#and then the third is drama that has no tidy ending

[historyherstory]

I have not spent this much time figuring out french tenses and conjugation of verbs in like, fifteen years.

My brain hurts.

[luulapants]

Alright, I didn't want to dogpile and write an essay on someone else's post, but I saw this tweet posted, and I have some things to say.

People no longer differentiate between art and entertainment, and people no longer know how to be entertained by art. Yes, there are some things that are just goofy and mindless and fun. There are also instances where you can clearly see that a creator was trying to make art, to say something important to them, and people will sit around and complain that it's not good entertainment, as if that's the only thing creators should make.

Professors complained about "edutainment" when I was in college, and I remember rolling my eyes and thinking to myself, "Ok, you're boring, and somehow that's my fault." Maybe it wasn't my fault. Maybe it was the fault of our higher education system, for being such an expensive commodity that one could reasonably expect to be entertained by it. Maybe it was the fault of our media, which started blending news reporting with the same sort of scripted comedy and drama I expected to see in reality TV shows. I don't think I can pin down specific fault, but I can identify that, for some reason, I thought someone who was trying to educate me should have been entertaining me instead.

The American House of Representatives had to create what was essentially an edutainment TV series just to get people to tune in to learn about the most serious coup attempt against our government - instigated by a reality TV star we elected to our highest office - because they rightfully assumed that no one would watch otherwise. No one would care.

Reporter Megan Garber, in her article "We're Already in the Metaverse," points out that the language we use to describe reality is now infected with narrative concepts: "in my villain arc," "the final season of America," "main character syndrome," "canceled." We are currently wrapping up the third season of COVID and no one seems to understand why it hasn't been canceled yet. We are so saturated in the culture of entertainment that we expect reality to follow a narrative structure.

I get upset when my favorite characters have unsatisfying endings, I do. I get it. I get upset when a previously well-crafted story doesn't get the chance to give me the ending it deserved, either because it got canceled too early or renewed for too long.

But maybe in a day and age when every studio-production movie is pinned up and trimmed to a commercially-approved template of the hero's journey, when book publishers only consider what marketable booktok tropes a work has to offer, maybe the most subversive thing a person can make is a story that doesn't provide a tidy, familiar narrative. A story that is more like reality than fiction. Maybe the greatest rebellion available to today's artists is to stop making content, stop making entertainment, and create something the audience cannot passively consume but must actively choose to enjoy.

Make something unpopular.

Make art.

[spinelli-gemelli]

A Degrassi Essay About Rick Murray

(Part 3a.)

"Do I look like I have time for a chat, Richard?"

In a perfect world, and by that I mean my perfect world, season 4's events would unfold something like this: Rick returns to Degrassi; the school ostracizes him via Emma’s campaign; Rick is tormented everywhere he goes; Emma puts an end to Jay's ballistics once the violence against Rick gets out of hand; Rick would learn his lesson and never lay a finger on another girl again; and everyone leaves him alone while he completes his tenth grade year for the second time.

But this is Degrassi. The drama never ends. Drama is inherently messy. And that ending is way too tidy for drama.

While Emma made it clear that she wasn't going to torture Rick in the halls, this memo doesn't reach the other characters. There are three in particular who constantly jab at him: Spinner, Jay, and Jimmy. At this point, pushing him around is just for sport, and Jay would admit to that if you asked him, I guarantee it. Whether or not Rick deserves it, whether or not you feel sorry for the kid, one has to wonder: where are the teachers when all of this is happening? Has anyone reported this to the principal? In this installment, we will explore another popular talking point in the Degrassi fandom: could Mr. Raditch have stopped tragedy from befalling Degrassi? Could he have prevented Rick from returning in the first place?

Let's begin with the first question: could Mr. Raditch have stopped the school shooting? We the viewers learn that Rick has sought out help multiple times based on two different scenes from the show. The first instance is from episode 4x07, the first half of the two-parter episode titled "Time Stands Still". About a quarter of the way into part one, we see Rick making a visit to the principal's office and asking him to intervene in the Whack-Your-Brain predicament that he was recently forced to face. Earlier that day, Mr. Simpson decided to draft Jimmy onto the trivia team last minute after Heather Sinclair got sick with mononucleosis. At this time, Jimmy Brooks is still giving Rick a hard time at school, and he'd be damned if he let that jock taint the only thing he has going for him at Degrassi that doesn't feel like hell on earth! Raditch is already short with Rick in this scene as he rummages through papers and moves back and forth in the office. "Do I look like I have time for a chat, Richard?" He barks at the student. Fortunately Rick isn't discouraged yet. He goes on to tell the principal that Jimmy "doesn't like [him], and he has no qualms expressing it." Rick doesn't name drop here; he simply refers to Brooks as "a member of the Whack-Your-Brain team".

A Youtuber by the name of NotaVampyre uploaded a video about this very exchange and brought something to my attention. Rick's wording in this scene as he's asking for help...he is being extremely vague. At first he starts off direct after Mr. Raditch asks him why he wants to chat. He says that Jimmy is harassing him. When Raditch asks how, that's when Rick gives his vague response. You can make a case that the principal is aware that Rick was at odds with a large number of kids at school, especially if we refer to the deleted scene where Marco and Alex ask him to reconsider letting Rick return to Degrassi, arguing that "he's a danger...especially to girls" as Alex Nunez would put. Unfortunately, the principal is wrapped up in whatever office task he has in front of him, and Rick's concerns are brushed off hastily.

"Richard, I've told you time and time again: it takes two to tango," he tells the boy. It's from this quote that we learn this probably isn't Rick's first trip to the principal's office. Or second. Probably not even the third. The principal goes on to say that he suggests that Rick tries harder to get along with the other student and to come back if anything serious happens. He dismisses the subject immediately after, leaving no room for any more questions Rick has leftover. The student receives the message loud and clear from Raditch: he is left to face this problem on his own.

To answer the question: yes, I believe the principal could have, and should have, done his due diligence; it could have potentially saved lives. Rick, however, should have also been more ingenious in his approach. Nonetheless, I can understand why Rick wouldn't want to open up about his suffering. I imagine it's much harder for teen boys to admit that they are victims of bullying than it would be for teen girls. Not only is it humiliating for him, though the same could be said about a girl, but there is also the feeling of being emasculated that is unique to the male experience. The teen boy thus suffers a double blow to his ego; first in a crisis of his masculine identity, and the second in humiliation. Men are socialized and hardwired to be tough and competent enough to fight their own battles; any other action or reaction would be perceived as weak and feminine, two things that men neither want nor are expected to be, especially the more masculine he is. I think this is partially the reason why Rick didn't express plainly the ways in which he had been harassed, though not necessarily because he is masculine in the traditional sense, especially since it's been presented in the show that he isn't. Rather, his pride prevented him from being completely transparent, not to mention his distinct, eccentric way of speaking. His flowery language sets him apart even more from the other characters, something that I like about him. It's a sentiment that both NotaVampyre and I share. In this instance, however, Rick's vocabulary works against him as he's not being clear in what he wants from Mr. Raditch.

Even if Rick did come forward, the principal would still have to meet him halfway. Perhaps the other part of the reason why Rick didn't open up about the torment is that he had little expectations for the principal to take action. As we mentioned before: this isn't Rick's first visit to Raditch's office; maybe Rick had told him about a specific incident, such as being shoved against the lockers, before the moment we saw in 4x07 and had gotten nowhere. Maybe deep down, Rick knew nothing would come of confiding into an authoritative figure and didn't bother himself with the details of what was happening to him. Alas, these are only my speculations. We really never know how many times Rick attempted to get outside help, though we can infer that it was at least two. We never know what all Rick told the principal about the bullying he had been facing, thus we the audience are forced to fill in the gaps yet again and make our own deductions about what happened.

[biblioflyer]

Discovery S5E2 First Reactions

I've always been lukewarm on Discovery. This episode charmed me. Something I've long appreciated about Discovery is that it has continuously worked to address valid criticism without tossing overboard literally everything that sets it apart. I don't agree with every spicy Picard S3 take, but in spite of my enjoyment of that season, I felt a mild concern, if not irritation that what I liked about the series from its first two seasons was largely being ignored.

I've never had that sense with Discovery. With the exception of that utterly baffling episode where everyone started acting like Georgiou had redeemed herself without ever actually walking back her psycho persona significantly, Discovery has done a really good job of growing across all dimensions. The writing is more polished, the cinematography is excellent, the actors live inside their characters in a very natural way. There is nary a jar of eye drops in sight.

If this was pre-streaming era Trek with its 20+ episode seasons, we'd recognize this as the beginning of Discovery's third season. When Trek usually starts getting actually good rather than something with hokey charm.

And I'm actually kind of bummed this is its last season.

This was a nice "lore" episode. Lots of nice callbacks to bits and bobs of Trek trivia, but not overwhelmingly so.

I didn't see the twist coming with Raynor but I dig it. I liked Saru's observation that Burnham is "a force of nature." Like in previous seasons, Burnham's much criticized character flaws are acknowledged and overcoming them and working around them are part of the story, and handled quite well. Burnham is impulsive, empathic, and fiercely a creature of conscience. She benefits from having level headed people around her. Like Saru, whose arc throughout the series has been phenomenal.

Of course maybe I'm just a massive Doug Jones fanboy.

Culber doesn't seem like he's going to be a major player in this season, but he's doing good service as being the guy to deliver the good stuff, like "I asked how you were, not what you've been up to."

I'm steeling myself for a sudden pivot to the YA relationship drama genre next episode. I do have hope that given how everyone else is increasingly very natural in their roles and not feeling the need to oversell things, this will also be the case with Adira and Gray.

I recognize this is a loose end that deserves tidying up for fans of this particular relationship and I will endeavor to not be a spoil sport. Rest assured ready, its because I just don't like teenage / YA cringe, not because of the identities of the characters.

I'm not overly enthusiastic about Burnham and Book either. I've just never found it persuasive as an on screen romance, from a chemistry standpoint or character dynamics. It sort of made sense when Burnham was looking to leave Starfleet and as a sort of legacy of that time when having a sort of Han Solo type character as a partner made sense. But again, its just not my jam. They're interesting characters on their own, and it lowkey frustrates me that Discovery seems to think that romance is the primary way to do character evolution.

That having said, I maintain my promise to be seriously grumpy if anything happens with Saru and K'rina.

I am curious about what the MacGuffin will be in the end. I'm already assuming its another callback to TNG where everyone is hugely disappointed because its not the sort of thing that would radically shift the balance of power in the galaxy, but rather something more wholesome. Another message, the Progenitors' library: that sort of thing. A kind of passing of the torch where the Federation is kind of the new Preservers.

[disappointingyet]

2022: The Big Round-up

Decision To Leave

My most anticipated film of the year. And one that could, once I’ve rewatched it, become my favourite movie of 2022. But right now Park Chan-wook’s Vertigo-esque romantic detective drama ranks as a disappointment, sabotaged by the film effectively restarting just as it seems to be ending.

Full review here

(MUBI)

Everything Everywhere All At Once

This is a good film: it’s funny, it’s surprising, it’s moving, it’s got Michelle Yeoh doing martial arts. It has maybe my favourite scene of 2022 (the rocks!). So why isn’t this one of my films of the year?

Essentially, because I’m so done with art in which the future of the world or the universe is at stake. If you’ve seen EEAAO you’ll get the irony: what the film is really concerned with is family relationships, but by the time I grasped that, I had zoned out a bit because of all the multiverse exposition. I’ll confess I enjoyed it most as an indie drama about an immigrant family running a laundromat before the weirdness fully set in.

Rein A Foutre (Zero Fucks Given)

This is two-thirds of a truly excellent movie. It stars Adele Exarchopoulos as an air-cabin crew person for a low-budget airline whose hedonistic lifestyle in assorted resorts is shown through lots of short, impressionistic scenes, reminding (in form) of Moonlight or Exhibition. Alas, then she goes back to her parents’ home in Belgium and it all becomes plodding and cliched. Shame.

(MUBI)

Apollo 10 1/2: A Space Age Childhood 

Maybe the prettiest film of the year? Richard Linklater’s nostalgic look back at the Houston suburbs during the summer of the first moon landing, with animation over film, is just gorgeous. Unfortunately, the visuals are at the service of what is, to all intents and purposes, a long, particularly dull episode of The Wonder Years. Might work better with the film sound off and music on (something like Easter Everywhere by the Texan psych masters the Thirteenth Floor Elevators?)

Full review here

(Netflix)

Black Panther: Wakanda Forever

Small sample size: I saw this with my sister, niece and nephew. Conclusion: as a popcorn movie, this fails. As an opportunity to ponder politics and the directorial hiring strategies of Marvel Studios, it’s fine.

So theory: the Marvel dudes have accepted the notion that I share that the action is the weakest element of these supposedly action movies. Hence they keep hiring directors with no experience of action and thus the perfunctory fight scenes in Wakanda Forever. Which, instead, is a story about grief and loss on the one hand and revisiting the 1960s idea of the non-aligned movement of post/anti-colonialist countries.

But if you came for entertainment, it’s a bit dull.

For a review of BP:WF star Tenoch Huerta in a Mexican slacker indie movie, go here

The Wonder

The kind of chunky prestige project that goes straight to streaming these days: heavyweight arthouse director (Sebastian Lelio), adapted from a book by a writer with a previous novel that was prime Oscar bait (Room’s Emma Donahue), of-the-moment lead (Florence Pugh) and estimable support (Toby Jones and Ciaran Hinds, working together for at least the third time). Modernity – in the form of Pugh’s Crimean War-veteran nurse – confronts superstition/faith in a1860s rural Ireland still scarred by the Famine. It’s fine, but never gets beyond the obvious. I guess you could say there’s some gender rebalancing going on in that Tom Burke’s role as the bloke is as perfunctory as too many female potential romantic interests have been in the past. The ending is a bit too tidy, too.

(Netflix)

She Said

She Said is a well-made, well-acted, well-intentioned movie about important subjects. But it’s also a film that offers plenty to nitpick about, if you were so inclined. There’s no doubt that the working moms as reporters is a useful corrective to journalism movies of the past. And I wasn’t expecting it to remind me so much of a Michael Mann flick in its look and all the one-on-ones in bars, restaurants and work canteens. But the sheer weight of exposition, especially aimed at senior members of the New York Times staff, was grating. And the two leads lack flaws. Most of all, the story doesn’t quite work in terms of building and resolving tension. 

