,” Michael nods, and Dream looks up at him, expression startlingly unsure. 

“Um- do you know?” He wrings his hands together, eyes darting across the room nervously before flicking over Michaels’ face, and Michael tries to make himself look as calm and comfortable as possible, “I mean- do you know what’s going on with- everyone?” 

Ah. Michael winces internally- he probably should’ve expected this question, but in the fallout of what happened in the lobby and Dream, you know, passing out in his arms, he ended up brushing off or ignoring a lot of the chaos that resulted. He wracks his head for snippets of information that he’d seen in his communicator and from visitors to the waiting room, including people that had been there with him that had been pulled for questioning and meetings, Tommy’s expletive-filled yelling from the lobby still ringing in his head. 

“Um- I think that they’ve got a team of moderators pulled up to investigate the server, figure out what’s been going on,” Michael ticks names off on his hands, mentally going through the list of people that he’s been given information on, “They have Quackity in custody, I think, for the moment- they’re still waiting for more information on what to do with him, but they’ve got a whole MCC lobby’s worth of witnesses that saw him assault you so far, if you plan on pressing charges and stuff- um- Sapnap got pulled for questioning, nothing too major right now, I think that they’re going through the other server members that were attending the Championships for the moment.” 

“Are they- putting them in jail?” Dream’s voice sounds slightly tinny despite his forced calm, arms crossed in front of him, and Michael shakes his head firmly. 

“No- legal stuff between servers is weird, and I think they’re holding off on anything like that for now. Quackity’s just there at the moment because of assault charges on the MCC server - stuff in the SMP is still technically outside of their jurisdiction.” Dream visibly relaxes, and Michael smiles thinly, “It’ll be rough for a few weeks as they collect evidence and figure out what to do, but for now, they’re just focusing on recovery - giving people medical attention if they need it, lining up therapists,” he laughs, quietly, “lots of therapists.”

Dream hums, looking away. The corners of his mouth fall, eyes fluttering shut as he breathes a shuddery sigh through his lips.

“I- never wanted it to get this bad,” he opens his eyes, looking down at his hands, lip slightly trembling, “I don’t- I don’t know where it all went wrong.” 

“Hey,” Michael slides closer, ducking to meet Dream’s eyes with a soft smile. “You’re not alone anymore, alright? You don’t have to fix it all by yourself. Focus on yourself, on recovering.” 

Dream hesitates, breath seeming caught in his throat, wide green eyes staring into Michael’s own, before ducking his head to look away with a slight nod. Michael leans back in his chair, watching as Dream turns to the side, curling in on himself slightly with a small wince, eyes fixed on the window.

“Didn’t think I was going to see the sun again,” Dream says after a while, gaze still trained behind the glass to where the sun is slowly setting, rays of sunlight streaming past the slits in the blinds and casting glowing stripes of honey-gold throughout the room and over Dream’s face. Michael feels something cold press against the back of his throat, the quiet admission making air stutter in his lungs at the image of Dream, alone, huddled in the middle of an obsidian box for months and months and months, never knowing if he’d see anything other than the same black walls for the rest of his life. 

“You’re not there, anymore. You’re safe now.” 

Dream doesn’t reply, continuing to look out the window silently, breathing slowly as he moves his hand through a sunbeam, watching the way it streams between his fingers and warms his skin, seeming mesmerized by its soft glow. 

“Michael?” Dream looks over, and Michael feels the air punched out of his lungs at the soft, disbelieving sincerity held within his expression, the fearful edges for once pulled back far enough for the light to catch the quiet, heartfelt appreciation gathered in the slight quirk of his lips and downward slope of his eyes. He looks away a second after, a band of light cutting across his face and landing over the bridge of his nose, smile still on his face, voice almost too quiet to make out. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” Michael feels his own smile widen, looking out the window himself- it really is a beautiful sunset. “What are friends for?” 

[thimbil]

Having some thoughts about the references and inspirations used for the Bad Batch’s designs.

So Boba Fett is my absolute favorite character and Temeura Morrison was perfect casting. I went to see the 2008 TCW movie in theaters because I was so excited to see him again, even if he was animated. You can imagine my disappointment. Whoever was on screen was not Temeura Morrison. You could sort of see a resemblance if you squinted and didn’t think too hard about it. They replaced Temeura with Racially Ambiguous G.I. Joe. If I didn’t know better and someone told me the animated clones are space Italians from the moon of New Jersey I would buy it. One Million Brothers Pizzeria and Italian Bistro. Not that there’s something wrong with being space Italian, I just don’t think it’s the right choice for the Fetts. The design got slightly improved by season 7 but it still bugs the hell out of me.

I did eventually get into the show later and (of course) got invested in the clones. Unfortunately, they were largely sidelined by the Jedi storylines. Out of the two new main characters created for TCW, Ahsoka definitely got more development and focus than Rex. When they announced The Bad Batch, I was excited to see a show specifically devoted to the clones… at least that’s what it said on the tin. We have all seen what lurks beneath those stylish helmets.

Jango Fett, you are NOT the father.

So who is?

Based on interviews with Filoni, it sounds like the Bad Batch was a George Lucas idea. And like all his ideas, it’s super derivative. The original trilogy directly lifted elements from sci fi serials, westerns, and samurai movies, more specifically Kurosawa films like The Hidden Fortress. For The Bad Batch character designs, the influence is obviously American action and adventure movies.

Now let’s get specific. Bad Batch, who’s your daddy?

Hunter

Sylvester Stallone as Rambo in First Blood 1982. That bandana has become an integral part of the iconic action hero look. You see a character wearing one and it’s a visual shorthand for either “this character is a tough guy” like Billy played by Sonny Landham in Predator 1987, or “this character thinks he is/wants to be a tough guy” like Brand played by Josh Brolin in The Goonies 1985 or Edward Frog played by Corey Feldman in The Lost Boys 1987.

Hunter’s model is closest to the original clone base. If you look closely you will see the eyebrows are straighter with a much lower angle to the arch. His nose is also not the same shape as a standard clone like Rex, including a narrower bridge. It’s certainly not Temeura Morrison’s nose. Remember what I said about space Italians? It didn’t take much to push the existing clone design to resemble an specific Italian man instead of a specific Māori man. The 23&Me came back, and Hunter inherited more than the bandana from Sylvester.

Crosshair

The long narrow nose, the sharp cheekbones, the scowl. That’s no clone, that’s just animated Clint Eastwood. Not even Young and Hot Clint Eastwood from Rawhide 1959-1965. With that hair, I’m talking Gran Torino 2008. The man of few words schtick and family friendly toothpick in lieu of cigar are pure Eastwood as The Man With No Name from Sergio Leone’s spaghetti westerns A Fist Full of Dollars 1964, For a Few Dollars More 1965, and The Good the Bad and the Ugly 1966.

In a way, this is full circle because the actor Jeremy Bulloch took inspiration from Clint Eastwood for his performance as Boba Fett in ESB.

Wrecker

In an interview Filoni lists the Hulk as an (obvious) inspiration for Wrecker. Ever seen the old Hulk tv show from 1978? Well take a look at the actor who played him, Lou Ferrigno. Would you look at that. Even has his papa’s nose.

You could make the argument that Wrecker was influenced by The Rock, an appropriately buff ‘n bald Polynesian (Samoan, not Maori) man. But look at him next his Fast and Furious costar Vin Diesel and tell me which one resembles Wrecker’s character model more.

Tech

Tech is a little trickier for me to place. If he has a more direct inspiration it must be something I haven’t seen. That said, his hairline is very Bruce Willis as John McClane in Die Hard 1988. His quippiness and large glasses remind me of Shane Black as Hawkins from Predator 1987. In terms of his face, he looks a but like the result of McClane and Hawkins deciding to settle down and start a family. Although, Tech’s biggest contributors are probably just everyone on TV Trope’s list for Smart People Wear Glasses.

And finally,

Echo

Oh Echo. Considering he wasn’t created for the Bad Batch, he probably wasn’t based on a particular character or movie. But if I had to guess, his situation and appearance remind me a lot of Alex Murphy played by Peter Weller in Robocop 1987. However, Robocop explored the Man or Machine Identity Crisis with more nuance, depth, and dignity. Yikes.

The exact tropes and references used in The Bad Batch have been done successfully with characters who aren’t even human. Gizmo from Gremlins 2: The New Batch 1990 had a brief stint with the Rambo bandana. I could have picked any number of characters for Defining Feature Is Glasses but here is the most cursed version of Simon of Alvin and the Chipmunks. Suffer as I have. Marc Antony with his beloved Pussyfoot from Looney Tunes has the same tough guy with a soft center vibe as Wrecker and his Lula (also a kind of cat). Hell, in the same show we have Cad Bane sharing Cowboy Clint Eastwood with Crosshair. I actually think Bane makes a better Eastwood which is wild considering Crosshair has Eastwood’s entire face and Bane is blue.

So we’ve established you don’t need your characters to look exactly like their inspirations to match their vibe. So why go through the trouble and cost of creating completely new character designs instead of recycling and altering assets they already had on hand? Just slap on a bandana, toothpick, goggles, and make Wrecker bigger than the others while he does a Hulk pose and you’re done. Based on the general reaction to Howzer it would have been a low effort slam dunk crowd pleaser.

But they didn’t do that.

So here’s the thing. I like the tropes used in The Bad Batch. I am a fan of action adventure movies from the 80s-90s, the sillier the better. I am part of the Bad Batch’s target audience. Considering what I know about Disney and Lucasfilm, I went in with low expectations. I genuinely don’t hate the idea of seeing references to these actors and media in The Bad Batch. I don’t think basing these characters on tropes was a bad idea. If anything it’s a solid starting point for building the characters.

The trouble is nothing got built on the foundation. The plot is directionless, the pacing is wacky, and the characters have nearly no emotional depth or defining character arcs. They just sort of exist without reacting much while the story happens around them. But I can excuse all of that. You don’t stay a fan of Star Wars as long as I have not being able to cherrypick and fill in the gaps. This show has a deeper issue that shouldn’t be ignored.