Aftersun 

Late 1990s. Scottish father long broken-up with the mother of his daughter takes the 11-year-old on a late summer holiday to a resort in Turkey. That’s your whole premise, and that’s fine by me. In her debut, Frankie Corio is perfect as Sophie. There’s hints of Moonlight in the way that this does feel like fragments of memories, propped up by snatches of home video, and Barry Jenkins is a producer on this film. The recreation of holiday moments is terrific.

So why wasn’t I as moved by this as all the critics? Partly because I saw because I had heard it was that good and worth spending £18 to see even if clearly some of it was going to be grim, so my expectations were way too high. Partly because to me Paul Mescal – who plays the dad – is an uninteresting potatoey bloke with bad hair rather than the cause he seems to be for some folk. But mainly because many admirers talk about how subtle* it is - and I don’t think that’s accurate. It’s true the script does limit the number of times characters discuss their emotional state – but the camerawork and the soundtrack are extremely busy filling in the blanks. Most of the songs – and certainly the one in the climactic scene – could hardly be more obvious. And that rather soured me on it.

*The Canadian critic Adam Nayman – who loves the film – has what I think is a more accurate take on it: that director Charlotte Wells takes some big swings at key moments of the film. For Nayman, they connected and were emotionally devastating. But if they don’t land for you, then they can look clumsy.

(MUBI)

Sr

‘Sr’ is Robert Downey, director of underground/alternative movies from the 1960s onwards, whose fame was eclipsed by his film-star son. Jr produced and hogs screen time in this documentary, shot in elegiac b&w. There’s a handful of things the film is trying to do: summarise Sr’s colourful life and career, explore his complicated legacy to Jr (gave him his start as an actor, but also gave him his introduction to illegal substances along with an addict’s genes), allow Sr a partial chance to make a swan song, and chronicle his worsening Parkinson’s. And in the middle of all this, Covid happens.

It’s an excellent piece of filmmaking and Sr seems to have been quite a character (I’ve never seen any of his films – Paul Thomas Anderson is a mega fan, but they look a bit exhausting.) But Jr is hugely annoying and we get far too much of him.

(Netflix)

Amsterdam 

This is generally considered one of the turkeys of the year. I saw long after it had been written off, and so certainly had non-existent expectations and none of the pressure that comes with having paid to see something. So I watched and waited to groan with exasperation but never did. It’s not great but also… not terrible? It belongs to a hyper-specific micro-genre: somewhat comedic period-set neo-noirs that draw on (apparently) true conspiracies and in which race is a key story point but the movie is made by a white dude. See also: last year’s No Sudden Move, 2019’s Motherless Brooklyn and season four of Fargo (two of the stars of which have supporting roles here). It’s a mood – Pynchonesque? (add Inherent Vice to that list) that appeals more to movie folk than audiences.

Amsterdam was directed by David O Russell and a stuffed cast: Christian Bale, Margot Robbie and John David Washington are your leads, then there’s Bob De Niro, Rami Malek and Anya Taylor-Joy, Michael Shannon and Mike Myers, Zoe Saldaña, Chris Rock and Timothy Olyphant, and Taylor Swift. It’s too long, obviously, and crams in a lot of stuff, like Robbie’s character single-handedly inventing surrealism. But I laughed in the right places and was rarely bored, so am mildly baffled by the total trashing this got.

(Disney +)

Barbarian

One of those movies that’s absolutely impossible to write about spoiler-free – and (of course) just writing that is a spoiler. Anyway, Barbarian is a horror movie, it’s set in Detroit, it stars Georgina Campbell (yet another Brit in Hollywood) as a woman in town for a job interview, it’s rather good and that’s all I’m going to say.

(Disney +)

Argentina 1985

On the one hand, I’m mostly not in favour of trying to explain complex historical events through the story of one person (usually one dude). And when you are using that one dude for an account of a battle against injustice that was sustained and embodied by a group of very determined mothers, that seems somewhat questionable.

On the other, there’s a lot to like and admire about this film. The always-watchable Ricardo Darín stars as Julio César Strassera, the prosecutor assigned to try the members of the Argentinian junta that had recently stepped down but were still in control of the military. His task is to establish their responsibility for the ‘dirty war’ in which thousands of people disappeared. The film attempts (and I think largely succeeds) on balancing good-humoured scenes of how the somewhat weary and middle-aged Strassera assembles a bright young team to put together the case with the harrowing testimony of survivors and relatives of victims.

(His son is super-annoying though.)

(Prime)

The Souvenir Part II

The conclusion (sort of) to Joanna Hogg’s critically adored autobiographical account of being a very posh film student in the 1980s. I wasn’t hugely taken with Part 1 – Part II was an improvement, not least because there’s more screen time for Richard Ayoade’s awesomely bitchy (but very perceptive) director character. 

Full review here

(MUBI - which also has Caprice, Hogg's actual student film starring a young Tilda Swinton)

See How They Run

Entertaining meta-murder mystery that takes place around and about the early days of The Mousetrap’s London run. Relies heavily on the charm of Saoirse Ronan as an earnest young WPC.  Very slight, plenty of fun.

(Disney +)

Glass Onion: A Knives Out Mystery

Did anyone think that Daniel Craig’s Foghorn Leghorn-voiced sleuth Benoit Blanc was the best thing about Knives Out? Seems improbable, but the idea apparently is to build a series of movies around him. On the evidence here, this isn’t a great idea. For a start, the all-star cast is – Janelle Monáe and a handful of very brief cameos apart – deficient in star power. We get Edward Norton as (yawn) an evil tech billionaire, Kate Hudson as a has-been model/actress and Dave Bautista as a YouTuber. The set-up: at peak early pandemic lockdown, Norton invites his chums to a no-restrictions mystery weekend on his Greek island. It’s all pretty meh. 

Like the original, the movie improves massively when it gets to the bit where it doubles back on itself. But even so, it never crawls above mediocre.

(Netflix)

[acesymmetricfool]

2021 Round Up~

Wow there were some really cool events and prompts this year. I tried to tag everything and everyone I could think of so credit can go where it's due. Let me know if I missed any because I'm low-key exhausted but I wanted to get it done quickly.

Under the cut is a list of everything I did in 2021 for the Danny Phandom. There are some Ao3 links that lead to cleaned up versions of my (favored) fics if you're into that so feel free to sub to Acesymmetricfool on Ao3 for more as I get them tidy or I'll just reblog them as I go anyway.

Here on tumblr, I have my main blog @another-shameless-fangirl and my writing sideblog or check the tags "#asf writes" or "#asf wrote a thing" for more.

Thanks for the support I've gotten from people here, it really does mean so much!

It's mostly angst and drama. How about I tag what isn't. Enjoy~

Trick (362) -Ectober @ectoberhaunt Danny's secret is out. This ghost has tricked everyone into thinking it's little Danny Fenton. Luckily his parents know better than to trust a monster.

Laugh- Ao3 link -Ectober

What do people actually think about Phantom? We'd like to think of him as a friend with a nice laugh.

Glitter - Ao3 link (731) -Ectober

Glittering snow appears wherever Phantom does. There was a beauty in the way Phantom felt pain.

Fairy Circle (1166) -Ectober -dramatic with classmates

Danny isn't interested in this nature hike, especially when his friends are back at camp with another group and he's stuck with Dash and some other people. When they find a fairy circle in a clearing, Danny knows the stories and to stay away. Dash doesn't believe him and maybe there is a price to pay.

Twilight (660) -Ectober -oh no what happened in Fairy Circle

Fenton better not be pulling a fast one about that fairy circle business. Dash rationalizes the events of Fairy Circle in what is basically chapter 2 and is awaiting a third chapter.

Swamp- Ao3 link (3225) -Ectober (Horror)

Fenton Works wasn't always a weapons manufacturer. The Fenton's were paranormal investigators. Field studies were done, measurements were taken, tests performed. It was a family business that searched for proof of ghosts. One night, they finally found it. If only their 6-year-old wasn't sleeping in the backseat.

Poison - Ao3 link (428) -Ectober

Danny Phantom was going to be the end of Amity Park as we knew it.

Mask- Ao3 link (640) -Ectober There wasn’t a time after the accident that Danny felt he could be himself. He had a loving family, friends who adored him, a public whose opinion varied on his performance, but he couldn’t bring himself to present all that he was to any of them. So Danny started to wear masks.

Condemned (420) -Ectober

Danny Phantom was a menace at best, at worst an upheaval of the natural order of things. Danny knew better than anyone this sentence was for the best.

Headstone (2434) -Ectober

Why did he have to be remembered? Why didn’t they want him anymore? Did they all wish him a safe passing to the afterlife? What did he do wrong to make all them want him gone?

He was a hero for them wasn’t he?

Insomnia- Ao3 link (1018) -Ectober

What was a little lost sleep if staying awake meant he could keep his city safe?

A Wish List for Danny- Ao3 link (763) -12 Days of Ficmas (Fluff) @12daysficmas

Danny's been so busy fighting ghosts, he forgot to make himself a Wish List before the holidays started and he just doesn't have it in him anymore. Good thing he has two best friends who love him.

With a Little Help- Ao3 Link (645)- 12 Days of Ficmas (Fluff)

Star Thunder has her life together school-wise. It isn't really her problem if Fenton's is falling apart. Lucky for him, Foley comes to plead mercy.

Call me Grandma Ida- Ao3 link (1541) 12 Days of Ficmas (Fluff)

“I don’t eat. I’m a ghost.” Ida Manson could have believed him if it weren’t for his voice or his face or the way his hands moved. She smiled at the ghost boy. “You’ve got a mouth, don't ya?”

She Knew Those Eyes- Ao3 link (2788)- Truce gift for @faedemon / @moipale

Jazz didn’t know as much about ghosts. She didn’t have powers or experience but she was willing to learn and help any way she could. Danny might not want to tell her about every rough time, but the important thing was that he trusted her to be there on the really bad days.

When her brother's skittish clone introduced herself, Jazz braced herself for what could be a very bad night indeed.

A Real Connection- Ao3 link (822)(Cracky fluff) @floralflowerpower

When Danny Fenton is spotted being carried home by the friendly Phantom, the Citizens of Amity Park can't help but wonder what their connection is. The consensus, despite any objections from Fenton, is that it is so very real.

Electric Duet (669) A duet with @floralflowerpower, prompt by @coolclaytony

Maddie experiments with Phantom's aversion to electricity and makes a dire mistake.

This is Only the Beginning- Ao3 link (1581) @danphanwritingprompts

Danny learns the hard way what Vlad already knew. They were both immortal and every human they cared about would die.

You Were Supposed to Be Our Uncle Vlad (1348) @danphanwritingprompts

Clockwork has his reasons when he shows Danny another alternate future. A single second could have made all the difference. Uncle Vlad would have been family.

My Eyes Were Blue (1021)- prompt by @dannyphantompromptgenerator and @all-out-disney

Danny finds out what happened to Sidney Poindexter.

Checking up on the boy (311) Kinda related to My Eyes Were Blue Prompt by @danphanwritingprompts

“Ma’am, you don’t understand. There’s nobody named Sidney Poindexter currently attending this school.”

Conviction (2083)- prompt by @amabsis

This time, instead of making a weapon to hurt ghosts, the Fenton's make a weapon that allows them to “get their feelings back”. Problem is they already have them, so what happens when you take an already emotional ghost teen and amplify it by 10?

Team Work Makes the Dream Work- (1424)- Cracky fun- prompt by @reallydumbdannyphantomaus

kwan: don't look now but we've shifted to another reality again

dash: fuck!!!!! shit!!!!! no!!!!!

kwan: i mean i know it sucks but it's happened before it'll be fine

dash: no idiot we've got an away game tonight how are we supposed to get to brantford from another reality??

kwan: 😱

kwan: we're gonna have to forfeit!

dash: not on my watch

Thanks so much!

[solanj]

Gatewatch&Co playing DnD

Jace

Jace is the forever DM. His plotlines are extremely well thought-trough and his puzzles are exquisite. Prefers detective-style stories and is great at setting up the intrigue. Players never can guess too early. He knows ALL the rules. Is prepping meticulously. He is that type of GM that will hand out actual letters or trinkets to players, if they happen to find them. Every NPC, every plotline, every bit of PC's backstories are accounted for and weaved into the planned narrative. (Of course it all always end up completely derailed) Actively uses illusions for both descriptions and combat and everyone just LOVES that. Still insists on having actual minis, though. After some persuasion from the party agreed to use telepathy to tell players the "only your character knows that" info, which drove his intrigue even further.

Chandra

Chandra usually plays a hotheaded sorcerer. Gender and age may vary, but the sorcerer always falls for whomever Nissa is playing at the moment. Is the most enthusiastic of the group and the #1 reason Jace's thought-through plots get derailed. Because she always invents something crazy and drags the rest into it and even she never knows what her character is going to do until she opens her mouth to declare it. Due to it has the most dead characters among the party - Jace isn't a harsh GM, but he never fudges his rolls. Chandra doesn't sweat it, though, she just brings a new sorcerer next session. She generally ensures a goofy, light-hearted atmosphere and doesn't like it when stories go too dark or dramatic. Never waits for others to make a plan before heading into combat. Has the quickest combat turns.

Nissa

Nissa only agreed to play because Chandra was SO enthusiastic about it that Nissa just hadn't the heart to say "no". She ended up loving it. Doesn't speak much at the table (and her characters are always the quite ones), but has the most carefully crafted backstories. Only uses third-person style, but never speaks out of character during the play time. Actually knows the rules very well and never blunders, but also never engages in rules arguments when they happen. Once all the revelations from her backstory come through her character ends up being everyone's favourite, remembered for a long time.

Gideon

Gideon only plays because he thinks that a common bonding activity such as this is great for the Gatewatch's dynamics. Is usually the one to bring in snacks and to help Jace tidy everything up after the session. Plays martial tanky protective characters, usually goes with the options that PHB recommends. Likes to strategize in-game. Isn't good at roleplaying but is trying his best and everyone appreciates it. Was actually sad when Liliana left the party since her character made it easier for him to engage in conversations and decision-making due to her teasing and provocative nature. (No one knows if that was intentional on her part)

Teferi

Teferi prefers GM'ing but doesn't have the time to prep and run the whole campaign. So he usually runs rather short adventures. He leans towards more humorous style and is a great improviser. Likes to give his players maximum freedom and allows them to goof around all they want, but still manages to make the plot work. His NPCs are usually witty, he does different (and often exagerrated) voices for each of them and players tend to engage into social side of the game a lot because the dialogue scenes with him are just so enjoyable. Loves to mess with the players. Adds red herrings, makes NPS pretend to believe the player's bluff only to reveal the truth at the best possible moment later, hands out tricky magical items (most players learned to NEVER draw cards from unchecked decks, but there is always Chandra...). He is placing the most bizarre and memorable mimics and hilarious traps. But does all that in good faith and with good humor, to make the players thrilled but not annoyed. And it works!