Why do the animated clones bear at best only a passing resemblance to their live action actor? In interviews, Filoni wouldn’t shut up but the technological advancements in the animation for season 7. So if they are updating things, why not try to make the clones a closer match to their source material? Why did they have to look like completely different people in The Bad Batch to be “unique”? Looking like Temeura Morrison would have no bearing on their special abilities and TCW proved you can have identical looking characters and still have them be distinct. In fact, that’s a powerful theme and the source of tragedy for the clones’ narrative overall.

Here’s Filoni’s early concept art of Crosshair, Wrecker, Tech, and Hunter. (Interesting but irrelevant: Wrecker seems to have a cog tattoo similar to Jesse’s instead of a scar. Wouldn’t it have been funny if they kept that so when they met in season 7 one if them could say something like “Hey we’re twins!” That’s a little clone humor. Just for you guys 😘)

None of these drawings look like the clones in TCW, much less Temeura Morrison. Let’s be generous. Maybe Filoni struggles with drawing a real person’s likeness, as many people do. But he had to hand this off to other artists down the line whose job specifically involves making a stylized character resemble their actor. Yet the final designs missed the mark almost as much as this initial concept. Starting to seem as if the clones looking more like Temeura Morrison was never even on the table. It wasn’t a lack of creativity, skill or technical limitations on the part of the creative team. I don’t think there is an innocent explanation. They went out of their way to make the final product exactly how we got it.

This goes beyond homage. They could have made the same pop culture references and character tropes without completely stripping Temeura Morrison from the role he originated. It was a very purposeful choice to replace him with more immediately familiar actors from established franchises and films. It wouldn’t shock me if Filoni, Lucas, and anyone else calling the shots didn’t even think hard or care enough about the decision to immediately recognize a problem. And I don’t think they believed anyone else would either. At least no one whose opinion they cared about. Those faces are comfortingly familiar and proven bankable. They are what we’re all used to seeing after all. They’re white.

Lack of imagination, bad intentions, or simple ignorance doesn’t really matter in the end. The result is the same. Call it what it is. They replaced a man of color with a bunch of white guys. That’s by the book garden variety run of the mill whitewashing. There’s no debate worth having about it. For a fanbase that loves to nitpick things like whether or not it’s in character for Han to shoot first or Jeans Guy in the Mandalorian, we sure are quick to find excuses for clones who look nothing like their template. Why is that? If you don’t see the problem, congratulations. Your ass is showing. Pull your jeans up.

[yasminbenoit]

What Is Asexuality? Yasmin Benoit for Teen Vogue

For Asexuality Awareness Week, model Yasmin Benoit answers the question ‘what is asexuality’, and busts some common myths about what it means to be asexual.

I realized I was asexual around the same time my peers seemed to realize that they were not. Once the hormones kicked in, so did a nearly universal interest in sex for those around me. I thought sex was intriguing, but never so much that I wanted to express my sexuality with someone else. I had no sexual desire towards other people, I did not experience sexual attraction, and that hasn't changed.

I didn't learn that there was a word for my sexuality until I was 15, after being interrogated for the millionth time at school about my orientation, or lack of it. After doing some Googling as soon as I got home, I realized for the first time in my life that I might not be broken, that I wasn't alone in my experience, and that it wasn't a defect I had somehow brought on myself. I had spent the entirety of my adolescent life trying to answer people's invasive questions without having the language to explain that I was just an asexual girl.

But even after I found the language, I had only solved half of the problem. We are taught in grade school that we'll become sexually interested in others, but never that not being sexually attracted to anyone is an option. Because we're not taught about it, no one else knew what I was talking about when I tried to come out to them as asexual.

Many don't believe asexuality is real,  and that makes the experience of navigating our heteronormative, hyper-sexualized society as an asexual person even harder. I've spent my life battling misconceptions about it and so have many other asexual people. Now, I try to use my work as a model and activist to raise awareness and change the way our society perceives asexuality and asexual people. This Asexual Awareness Week, I'm busting some of those myths about my orientation.

Now, let's separate fact from fiction:

Myth: Asexual people have no sexuality ✘

Truth: Asexuality is considered a sexuality, just like bisexuality, heterosexuality, and homosexuality. I often phrase it as being a sexual orientation where your sexuality isn’t oriented anywhere—because it isn't actually the same as having no sexuality or sexual feelings. Asexual people have hormones like everyone else. It isn’t uncommon for asexual people to masturbate and there are asexual people who still have sex for various reasons and gain enjoyment from it. Some asexual people are romantically attracted to others, but not sexually attracted. Since asexuality is a spectrum, the ways in which asexuality is experienced can vary in different ways.

Myth: Asexuality is a lifestyle choice ✘

Truth: This misconception stems from the idea that asexuality is a choice and not a legitimate sexual orientation. Asexuality is often confused with celibacy or abstinence, probably because they can manifest in similar ways. In contemporary society, celibacy is often defined as being sexually abstinent, often for religious reasons. Sure, for many asexual people, their asexuality means that they aren’t interested in having sex with other people, but that’s a result of their orientation—not their beliefs about sexual behavior. Celibacy is a lifestyle choice, asexuality is not. Asexuality also shouldn't be confused with being an incel. People don't decide to become asexual because they can't find sexual partners or because of any other circumstances. It isn't a state of being when you're going through a "dry spell," nor is it a choice any more than being gay or straight is a choice. It's just the way we are.\

Myth: Asexuality is an illness ✘

Truth: The assertion that asexuality is a mental or physical disorder is incredibly harmful to asexual people and has led to false diagnoses, unnecessary medication, and attempts at converting asexual people. For example, Female Sexual Interest/Arousal Disorder and Hypoactive Sexual Desire Disorder — which are characterized by low or absent sex drive — are in the DSM-5 and have been thought of as a medical diagnosis for asexuality. But the difference is that people who have HSDD are bothered by their lack of sexual drive, while asexual people are not. But even the inclusion of HSDD as a diagnosis is controversial — some argue that people who are asexual might feel distress at their lack of sexual desire because of lack of acceptance in society. Asexuality is not the result of a hormone deficiency, or a syndrome, or a physical or psychological ailment. Research has said as much. We don't need to be treated or fixed.

Myth: Asexual people have anti-sex attitudes ✘

Truth: There are asexual people who are repulsed by the thought of sex, or by the thought of having sex themselves. I fall into the latter category. However, that feeling does not necessarily extend to what other people are doing. The misconception that asexual people are against other people expressing their sexuality, and that all asexual people can’t stomach conversations about sex, is quite an alienating one. It leads to asexual people being left out of important discussions about sexuality. It is entirely possible and incredibly common to have sex-positive attitudes and be asexual.

Myth: There are barely any asexual people ✘

Truth: Don't let our lack of visibility and representation fool you. There are a lot of asexual people out there, but many of us aren't entirely out, and some haven't realized that there's a word for what they're experiencing due to that lack of visibility. While research into the asexual population is lacking, its estimated that around 1% of the population is asexual—but that's based on a studies where the participants have likely known what asexuality was and been out enough to identify that way. It's likely there are more asexual people than we know of, but even if we did only comprise 1% of the population, that's still tens of millions of asexual people.

Myth: Asexual people just haven’t found the right person yet ✘

Truth: The idea that asexual people just need to meet the ‘right person’ who will unlock their sexual desire and ‘fix’ their asexuality is one I’ve always found quite perplexing. It’s an argument that seems to be applied to asexuality more than other orientations. You wouldn’t tell a straight guy that they just “hadn’t met the right man yet" as an explanation of why he's attracted to women. I’d like to think that most wouldn’t tell a gay man that they “hadn’t met the right woman yet” either. It suggests that our sexuality is reflective of our company, that no one we have ever seen or encountered has met our standards, and thus we haven’t experienced sexual attraction to the extent that the term ‘asexual’ could be applied.

This assumption ignores and invalidates all of the asexual people who have found the ‘right’ person—the asexual people in happy, fulfilling, loving relationships or who have had them in the past. Because, yes, asexual people can still have romantic relationships, or any other kind of relationship. The validity of a relationship is not and should not be based on how sexually attracted you are to that person. This statement also plays into the notion that asexual people are “missing out” on something and haven’t truly discovered our entire selves, that we are incomplete because of our innate characteristics or our life experiences. This isn’t true either.\

Myth: There’s an asexual demographic ✘

Truth: Even though most people don’t know much about asexuality, they still have quite a specific idea about what asexual people are like. I’ve often heard that, as a black woman and a model, I don’t look or seem asexual. We’re stereotyped as being awkward white kids who spend too much time on social media and probably aren’t attractive enough to find a sexual partner if we wanted to. And if we are attractive enough, then we should tone that down as not to ‘give mixed signals.’ But there is no asexual way to look or dress. Asexual people have varying ages, backgrounds, interests, appearances, and experiences, just like those belonging to any other sexual orientation. So please don't use the term "asexual" as an adjective to describe someone you think is sexually unappealing or as an insult, because that's only perpetuating this harmful stereotype.

Makeup: Margherita Lascala

Photography: Becky Gannon

Hair: Kayla Idowu

Styling: Diesel, Cheimsee, Sixth June, Northskull, Lamoda

[teasty]

kiss yourself (03) || h.js

● pairing: han jisung x (female) reader

● genre: angst, smut, (kinda) fluff  ||  fwb to lovers au || college!au || non!idol au

● warnings: | praise + degradation | reader and jisung are not in a relationship at the beginning! | suggestive dialogue | profanity | unprotected sex | softdom!harddom!jisung | reader gets into short fist fight | fingering | hair pulling | slight dumbification |

● words: 10.4k

→ summary: It all started when you and your best friend for life, Han Jisung, got a little bit too tipsy at a party and ended up waking up naked in the same bed. After that unfortunate night, you and Jisung confirmed there be a distinguished “friends with benefits” relationship between the two of you, with a few rules.