Kaya

Kaya plays exclusively rogues and she probably tried every build possible. Is the min-maxer of the party. Is known for completely decimating the encounters that Jace planned to be extra challenging. Was often splitting the party at first, but agreed not to after some persuasion. Doesn't roleplay much, though she enjoys spectating others do it and never tries to force them to the next scene. LOVES Jace's puzzles and usually finds an unorthodox but interesting and convincing way to solve them. (That's probably why Jace can't really be annoyed with her despite her minmaxing) Has the best luck for crits in combat, but the worst for disabling traps.

Vraska

Vraska rather often misses the sessions due to guild and/or pirate business, but she tries her hardest to have free spots on her schedule during game nights. Is probably the most dedicated member of the group. Grows very attached to her characters and once the campaign ends she never returns to the same archetype, so that the impression wouldn't dilute. And because of it she doesn't have a "type", though her characters are always brave and have troubled pasts. Is the one to commission the paintings of her characters (and sometimes the rest of the party too). Is also quite the shipper (no matter if the character in question is her own, party member or NPC), but keeps it to herself, only sharing with Jace sometimes. She tells Jace everything about her character in the beginning so that he can play it when Vraska has to miss a session.

Ral

Ral played every class in the game that he could more or less convincingly make into a charming bastard. Is prone to hogging the spotlight, but does roleplay so well and is so charming that others let it slide. Often insists on using some homebrewed rules (which he keeps reinventing right during the conversation), giving Jace a headache. Jace gave in once, but during the next several sessions he made sure to stage the situations so that every possible side effect of said homebrew came to bite Ral in the ass (yes, it's where most of his prep time went). Now they usually settle on just some minor changes for Ral's character. Is #2 reason for derailing Jace's plotlines. Unlike Chandra he does this absolutely intentionally, and Jace knows it, but sees as a challenge. His character is the one, to whom all the "curiosity" magic items go. You have no idea what a dedicated Izzet mage can do with a simple unmoving rod. Jace actually throws extra stuff his way just to see what crazy application Ral will come up with.

Liliana

Liliana played a couple sessions once. She made a point of derailing the plotline in a discreet way while staying strictly in-character. Also she made Jace fluster whenever he had to play through a conversation with her via NPC. Decided that it was fun but ultimately not worth it in the long run. (To Jace's relief) Since she never actually plays Jace can discuss with her his plans and plots and sometimes he asks for her input on the villains. Sometimes he even invites Liliana to act out a villain in the dialogue-heavy session and she is VERY convincing. Her villains are always the ones players love to hate. From time to time she GMs oneshots and prefers intrigue- and drama-heavy stories, often horror, that may or may not be inspired by her long and varied life experiences. She isn't a stranger to fudging the rolls or overriding the rules if she feels that the situation calls for it. Is very good at reading the table and the undisputed master of putting her players in heart-wrenching situations faced with tough decisions. They usually love it, but Chandra refuses to play with her anymore because "don't we have enough of that shit IRL?!" She sometimes contemplates running a full WoD campaign, but always decides against it in the end.

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

Feel free to add your ideas!

[burgerpocalypse]

I've been trying to run through some free games I got from the Epic game store, specifically Grand Theft Auto V, Creature in the Well, and most recently Night in the Woods. I quit GTAV about 60% of the way because it sucked, and I can't beat the last area of Creature, so that leaves me to talk a little about NitW and the emotional turmoil it gave me.

Upfront, I'm not interested in games with heavy emphasis on story, least of all visual novels or whatever you want to call this game. However, I've heard mostly positive things about Night in the Woods here and there for the better part of the previous decade. That and the fact I got it for $0 convinced me to finally try it out.

Night in the Woods is an adventure focused on exploration and character drama. Mae Borowski, the protagonist, is a college dropout that just moved back to her Rust Belt hometown for mysterious reasons, and becomes entangled in suspicious happenings. The player will traverse the aged suburban sprawl and rural outskirts of Possum Springs, conversing with family, friends, strangers, and everyone else, uncovering secrets and opening wounds along the way.

Seeing as how Night in the Woods is primarily a story, I'll mostly be discussing that, so look out for spoilers, yo.

After spending two years away, Mae attempts to reconnect with her previously closest friends Bea (an idealist goth whomst had considerable familial and financial responsibility thrust upon her at a young age), Gregg (an anarchist punk with bipolar tendencies), and Angus (an incredibly nice man). Mae pushes the story forward by hanging out with Bea and Gregg, and sometimes Angus. This will often involve going to social outings, running errands, committing crimes, and so on.

Other than her friends, Mae will also have opportunities to interact with her parents, various citizens, and vagrants. whom provide flavor and history to the world while also bringing some of Mae's muddled past to light. The player will traverse environments through walking and jumping around, with the occasional platforming feat required to progress or access certain areas. Occasionally, you'll be presented with small minigames, like a Guitar Hero-clone or red light/green light shoplifting, and a game-within-a-game dungeon crawler that pissed me off to no end. While most activities in the town are benign, certain important events will move the day along and lock you out of further exploration.

Early on, Mae's group stumbles upon a discarded arm and some cryptic dialogue from a few characters. After each day, Mae experiences strange dream sequences that involve platforming segments and surreal representations of her friends and the town. Several hours of gameplay later, Mae witnesses a kidnapping on Halloween by what appears to be a ghost.

In the midst of all this, Mae hangs out with her friends and discovers what they've been up to in her absence. Bea runs the family business for her father, who broke down after her mom died, putting them in dire financial straits and preventing Bea from leaving Possum Springs; she bears resentment towards Mae, since she dropped out of college and came home for no apparent reason while also not maturing at all. Gregg is aimless, sporadic, and uninhibited, while his boyfriend Angus is neat, tidy, and overly helpful. Their relationship appears strong, and they are planning to move to a new city together, though Bea is convinced it won't last.

Mae does her best to strengthen bonds while suffering from a variety of stressors, like her family's money troubles, her self-destructive tendencies and dissociative episodes, and ominous celestial beings invading her mind. This sometimes leads to inadvertent and painful social situations, especially with Bea.

Mae attempts to investigate the supposedly supernatural happenings with the help of Bea, Gregg, and Angus, while her mental health steadily declines. Eventually, the group travels deep into the woods (at night) and stumble into a cult, after which Mae suffers a great fall and enters a coma. After waking up, Mae then attempts to confront the cult head-on, though her friends arrive to help. They enter a cave, find the cult again, discover the eldritch horror they serve and explore her personal connection to it, accidentally cause a cave-in and trap the cultists, escape the cave, and try to make sense of what happened after the fact.

Now, don't get me wrong. I rather enjoyed Night in the Wood's story. I really liked all the characters. I loved the dialogue. Even the platforming and various minigames were fine, if simplistic and occasionally annoying. The structure of this paragraph seems as though it's leading towards a big 'but'. I just wanted to say that I really liked the game, even though I don't generally enjoy video game stories, and especially not video games primarily about a story. Though I'm not from a run-down midwestern town, and obviously don't have the same sort of personal relationships she does, Mae's emotional strife and insecurities really resonated with me. Her personal thoughts and reactions often made me just stop and think about the many mistakes I've made with the people I care about and all the relationships I've ruined.

However, if the plot wanted to spend so much time on Mae and her friends, it should have been about Mae and her friends. Conversely, if it wanted to be about a spooky cult in a small town, it should have spent much more time on a spooky cult in a small town. The plot is torn between two diametrically opposed focuses, those being Mae's struggles to maintain relationships and her dealing with suspicious supernatural occurrences in Possum Springs. So much time passes before anything really happens with the cult and cosmic horror that I feel some people might even forget there is a cult and cosmic horror, and Mae isn't just experiencing a psychotic break for no reason.

In the end, the cult goes unresolved, and it's unclear what the relationship is with the residents of Possum Springs, or what its powers even are. I don't need the game to explain every aspect in detail, but no one appears to be affected by the existence of the cult and its god other than Mae. My brain was going into overdrive looking for clues, making patterns, identifying red herrings, anything that might help me understand the mystery, when in reality there was no mystery to understand.

There is also a severe lack of actual choice or decision making in terms of dialogue, and a distinct absence of any real challenge in gameplay. I definitely felt that this story could have been more efficiently told if it were in a book, usually after spending a few minutes walking around trying to find something important and

It doesn't help that I sometimes accidentally skipped certain segments, since it's not always explicitly clear if an action will push the day forward and lock me in. I even completely missed a third of the investigations since I chose to check out the historical society building with Gregg second when the game expected me to do it last. This sort of problem led to me giving up completely on other story-focus games like Kentucky Route Zero since I constantly skipped and missed chunks of stuff or did things out of the intended order and ruined the flow of events.

Now this has obviously gotten a little too long, so I'll just wrap it up by saying that Night in the Woods is great and I recommend it. It made me feel feelings, deep feelings, like I was moments away from crying on more than one occasion.

Thanks for reading. I have a lot on my mind because of this game, so I hope it was worth your time.

[twh-news]

Claire Danes and Tom Hiddleston in Apple TV+’s ‘The Essex Serpent’: TV Review

A young widow investigates reports of a mythical beast in a small seaside village in this adaptation of Sarah Perry's novel, set in late 19th-century England.

Like the possibly mythical creature of its title, The Essex Serpent is something of a slippery beast. It winds through ideas and genres, twisting and turning in ways that can be difficult to predict, and wriggles free of tidy categorizations or explanations. It’s a story about a sea creature, sort of, but it’s primarily a story about faith and progress and love and maybe half a dozen other things. But if the journey it takes can seem occasionally odd and even frustrating, it’s one guided by a steady heart toward an ultimately worthwhile destination.

Adapted from the novel by Sarah Perry with Anna Symon as lead writer, The Essex Serpent begins rather ominously, with the one-two punch of a disappearance and a death. In late 19th-century London, Cora Seaborne (Claire Danes) sits by the bedside of her abusive older husband as he passes away of cancer, stubbornly refusing the newfangled medical treatments suggested by his ambitious young doctor, Luke Garrett (Frank Dillane). Meanwhile, some miles away in the Essex coastal village of Aldwinter, a teenager has vanished without a trace — taken, the locals have started to murmur, by an ancient sea creature recently reawakened.

Intrigued by reports of the creature and freshly liberated from her oppressive marriage, Cora, an amateur naturalist, makes the impulsive decision to move to Aldwinter to search for what she theorizes could be a type of plesiosaur that’s escaped both extinction and evolution. Upon arrival, she’s greeted by a town full of people increasingly scared and suspicious of a monster they’re convinced is coming to claim them for their sins.

As the local vicar, Will Ransome (Tom Hiddleston), attempts to quell their panic by denying the serpent’s existence and directing their worries toward God, Cora takes a different tack, trying gamely to offer a rational explanation for the disturbances. Despite their oppositional stances, it’s not long before the two realize they’re more alike than different, and find themselves drawn to each other in spite of his happy marriage to the kindly Stella (Clémence Poésy).

For the first two-thirds of its six hourlong episodes, The Essex Serpent conjures a seductively dark, mysterious mood, with even a few scares that wouldn’t feel out of place in an A24 thriller. In the tense atmosphere of Aldwinter, adolescent girls cast spells and fall victim to disturbing fits, while superstitious men hang skinned moles to ward off the beast. It is, as Cora’s maid and companion Martha (Hayley Squires) observes with a shudder, “witch-burning country.”

Then, in its last couple of episodes, The Essex Serpent switches gears to become a more conventional drama, and eventually mellows into an ending far gentler than the first few hours of the series might have given any cause to expect. The serpent, once the main focus of the lead characters, recedes from view, as the personal journeys and relationships between the characters come to the fore.

For some viewers, the change in pace will come as an annoyance. Those who’ve come expecting fantasy-tinged monster hunts will likely be disappointed by The Essex Serpent‘s disinterest in embracing the supernatural. At the same time, those who’ve previously enjoyed dirt-caked British relationship dramas like Ammonite or The Dig may have already been warded off by the eerie tone suggested by the marketing.

Those open to seeing where the tide takes them, though, will find much to like. Clio Barnard, who directed all six episodes, has an eye for beauty, especially of the strange, austere sort that Cora finds in the countryside. Aldwinter is established through long shots of marshes covered in mist so thick, it threatens to swallow objects whole. The landscape is a wild and unruly one, so indifferent to human life as to look almost alien at times, and it feels like little wonder the people living in it find both faith and science to fall short in their efforts to understand or control it.

In contrast, Cora’s upper-crust London home is done in sumptuous fabrics, intricate designs and sparkling gems and metals, and yet Cora looks trapped by the gold bars of her elaborate bed frame, and weighed down by the heavy colors and shadows that fill the space. It’s hardly a surprise that she looks not just happier but more alive in Aldwinter, despite the hardships she encounters there. As written by Symon’s team and played by Danes, Cora has the un-pin-down-able quality of a real person. She’s both caring and careless, likable and exhausting, determined and indecisive — and never anything less than compelling.

As for Hiddleston, it’s a thrill to see him try on new colors again after spending the past half decade in Loki green onscreen. The Essex Serpent taps back into the romantic intensity that made him such an obvious star in films like The Deep Blue Sea, Only Lovers Left Alive and Crimson Peak. Much of the series’ warmth and heat are generated from the way Hiddleston simply looks at his costars, with affection or yearning or worry — and much of the narrative momentum, too, since it’s hard to see an expression like that and not long to know what happens next.

It is possible, indeed, that one of The Essex Serpent‘s faults is an overabundance of riches. The series has a lot on its mind, and it’s not always apparent what, say, a storyline about Martha’s campaign for public housing has to do with Cora and Will’s irresistible attraction to one another. And conceits that may have worked better rendered in Perry’s evocative prose — like Stella’s characterization as an ethereal saint prone to making profound observations about the color blue — strike an odd note among more grounded characters and settings.

But it works beautifully as a drama about complicated characters tangled in relationships unable to be contained by the conventional boundaries of romance or friendship, and about the ways humans will try to impose order or sense where none can be found. In the end, both faith and science fall short in the face of elemental drives like fear and love, and neither can account for the random accidents or tragedies that befall all lives. Whether the serpent is technically “real” is beside the point: It persists because the world is and always will be full of forces that slip out of our grasp.

[dusterson]

!! UNDER RENOVATION !!

NOSꓤƎꓕSՈᗡDUSTERSON

█ post season 4 AU of DUSTIN HENDERSON In which the world ends, and the story ends in a full party wipe-out.

█ post apocalyptic; cosmic & eldritch horror; psychological horror

with voyages into disability, mental health, queerness, and parental abuse (enmeshment, abandonment)

21+ mun | semi selective | slow activity

⇉ (mobile) character info ;

⇉ (mobile) verse timeline ;

⇊ rules below the cut ⇊

Mun is over the age of 21, muse is under the age of 18 in canon material. Mature themes concerning violence, mental health, ableism, abuse, death, etc. will be present.

           THE RULE OF LAW

01 : DON'T BE A DICK.

this is a heavily alternate-universe iteration of Dustin. please read the Character Info page. highly selective in following back, however non-mutual asks are more than welcome.

this blog/muse is old-school multiverse ; all interactions with this muse affect him universally, with the exception of AUs (i.e. modern!AU, pirate!AU, etc…). interactions with all muses are with the same version of dustin.

OCs, doubles of canon muses (including from other fandoms) are welcome, as are doubles of this same muse i’m writing here. That means throw more Dustins at me. Please. We will be unstoppable. please let there be Chaos.  P l  e a s e ,

for the love of god do not try to drag me into whatever hot-topic drama anon-hate callout bullshit is going around this week. i will hermit. my response will be some form of "and that's why i go radio silent so often!"

godmoding, metagaming etc. ain’t cool, ooc drama is even less cool, don’t reblog IC posts you’re not involved in, yadda yadda yadda. the muse is not the mun, if my answer’s no then it’s No, i am disabled and have a life outside of rping on tumblr. if you repeatedly poke me for declining something or taking longer than you’d like to write, i’ll just block you. i don't appreciate it.

02 : DON’T BE A GROSS DICK.

do not come to me for smut. do not come for me for shipping when we haven't so much as written a crack rp between our characters. the more we talk OOC and rp actual chemistry/buildup, the more i’ll be open to shipping.

multiship and polyship friendly. in the case of poly it is required both (or more) parties shipping with him agree to such. otherwise, the relationships will not overlap one another icly.

03 : DON’T LET ME BE A DICK!

my post length will vary and i don’t expect you to match or vise versa. i don’t care how you style your posts and i’m lazy about fancying mine. i avoid blogs with post formatting that hinder my vision. most sorry.

any commonly triggering content will be tagged (#example tw), such as gore, abuse, suicide, etc. but don’t be afraid or ashamed to request i tag something specific for you. i don’t care why you want/need it tagged. i’m grouchy, not judgmental

if at any point a thread becomes triggering, or distressing in any way, please tell me. i will drop it in the trash bin. slam dunk that fucker right on outta here if need ok? and don’t be afraid to let me know if you’re losing interest in a thread, don’t know how to respond, or even that you’re no longer interested in rping.

honestly if the third’s the case you don’t even need to explain, yeet to freedom my sweet bird good luck out there and for the love of god enjoy yourself and feel no shame for it. softblock or don’t i tend to unfollow people ain’t followin me anyways ‘cos clean dash. tidy dash.

THANK YOU FOR NOT BEING A DICK!

that’s why i’m saying the don’t part, cos i’m trusting you (kind of) not to be one, cos like you got this far so you can’t be one see? here’s some apple cider, thank you for coming on the tour, now let me introduce myself.

So now all THAT’s out of the way, ‘sup. You can call me Saahs. Any pronouns are fine with me. I’m a 28 year old artist, writer, dabbler of the sciences and metaphysical, and lover of horror. RP has been a major part of my life for 99.9% of it, I started playing AD&D before I could properly write, and I’m not letting this strain of hobby go any time soon.

Like I said I probably won’t be a highly active rper due to chronic illness and IRL issues, but my messages, askbox, are always open! And I’m happy to give my Discord to mutuals if you’d like to chat over there as well.

The rules are a lil snippy ‘cos things KEEP HAPPENING and I’m a jaded animal to begin with But legit I don’t assume You are gonna break rules or anything there’s just been too many times man. Like I’m a shy guy and I don’t like having to deal with conflict so don’t make me ok

for a bit more on the saahs have a gander over here !

[bts-hyperfixation]

Sweethearts

Your high school graduation was just like the ones you’d seen in the movies. After excepting your diplomas in front of your families, you and your friends headed of to a random field for a bonfire and camping. It was a night you never wanted to forget. It was filled with old stories and laughter, nostalgic memories and wishes for the future. Most importantly it was spent with the boy you thought would be your one and only. Jungkook was supposed to be your forever. That was the night you lost your virginity to him.

It was awkward and uncomfortable, both of you fumbling to figure things out through messy kisses and rough grasps, but you wouldn’t have changed it for the world. You spent that night wrapped in each-other’s arms, dreaming of what the future could hold. It had all seemed so perfect, everything set out in front of you. Attending the same university, finding jobs in the same city and eventually marriage. It was all mapped out waiting for you… until it wasn’t.

Like most high school romances, it all fell apart. Not immediately, and not all at once. It started with little things: your workload got too heavy, his friends teased him, you both lashed out in frustration. By the end of the first semester, it became too much and after a long tear-filled goodbye you let each other go.

That was almost a year ago now. You had managed to avoid seeing him for the most part and were moving on well. Obviously, some of the rumours made their way to you:

“Did you hear Jeon slept with almost all of the drama girls before they found out about each other?”

“I heard he was so good none of them cared.”

“I mean his numbers that high at this point it makes you wonder doesn’t it….”

“Yeah, he must be a GOD in bed.”

You usually just shook your head at the giggling girls and moved on. It still hurt to think about him sometimes, but you breathed through the pain and got on with life.

One afternoon you are studying in a coffee shop on campus, not long before winter break. The essay you were working on was kicking your ass and you had decided a change in scenery would do you some good. Just as you take a sip of your drink, you realise it was a fatal mistake. Your eyes find each other instantly when he walks through the door with his buddies. You gulp down your drink and rush to return his grin with a somewhat confident look of your own. His hair is longer now, pulled back into a bun at the back but his bangs hang loose around his face, perfectly framing his deep eyes. He is more heartbreakingly beautiful now than he has ever been, It isn’t long until the moment you share is broken by a blonde throwing herself into his arms. She giggles and slaps at his biceps, chastising him about something you can’t hear. It feels like someone’s punched you in the stomach. Everything is too warm as you watch the way he basks in her attention, friends hollering in support of whatever’s happening. You don’t bother looking back at him as you pack your things away. That’s how you miss the way his smile faulters as he watches you leave.

Once home you abandon all plans of finishing your essay, instead reaching under your bed to pull out a dusty shoebox you hadn’t thought about since you’d put it there. You empty it’s contents on to the sheets. You stare at the remnants of your relationship scattered around you. Movie stubs, polaroids, and old gifts. You don’t realise you are crying until a droplet hits an image in front of you, smearing the handwritten caption on the bottom. You lift the picture to study it. Your past-self stares back, sat in his lap and folded in his loving embrace. His nose is scrunched, it’s the part of his smile that made you fall in love with him in the first place. The words at the bottom once read “Me and you forever baby” in his handwriting. Thanks to your tears, it now said “you forever baby.” In a sick way it made you laugh, now more accurate. You pick up the small pink bear he had once won for you out of habit, still finding comfort in its worn fur. Not pausing to tidy the items away again you curl into yourself and fall asleep.

It must be a few hours later when your awoken by someone banging at your door. You glance at the mess around you and try to make sense of what’s going on. Your alarm clock on the bedside table reads 00:00. That’s when you hear his voice through the wood.

“Y/N… let me in… please.” His words are a little slurred and he sounds upset, but there’s no mistaking the owner. You open the door and take in his puffy cheeks, evidence that he had been crying too. For a little while the two of you stare at each other, finally seeing the pain that had haunted you both for so long. It takes him shivering for you to realise you hadn’t let him in. you shuffle sideways, and he enters your apartment. You close the door and turn to face him, finding him leafing through the photos strewn across your bed he smiles fondly at the memories, lifting the same image you had been staring at a few hours prior.

“Do you remember this?” he questions, not wanting to get to the point of his surprise visit.

“Graduation.” You croak, voice still weak from crying. He collects the items and places them back into the box for you before sitting on the edge of your bed. You move to join him, careful to sit far away enough to enforce boundaries.

“Do you still love me?” the question catches you off guard, you’d spent months convincing yourself he had moved on. No one fucks half the campus without moving on from their past.

“What are you doing Kookie?” he cringes at the old nickname as you scold him. “Why are you doing this to me?” fresh tears form in your eye at this new form of torture. He reaches a hand to comfort you like he used to and then thinks better of it, dropping the limb back into his lap.

“I don’t know Y/N, all I do know is I can’t keep kissing strangers pretending they are you.” His eyes search yours for a response, but you are too shell shocked to react. “It hurts too much still. Every time I try to fill the void you left, I fail and end up hurting more than ever.”

“I… It ...It doesn’t work Jungkook, we tried, it wasn’t meant to be, it was too hard.” You try to reason with him despite every bone in your body demanding you do the opposite.

“Screw that! We should’ve tried harder. I will do anything to prove to you that we can still work… please just let me try.” This time when he reaches for you, he doesn’t hesitate, pulling you into him and kissing you passionately. You melt into his embrace, seduced by his words. Desperately clinging to every part of him you could reach. Trying to reclaim what you had lost. He falls backwards onto the sheets and you follow, straddling him, trapping him underneath you as you re-discover one another. His hands travel lower playing with the hem of your shirt before tugging it upward. You toss the fabric away from you and return to his lips, craving his taste. He takes you by surprise when he flips you. He had never been weak, but clearly his time in the gym was not going to waist. He leaves hot open-mouthed kisses from you chin to your cleavage paying close attention to the parts he remembers as the most sensitive.

You shiver under his touch as he pulls the lace cup of your bralette out of his way, nipping at the skin around your nipple. He plays with the bud for a while his hand absentmindedly playing with your other breast. Satisfied with his teasing he forges on, tugging the waist band of your pants with him. You lift your hips to help him remove the unwanted fabric and he makes quick work of it, soon returning to your now exposed core. He drags a finger up your slit before taking the wet finger into his mouth. Watching him savour the taste drove you insane. He let out a moan at the familiar flavour making you whine in response.

“I’m going to make you feel so good baby girl. So good that everything’s okay again.” You nod feverishly, wanting nothing more than to believe his words. He licks along your entrance collecting your juices on his tongue before sucking your clit into his mouth. You tried not to think about how he had gotten so good at what he was doing and focused on the pleasure. Soon he added two fingers to your dripping vagina, finding your most sensitive areas with ease. Whimpers tumble freely from your lips as you feel the coil in your stomach begin to stretch. The final straw comes when he ads the third finger, the stretch proving too much for you as he scissors the digits inside of you. You cum harder than you think you’ve ever cum before. He resurfaces once you’ve ridden out your high; his chin dripping with you. You don’t think he has ever looked better.

You grab at the top knot at the back of his head pulling the band loose and using the new length of his hair to your advantage. His face his back against yours in seconds. You can taste yourself on his lips. You tug at his long locks as he grinds himself against your leg, reminding you he is fully clothed. Suddenly displeased with his state of attire, your hands moved to undo the fly on his jeans. You slide one hand into his boxers, grasping at his length and pumping a little, trailing your fingertips along the underside. The bunny smile you love so much appears on his face as he pulls away from you, shedding his own clothes. You can’t help but let your eyes wander down his newly chiselled physique. The v at the bottom of his torso now much more prominent, a clear arrow to where you wanted to be most right now.

You make a grabby motion, and he chuckles, lowering himself back onto you. You try to gain the upper hand, attempting to flip the two of you back over so you could ride him freely. Unfortunately, he is prepared and stays firm, keeping you trapped under his weight. You pout at the inability to play.

“I want to make you feel good too.” He kisses your nose; it’d come off as patronising if it had been anyone one else.

“You can do that another time, right now I need to make you feel the way you’ve always deserved.” He punctuates his words by thrusting into you. He leans on one arm, using the free hand to rub at your clit as he sets a leisurely pace between your hips. You arch your back from the oversensitivity of your nerves, still recovering from the last mind-blowing orgasm. This only allows him better access to the most sensitive parts inside of you. The steady rhythm and assault on your clit have your second high appearing quickly. Unable to contain yourself you grasp onto his back leaving small half-moon indentations where your nails dig into his skin. The moan you let out is unearthly, making him moan in response. His grunts and the hitting of skin echo through the room as he speeds up in search of his own end.

It doesn’t take long for him to follow you to orgasm. Halting deep inside you, he releases and collapses on top of you. You let out a loud grunt at the weight and he laughs before rolling to the side and pulling you into his chest.

Masterlist

More from these prompts - closed

Holiday prompts - open

[yoosungisbabie]

brownies - mystictober day 16

Jumin x mc

rating: G

prompt: {Jumin x MC} / {cooking/baking}

warnings: none♡

word count: 2,599

ao3 link

[my Ko-fi♡]

Jumin helps his fianceé try out a recipe for brownies.

note: this takes place about a month after Jumin's good ending. enjoy!

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

She left the chatroom, smiling excitedly about the night ahead. Everyone was coming around to Jumin’s penthouse to finally celebrate their engagement after everything that had happened at the RFA party about a month ago. It was something she’d been looking forward to; she would get to spend some quality time with the people she cherished the most.

“Jumin?” she called out, stretching as she stood from the couch. She’d been tidying up a little when the chatroom flooded with excited messages. She’d decided to take a break, but in the process, she’d lost track of her fiancé.

When there was no answer to his name, she pocketed her phone and started towards the kitchen, not finding him there. She doubled back to his bedroom, finding him sprawled out on the bed, still in his suit, next to Elizabeth the 3rd and breathing slowly. She chuckled quietly, knowing that he’d had a long day at work but finding it so cute that he’d fallen asleep.