Number One: No one else is supposed to know about this relationship.

Number Two: The minute one of the two of you starts a serious relationship with someone, the benefits are cut off immediately.

Number Three: Have to respect the other’s wishes, if one doesn’t want to do it, then there’s no argument.

Number Four: No falling in love.

But, when Jisung starts crushing over your classmate, you start to break the rules. One by one.

a/n: a lot happens in this chapter,, it's pretty fast paced but it is what it is ~

Chapter One | Chapter Two | CHAPTER THREE

“I want you to fuck me dumb, Jisung. I want to think about nothing but you.”

You refused to cry, no matter how bad you wanted to.

You didn’t actually head back to the dorm, deciding you weren’t tired enough to fall asleep fast enough and that you simply wanted to have the comfort of being alone for the time being. You’re so fed up, so irritated and stressed, not even Jisung fucking you over and over again until you’re too weak to even speak could fix it. Neither did you feel like dealing with Jeongja, so you headed straight for the 24/7 cafe a few blocks away from the school. You didn’t go there often, but you went there a few times with Jisung in the mornings. You weren’t as familiar with the place like he was, but you knew for a fact that it was open all day, every week day.

There was only one other person in the cafe. A young, tired looking woman who typed vigorously on her laptop, which was plugged into the wall along with her phone, which she listened to whatever on. She must be a college student, since she had a backpack at her feet and a lanyard hanging from her pocket. You didn’t recognize her, so she was probably your senior. She gave you a subtle glance before turning back to her laptop, and you ignored her. Walking (more limping) up to the cashier.

“Welcome. It’s pretty late,” said a man who didn’t seem too young, but nor too old. Probably in his mid - twenties. He had a small stubble on his chin and his longish hair is tied back, a few rebellious strands framing his decently structured face. You could make out his toned chest and broad shoulders underneath the beige button up he wore, a dusty pink apron around his waist, accompanied by a pair of black slacks. He’s attractive, you couldn’t deny. “Don’t you think it’s a bit too late for a pretty little lady like you to be walking around, alone, in a tee shirt?”

“I’m fine on my own,” you admit, “I’ve been here a few times, but I can’t remember the menu. Mind handing me one?” The man nods, reaching over something to grab a one sided menu, and he hands it to you. After glancing over it, you felt too nauseous to eat, but you needed caffeine, something to keep you going since sleep wasn’t going to be an option for you tonight. “Can I just get an americano? Make it large, please, I need it.”

“Oh, coffee at this hour?” He chuckles.

“This is a coffee shop,” you glance around, a little agitated.

“Yeah, yeah,” the man laughs out, waving a hand as he pressed a few buttons on the cash register, “I’m just teasing you, sweetheart. Is that all you want? An americano, large?”

“No, get me the green tea, too,” you sigh, placing down the menu. It’s not like you to get bitter drinks, let alone two. You’re actually more of a sweets kind of person. But, since you’re not feeling too well, you just want hot, bitter drinks to keep you from going insane.

The man nods, “Hmm, tough night?” You nod slowly, “Surprised you came to a coffee shop. Most people who have rough nights usually hang around at the bar down the road. What made you come here of all places?”

“Well, it’s the first place I thought of,” you shrug a shoulder, “I don’t want a hangover in the morning either. I always know how those go. Never had the best luck when I’m drunk.” You chuckle, smiling wistfully for a moment before it turns into a bitter frown at the thought of your vague first time with Jisung. You shake your head slowly, subtly. It wasn’t a mistake. Not at all. It wasn’t bad luck. But, right now, it kind of feels like it. You’ve gotten more attached to Jisung than you have the years before you both started fucking around. “Plus, my friend used to bring me here. Thought I’d see the place alone.”

“Well, I appreciate you stopping by,” the man smiles down at you, and you give him a brief one back, “What’s your name? What should I put as the name, sorry.”

“(Y/N) (L/N),” you grumble out your name.

“Are you a foreigner?”

“No. My parents just aren’t born here,” you respond, having gotten the question hundreds of times in the past.

“Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss (Y/N) (L/N),” the man smiles, and you chuckle softly as he rings up the order, “My name is Jeongguk. I assume you go to the college down the road?” Jeongguk asks as you sit on one of the stools at the counter. You sigh, your shoulders dropping as you nod slowly. Watching as Jeongguk prepares the americano. “Ah, I used to go there. I already graduated.”

“What was your major?” You ask curiously.

“I was a fine arts major. I only have my undergrad, but I’m saving up to go back and get my masters,” Jeongguk says.

“Oh,” your eyes brighten, intrigued by the sudden conversation, “If you don’t mind me asking, what’ll you do with your masters once you get it?”

Jeongguk sighs, his head tilting slightly as he focuses his eyes on the drink in his hand, perfecting it, “I’m not sure, actually. There’s a lot of things I could do. I could just work under a company to make things for ‘em, like designs and shit like that. But, I’m more into painting. Heh, but there’s not much painting can get for you nowadays. I haven’t seen many jobs that take in painters, so I’m reconsidering whether or not painting should be my go - to.”

“Right,” you nod, completely understanding, “It’s an amazing skill to have, though. You could probably start up on social media and sell your works worldwide.”

“Social media’s never been my forte, but it’s a thought,” Jeongguk passes you the americano, and you don’t hesitate to take a sip of the hot drinking, cringing slightly at the bitter taste. But, you soon get used to it. “What’s your major?”

“Political science,” you chuckle.

“Oh - ho! We got a smarty - pants over here, now don’t we?” Jeongguk jokes as he grabs a white, bulky mug from a shelf. You chuckle, a bit flusters. Already feeling better from this conversation with him, “The only person I knew in political science was Chris! You know Chan? Bang Chan?”

“Yeah, he’s on my committee, we’re friends,” you shrug a shoulder.

“Nice. Let him know I said hi, won’t you?” You nod quickly, taking another sip of the coffee, “Is it as much work as they say?”

“Well, with this dumb team I was pressured into, yeah, it’s a lot more than most other people with different majors seem to have,” you answer, and Jeongguk nods slowly, listening intently as he puts a kettle filled with water on a small stovetop. He then turns to you and leans against the bar table separating you both, “It’s fine, though. I’m just doing it to get a job so I can provide myself with enough money to get what I need and a bit more to have what I want. People in that field get lots of money, you know?”

“Yeah, just depends on what you decide to be,” Jeongguk nods.

“I guess you’re right,” you nod slowly, “I’m most likely to graduate with my bachelors, but I’m gonna take law so I can be a lawyer. Either tort or criminal, I don’t mind.”

“Ah, those are tricky fields in law, aren’t they,” Jeongguk chuckles, and you nod slowly, “Well, I wish you the best of luck. By the way, when did you and Chris become friends? I’ve been friends with him for a few years, now, and I don’t recall him being with you.”

“Oh, I only befriended him at the beginning of the year,” you say, and Jeongguk nods, “I went to a party with my friend and met him there. We’re also on the same committee for planning for the school, so we got pretty close.”

“You mean the huge party right before school started up, don’t you?” You nod slowly, “Mm. I know just what party you’re talking about. I think I might’ve seen you. You looked familiar when you walked in, so it’d make sense. Let me guess, were you with one of Chris’s buds? I forget his name, but I think his family name is Han, right?”

Your eyes instantly roll, and you nod, “Yeah. Han Jisung. I went with him.”

“Ouch, what a reaction,” Jeongguk laughs, noting your eyes which rolled sassily, “Did he do something to you?”

“It’s a long story.” You admit. It’s not too long, actually. It could be simplified, but you didn’t want to talk about it to a stranger.

“I have time,” Jeongguk says, smiling brightly.

You raise a brow, “So do I, and I’m going to spend it drinking my coffee.” Jeongguk raises his hands in surrender.

“Fine, fine. Have it your way,” And finally, Jeongguk finished your tea and gave it to you.

You both talked for the remainder of the night (well, morning) until the sun came up. You had about five coffees, trying different kinds that Jeongguk suggested, and another green tea with honey in it. You learned that Jeongguk graduated early, mostly since he didn’t have enough money, but he was also ahead of the rest of the year by a long run, so he privately graduated. He didn’t start working at the coffee shop until a few months ago, and works the night shift and was the only one there. Apparently, no one usually came in during his shift except for travellers passing by or the tired college students, which were more likely to come by and study.

You didn’t even notice it was morning until Jeongguk’s face illuminated with the sunlight over the city’s buildings. You both traded numbers, and you promised to come again during his shift on his days. He said he’d text you, but you weren’t too sure he would. You were at least thankful to not be totally alone that night, since part of you knew that Jisung was going to get to your head, and you’d be either upset or angry. Jeongguk was able to rid your mind of him, even if only for those five or so hours you sat there, talking to him.

But, once you walked into your dorm to change into a quick pair of different clothes, all you could think about is Jisung. Debating your feelings.

You, however, constantly repeated to yourself that you didn’t even like him like that. He’s only a friend. Only a friend. Have it be with or without benefits, he’s only a friend.

You decided to just wear a pair of baggy sweats and an old hoodie, not caring much for your appearance. Although there’s tons of caffeine running through your system, you were still exhausted from the lack of sleep, and your mood had been dropped. You knew there was probably going to be another meeting today with Chunae, but you couldn’t be too sure. You didn’t get any work done last night (obviously), and you don’t know whether or not you’ll hear it from her or not, whether or not she’ll pull you out of class again for a meeting you could care less about.

You didn’t see Jisung for the first few hours of school, per usual. He didn’t try texting you nor calling you, which you were a bit skeptical about, but you tried to ignore it. You’re supposed to be agitated with him. And, you are. You still cared for him, and you still miss him despite it being only one night. But, then again, he probably didn’t miss you the way you missed him.

He would miss you, sure. But he wouldn’t miss the way you kiss him, right? He wouldn’t miss the way you hold him. The way you love him.