The light of the setting sun cast a warm glow over her fiancé, making her sorry to have to disturb him.

“Jumin,” she spoke softly, watching as Elizabeth stood and moved to the edge of the bed, meowing to be pet. She obliged, petting the cat’s head and resting a hand on Jumin’s leg as it dangled off the edge of the bed.

He stirred, letting out a groggy hum and propping himself up on one elbow.

“I’m sorry, I must have dozed off,” he said raspily, reaching over to pet Elizabeth as well. “What time is it?” he asked, rubbing one of his eyes and looking at her expectantly.

“We have about an hour until they arrive,” she told him, watching as he sat up completely and gave her a warm smile.

“It’s a shame that we couldn’t celebrate sooner,” he said, watching as she tilted her head thoughtfully.

“Well, all the drama gave us time to go a first date,” she teased, watching his eyes widen a little.

“And a second and third, don’t forget,” he added, smiling when her grin widened. She remembered those days with fondness, knowing that she could never forget them.

After a few moments of comfortable silence between them, Elizabeth jumped down from the bed. It reminded her that she still had plans before their guests arrived.

“Jumin, do you want to sleep more?” she asked, turning to watch him shake his head.

“I’d rather not. I’ll be much more tired if I do,” he replied, picking her hand up from off the bed and kissing the back of it. She smiled, watching him lovingly. “Is there anything else that needs to be done before they arrive?” Somehow, she’d known he would ask that question, smiling to herself.

“Yes, if you’re up for it,” she said, watching as his eyebrows furrowed together. He waited for her to explain, kissing her hand once again.

“I was thinking about trying out a recipe for brownies as a little treat for everyone,” she explained, reaching into her pocket and pulling out the recipe she’d printed earlier that day. He tilted his head, glancing at the paper.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather have the chef prepare something?” he asked, a caring look in his eyes. She’d been doing a lot of tiring RFA party and wedding planning recently, but making some brownies with her fiancé was nothing she couldn’t handle.

“It’ll be fun! Especially if you help me,” she smiled, leaning over to press a kiss to the back of his hand in return. He couldn’t help but smile, letting out a small sigh.

“If you say so,” he retorted playfully, kissing her cheek before she could pull away. It made her giggle as she got up, pulling him along with her.

As they walked to the kitchen, she handed him the recipe.

“If you read off the ingredients, I can grab them from the pantry,” she told him, watching him look them over.

They stepped into the kitchen, and she pranced happily over towards the pantry, already picking up the flour.

“Cocoa powder, granulated sugar-- ah, powdered sugar as well,” he read off. She took the ingredients off the shelf, excited for how wonderful the brownies would taste with the high-quality ingredients Jumin kept his penthouse stocked with.

“Chocolate chips, sea salt, olive oil…” he continued, trailing off. She glanced over at him, seeing his face contorted into a confused expression.

“Some people prefer olive oil compared to butter,” she offered, but he shook his head, looking up at her.

“Not that. Isn’t there a boxed version of this dessert that is much simpler to make?” he asked, and she nodded, remembering off the top of her head that she also needed vanilla extract.

“Yes, but I wanted to try this recipe,” she replied, finding the vanilla and grabbing it. “Homemade treats always taste better. And with your help, it should be a piece of cake!” she said happily, moving the ingredients to the counter. Jumin laughed slightly, looking at her.

“That expression has never been less suited to a situation,” he observed, a playful look in his eyes. She snickered, taking the recipe from his hands and shooting an equally playful glare at him.

“Okay, smart guy. Can you preheat the oven for me?” she asked, taking a good look at the goofy smile on his lips before he turned towards the oven.

“Of course,” he spoke warmly, asking for the temperature as she grabbed some measuring cups.

She began measuring out the dry ingredients, offering to let him do some of it as well. He watched as some powdered sugar flew into the air, putting the bag down and dusting off his hands.

“I’m going to grab the aprons,” he told her, placing a hand on the small of her back as he moved behind her. She smiled when he returned with their matching aprons, already wearing his. They were custom made with Elizabeth the 3rd’s face printed on them. It was always such a joy for her to see him wearing it when he made pancakes for them in the mornings. He looked utterly adorable.

“I always underestimate the enjoyment I get from this apron,” he said, his voice light and giddy. She giggled, pausing her movements as he stood behind her to put her apron on her. “We need more things like this.” She nodded, thinking for a moment.

“I could order a mug with Elizabeth on it,” she said, meeting his enthusiastic gaze when he stepped to her side.

“I would use it every day,” he replied with a smile, making her laugh again.

“You’re adorable,” she spoke softly, watching as he raised his eyebrows at her.

“So you keep telling me,” he teased, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to her lips. It made her flush slightly, pressing her lips together when he pulled away.

“What’s next?” he asked, moving back to the bowl he’d been putting ingredients in. She couldn’t help the wide smile pressing into her cheeks, a moment going by before she registered what he said.

“Oh, um…” she said, checking the recipe once more. “Will you get two eggs from the fridge?” she asked, watching as he wordlessly moved to the refrigerator and retrieved two eggs. He came back over to her, holding both eggs in one hand out towards her.

“Oh, actually, I’ll let you combine the wet ingredients,” she said, moving a second mixing bowl over to him. She went back to measuring out the cocoa powder, but she noticed after a moment that he hadn’t moved.

“What is it?” she asked, turning to glance at him.

“Nothing,” he said, making her eyes narrow as he moved the bowl closer to himself. He carefully put the eggs down on the counter, opting to measure out the other wet ingredients first.

She continued to watch him out of the corner of her eye, and when he returned to the eggs, his hands hovered over them hesitantly.

“Jumin,” she called lightly, seeing him tense a little. “Have you never cracked an egg before?” she asked, trying not to smile as she stopped her mixing to look at him.

“I’ve observed chefs do it many times, so it shouldn’t be difficult to replicate their results,” he told her, making her press her lips together at his determined look.

He picked up one of the eggs, holding it delicately before moving to crack it against the counter, only to use too much force. The egg was crushed under his hand, and she watched as he furrowed his eyebrows at it.

“Oh,” was all he said, and she couldn’t help but giggle as she grabbed a paper towel to help clean it up.

“I think if you’re more gentle, you’ll be fine,” she spoke after it had been cleared away. He glanced at her dubiously, holding the egg even more delicately before trying again. He lifted it to inspect what he’d done, revealing only a small crack in the shell.

“Now what?” he asked, staring at her intently. She smiled at him.

“Do it once more, still being gentle,” she told him. He did, seeing a bit of egg white beginning to seep from the crack and flipping the egg over so it wouldn’t drip.

“Good job! Now hold it over the bowl,” she started, watching him hold it above the bowl and open the egg, both of them watching the contents drop into it.

“There’s a piece of the shell in the bowl,” he commented, looking to her for guidance again. “Isn’t that undesirable?” She giggled, using a spoon to retrieve the small bit of eggshell.

“That happens to me all the time,” she shrugged, taking the empty eggshell from him and throwing it away.

“I’ll do better with the next one,” he spoke firmly, making her smile once again.

“I’m sure you’ll be an expert egg-cracker in no time,” she replied encouragingly, wiping her hands off and continuing to mix the dry ingredients.

“Thank you for teaching me.” She glanced back as he cracked another egg, watching as he smiled when there was no shell left in the bowl. She congratulated him and then had him whisk it all together.

After that, they combined all the ingredients and poured the batter into the pan. She got as much as she could out of the bowl, spreading the batter evenly as Jumin began gathering the measuring cups to be put in the dishwasher. She thought he wasn’t watching when she lifted the spatula to her mouth to taste the batter, but she was mistaken.

“Sweetheart,” he spoke suddenly, stepping over to her with wide eyes. She looked up at him in surprise.

“The batter has raw egg and flour in it,” he said quickly, searching her eyes incredulously. She couldn’t help but laugh, placing a hand on his arm.

“Jumin, it’s okay,” she chuckled, but he shook his head at her.

“What if you get sick?” he wondered, taking the spatula from her hand gently and placing it in the empty bowl. She smiled up at him, hoping to alleviate some of the worry in his eyes.

“I’ve done that since I was a kid,” she told him, shrugging a little and watching him run a hand through his hair.

“So you’re saying that it’s a miracle that you’re still alive,” he spoke, a teasing lilt hidden under his concern. She scoffed in mock disbelief, turning to pick up the spatula once more.

“You should try it!” she offered, but he shook his head, a smile finally showing on his lips.

“No, I won’t,” he spoke, holding her wrist to keep her from pushing it further towards him.

“Really, it’s good!” she laughed, taking a swipe of batter onto her finger and holding it out to him. He stopped struggling, raising his eyebrows at her skeptically.

“If I’m dead when Zen gets here, you know he’ll laugh,” he spoke quietly, making her snicker as he popped her finger into her mouth. He pulled away, tilting his head and glancing away from her.

“I suppose I can understand why you risk your life,” he smirked, making her roll her eyes.

“I told you!” she exclaimed, moving the dishes over to the sink before he pinched her side playfully.

After putting the pan in the oven and setting a timer, they washed their hands and removed their aprons. When Jumin came back from putting them away, he had an inquisitive look on his face.

“What other things do you enjoy baking?” he wondered, leaning against the counter and crossing his arms over his chest. She blinked as she thought, humming.

“Cookies, muffins, cupcakes, a few types of bread,” she answered, shrugging. “Why?”

Jumin smiled, reaching over to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear.

“If you tell me which ingredients you need, you can come over whenever you’d like to bake,” he spoke gently, making her heart swell at his thoughtfulness. “And I could help you.”

It took her a moment to be able to reply, his grey eyes staring so warmly into hers. She couldn’t help the excitement that built in her stomach at the thought of more simple days with Jumin.

“Thank you,” she finally said, watching his smile widen before she stood on her tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek. She was pleasantly surprised to find him blushing slightly when she pulled back, her heart fluttering all over again.

“Jumin, can I tell you something?” she spoke without thinking, seeing his flustered expression become curious.

“Yes, of course,” he said, taking a small step closer to her. She took the opportunity to reach up again, leaning close to his ear.

“I love you,” she whispered, pulling back to watch his warm, loving smile return.

“You’ve told me that before, my love,” he spoke quietly, his hand finding her waist to keep her close. She took his free hand, clutching it tightly.

“I know. I just wanted to remind you,” she shrugged, hearing a small, happy sigh leave him. He pulled her closer, gazing into her eyes intently. She felt her heart pounding in her chest as she watched him lean into her, bringing his lips close to her ear like she’d done to him.

“I love you too,” he whispered, his warm breath tickling her neck. He held her waist gingerly as he pulled back to look at her once more. He then leaned down to kiss her, making her fingertips tingle at the gentleness with which he touched her.

Only a short moment had passed when the doorbell rang, their lips parting reluctantly. They gazed at each other, both taking a few breaths to clear the haze from their minds.

“I’ll get it,” she offered, stepping away from his warm embrace towards the door.

Before she could get very far, his hand found hers, and he pulled her back into his chest to kiss her once more. The gesture made her knees weak, the smell of warm brownies wrapping around them and making her whole body feel light. But he noticed that she always felt that way when she was with him.

Jumin pulled away first, the doorbell ringing once again. The soft tints of pink spreading across her cheeks made him smile; he looked proud of himself for flustering her.