But, you’re not in love with him.

You can’t be.

You did see Chris, though. He actually walked up to you during passing hall and pulled you aside, against a wall. He wore a concerned, tired look as he folded his arms. Staring down at you, and rose a brow. It was silent for a moment until you emit a low, “What?”

“What’s going on between you and Jisung?” Christopher says sternly, and your blood runs cold right then and there. Your eyes widen and your brows raise as you stare up at him. Did he know? You’re too scared to answer.

“What… do you mean?” You utter out.

“Jisung called me last night asking if you were at my dorm last night at, like, midnight. Woke me up when I should’ve gotten sleep…” Christopher grumbles, rubbing his temple, “He said he thought you would have run off to my place. Didn’t say shit as to why, though. Didn’t say a damn thing. The boy even asked me to go to your dorm to see if you were there, but no one answered. I figured you were asleep. I just need to know why Jisung had to call me at fucking midnight ‘cause of you.” Christopher’s Australian accent slips into his Korean, which means he’s probably both irritated and tired.

“Oh… I’m sorry. No, I was out at some coffee shop until, like, five in the morning last night,” You answer truthfully, and Christopher sighs, “Oh, and by the way. I talked to Jeongguk there. He said hello.”

“Really, now? Jeon Jeongguk?” Christopher asks, and you shrug a shoulder, “Well, I appreciate it. Tell the guy I miss him. But, that’s not the point. At this point, I’m kind of concerned. I went over my conversation with Jisung last night all morning and yet I can’t find a single reason why you would be running to my dorm like he thought or why he didn’t go see you himself. Did he do something wrong?”

“It’s not that it’s wrong. I’m just upset about it,” you answer, and Christopher nods slowly.

“Do you mind telling me what that is? If you do, it’s a possibility I can help,” Christopher suggests, but you smile and slowly shake your head.

“It’s not something you can help with this time, Chan,” You sigh, “It’s a bit too personal.”

“Okay, now I’m really concerned. I might have been Jisung’s friend longer, but I care about you, too, (Y/N). Please tell me what’s wrong. I know something’s happening between the two of you. And if it’s really that personal, I promise on my life not to tell anybody,” Christopher says.

You sigh and look around before grabbing the man’s hand and pulling him away to somewhere more private. He didn’t argue, but he seemed a bit surprised at how quickly you acted. You pulled him out to the courtyard, not caring much for being tardy, anymore. Your heart thumped in your chest. The rules vividly recite themselves in your mind; “No one else is supposed to know about this relationship.”

Well, here goes one rule flushed down the toilet.

Once you stopped, Christopher shoves his hands in his pocket, shrugging his shoulders at you, “Okay, now what is it?”

You shake your head slightly, debating whether or not to tell him. If Jisung found out, it’d be the death of you. But, you don’t know if you should be excited about that or scared. You’re not sure how he’d react to such news from Christopher.

You know what, fuck it, you thought to yourself.

“Well?”

“We’ve been fucking since the party,” you blurt out, and Christopher’s brows raise in shock. At both the news and how flat toned and blunt you were being. “I got a bit too tipsy and we ended up having sex. We made specific rules, which is so dumb of me to say since one of them is to literally tell nobody. Which means you can’t tell anyone and you can’t let Jisung know that you know this or he will kill me, Chan. Kill me, got it? Whatever, it… he and I had a bit of a fight after doing it last night.”

“But why?” Christopher carefully asks.

“Because he’s after a girl. A girl I’m not too fond of,” you admit.

“Chunae, isn’t it?”

“How’d you know?” You raise a brow, glad he isn’t overreacting to your confession to sleeping around with Jisung.

“Let’s just say that he’s been flirting with her every chance he gets,” Christopher admits, and you sigh softly, looking down in disappointment, but trying your hardest not to make it too obvious about how upset you were, “They share some classes, and he’s apparently been talking to her every chance he gets. Not to mention, Chunae seemed pretty into him, too.”

“Yeah, no shit,” you sigh, tiredness suddenly coming over you, as well as exhaustion, “We fought about it, but I’m the one in the wrong. He has every right to like someone and want to date someone. But… I dunno.”

“Do you love him?” Christopher asks slowly, and you take a seat at the nearest bench, Christopher following behind you and sitting next to you.

“I don’t know,” you answer truthfully in a small voice, “I really don’t know. One part of me misses him so much whenever I’m without him. One part of me loves him, but the other part just tells me that he’s only my friend and nothing more. But, yeah. He wanted me to stay the night at his dorm, but I didn’t since he only had me over and treated me well because he’s going to cut things off soon.”

“Do you want him to cut things off?”

“No!” You yell, a little too upset with the situation, and Christopher breaths in through his nose. You cover your face with his hands, slightly muffled by your hands, “I don’t! But he says that we will, and I-” you don’t bother to look up, cutting yourself off before you start crying out of nowhere. Your head hurt from the lack of sleep, but your eyes hurt from the need and resistance to cry.

Christopher placed a warm hand on your back, and you breath slowly.

“I don’t want him to leave me, Chris… I really don’t,” you shake your head slightly. Christopher’s hand massages your back and shoulders reassuringly. His warm hand giving you the reassurance you needed.

“I know, (Y/N), I know. It’s alright,” he sighs, his arm wrapping around you and pulling you into a hug. You don’t resist it. In fact, you lift yourself up to let your hands grip onto his shirt to hug him tightly, “If you’ll like, I can talk to Jisung. I won’t tell him that I know about the… benefits… but, I’ll let him know that you just don’t feel comfortable about his relationship with Chunae, alright? How does that sound?” Christopher’s voice is sweet and soft, calming you from your growing tears.

“That sounds perfect, Channie… thank you,” you whisper softly, your head burrowed in his chest.

It’s weird being held by another man. Another man that isn’t Han Jisung. It’s nice, especially since Christopher has such a loving and gentle personality. His hands hug you without any awkwardness, and it’s nice that someone other than Jisung can hug you without being uncomfortable.

But, your comfort was soon taken away when Christopher let’s go of you and shifts in his seat. You look up, and you see someone familiar walking towards you both. At first, your tears — blurred eyes make it impossible to see who it is, but once your eyes are cleared, Han Jisung’s perfect face comes into view. His face is stoic, his lips down turned in a subtle frown. His eyes are focused on you, and you stand up in your spot, clutching your backpack to get ready to leave.

“Don’t you dare move, (Y/N),” Jisung yells loudly, and you freeze at the spot. Christopher’s eyes widening from how aggressive Jisung sounded. Once he’s directly in front of you, he finally looks over to Christopher, and steps towards him, “I asked you to check up on her, Chan. Not do whatever the fuck you guys were doing just now.”

“What, comforting her?” Christopher stands his ground, standing up despite them both being the same height, “Something you should have been doing instead of me?”

Your hand clamps over your mouth. Jisung’s brows furrow, and his fists clench, but he doesn’t do anything, “I asked you a simple favor. To check up on her for me.”

“And that’s what I was doing,” Christopher defends himself, and you watch curiously. Neither of them spare you a glance, both staring at each other, “I’m not trying to pick a fight here, Jisung. But, it’s not my place to take care of her in… your situation.” Christopher looks Jisung up and down, and Jisung wears a disgusted look on his face. “I only asked what the fuck you did for you to think she was running off to me. ‘Cause, she was actually at the fucking coffee shop all damn morning talking to Jeongguk.”

“Jeongguk?” Jisung’s brows furrow, and he looks over to you briefly. You slowly nod, “Did you sleep at all last night?” You slowly shook your head, and Jisung groaned, running a hand through his messy hair. He turns back to Christopher, “Can you leave, Chan? I need to talk to her.”

Christopher looks past Jisung to you, and you shake your head slowly. Somewhat afraid of being alone with Jisung just for what you will talk about. However, Christopher gives you an apologetic look before turning back to Jisung, “Fine. Call me later (Y/N). If you don’t, I’m stopping by your dorm to check up on you.”

“Alright… Bye, Chan…” You mumble loudly back, and Christopher gives Jisung a subtle glance before grabbing his things and walking away.

You sat back down, half expecting Jisung to do the same. But, no, he stood in front of you. Towering over you as you stared at your feet. His hands stuff themselves into his hoodie’s pockets, and there’s a tense silence.

“Jisung…”

“Why did you run off like that last night, (Y/N)?” Jisung immediately cuts you off, and you can’t find yourself having the courage to look him in the eyes. You felt embarrassed for yourself, but you had to stay and talk to him. You don’t know how to answer. You don’t have a straight answer in your tired mind. “Answer me, (Y/N). We’re not going to get anywhere if you keep quiet.”

“I don’t know, Jisung,” you breathe out, gripping the bench below you, “I… Was just irritated.”

“Why?” Jisung crouches down so you can’t avoid his eyes. Unlike how you thought, Jisung’s eyes were more concerned than angry, like you thought they’d be. His hand escapes his pocket to rest on your knee, “I knew you weren’t irritated. You were just fine before I started talking about Chunae.”

Caught red handed. You stared at him like a deer in headlights, and your lips purse, trying your hardest to find an answer.

“I don’t know, Jisung. I really don’t,” you whisper to him pitifully, and Jisung shakes his head.

“No… No, I know you know the answer, (Y/N). I can make everything better if you just talked to me,” Jisung says in a voice you rarely heard. He’s usually joking around or simply has such an upbeat attitude. It’s so rare to see Jisung this serious, it almost makes you want to cry by how it affects you so. The way his voice lowers, relaxing and calming, yet stern. The way his eyes weren’t bright or happy, but not cold or angry.

It was almost scary.

“You say that as if there’s something wrong with me,” you try to chuckle bitterly, dodging his stare. But, his head moves with yours, and his hand that rests on your knee rises to firmly cup your cheek, turning your head to look directly at him with no exceptions.

“Because there is. There’s something you’re not telling me,” Jisung answers.

“Jisung,” your voice hardens, your heartbeat rising as Jisung’s words tug and pull at your heart, “I need to get to class. I’m already very late.”

“No, you’re staying here until we figure this out,” Jisung’s other hand grips your wrist, tugging at it, even though you never moved to get up in the first place. He seemed on edge, and took a brief glance behind him before turning back to you, “You’re my best friend for life, (Y/N). You know that. I care so much for you, and if there’s something wrong with my decisions, then I need you to tell me.”

“I…” your eyes close for a minute, nibbling on your bottom lip before looking up at him, “I don’t want you to cut things off between us, Jisung. I want to keep doing this… whatever this is. It makes me happy, Jisung.”

“Oh, (Y/N)...” Jisung sighs softly, his head dipping for a moment before he looks up at you with a pitiful smile, “Is that why you were mad last night?”

“So what if it is? You won’t do anything about it,” you answer, and Jisung’s brows furrow, “Even if I begged on my knees for you to keep doing this with me, you’d still reject me, wouldn’t you?”

“I — (Y/N), you know that I—“

“Wouldn’t you?” You cut him off, your glossy eyes boring into his. His hand falls from your face, resting on your thigh, and he squeezes it slightly.

“It depends…” Jisung answers truthfully, “On what I’m rejecting you for.” Your frown deepens, upset with his answer. Even so, you would’ve been upset if he said no. “If it’s for something stupid, like someone told me to stop or I had moral changes, hell no. But if it were for something like… like Chunae and I… then yes.”

You don’t answer him. You just stare at him, blinking every so often to try and keep away the growing tears. He would choose Chunae over you. Of course. You should have known. Everyone loved Chunae. Chunae deserved everyone’s love for how pretty, smart and proper she is. Of course Han Jisung would reject the sassy, immature and lazy (Y/N) (L/N) for a perfect woman like Chunae. You’re not a perfect woman. Not at all.

Not for Han Jisung.

It was then, at that moment of thoughts of Chunae and Jisung running through your head that you came to a sudden realization as you stared into Jisung’s worried eyes.

You’re in love with him.

You’re in love with Han Jisung. Your best friend.

“Get away from me,” you mumble.

“What…?” Jisung’s brows furrow.

“I said get away from me,” your broken voice whimpers out, “You make everything so much harder for me. Everything…” You shove away his hands and stand up, but Jisung is quick to scramble up and wrap his arms around your waist, his chest pressed against your back as his face burrows into your neck.

Your heart burns badly. It’s painful, too painful. You feel as though you’re going to collapse from how painful it is.

“Don’t go, yet. Please. You’re confusing me, (Y/N),” Jisung whispers into your neck, his warm breath sending tingles down your spine.

“No. I said get away from me,” you try and push him away, scooping your arms under his to try and push him away. But, Jisung is oddly persistent.

But, you eventually get away, grabbing your things and dashing off.

“No, (Y/N), wait! Please!” Jisung yells after you, but you're already to the building doors, throwing yourself into the building and dashing to the girl’s bathroom to recollect yourself.

And, thankfully, it’s empty. You throw your backpack down and lean against the sink. Finally, you let the tears fall. They fell down your cheeks fast and hot, the aching feeling of relief in your mind allowing you to breath slowly as the tears dripped mercilessly down your face, showing no signs of stopping.

You stared at yourself in the mirror as you cried. You were quiet. Making no sound other than sniffling here and there. You don’t even try to wipe away the tears that stain your face, too bothered and eager to cry to do so. Your eyes grow red and big, your cheeks reddening from the tears and your heart aching badly in your chest.

Once the thought of being in love with Han Jisung enters your mind, you look away from yourself. Your head falling, and you grip your hair. Shaking your head in your arms, Letting out muffled, “No, no, no!”s as you started to weakly, softly sob. Your body trembles with your tears.

You can’t be in love with Han Jisung. It’ll only end in your heartbreak. Jisung will cut things off immediately, and probably push you away once he finds out. You can’t for the life of you let him find out. You’re too scared to tell him yourself, so you have to keep it a secret from anyone who might be able to tell him and have him believe it. It’s too risky, so you’d have to keep this painful secret to yourself, no matter how badly you wanted to babble on and on about how much you hate this feeling and about how good he makes you feel, emotionally and physically.

You didn’t say a word to anyone after your short breakdown in the bathroom. You soon grew too tired to cry, and too stressed to go back to class, so you waited out that period before your lunch hour would come by. You didn’t know where to go. There would be girls hogging the bathroom, and hundreds of other students roaming the campus. You really didn’t want to be around people at this point, but you didn’t have much of a choice in the first place.

So, you went to the courtyard. You called Christopher, telling him about what happened, and he said he was going to be there right away and to meet him by the outdoor canteen. So, you sat at an empty table, waiting.

You scrolled mindlessly through your phone, wearing a blank, stoic expression as nothing was present in your all — too tired mind. Your backpack resting against your leg as you waited.

When you hear loud footsteps coming near, you look up. Not expecting who it was at first. It’s Chunae, and she looks on edge and upset. Her perfectly tinted lips frown darkly at you, and she stops in front of you.

“And where were you last class period?” She asks, and you raise your brow, turning off your phone and resting it on the table.

“Not there? Why do you care?” You scowl back at her, staring up at her with a dark glare. However, she doesn’t seem to back down, only to get angrier.

“I was supposed to give you more papers for people to contact, as well as parents and volunteers,” she throws a stack of papers in front of you. And you gawk at it. She already gave you so much shit to do beforehand, why the hell is she giving you more? You already have enough work, she should know that. She knew as well as the rest how busy political students are. And she had the audacity to throw a stack of papers on your desk and demand you to analyze and contact each person? “I want them done by this weekend, no exceptions.”

“You don’t get to decide that, Chunae,” You scoff, smiling bitterly at her. Your own anger rising, “I already have enough shit from the other stack of documents you thrusted down my throat on top of my school work. I’m not doing all this shit in less than a week!” You nearly yell, but you don’t raise your voice too much. You thrust an angry finger at the stack.

“Listen, (Y/N),” Chunae sighs, “I’m not in the best of moods right now. I don’t want to deal with bullshit right now when we’re on a tight schedule. This event is in danger of being shut down completely if we don’t finish it soon.”

“And does it look like I give two shits?” You sarcastically smile.

“Don’t joke with me, (Y/N), and please control your language. It’s giving me a headache.”

“Oh, boo — hoo,” you roll your eyes, leaning back in your chair, “What do you want? A cookie?”

“Don’t, (Y/N). I swear.” Chunae vaguely threatens, and you smirk.

“You swear what?” You urge, standing up slowly. Taking a step towards her, and she takes a small one back. Her expression doesn’t change. Her dead, yet beautiful brown eyes glaring into yours, “What’ll you do? Give me more paperwork? Tell me off to Daddy? Punch my teeth in?” You glare down at her hand, cocking a snarky brow at it before glaring at her, “I’d like to see you try to lay a finger on me.”

“Like you could do any better,” Chunae snaps, and you’re surprised how she’s snapping back instead of de — escalating the situation. It makes you excited. The urge to punch her only grew, “Your words are louder than your actions, (Y/N). Don’t underestimate me.”

You laugh loudly, “Ha! That’s funny! You… scary? Hey, I give an A- for effort, how about it?” You elbow her arm jokingly before turning back to glare through the paperwork she so selfishly threw your way.

“Don’t you dare talk to me like that,” Chunae snaps.

“You forget who’s older.”

“You forget who has Han Jisung.”

You freeze. The paper falling out of your hand as you turn slowly to see a smirking Chunae. Smiling as though she killed off her worst enemy. Your mouth falls open, and you scoff.

“What… the fuck did you just say?” You grumble darkly, her hands balling into fists at your sides.

“I said… You forget who has Han Jisung,” she repeats slowly.

You had heard her loud and clear. Just like you heard Jisung when he confessed his adoration for Chunae. You were just in shock. You did not expect this out of someone like her. And, just like that, all your respect was lost for the woman. She crossed a border she could never escape. She’s crossed a line she can never retract over. She’s pushed buttons inside you that can’t be fixed.

“I dare you to say that again.” You growl through gritted teeth, and in the corners of your eyes, you can see Christopher walking up. But, a small crowd had started to watch you and Chunae. He stops by them, deciding not to intervene physically.

“(Y/N)?” Christopher yells, and you turn your head to him. “Is…” He grows silent when he sees your angry glare.

You turn back to Chunae, Christopher watching silently, prepared if anything happens. He pulls out his phone, and presses a few buttons before pressing it to his ear. Speaking to the person on the other line under his breath. You could care less, though, and you mainly focused on Chunae.

“I said I dare you to say that again!” You finally yell, and the people in the canteen grow silent. All heads turning to the both of you, and Christopher continues talking on the phone to whoever it is. Your hand flies up, gripping the hem of Chunae’s blouse. Pulling her intimidatingly close. You’re slightly taller than her, so she looked up at you.

Chunae only chuckles softly, “I have Han Jisung… He’s mine, isn’t he?”

As if on cue, your fist, knuckling white from clenching it so hard, comes into contact with Chunae’s cheek right as an out of breath Han Jisung comes running to the scene. But, you’re too busy to pay him any mind.

Of course, like you expected, Chunae flies to the ground. Immediately cupping her face and letting out a brief cry. And, just like that, you’re the bad guy. You sigh and roll your eyes. Shaking off your hand, which aches slightly from the impact on her defined cheekbone. You turn to Christopher and Jisung. Jisung stands there, staring between you and Chunae, who lay on the ground, holding her black and blue face. Christopher just gawks at you.

“What the fuck, (Y/N)?!” Jisung yells.

“Hey, before you overreact, I can explain…”

But, you’re quickly cut off when you feel a yank at your ankle, and you let out a yelp as you get yanked down. Your body yanked down, and the top of your head slams against the table you were sitting out, letting out a loud thunk through the air. And, you can briefly see Jisung trying to run up, but Christopher holds him back briefly.