Her steps were reluctant as she moved towards the door to let their guests in. She glanced back at Jumin, any scolding words dying on her lips at the blissful expression on his face.

~~~~~

eee this was one was a lot of fun to write. i hope you all enjoyed!

thank you so much for taking the time to read! <3

[writingsfromhome]

Hot Waters (2)

Part 1

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

I clock in as the lunch rush dwindles, checking in on guests to make sure they were doing alright and on staff if there was anything I needed to address.

My eyes burn, I could still sleep another five hours—after coming home last night I kept getting distracted by what happened last night. I almost kissed a customer! And someone famous at that. We pride ourselves on discretion and minding our own business when it came to our famous guests. Yesterday’s slip up was serious, and the further I got from that cursed room, the more clarity I got.

“Y/N,” the morning manager grips my hand as she drags me into our office. “You were here when they signed in...’James Smith’?”

“Yes?” My heart races, did she know? How did she know? This was it-

“Oh my god! Everyone talks about what a sweetheart he is. He. Is. The devil!”

“What are you talking about?” I sit her down and she just swears.

“Staff gets a call this morning, he woke up with a bad hangover wanted to know if we can send up aspirin. They go up, he says he thought the manager was going to bring it up. So they come down to me and I have to fucking go up there while I’m dealing with this other shitty guest wanting me to change their room-remind me to tell you about that later. Basically I go up to this asshole’s room and he just stares at me. I’m like I’m the bloody manager-“

“I think he thought I would be there since I helped him...I helped him out-“

“Yeah so I’m like we have two managers. Is there a reason you asked me to come all the way up here to hand you aspirin? He says he forgot! Thought the manager should bring it. How do you-ugh! And then he starts asking me about us, what our names were and how long we’ve worked here—when our shifts ended! Meanwhile a whole line was forming downstairs and by the time I come down they’ve chewed out the new girl and-“

I let her trail on, where I kept a cool head about most things, my co-manager was very scatterbrained. I guess thirty years working with our clientelle could do that to you. I calm her down and tell her I’d deal with “Mr. Smith”. Maybe I had to give him a piece of my mind, just because he could get what he wanted didn’t mean he had to!

I’m pumped with a whole speech prepared for him but when I get to his room someone else answers. I see him in the back on a call, I make an excuse about an earlier request and receive a dirty look. I go back down the complete opposite of pumped. What was I thinking, Harry was busy. He had a life of his own. He probably only wanted to see me this morning to clear up last night. Good thing I wasn't here, I really wanted to clear up one thing. Yesterday's almost slip-up was a complete mistake. I wasn't that kind of person.

I get into the swing of things, the rest of the day goes by without too much drama. At around 7pm, I’m sorting through some paperwork at the front desk, when I spot Harry leaving the hotel. He’s flanked by the person who checked him in, talking to him and Harry laughs. I watch them leave, maybe I could avoid him today after all.

But at 9:05pm one of my staff finds me to say the person staying in 1203 had a noise complaint and wanted to speak to the manager. I roll my eyes but there’s nothing I could do but go. I had a feeling not going would just make things worse.

I ride up, the elevator mirrors showing a tired and overworked woman with a small tomato soup stain near her third button. I try to button the blazer to cover it but it's no use. I take my hair out of it’s bun, it was barely in one at this point. Then I put it back in one—why was I trying to look good. But my hair is too slicked back and I take it out again to do a messy bun. And just as I twist the elastic a third time it snaps and the doors open. Great. Hair down it would be.

I knock and Harry shouts it’s open again. I use my key to get in because of course it’s not.

“You know your door isn’t actually open ever?” I say as I walk in. The room is dark except for the bedside lamp. I turn on the light so I can see.

“So how do you get in?” Harry’s voice comes from the bathroom.

“My own key?” I say, leaning against the door. Maybe if I stay here and don’t go all the way in I can make this quick.

Harry walks out of the bathroom, he looks like he’d showered and shaved and tidied up. He was more handsome than before, if that was posssible. Aaand that was not what I should be thinking about!

“I ended up getting drunk by myself last night,” Harry says as if it were my fault.

"I told you not to drink whatever you made," I say.

"I was lonely."

“I heard you were a nightmare this morning.”

“I thought you would be in! I was only going to be a nightmare to you. I sort of feel bad for yanking the other manager around.”

“I’m flattered,” I roll my eyes. “And you should be. You nearly gave her a panic attack.”

“Really?” Harry moves away from his dresser and closer to me. I press further into the door as if I could slip through the wood.

“I think she thinks you’re an A-list celeb, the A stands for asshole in the biz.”

"The biz?" Harry's mouth lifts in a smile. As he advances, I start to forget my promise to myself from earlier.

"Sooo you had a noise complaint?" I don't even sound like I care to my own ears. I just sound panicked. I couldn't let anything happen. But Harry is now a foot from me and I forget why I would ever say no.

"Yes," Harry pushes the strands of my hair behind my ear. "Your hair looks nice down."

"Harry," I warn. "If you don't need anything I should go. I really shouldn't be here."

"That's what you keep saying," his eyes undress me. Oh god, now they were looking right at me.

"It's true-" I realise then how stupid it was to trap myself against the door. There was no escaping here and he was too close to be able to open the door. And now he rests his hand above my head. There was no way this door was going to open. "This is the worst thing I could do..."

Harry brushes his thumb over my lips and I immediately stop talking. “Are you going to ever stop talking?”

My breath comes out heavy but I try, “Harry I really shouldn’t-"

“You’re not on the clock are you?”

I look into his eyes, damnit. I wasn’t, and All I can do is nod. I was a fool to think I could come up here and resist him.

“Good.”

As soon as his lips are on mine I’ve thrown away any ounce of sensibility. I yank my arms out from behind me and pull him closer; I don’t think I can pull him close enough.

His hand trails down my body, lifting my thigh to wrap around him, pushing deeper into me.

“Bed,” I manage to gasp. He turns and walks me backwards to the bed, never taking his mouth off of me. He's intense but careful, making sure I'm comfortable. I finally get to see all his tattoos, and his hand (amongst other things) finally touches my own.

Part of me is in shock, how was this happening? Why did Harry even want me?

But the other part, doesn't care. We were attracted to each other and this is what happened. What I wanted right now.

"Y/N," he sighs into my neck and hearing my name on his lips sends me over the edge. We're an island together on the bed and I find shelter between his arms. Damn the consequences.

***

"Hey," a gentle whisper wakes me from my sleep. I keep my eyes closed, I was so tired and this was the deepest I've slept in months. But the voice comes again, "Y/N hey."

My name makes me open my eyes, the sun has somehow come up and I'm laying mostly naked in Harry's bed while he hovers above me, shirtless and with a bed head. There's a pit in my stomach, realising the sun did rise again and today I would have to face the reality that I slept with a...customer.

I feel a kiss on my forehead, it snaps me back to him. The bed, his arms, he wasn't just a customer. This was wrong but also just right.

"Time?" I ask.

"7, I had to wake you. I have a meeting in an hour or so, there’ll be people in my room and I don't want you to get in trouble."

I sit up and pull the covers around me, spotting my shirt on the floor. The tomato stain is irrelevant with the million wrinkles from being thrown on the floor. Last night was amazing.

"I'll freshen up," I mumble. I feel him move closer to me, kiss my shoulder. I close my eyes, why couldn't I stay in this moment forever? Freeze the clock at 7am.

I look as happy as I feel in the mirror, except for the anxiety brewing under the surface of being found out, I'm happy. This was what I needed.

When I get back, Harry still loafs in bed on his phone. But when he sees me, he pulls me onto him and cuddles me against him.

"So are you free tonight?" He asks. I turn to look him in the face, I thought last night was a one-time thing. Guys like Harry didn't want girls like me more than once. "What?" He asks when I just stare at him.

"You want to see me again?" I ask.

"Yeah?" He still looks confused. "I was thinking I can sneak out to your place, bring you dinner."

"Why?" The question is out of my mouth before I could think. "Sorry-I just meant...I thought it was a one night thing."

"Oh," he moves back, "I didn't know you didn't want-"

"No no," I move back closer to him. I missed his warmth. "I thought you wouldn't want to...do anything more with me. This was a one-off.”

"Y/N," he says so gently. He kisses me, "I don't usually convince random women to sleep with me after their shift is over. Never actually. You're....I like you."

"You barely know me," I whisper. This was Harry Styles saying this to me.

"I know. But isn’t it always like that at the beginning? You do know I could've figured out the hot water by myself yesterday but I wanted you to come up, to see you and talk to-"

I flick his ear, "I knew it! I knew you couldn't be that much of an idiot."

He laughs, "I felt something with us, I want to see if it leads to anything."

"You'll be leaving soon," I remind him. "You're staying at a hotel-“

"While my manager looks for a rental. Our original one fell through at the last minute. I'm in the city for a few months, working on my album. Let's just have fun, see where this goes. You're funny and beautiful and patient and-I like you Y/N."

I stare at his lips, forming the words. He meant it. Maybe I wasn’t goin to be so single anymore. He was here for months, and once he's checked out technically he's no longer a customer...

"One condition," I say. I didn't want to put my job at risk again. "We can't do this here. Again. We wait for you to leave or-"

"Deal," Harry kisses me to seal it. His phone vibrating scares us apart. He picks up, "Hi...yeah I'm up...okay bye."

"They're on their way! Around the corner, You have to go!" Harry jumps up and starts picking up the mess of last night. I only had my uniform that was very wrinkled. I panic.

I manage to get on my uniform, close my blazer over the shirt and cover it with a tray leftover in Harry's room. I get my hair in a bun with one of Harry's elastics and pray my puffy face isn't a dead giveaway just as there's a knock at the door. I move towards it and open it, making sure Harry was seated in his chair first.

"Sorry again about the noise complaint, we'll make sure that doesn't happen again sir," I smile at the incoming guests, and sneak a look at Harry who's biting back a laugh. My heart is pounding too loud to laugh.

"I hope not," Harry finishes before he gets up to greet his guests. His manager looks suspicious but I slip out and choose the stairwell down a few floors before getting onto the elevator. Luckily, I don't run into anybody and take the kitchen doors out. It was a close call, but breaking the rules was kind of exhilerating and totally worth it. Harry was into me, we had another date tonight. And he was coming to my place...shit. He was coming to my place.

I find my car and head home to clean for tonight--both myself and my house. I can't wipe the smile off my face the whole ride home though. This was really happening.

[blu-joons]

BTS Reaction: You’re Messy

Jin:

He opened up the drawer to your wardrobe, his eyes widened in horror as he saw the state it was in, clothes were thrown everywhere without a care.

“How do you find anything in here?” He asked, pulling out several of your screwed-up tops. “Did your parents never teach to fold clothes?”

“They did,” you giggled, catching the few that he thrown at you, “I just get a bit lazy and throw them in the drawer, they don’t need folding.”

His head shook, taking all of them out of the drawer. “You need to stop being so messy, that drawer is crazy.”

“It’s manageable.”

“Y/N, it’s a state,” he scolded.

Your eyes rolled, but still, you began to fold one of the shirts, “maybe you’ll have to show me the right way to take care of things then.”

“Sit, pay attention, and listen.”

Yoongi:

Stepping in the house, he nearly fell over as he tripped over a pair of your shoes that had been dumped at the door, with several other pairs scattered around.

“We have a shoe rack for shoes,” he ranted, walking into the living room, spotting you laid out on the sofa. “That’s the third time I’ve nearly fallen over your shoes.”

“Pay attention where you’re going then,” you teased, but he refused to smile. “Not everything has a place Yoongi, mess is allowed.”

He sighed, picking up a couple of the shoes, “I can live with a bit of mess, but not when it’s a hazard, it only takes a few moments.”

“I’ll move them.”

“Don’t just say it,” he spoke.

You shook your head, walking into the hallway, picking up all the pairs of shoes. “Look, I’m moving them, less mess, and a cleaner house.”

“See, it’s a lot safer now.”

Hoseok:

When he walked into the house he was left in horror at the sight before him, cutlery and plates had been left everywhere from your day of meals.

“You can wash up after yourself you know,” he frowned, stacking the pile of plates on the table. “You’re getting messier and messier you know.”

“I’ll move them,” you giggled, placing your phone in your pocket, “I just do them all at the end of the day rather than washing up loads.”

“Look at the place,” he laughed, spinning around the room, “there is stuff everywhere, you’ve not washed up in days by the looks of it.”

“You’re wrong.”

“You used all this today?” He asked.

You sniggered, “alright, it may be a few days stuff, but I promise tonight I will wash it all up and get the place looking clean again.”

“I’m keeping an eye on you.”

Namjoon:

You weren’t messy in the sense of one thing, the whole house was just untidy, you had bits scattered everywhere that Namjoon was picking up after you.

“if I find one more sock lying around this floor,” you heard him groan, walking into the bedroom. “How do you drop these all the time?”

“It’s all an accident,” you giggled, smiling innocently across at him. “I swear I don’t mean to leave them all everywhere.”

He chuckled, shaking his head at you. “You’re hands down one of the messiest people I have ever met, and I’ve lived with six boys before.”

“How dare you!”

“What? It’s only the truth,” he smiled.

He laid down beside you, wrapping an arm around you. “I’m not even that bad, you’re just being a massive drama queen about it all.”

“Stop leaving smelly socks everywhere.”

Jimin:

As you unzipped your suitcase, you heard a gasp come from behind you, you spun around looking at the shocked expression on Jimin’s face.

“Did you pack that blind? It looks like a bomb has gone off in that case Y/N,” he chuckled, shaking his head at the state. “What happened?”

“What do you mean?” You replied, “it’s not that bad, I just placed everything and zipped it up, I know it’s not exactly organised.”

He nodded in agreement with you, “you’re right, it’s definitely not organised, a little kid could have done better than that.”

“Don’t be so mean.”

���I’m not,” he laughed innocently.

Your eyes rolled, beginning to unpack a few things, “everything is here, I don’t see what you’ve got to grumble about, it’s not your case.”

“My case would never be that messy.”

Taehyung:

You thought you were doing a nice thing for Tae by cooking for him, but as he walked into the kitchen, he couldn’t believe the state it was in.

“How many people are you planning on cooking for?” He chuckled, walking in, looking around. “Was there a bit of worktop you didn’t want to cover?”

“What are you talking about?” You asked, continuing to prep the meal. “I’ve not made that much of a mess, I’m being productive.”

His eyes widened, giggling sarcastically, “you’ve made a right state of the place, I’ve never seen it look such a state.”

“I’m sure I have.”

“No way,” he laughed.

He began to move a few things around, keeping the place a little bit tidy. “When you’re done, this place needs a proper tidy up.”

“I’ll do it, I promise you.”

Jungkook:

You pointed to drawer where Jungkook could find your concealer, he opened up the drawer, pausing for a moment as he looked in.

“Am I supposed to bury by way in to find it?” He teased, tipping the drawer so you could see. “Have you ever thought of organising it?”

“I know where everything is,” you shrugged, looking across at him, “it’s not hard to find, you might just need to have a search.”

He sighed, beginning to look through it all. “I’ve never seen a drawer so messy in my life, you need to organise this better.”

“I like it.”

“It’s a complete state,” he challenged.

You shook your head, refusing to believe him. “You’re exaggerating, I might be a little bit messy, but there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“We’re sorting this drawer, right now.”

---

Masterlist

[urdearestmom]

I'll Walk With You

hello everyone shocked to see me posting yet again???????

i said after i posted that oneshot rehashing 3x06 that i was going to one day write something where mike and max have an actual conversation.... and here it is!! for your reading pleasure :)

i think i did them and their dynamic justice with this and i'm super proud of how it turned out. we're unlikely to ever get something like this in the show but i'm hoping s4 at least gives us them being actual friends so that i can infer that something like this happened between seasons lol