Your hand flies up to your head, dizziness overtaking you as your mind falls blank for a second. Your head begins to throb, and you hiss through your teeth. However, you’re not gifted with enough time to get over the pain like Chunae did before she towers over you. Her high heels are kicked off, and she presses the ball of her foot into your chest, forbidding airway.

You’re a little too dizzy to think, but you’re conscious enough to react. Your hand flies up on instinct, your hands gripping her ankle and twisting it with your hands, causing her to fall. Before she could have time to get back up, you climb back on top of her and straddle her stomach.

She kicked and struggled, but your hands gripped her wrists (all too familiar with this position with the help of Jisung), pinning them to the ground. Your head aches, throbbing painfully. You’re still dizzy, trying to stay conscious from both the lack of sleep and from your head hitting the table.

“Hey! Hey, calm down. Just, oh fuck, my head. Oh, my god, Chunae, what the fuck is wrong with you?” You grumble as you squeeze your eyes shut, as if that would ease the pain. But, it doesn’t.

Jisung and Christopher eventually come over. Jisung’s arms wrap around you, just below your breasts as he pulls you off. You don’t struggle, but Chunae does. Christopher struggles pulling Chunae away, who still tries to pummel you.

She got a good hit on you. But it wasn’t really her. She just yanked your ankle, which threw your head against the table. You melted into Jisung’s arms, and he helped you to your feet carefully. Every movement made your headache worse. It blistered your head, sending shots of pain through your body. You tried your best to stay conscious, but it was a bit more difficult than one might seem. So, you focused on the way Jisung’s hands held you to try and keep you awake.

You faintly heard a teacher running over, asking about what the hell was going on. Jisung excused him, saying that there was a fight but it’s been handled and he’s taking you to the nurse’s office. So, the professor let you and Chunae go without much argument (probably not wanting to deal with something like this in the middle of the day.

But, Jisung didn’t take you to the nurse’s office. Christopher did, though, dragging a struggling Chunae away to the nurse’s office with no help. Jisung whispered incoherent words to you as one of his hands gripped your waist, the other holding your hand as you stumbled on your own two feet. Your vision blurred and your stomach erupted in pain. You had a concussion, all because Chunae as able to swipe at your ankle.

You were in too much pain to think clearly, hanging onto Jisung, “Ji… my head hurts so fuckin’ bad.” Your words are muffled by the lump in your throat that grew from the pain.

“I know, baby. She got you pretty good, didn’t she,” Jisung’s soft words seem to calm your head a bit, but it goes away the moment your foot plants on the ground to take another step, “It’s alright… I’m sure she wasn’t in a good mood, that’s all.”

“Shut up,” you grumble out, and Jisung sighs softly, squeezing your waist briefly as he walks you through a pair of doors and down a hall.

“I’m sorry, (Y/N). Let’s not talk about Chunae right now. Let’s just get you to rest for a bit,” Jisung reassured, and you thanked whatever god is out there that he’ll shut up about Chunae.

“Where’re we goin’?” You look around, squinting through your blurred vision, as if that’d help (news flash; it didn’t).

“Back to my dorm,” Jisung answers, and you turn to him, “Jeongin isn’t back, yet, so don’t worry. Besides, we have better shit than the nurse will give you. She’ll just give you an ice pack and tell you to move on with your day, now won't she?” You think about it for a moment, although nothing goes through your mind. But, you agree with him and nod slowly.

The rest of the walk is silent. Sometimes, you’d nearly trip over your own feet, but with Jisung’s hand on your waist, he always caught you and whispered words of reassurance that never truly got all the way through your brain. Eventually though, you both made it to Jisung’s dorm. He unlocked it with one hand easily and threw the white door open. Not bothering to flick on the light before he walked in, kicking the door closed, and sat you on his bed.

Once you sat down, you felt like you’d been holding the world on your shoulders. You got a bit of relief since you weren’t moving around as much, but it still hurt like a bitch. Your head throbbed, everywhere. Your body twitched in pain. You couldn’t think straight nor could you see especially clearly, and you felt like you were about to throw up all of the coffee and tea you’d had this morning.

Jisung shuffled through one of his drawers before pulling out a first aid kit. He took his chair from his desk and rolled it in front of you, sitting on it and placing the first aid kit in his lap before opening it. “Dad always said to keep it handy. Turns out it’s finally coming to good use. I just need to see if there’s a wound on your head.”

And, so, without struggle, you lay forward, your head resting on Jisung’s knee as he gently moved your hair to the sides, looking for something. He did end up finding a bruise on the top of your head and said that it would be best to leave it alone for the time being before icing it. He gave you a few pills of over the counter medication to help ease the pain. But, he seemed a bit conflicted. It was mostly silent, you didn’t really talk since you didn’t have the strength to nor the will to. Chunae might be pretty weak, but with a blow to your head on the table like that… that’ll fuck you up real good.

Once you’re laying against his pillows, Jisung finally pipes up again.

“Come here.”

“Hmm?” You look up, and Jisung’s legs are spread slightly, one hand on his thigh as he looked over to you. His hair shadowing his eyes slightly.

“I said come here, now don’t be stubborn,” He motions you over with his hand, and you groan and squeeze your eye shut as you sit up and slide off of the bed and walk up to him. Jisung guides you around and slowly onto his lap. His arms wrapped around your waist tightly.

“Jisung?” You mumble softly.

“Shh… This is going to help you with the pain, baby,” Jisung whispers against your ear, and you feel his press a gentle kiss to the back of your ear. You breathe in sharply, somewhat knowing where this is going as Jisung’s hand grips at your shirt. “It’ll make your head feel so much better, baby. I’ll make you feel good, alright?”

“Mm… how would that help?” You sighed out, your head already leaning onto Jisung’s shoulder, your eyes closing in relaxation as Jisung’s hands caressed your stomach, nearing both your breasts and your womanhood, but not daring to go near just yet.

“It’ll make all your muscles relax. It’ll make you feel better,” Jisung whispers into your ear, making you shiver, “Don’t you want that? You want me to touch you, babygirl?”

You can’t think straight. All morality and logic is thrown out your mental window, so you nod quickly without thinking. One your hands swiping up to caress Jisung’s neck as he pressed a few light kisses to your ear. “Alright, (Y/N). My sweet baby. Just relax for me, alright?” The praise makes butterflies erupt in your stomach, and you nearly forget that he’s only your friend. Your legs spread slightly, your back pressing to his chest. Letting him hold your weight. “That’s my good girl. My perfect (Y/N).”

His. His perfect (Y/N). Those words made you happy, oh so happy. Even if a thought couldn’t bear to finish in your head, you still enjoyed such words. It’s a break from the name calling and the dirty talk. It made you feel like the only girl in the world. Like Chunae was never a part of the picture to begin with.

Jisung’s hands slowly unbutton your jeans, his lips still pressing kisses to the side of your neck and your ear. Occasionally whispering short sentences like, “Good girl… That’s right… Oh, baby…” It makes you squirm in his grasp as he undoes your jeans and pushes them off of you. You weakly lift up your hips to help him a little bit as Jisung lets your pants fall to the ground with a low thud. You press your ass against Jisung, your leg spreading a bit more at the feeling of the cold air of the dorm meeting your clothed womanhood, which got wetter by the second.

You let your head lift, resting your head against Jisung’s cheek to let it rest, but you wanted to watch his hands as they softly caressed your thighs. Sending calming chills through your legs and your gut as his warm hands touched your thighs and hips ever so intimately. You melted into his touch, your lips parting to allow your low breaths to become audible. You could feel Jisung’s breath against your ear and your neck, and your neck craned slightly to feel more of it.

“You’re so beautiful, (Y/N), you know that?” Jisung’s low, sudden voice sent butterflies exploding in your stomach. You whimpered softly in response, not knowing how to respond to such praise, since Jisung was quite the degrader. He’d usually call you all sorts of dirty things. He’s probably taking pity on you since you’re hurt, but it doesn’t matter. It still makes you feel so happy and so turned on. “My beautiful baby…” Jisung whispers, seemingly to himself as his fingers brush over your clothed cunt.

“Jisunggie… don’t talk nonsense,” you utter out, sharply gasping when you feel the base of his fingers press against your clothed labia.

“What nonsense?” Jisung chuckles deeply, his fingers rubbing slowly circles, making your eyes close in bliss and your head rest against Jisung’s shoulder, your hands gripping the arms of the desk chair as Jisung’s other hand squeezes your inner thigh. “Don’t say that it’s nonsense. You’re only lying to yourself.”

You didn’t respond, basking in the pleasure and praise as Jisung’s experienced fingers rubbed along your clothes labia. Soaking your panties through with your juices (yet another pair of perfectly good underwear ruined by Jisung), the outline of your pussy showing through and letting Jisung touch even more sensitive areas.

He goes for a while without actually touching your bare womanhood. Mainly his index and middle finger rubbing and massaging your labia and over your pussy. Jisung’s eyes focused on his hands as he worked them over you. You feel yourself relax, the pain easing from you. You forget about the headache, the dizziness. The nausea and the aching throughout your body; forgotten. All that’s on your mind is how intimately Jisung touches you. How his experienced hands move over your sensitive pussy in such a delicate, yet firm way. So gentle, yet so emphatic.

So loving, yet so bitterly resistant.

Your mind grows blank. Too caught up in the relaxing pleasure and from overcoming your concussion to think straightly. All that keeps your mind wandering is Jisung and Jisung alone. Not Christopher. Not the man, Jeongguk, that you met at the coffee shop. Not even Chunae. Only Han Jisung.

After long minutes of slowly teasing your cunt, soaking your panties with your wetness, Jisung finally bids you one good deed and taps your hip. Guiding you to raise it as he slips them off slowly. Letting them fall down your legs and onto the floor below. You step out of them. Your bottom half now completely exposed, yet you still wear all that’s on your torso. You didn’t care, though. It was better than being fully clothed, anyways.