Max’s house is silent as the grave. She isn’t surprised, it’s been like this nearly all the time since the summer. Her stepfather will drink himself back to sleep on the couch, and her mother will say nothing. Max won’t say anything either. The day has barely begun and it’s already shit.

Most of the time she escapes the horrible atmosphere inside her house by going to school, but it’s Spring Break now and she has nowhere to be. She’ll be stuck with her thoughts all day if she doesn’t find something else to do, so after nearly two hours of trying in vain to entertain herself, she decides to head out and see if Lucas is free. She knows Dustin already left town with his mom the night before, and she’s not willing to have Mike third wheel her and Lucas, so she hopes he’s down to go do something with her. He’s good at distracting her from the inescapable cycle of guilt and anger she feels constantly nowadays.

Except when she gets to his house, his parents are in the garage putting things into the trunk of the family car. She stops at the sight. Erica is nowhere to be seen but Lucas is standing in the front doorway and sees Max coming right away. He meets her in the street.

“Max, hey,” he says. “What’s up?”

Max gestures to his house. “I came to see if you wanted to hang out, but it looks like you guys are going somewhere.”

Lucas frowns. “I thought I told you, we’re going to visit my cousins in Chicago for a few days.”

Lord, a few days? Lucas must see it on her face because he scrambles to assure her it’s not for the whole week.

“I’ll be back Wednesday,” he promises.

“Today’s Sunday,” she protests. She knows there’s literally nothing to be done about it, but it still sucks. What’s she going to do all week?

“I swear I told you,” Lucas repeats.

“Yeah. Yeah,” Max answers. “You probably did. I’m sorry, just… forgot.”

He frowns again. Max has been forgetting a lot of things lately. She’s not sure why, it just feels like everything in her life is too much and her brain can’t handle it the way it should. Freshman year has not been the greatest so far.

“You okay?” He asks her, reaching for her hands, and his concern makes her heart squeeze painfully in her chest. He’s probably the only person who actually cares about her well-being, seeing as her mom clearly doesn’t.

Max nods. “Yeah. I just didn’t want to be at home, but I guess I’ll find something else to do. Bye, Lucas,” she says, squeezing his fingers gratefully before turning away to bike off back down the street.

“Hey!” He calls. She turns back. He motions to the big house next door, equally familiar to her. “Mike’s still home, maybe you can ask him?”

Max crosses her arms. “Like he would want to hang out with me,” she scoffs.

Lucas sighs. “Look, I know he can be a bit of an ass sometimes-”

“That’s putting it lightly.”

“-But he’s not a bad person, Max, you know that. He’s dealing with a lot right now,” Lucas finishes.

Max rolls her eyes. “Yeah, well, he’s not the only one,” she says bitingly. She has never gotten along with the third boy in their group and at this point she isn’t sure she ever will. She’s also not really in the mood to look at his stupid face today, considering it’ll more than likely start an argument and she doesn’t have the energy for that.

“I know,” Lucas says. “I know. But you’re both my best friends and I think you guys are more alike than you think. If you just gave each other another chance, you’d get along.”

Max doesn’t reply. She doesn’t really know what to say because she knows Lucas is only trying to help her with what he thinks is the current best solution, but she doesn’t want to agree with him either.

“Just think about it,” he continues. “He’s the only one not going anywhere so if you really need to see someone…”

She gets what Lucas is implying, but really? “He’d probably laugh in my face if I showed up at the door. I’d rather stay home.”

At that, Lucas raises his arms in surrender. “I’m just saying he wouldn’t turn you away. We don’t lie to each other, alright?”

Max shrugs in response. “Whatever. I’ll figure something out.”

Lucas steps forward quickly to hug her. Pulling back, he keeps his hands on her arms. “I wrote my cousins’ phone number on the back of your math worksheet yesterday if you need it.”

She gives him a tiny nod and he returns it with a small smile, dropping his arms back to his sides.

“I’ll see you first thing Thursday morning,” he adds.

“Thursday,” she repeats, putting one foot back on her bike pedal. “Got it.” What’s she supposed to do until Thursday?

The answer, as it happens, is absolutely nothing. For the rest of Sunday afternoon, Max rides around town with no destination. She stops in a park for a while, sitting down and pulling up blades of grass and sprinkling them around her. A man walking his dog gives her a weird look and she flips the bird at his back. That action feels oddly satisfying, even if he didn’t see it. In the evening she makes her way back to her house, and everyone pretends like she didn’t just spend the entire day gone.

Monday dawns looking and feeling exactly the same, except Max decides to get a start on some homework. This way when Lucas comes back she’ll be free to hang out with him without the thought of her assignments hanging over her head. Her mom leaves to go to work and all it does is make Max hyper aware of Neil’s movements across the house. He’s supposed to go to work too, but Max isn’t sure he will. In fact, she sort of suspects he’s either quit or been fired. He’s missed too many days.

When she’s tired of writing and the lines of her character analysis of Mercutio are starting to blur into the equations on her algebra worksheet, she goes into the kitchen to find something to eat. Neil’s gone, so she makes herself a ham and cheese sandwich and stands by the sink to eat it. She feels exhausted, and it’s barely afternoon.

Hours later, she wakes up from a nap to the sun near setting and the noises of her mom puttering around the kitchen making dinner. The first thing her gaze lands on is the clunky walkie-talkie sitting on her desk, and her thoughts spring to the boys. Specifically, what Lucas said to her the day before.

Maybe it has more merit than she first gave it. It’s true that she doesn’t get along with Mike at all, but she might be willing to try again at some point, if only to appease Lucas. She had wanted to when they all first met. She liked the other boys just fine, but she could tell from the get-go that Mike was their ringleader and his opinion could sway the others. If she wanted to truly feel like a part of the group, they all had to be on board. Even after that, things weren’t so terrible between them; at least until summer and all the drama with El and then everything else that happened. Now, Max’s headspace is too occupied by other problems to care much about trying to repair her somewhat-friendship with him, and Mike has become more and more reclusive by the day. She even thinks she saw him smoking once, down at the far end of the field, which, although she isn’t an expert, she feels is extremely uncharacteristic.

Everything’s just weird now. There’s too many empty holes in all their lives.

Dinner is mostly quiet; nobody in this house ever says anything that has any true meaning anyway. Maybe it’s better this way. Neil ends up on the couch joined by his bottle of whiskey and Max’s mom shoos her away after she’s cleared the table, so Max retreats back to her room. The silence is almost deafening, and she wishes that dumb walkie-talkie on her desk would crackle. What she wouldn’t give for someone to say real words to her.

She considers calling Lucas, but she doesn’t want to bother him with her problems when he’s supposed to be having fun with his cousins. She also doesn’t want Neil to ask who she’s calling. In the end, she ends up tidying her room, gathering up all her comic books and folding the clothes she has on the floor before placing them on her chair. The walkie seems like it’s calling out to her as she glances at it every five seconds, and then finally lets her frustration out on it by snatching it up and launching it at her bed. She doesn’t want to break it, but she did want to throw it. Why does she keep looking at it? It’s not like anyone’s going to call her on it. The only people who might are both out of town.

Her emotions war inside of her. On the one hand, she knows what she wants, what she needs. She needs to talk to someone freely so it has to be someone who relates to what she’s seen, because being stuck virtually alone inside her house for the next few days until Lucas gets back is going to drive her insane. Unfortunately the only person she can think of is someone she isn’t on good terms with, which makes her angry for even having the thought. Is she really desperate enough to potentially embarrass herself?

Damn Lucas for putting the idea in her head. She’s sure she never would’ve considered it on her own. Damn Lucas and his stupid advice, damn Dustin for ever speaking to her that day and getting her involved in all their mess, and damn Mike for hating her from day one.

Damn her for going to talk to him anyway. She sneaks out her window, just as she has done to meet Lucas so many times, except it’s after nine and it’s dark out. She brings the walkie with her.

On the way, she wonders why she’s even doing this. She supposes it would make it easier for Lucas and Dustin when they all hang out together (which is getting rarer every week) if she and Mike aren’t constantly at each other’s throats about something or other. She also remembers something El said to her on the phone a while ago that she had forgotten about until this very moment. El had heard enough complaints from both of them about each other and was just wishing they would stop fighting. Max had scoffed at it and been about to launch into another rant about just how much of a jerk Mike was when El had said she didn’t care if they weren’t friends, she just wanted them to stop being so mad all the time.

Max kind of agrees with her. Being angry all the time is exhausting, and there are way worse things in her life to be angry about than Mike Wheeler and his dumb attitude. If she can make peace with him, maybe she won’t feel so out of place around her own friends. And maybe, if they can get over everything that’s happened between them, it’ll give her hope that the rest of her life might look up one day, too.

It’s only when she gets to his house that she realizes she doesn’t know what she wants to say. Maybe it doesn’t have to be a whole conversation, maybe just seeing each other for five minutes will give her enough stability to stay in her house until Lucas returns and she can talk to him instead. She just needs to be around someone who knows the things she’s been through since she moved here, someone who looks at her and knows why she is the way she is. Her mom can never know and will never understand, and Neil is too scary to ever think about approaching him with anything at all.

She drops her bike in the grass by the back of the house, making her way to the basement door where she knows the boys like to be. He’s probably in there still. Her stomach is roiling with nerves, scared that he’ll open the door and glare at her like he usually does, but she remembers there’s another way he looks at her sometimes. There are moments at school, when she passes the gym or sees the basketball team, where Max gets overwhelmed at the memories of her dead stepbrother. It’s almost like she can smell him, the way he used to get up in her face when he yelled at her and the way he looked when he died apologizing to her. It’s moments like that when Dustin and Lucas will be distracted with some petty disagreement that she looks to Mike and his gaze contains solidarity instead of hostility; reassurement that he knows what it feels like to be reminded at every turn of someone you cared about who is gone. He was there, too, and saw Billy sacrifice himself at the last moment just as she did. It’s not an image either of them can forget.

It’s this that gives her the courage to rap her knuckles on the glass pane of the basement door and wait for an answer. When she waits ten seconds and nothing happens, she frowns and knocks again. He wouldn’t know it’s her, why would he ignore it?

She pushes her face up to the door again and tries to see inside, her breath fogging against the glass, and then realizes all the lights in the basement are off.

“Shit,” she says quietly. She doesn’t want to show up at the front door at this time of night. His mom will probably answer and Max doesn’t want to explain herself. She wanders around to the front of the house anyway, looking at which lights are on. There’s one on the ground floor that flickers and seems like it might be a TV, and there’s one on in a room on the second floor. That room has pink wallpaper, though, so Max decides to assume it’s not the one she’s looking for. The middle upstairs window is dark, and the one on the left has the blinds pulled halfway down, but she spots a familiar figure walking past it in the half second her eyes jump to it. Bingo.

She takes a breath to steel herself before bringing the walkie-talkie out of her jacket pocket and pressing down on the button. “Mike, do you copy? It’s Max. Over.”

The walkie crackles with static for a few seconds, and then clears up as an answer comes through. “Yeah, I copy. What do you want? Over.”

“Can you come outside?”

It crackles again in the silence, and Max thinks that maybe this was insane and she should just go home. Then, “You’re outside?”

The blinds lift all the way up and Max sees Mike’s expression change from confused to surprised, like he didn’t actually believe she was there. In a second, he has the window pulled up too and his head sticking out of it.

“What are you doing here?” He asks, his tone of voice anxious, and Max realizes he probably thinks something horrible has happened. In his head, there’s likely no other reason she of all people would show up at his house at close to ten at night.

“Nothing happened, if that’s what you’re thinking,” she says, glancing away from him above her and noticing she’s standing in front of the front door. This is not a good place to be. “I just- didn’t want to be alone.”

She looks back up to find him staring at her like she’s grown another head. “So you came to me?”

Max huffs and crosses her arms. “Well, there’s no one else to go to!”

“Keep your voice down!” He hisses. “Do you want my mom to hear you?”

She glares. She’s starting to think that this was a bad idea after all.

After a few seconds of mutinous eye contact, Mike puts a hand to his forehead exasperatedly. “Give me a minute, I’ll meet you at the basement door.” He shuts the window and pulls the blinds down without another word, so Max heeds the order and circles back around to where she left her bike. A few moments later, he comes out the door shrugging on a jacket over what looks like-

“Are those Star Wars pyjamas?” She asks, her mouth twisting into a teasing little smile. What does El see in this guy? As far as she knows, Lucas isn’t this completely nerdy.

He gives her a flat look. “Why do you have to have a problem with everything that I do?”

She frowns. “It was just a question. Relax, jeez.”

In response, Mike puts his hands in his pockets and looks at her. “So what do you want to do?”

Max balks for a second, awkwardness taking over her. This is so weird. She’s never willingly chosen to spend any of her time alone with Mike, and now she doesn’t know what to do.

“Um… just- walk around, maybe?”

He shrugs at her answer and starts walking toward the line of trees behind the house, where there’s a little path that leads off to the next street. Max follows quietly, a little moonlight shining down on them, and she thinks that the silence between them doesn’t feel as explosive as it usually does.

Somewhere along the way, after they’ve crossed another street and gone down a path between two houses, Mike takes something shiny out of his pocket and starts playing with it, and Max sees that it’s a lighter.

“What’s that for?” She asks.

“Lighting things up,” he says.

“You smoke?”

“Only sometimes.”

“So what’s it for the other times?”

He looks at her and his eyebrows furrow for a quick second, seemingly surprised that she inferred something about him correctly.

Mike shrugs again. “Sometimes I go out to the woods and set dead leaves on fire one at a time just to watch them burn. It’s weird how something that was alive once can just disintegrate right in front of you.”

Max isn’t sure what to say to that, but she offers something anyway. “Sometimes I steal my stepdad’s Bowie knife. Use it to stab trees,” she says casually. “Sometimes I even carve that I hate him into them.”

She’s never told Lucas that. Something in her knows that he wouldn’t relate, that his way of dealing with his anger is much calmer and reserved, but Mike’s admission of low-level violence makes her feel less crazy for her own. Maybe Lucas was right in saying they’re more alike than they think they are.

They come out of the trees behind the houses, and the path continues down a hill to a small playground area. There's a swing set that Max sits down on, the cold rubber biting through the fabric of her jeans and making her shiver. The chains creak when Mike sits in the one next to her. He’s digging through his pockets for something.

Max is almost surprised when he pulls out a box of cigarettes and plucks one from the pack, lighting it, but given what he’d just told her two minutes ago it’s not that shocking. He takes a pull from it and then blows the smoke out into the air slowly.

“You want some?” He asks, turning to her.

She remembers the choking sensation she’d felt that time Billy had offered her a drag from his cigarette, and then her mom’s reaction to it.

“Yeah, why not.” Maybe if she still smells like smoke tomorrow, her mom will care enough to ask where she’s been.

Mike hands it to her and the tips of his fingers are warm. “You’ve smoked before?”

“Once,” Max says.