“Oh, fuck…” Jisung breaths out in a rugged manner as his fingers slowly brush over the lips of your pussy, your sweet wetness seeping from you, already coating Jisung’s fingertips, “You’re so wet for me, baby. So wet for me. It makes me want to fuck you so hard. You’d like that wouldn’t you?” You frantically nod against Jisung’s head, watching as his fingers push against your labia and against your core. Firmly pressing against your clit, and your back arches as you grind your hips on his fingers. “But, I won’t. Not yet, anyways. I’m going to make you feel better, not make you scream and give you a headache all over again.”

Jisung chuckles deeply, as if what he just said was nothing more than a joke, but you didn't laugh along. He doesn’t seem to care, though, since you’re obviously so immersed in the way Jisung’s fingers rub your pussy gently. His lips part slightly, pressing a gentle kiss to your neck as his middle finger teases your entrance.

“Jisung, ahh~... Yes, please, just like that…” you whisper out in sharp breaths as Jisung slowly inserts his middle finger into you. Pumping slowly until his knuckles are pressed against your heat. “Fuck, yes… Love your fingers so much, Jisung - ah.”

“I know, baby,” Jisung tenses below you at your words, and his finger slightly curves inside you, making your leg twitch. But, his hand that caressed your thigh gripped your leg, keeping you steady on his lap. “I don’t usually get to finger you like this, do I? Letting my hands do all the work, hmm?”

No, he didn’t. But damn, you wanted him to more often. You didn’t answer, only with a delicate moan as Jisung’s middle finger slowly pumps itself in and out of you. Curving slightly every time it thrusted into you to hit that special spot. Sending chills through your torso as his finger worked inside you so well. Your walls clench around him, despite how he was going slow. It wasn’t painfully slow, but not enough to make you cum quick enough. It’s a slow burn. Slowly building up your sensitivity as his palm pressed against your clit.

“You take my fingers so well, (Y/N) - ah… You’re always so good for me, aren’t you?” Jisung comments, his voice low, yet gentle. Soft to the ear, and not as aggressive and dark as it tended to be during sex. It sent you on an overdrive. It drove you crazy by just his tone of voice. It made your heart ache and your pussy wetter and wetter. “You don’t know how hard this is for me, baby…”

Oh, you knew. You can feel his hard dick pressing against your ass. The only thing keeping you two apart was his few articles of clothing. But, no matter what he was wearing, you could still feel how he ached underneath you. You mentally applauded him, but you were too lost in the lust to actually bid him something of a congratulations for being able to hold back this long (since he was usually pretty desperate to get his dick inside you).

It’s another minute or so until Jisung pushes in another finger. Slowly stretching you out and making you moan even louder. The way his fingers curled ever so slightly inside you, hitting that special spot over and over again drove you insane. His fingers pressing against it firmly with the tips of it. Your mind hazed with lust and desire, and your craving for him grew even bigger and even more intense.

“Shit, Jisung - ah… That feels so good ~,” you moan out as you meet with Jisung’s knuckles, grinding into his fingers.

“Hmm… does it, baby? You feel good?” You nod slowly to his words, and Jisung breathily chuckles, smiling, “See? I said it would help.”

“I don’t care about that…'' you sigh out softly, although it wasn’t entirely the truth and you were thankful that Jisung’s suggestion was able to subside your headache. “I want you to fuck me dumb, Jisung. I want to think about nothing but you.”

Jisung’s fingers stay inside you, his hand pressed against your throbbing pussy as he looks at your face. You already looked so fucked out. So desperate, your eyes craving and needy. “Are you sure?”

You slowly nod, turning your head and pressing a kiss to his lips briefly. It wasn’t too sloppy, but your tongue brushed over his lips, “Yes, Jisung… I want you to make me your bitch…”

“Oh, sweet, sweet (Y/N)...” Jisung chuckles darkly, his hand pulling itself from your pussy, making you twitch and gasp loudly as his wet hand flies up to grip your cheeks. Pushing your head back slightly as his fingers press into your jaw, holding your head in place as you clenched around nothing. Your pussy craves both release and Jisung ever so badly.

“You were my bitch since the beginning,” Jisung’s voice grows familiarly dark, and you try to clamp your legs shut from the chills that run through your womanhood. But, Jisung’s hand yanks your legs apart. “Keep your legs spread for me. I’m going to fuck you until you’re begging for me to stop.”

You let out a breathy moan, and, at first, you thought Jisung was going to pull you into a kiss. But, he didn’t. He chose a rougher path. He quickly pushes you off of him. Standing up and pushing you face first onto the bed. The back of his hand pushing your face down into the sheets, the other guiding your hips up slowly. Spreading your legs for him. Such a dirty position, your dripping pussy on display for no one other than Han Jisung.

But, he doesn’t spend much time staring at your pussy. Instead, his hands grip your wrists, and he grinds his clothed, hard cock against your wet pussy. He let out a breathy moan, leaning over your so he was next to your ear as he whispered, “You see how hard you make me, (Y/N)? You see you fucking riled up you make me? Makes me want to fuck this pussy all damn day. Have you sit on my cock all fucking day, huh?”

You moan out in response, your hair spread as your hoodie fell down. Your bra is slightly exposed, and Jisung pulls himself up. Basically ripping off your bra and tossing it to the side. Not even bothering with the hoodie itself as he tore down his jeans.

You couldn’t watch him, so you knew he was fully exposed when you heard the snap and fall of his boxers. It’s almost an instant when his throbbing head comes out and presses against your pussy. Your lips fall wide open as Jisung rubs his cock over your soaking pussy.

“Oh, fuck, you’re so wet for me,” Jisung moans out lowly, “So ready for my cock, like always. So desperate for me. So needy for me cock, aren’t you? Already so fucked out and I haven’t even put my dick inside you yet. Such a slutty girl…”

You moan out, your back arching, presenting yourself more to him, “Jisung! Jisung, please just fuck me…! I need it so bad, please…So bad…” You breath out rapidly, clutching the sheets.

Jisung lets out a shaky breath in response to your begging, “Since you asked so nicely…”

And, like an instant, Jisung was inside you. His hips pressed against your ass, his hands guiding your hips back to meet with his. You let out loud strings of moans and groans of Jisung’s name and incoherent words as Jisung fucks himself into you, raw. His dick throbs inside your wet walls. You clench around him desperately, your back falling limp as you succumb to the pleasure.

“Oh, fuck, (Y/N), you do so well in this po-position, don’t you?” Jisung breathes out raggedly, and you moan loudly in response. Jisung’s hands harshly gripping your hips and waist to have you meet back with his harsh, aggressive thrusts. His cock burns your hot walls, burning in such a blissfully good way, it makes your eyes roll back in pleasure.

“Ji-Jisunggie -ah… It’s so… so good - oh, fuck! Just like that, please, just like that!” You scream out as Jisung props up one of his legs, allowing him to have a better angle to thrust even faster and harder. Ramming his rock hard dick into you with passion. Jisung’s hands trail around your waist and ass once you’ve started to bounce back, meeting with his thrusts on your own.

His hands knead your ass. Spreading your cheeks before firmly pressing them. One of his hands, however, reaches up. Slowly crawling up your back, and his hips stagger a bit as his hands grip a handful of your hair. First, his hand merely presses against your head. But, at some point, he yanks you head back. Forcing you up from the bed, and you use your weak arms as support as Jisung’s hand yanks at your hair. You stare at the wall, but you don’t focus on it. You can’t. Your eyes keep rolling back or crossing, mixing beautifully with your loud moans.

Jisung uses the grip on your hair to give him a steadier rhythm as he thrusted into you. His hips slapping against your ass, making it bounce with every thrust. The sounds of skin slapping, your loud moaning and Jisung’s groans and occasional dirty talk filled the room as Jisung pressed wet kisses to your neck. Suckling on the back of your neck especially, and you moan from the feeling of his tongue being flushed against your sweating skin.

It was so much, his cock, the pulling of your hair and his tongue on your neck. Your mind falls blank, thinking of nothing other than Jisung’s cock. Some drool dribbles down the side of your chin as your eyes water from the pleasure. You can’t say anything more, not even being able to form Jisung’s name correctly. You’re so fucked out, so beautifully fucked out.

Jisung definitely noticed it, too, since it gave him the courage to start biting your sensitive skin. It was more sensitive in some places, and you immediately knew that he left hickeys. He bite them gently, yet firmly before running his tongue over the markings.

Your pussy clenched around him dangerously tight. So tightly, it makes Jisung let out a low, broken moan and makes his hips stagger and twitch as he presses himself deep into you. “You’re gonna cum, aren’t you, babygirl? You gonna cum for me like the good little slut you are? Cum on my cock, (Y/N). Cum for me,” Jisung groans out loudly, pressing your head against the sheets again, muffling your loud moans as you feel your climax nearing.

Your knees buckle as your legs twitch and tense dangerously tightly as you feel yourself cum hard. Jisung slows down slightly, riding you out on your high. Your loud moans turn into high pitched ones as your back spasms from the intensity of it.

Right after you cum, Jisung quickly pulls out of you before shooting ropes of white cum onto your ass. You breathe heavily, trying your best to catch your breath as you listen to Jisung moan loudly once he cums, too. Your pussy clenches around nothing, and you feel your entire body relax. All your muscles calm. Exhaustion washes over you like a tidal wave.

And you’re out like a light.

Jisung was a bit concerned as to why you fell asleep so easily. But, he didn’t argue. He gently cleaned you both up while you slept and changed you into a pair of his clothes after he realized you wouldn’t wake up even if he blew an air horn in your ear. He laid you in his bed, as comfortably as he could make you. He wiped the sweat off of your face and watched your sleeping face for a few minutes before he moved back to his desk, grabbing his laptop from his backpack and opening it. Opening work for his classes, since he’ll be absent for the rest of the day.

You slept exceptionally soundly, and he was thankful for that.

Jeongin actually came back that night, too. At first, he didn’t see you sleeping in Jisung’s bed, but once Jisung motioned for him to be quiet, Jeongin looked over to his bed to see locks of (H/C) hair poking out of the blanket. He wondered why you were here, and Jisung naturally just said that you had gotten into a fight and injured yourself and he was taking you in to take care of you. Jeongin didn’t argue much and minded his own business for the rest of the day.

However, Jisung intended to sleep next to you. But, he couldn’t bring himself to. The guilt piling inside him prevented him from doing so.

[thetypedwriter]

These Violent Delights Book Review

These Violent Delights Book Review by Micah Nemerever 

I love sharing my book opinions with others. One of the primary reasons I started this blog was to share my very strong 

feelings as I didn’t have many people in real life that I could do that with (or who were interested in listening). 

Throughout this experience, I’ve also loved listening to others and their opinions on books. Sometimes I agree with them, sometimes I vehemently disagree with them, and sometimes it’s a cacophonous mix of both. 

One bookstragrammer I like in particular shares my very opinionated feelings more often than not. So of course, the other day while browsing Instagram, I caught a post of hers asking the question: what book can you not stand others criticizing?

This really got me thinking, as there are a plethora of books I adore, but I’m not blind to their flaws. The Foxhole Court, for example, is a book series I’ve read over three times now, a series I’m obsessed with, and yet I completely understand why others don’t like it. 

The only book series that I could possibly see as fitting the question is Harry Potter. Now. I’ve met people who don’t like Harry Potter. That’s fine. 

However, I also have yet to meet a single person who has read all seven books and still disliked it. Usually people who dislike Harry Potter either haven’t read the books, didn’t finish reading the books, or have only seen the movies. I’m sorry (not sorry) to say, but those people don’t count.  

In the same vein, I was so incredibly curious to read a book that someone I admire claimed they hated seeing critiques of. 

Let me say right now: I hope they don’t see this review. 

These Violent Delights by Micah Nemerever is not to be confused with the Romeo and Juliet remake duology by the same name by Chloe Gong. The two books have nothing in common except for their title. 

These Violent Delights by Michael Neveremer is an odd little book about two teenage boys growing up in the 1970’s in Pittsburgh. 

As the two boys meet, named Paul and Julian respectively, they feel seen and understood by someone else for the first time in their entire lives. 

The book delves into the dangers of codependency, issues of isolation and elitism, and the toxicity in the belief that no one else can understand what the characters are going through. 

I do like the theme of this novel. I’m obsessed with the idea of someone feeling special or like they’re the exception. However, I usually like this (especially in Romantic pairings) in a positive way. 

For example, one partner doesn’t like sharing food with friends or family but will let their romantic partner get away with it. Something small and cute and worthless. 

This novel takes the idea of being the exception to intense and violent lengths as Julian and Paul do anything and everything to prove that they need nor want anyone but each other. 

Mental health, intelligence, philosophy, and justice all play a role as the two boys grow closer and closer with devastating consequences. 

This book, while entertaining in a dark and twisted kind-of-way, did make me want to keep turning the page as the book starts in medias res. 

The first chapter shows you exactly how far these boys will go and the whole book is you leading up to the moment of climax and the aftermath of the climax as you witness Paul and Julian dealing with the consequences of their actions. 

I know I haven’t been very detailed about what this book is or exactly what it’s about, but honestly, I’ve said almost all that I can. The book is less about plot points and specific timelines and more about the evolving relationship between Paul and Julian and the spiderweb effects it has both on them and the people around them.

This book is deeply psychological as well as thrillingly emotional. 

It’s dark and creepy and more often than not, perplexing and convoluted. 

Nemerever is a good writer, but at times I found him intentionally dense and confusing which I didn’t always appreciate while reading. I like the overall themes of this book and the ending was unexpected which is always, always a joy. 

However, this book didn’t have a happy ending. 

Maybe it was naive of me to think it would, but I still wanted it, no matter that these characters were too broken for something like a happy ending. 

Overall, I disagree with my bookstagrammer entirely. While I enjoyed the dark maelstrom that was These Violent Delights, I don’t think it was without fault. 

The sometimes pretentious writing, the inversion of a beloved trope, and the desolate ending all made me frown more than smile.

While the themes are very real and the book was richly driven by character relationships, it wasn’t enough at the end of the day to leave this book without any negatives. 

Recommendation: If you enjoy dark stories with ambiguous characters where the plot revolves almost entirely around the progression and dissolution of a very intimate, punishing, and toxic relationship this very well may be the story for you. For me, the writing was often confusing and the paltry ending left me dissatisfied and unhappy. If you can stomach not getting your “happy ever after” this twisted tale will keep you on the edge of your toes. 

Score: 6/10

[shinebrightlikeanarwhal]

Brain going brrr for Shen Jiu food today sosisosl

So hear me out, modern au. Shen Jiu doesn’t remember anything of their past live(s) and is a relatively famous internet chef. Like he has a PO Box and everything for his fans to send gifts or letters for him to personally read and tell them either what to do or that he’s proud, he never shows his face though, a deathly fear of being found, but by who? His young son, Ming Fan, is all but excited to be Shen Jiu’s direct bloodline in this life. Shen Qingqiu was always his father figure in the first life, but the second he got hurt or something and started caring for that nasty LBH.

Sometimes, Shen Jiu feels unsafe when out on the street and going about his day to day life. He doesn’t know why but certain faces of public figures terrify him. A little lady on the street selling hand made jewelry and staring at him like she’s seen a ghost makes him physically sick. God, he despises the face of this rather famous actor, Luo Bing-something?? He hates this confusing feeling that seemed to come of nowhere. That doesn’t stop them from trying to approach once they see him.

Women in fancy clothes and strong perfume dote on him and he practically melts in their arms. Confused on how they know his name but more than happy to chat about life. They seem happy for him, ecstatic even! Men in suits ranging from serious CEO to flashy idols would stop their cars and holler at him for his time of day. He despises men like that and gives them no acknowledgement while he continues on his way. If he’s lucky they have a tight schedule, if not they follow him to the grocery store and corner him in the frozen section while he picks out treats for his son. Two men have tried that and were met with a smack by popsicles. Social media was set a blaz when videos of this Luo Binghe and Liu Qingge cornered the same man on different days and tried harassing him. Of course their stans refused to believe it was their fault. It MUST be the pretty man minding his business throughout the proof on the grocery camera. The companies dared to contact him afterwards and SJ happily sent back his lawyers information and video proof of their ‘important persons’ harassment and stalking.

One was bold enough to publicly announce that they were looking for him at a political event. Broadcasted nationwide. Shen Jiu felt nothing but disdain for that Yue man. Who says “I’m looking for a man I haven’t seen since I was young and dumb.” During a political conference?? Just because you know it’s being broadcasted!? His fans during a livestream asked what he thought about it and he angrily said that Yue man was a fool! An absolute clown for thinking that wishing some guy that doesn’t even know him will come looking for him just because he said his name!

He never had a bad experience with women until one scowled at him and he instinctively scowled back. He had his son with him that day and was trying to not be hounded. But this woman continued to follow him and berate his clothing, his hair. He could handle scrutiny of himself but the moment she said anything about Ming Fan, be it his appearance or his mother, he drew the line. Wiping around to face this despicable woman and spitting the iciest response he could without scaring Ming Fan. He remembered seeing her on a magazine before. Some model or washed up actress. God help her when he posts the body cam footage his partner made him wear after the second Grocery store incident. She scoffed at him and just continued to point and jeer at him. Wondering if the others were only following him for his pretty face. Others?? The men that harassed him and the girls that scurried with their tail between their legs?? Shen Jiu is starting to think it’s time to move. He desperately wants to mind his business and live his life but they seem adamant on harassing him.

So he does! He announces it on a video after the fact so that they can’t find him even if they try to. Perks of dating a rich ceo, anonymity is quite easy with money!

Shen Jiu happily married his now hubby and they have many more kids with Ming Fan adoring them all. He refuses to be nice to this one lady at his school that tries to be friendly with him and will run crying to SJ, who remembers her as the jewelry stand girl, and he immediately has his son in a different class. Life going well for the man who was claimed to be evil in past lives, meanwhile the others are crumbling day by day now that he’s missing and they can’t seem to find him, no matter what. (NYY may have stalked him to the remote village but she wouldn’t tell the others. She can’t risk making Shizun hate her more). The ones that harassed her were publicly pitted by their companies and forced to apologize to him specifically. When word got out that Shen Jiu vanished it did NOT look good for them.. LBH had the wrath of his mother and LQG had a mother and grandmother to fear. QQQ was fired and black listed from the media. She would have just apologized if she had insulted the man himself, but following and insulting the child too? The media scorned her already shitty gossip personality. Any time she tried to get on tv they would turn on his and snicker about her cancellation. YQY lived lavishly, but lonely. He had a political marriage and no children. He refused to touch his wife. No matter what she would say all he could do is smile and apologize. Work wise things were going well. Since they didn’t have a punching bag to push everything on and the other politicians seemed to work smoothly despite disagreements, he had no real need to focus on work 24/7. But he did. He was always in his office scouring the internet for Xiao Jiu.

SY and SQH weren’t mentioned because they literally wouldn’t do anything different from usual. They wouldn’t even meet their past life husbands (LBH would think SY is a fan and just give his usual charm and leave. He’s already found SJ, this man is just a fake clearly). SQH wouldn’t have the chance to get MBJ, the neet writer would see him once and fumble his words. Probably earning a scoff as MBJ walked off to go meet his peer/partner. The two millennials would probably bond online over a story and get close. Maybe a failed relationship but remained friends.

TLDR; Everyone reincarnated and their lives fall apart if they don’t change their attitude towards SJ. SJ doesn’t remember them and just wants to raise his baby MF in peace. Jobs are lost and public relations are plummeting because these fools couldn’t find healthier ways to reconnect with SJ.