He nods and watches her, and she tries not to let the hot, ashy air she breathes in make her choke. She holds it for a few seconds and then blows it out, and it makes her feel less nervous than she was before about this whole situation.

The pair of them sit there in the darkness for a few minutes, sharing the cigarette in silence, before Max thinks to ask a question she never got a real answer for.

“Why do you hate me so much?”

Mike doesn’t look at her, sucking in another breath of smoke. “I don’t hate you.”

“You sure act like you do.”

“Oh, and you don’t?” He says sarcastically, still not looking at her. “If I hated you why would I be here right now?”

“Well, if I hated you, why would I have come talk to you?” She retorts, trying to restrain the irritation she knows is probably written all over her. If she doesn’t rein herself in, she knows this is going to go south quicker than she wants it to.

He laughs dryly. “You said it yourself. You only came because there’s no one else.”

Max bites back the anger that’s trying to rise. He does have a point there, but she’s not going to tell him that. He’s also not answering her question.

“Fine. Maybe you don’t hate me.”

“I don’t.”

“What’s your problem with me then?”

He hands her the end of the cigarette to finish and grabs onto the chains of the swing, dragging the toes of his Converse through the grass.

“You’re always starting shit with me for no reason and it makes me so tired,” he says. “Like, we’d be friends just fine if we didn’t argue every other day.”

“And whose fault is that…” Max murmurs under her breath, dropping the cigarette stub to the ground and putting it out with her foot.

Mike turns to her sharply. “Uh, yours? You made El break up with me! How am I supposed to forget that?”

“I already told you I didn’t make her!” Max says loudly. Why is he still on this? As far as Max is aware, they’re basically back together anyway so it’s not like it made a difference. “And how am I supposed to forget how shit you made me feel the first week I was here?”

He looks away again. “I was pretty rude, I’ll give you that.”

She scoffs. “That’s underrating it. You were a total asshole.”

He pushes himself forward a little bit and then lets himself swing back. “I guess I never really apologized for that. I do regret it.”

Max stays silent and waits for him to continue. He’s slumped over in the swing, looking smaller and sadder than she’s ever seen him look, and her heart twinges. She recognizes the defeat present in the way his shoulders are hunched, the complete and utter exhaustion at the state of their lives painted on his face. It’s what she sees every day when she looks in the mirror.

“It wasn’t that I didn’t like you, or something,” he tells her. “I was jealous that Lucas and Dustin seemed like they were moving on when I was so…”

“Messed up?” She offers.

Mike shrugs. “Yeah. And part of it was out of concern for you, too.”

Max furrows her brows in confusion. That’s new. “Concern?” She asks, shaking her head slowly. Her hair swings around her face like a curtain, blocking her vision, but she wants to look at Mike and see how he explains this. She tucks it away behind her ear.

“Yeah,” he says again. “I could see how fucked up Will was, and I knew how fucked up I was. And Dustin and Lucas are good at pretending stuff doesn’t affect them but I know it did. It does.”

“And?”

“And I didn’t want someone new getting mixed up in our shit, okay?” He bursts out, meeting her curious gaze once again. “I didn’t want someone else to have to experience the stuff we did. I thought if I made it obvious that I didn’t want you there, you would leave. You know now, but when Lucas told you we couldn’t tell you stuff for your own safety it was the truth.”

Max thinks about that. She supposes it makes sense. She has noticed that Mike tends to be the guy that worries about everyone else’s safety, and always wants to get to the bottom of the problem before anyone gets hurt. Lucas is the same and it’s something she admires about him, but it’s overtly obvious in Mike when he’s always the one stressing about coming up with plans. Lucas is a little more go-with-what-the-adults-say.

“I’m sorry that I hurt you,” Mike finally says, and his expression is earnest. He’s a bad liar anyway, so Max knows that he means it. Speaking of his lies… she has something to apologize for too.

“I’m sorry too,” she says. “For judging your relationship too fast.”

He makes a weird noise when he registers what she said, almost like a laugh but kind of mad, too. “Yeah, and for making my girlfriend dump me.”

Max reaches out towards him and smacks his arm, a spike of irritation fuelling her. “Mike, how many goddamn times do I have to tell you I didn’t make her?”

“Well, what the hell did you say to her to make her do that?!” He exclaims.

The peace of the previous moment is gone and Max crosses her arms over her chest defensively. “From what she told me, it sounded like you were just lying straight to her face so you didn’t have to see her. All I did was tell her that if you did it again, she should dump your ass. You did it to yourself.”

Mike throws his arms up. “Hopper made me lie! He told me if I didn’t, he wouldn’t let me see her anymore. You seriously think I wouldn’t want to spend time with her? After everything we went through?”

She thinks for a second about the way he’d looked when El had walked back into their lives; the way he had seemed to drop all the negativity he’d been carrying around the second she came through that door. Max remembers thinking she’d never been so sure about someone’s presence in her life.

He’s still on a roll. “What, is that why you’ve dumped Lucas, like, seven times? You just break up with him the second he does something you don’t like without even letting him explain himself?”

Bringing that up is a sore point. Max feels incredibly guilty for the way she’s treated Lucas in the past, and she’s trying to be better. She’d told him once that she knew she could be a jerk like her stepbrother sometimes, that she was angry just like he was, but that she didn’t want to be like him. And then she turned around and behaved exactly like him, manipulating Lucas’ reactions and dumping him over and over because she knew he would come back. It made her feel like she was in control, the dominant one, the complete opposite of what she saw in her mother and what she felt in her house every day.

But she had come to a point where she realized that one day, Lucas would get fed up with her. There would come a day when he wouldn’t stand for it anymore and he’d leave her permanently, and Max didn’t think she could live with that. From then on, she had decided to try harder with him and make things better, to talk about her feelings more. It’s always going to be difficult for her, but Lucas is worth it.

“Don’t say that like you know anything about why I did that,” she says sharply, gripping so tightly onto the chain of the swing that the cold metal feels like ice in her hand.

Mike glares back at her, indignant. “Oh, that’s rich! Like you knew anything about me when you said that shit to El!”

Max stands up suddenly. “I’m tired of the lies, Mike! Do you know what it’s like to live in a house where your mom will watch your brother get beat up and leave the room so she can pretend it didn’t happen? Where she doesn’t care where you go or how you feel or what’s going on with you because if she doesn’t ask, she doesn’t have to lie to herself that it’s okay? Where we all just don’t talk about anything and pretend it’s all fine when it isn’t?”

She’s breathing hard and he’s staring up at her with wide eyes, accustomed to her outbursts by now but not like this. Max sits back down on the swing, hard.

“I broke up with Lucas a lot because it made me feel like I had control,” she admits. “I needed to feel like I was in charge of the situation. I get enough of being treated second-class at home, and I don’t want to be like my mom, ever.”

She looks back at Mike on the other swing and he doesn’t look mad at her anymore, only like he’s processing what he’s just heard. It lets her own anger drain out of her.

“When El told me what you said, it reminded me of my mom,” Max continues. “She seemed so confused on why you would do that and to me it looked like you were just using her when you wanted her and dropping her when you didn’t. My mom kind of… disappears into whoever she’s dating and just goes along with whatever they do, and it looked like that for me,” she finishes.

“I get it,” he says, and Max raises her eyebrows. “I mean, I don’t get it personally, my parents aren’t like that. I just meant I get where you’re coming from. It makes sense why you would think that way.”

“I didn’t want the same thing that happens to my mom to happen to El,” Max adds. “She is her own person, and she of all people deserves the chance to be that.”

At last, they find common ground. “I agree,” Mike replies. “She’s been through enough in her life. And I’m happy you and her are friends now,” he adds. “Seriously. It was kind of weird to imagine her having girl problems or something and talking to my sister about it. I’m glad she has you.”

“I’m glad she has you,” Max says, and Mike looks shocked to hear her say it. “I might not get why, but I know you make her happy somehow. Even if you do wear Star Wars pyjamas.”

“Hey!” He says, offended. “You recognizing it means you’ve seen it too. And I know for a fact you read comics, so you’re just as much of a nerd as me.”

Max shrugs, giving him the point. “At least I can beat you at arcade games.”

“Is that a challenge?” He asks, swinging closer as if to intimidate her.

Max laughs, and it’s a real laugh for the first time in what feels like forever. “You’re on.”

“Tomorrow,” Mike suggests. “Twelve o’clock. I’ll meet you there.”

“Bring painkillers,” she warns him. “You’re gonna need them after I’m done kicking your ass at every. Single. Game.”

“You won’t beat me at Galaga,” he says proudly.

“Wanna bet?”

They stand up and shake hands, and his feels pleasantly warm. It’s a nice change from the frozen chain she was holding onto.

“Loser gets us fries,” Mike adds, and Max agrees to it. As if of one mind, they both turn back up the path they came from.

They’re back across the two streets they crossed and almost all the way back to Mike’s house when Max speaks again.

“So are we good?” She asks. She feels good about having aired out all the conflict she had with him, and he’s had this dumb smile on his face the whole time they’ve been walking back, which she’s choosing to take as a good sign.

“Yeah,” he says, looking at his feet. “We’re good.” He smiles wider.

It brings a small smile to Max’s own face. Having friends feels nice. “Why are you smiling like that?”

He coughs a little, scratching his head. “Just thinking about how happy El will be when she finds out we’re not enemies anymore.”

Max rolls her eyes good-naturedly. “You are so whipped.”

He shrugs as if to say, what can you do?

“I think Lucas and Dustin will benefit from having us not trying to kill each other every five seconds, too,” she says.

“Definitely.”

“Although I’ll probably still be annoyed by half the things you say.”

Mike makes a face like he’s not surprised to hear that. “Don’t worry about it. You’re still annoying, I just like you now. No more actual fighting.”

“Good,” she replies, feeling happier than she has in days as they arrive back in his backyard. She can faintly see her bike lying in the grass.

Mike has the door to the basement halfway open by the time she’s sitting on her bike ready to ride away, and at the last second lays a hand on her arm.

“Hey, anytime you need somewhere to go… I’m usually home,” he says, looking at her directly. It’s a simple thing to say, but she knows what he means by it. He’s telling her that he understands that sometimes her house is not a home, and that she’s always welcome in his if she needs it.

“Thanks,” she responds, and for once she is truly thankful for Mike Wheeler’s existence.

“Well, good night,” he answers, and awkwardly salutes her out of nowhere.

Max squints at him confusedly for a second. “I’ll... see you tomorrow,” she says haltingly.

He looks kind of embarrassed and shuts the door quickly, and Max rides off back to her house. That was random.

However, she is looking forward to tomorrow. She has a feeling Mike’s going to be the type of friend she’s constantly competing with, ribbing back and forth to see who can be worse just like they usually do, but this time knowing they’re both forgiven for their mistakes. It’s different from her other friendships for sure, but she thinks it’ll be good. Lucas is going to be pleased.

Maybe the wait until Thursday won’t be so bad after all.

[softly-savage-mint-yoongi]

Allotrope pt. 4

Genre: Idolverse Pairing: Kim Junmyeon (Suho) x f!reader Warnings: Angst. Internal struggles with Mental Health problems. Relationship struggles. Smut. Edging. Overstimulation (m!rec.), oral (m!rec.), no protection. explicit, soft sex. Words: 12.2k prev. / next.

You’ve always been an animal lover. Today, however, for the third day in a row, you’re cursing the existence of birds in particular as you roll over in bed. Lately, the window beside your bed has become a stage for their sing song voices. It’s been just enough to wake you from precious slumber the moment the sun just begins to creep into the sky.

You dread having to open your eyes, huffing in annoyance as you reach for your phone and cradle it to your chest for a moment. You felt the gentle vibration of a text message notification when you pulled it from the bedside table. Cracking one eye open, you lift it above your head and rest your thumb against the unlock.

Your background is simple but makes your heart flutter nonetheless. A pastel blue color with a single symbol of a tribal water droplet in white. His symbol, your idol. Your Water King.

Swinging your feet from under the comfort of your covers, you rise begrudgingly. Making your way to the bathroom, you remember today is… Wednesday. Although you don’t have work today, you look around your apartment and realize you’ve got a day of cleaning ahead of you.

For the last two and a half weeks since Junmyeon gave you his number, you’ve neglected to tidy up more than necessary. Instead, you’ve been too attached to your phone, talking, texting or video chatting with him. Constantly sending memes and jokes and book recommendations. It’s been wonderful, really.

Shoving your toothbrush in your mouth, you begin your day. While you brush, you check your messages. Two from him, one from Soohyun.

Junmyeon’s first text is longer, answering your question about seeing each other soon, and letting you know he will be coming back from overseas tomorrow (today) after an interview that will wrap up their schedule in North America. His second text promises that he can’t wait to see you when he returns, and wishes for you to sleep well with a kiss emoji.

It sets a smile on your face too broad to contain the foam of your toothpaste. You finish up and wash your face, making your way to the kitchen.

Waiting for your coffee to finish brewing a whole pot, you open Soohyun’s message. He’s asking if you want to visit the new restaurant in town for dinner. His offer assures you he has a connection who could get you in without the waitlist, but he needs to know asap. Word around town is their menu in its entirety is well worth the required reservation days in advance.

Automatically, you’re excited. Your mood lifts a bit at the idea of deliciously rumored food, and you can’t wait to confirm. Sending him a load of excited emojis and the word ‘yes’ in all caps, you go about your day with a happy bounce.

It starts off well, with a playlist of piano covers of EXO albums carrying through the apartment. The curtains are spread wide open to allow the bright sun in while you tidy up. With every chore that you complete, you relax that much more. Laundry folded, papers you no longer need shredded, trash out, all of it. You’ve even got a candle lit in every room and you’re on your third cup of coffee by noon.

At this hour, an anxiousness begins to creep in. You know on the other side of the world, where there’s a thirteen hour difference, Junmyeon is finishing his schedule for the day and is probably just getting back to his hotel room. Which means he’ll be texting you.

It makes you check your phone constantly, even though you’ve heard nothing from the device stuffed into the pocket of your tattered sweats- you have to check. It’s manic.

You’re not sure what to expect. Although the last week of nonstop contacting one another has been wonderful, it’s also been… difficult.

Sure, there have been way too many good things. Your favorite in particular is whenever you get to watch an episode of his latest drama, Rich Man Poor Woman. You cackle in delight every time he’s making a ridiculous face or you pause the feed at the perfect moment to catch a silly expression. You’ve made a handful of memes with the images, sharing every single one with him to tease him.

He called you once immediately after you sent one to complain loudly through the speaker of your phone, until your laughter made him chuckle. Most of them he would pout at but then find just as hysterical as you would- claiming your tearful laughter contagious. He knew you thought he was a wonderful actor and these would be safe from ever being released to the masses of the internet.

Other times there were quiet moments where he would read to you over the phone or video chat as you fell asleep. Or vice versa. Quietly whispered conversations from under your covers with him until one of you was too tired to continue. Sometimes it was just getting to know one another better over endless games of ‘this or that’, asking a plethora of random questions and discussing the answers of why either of you chose one versus the other. You both have quite the affinity for books it seems.

Two or three times over the last week there’s also been heated moments. Snapshots of abs, not revealing his face as the top of the picture showed him biting his lip only. Teasing innuendos or emojis from both parties, sometimes ending in laughs and sometimes more.

You’d both been afraid to do more yet- fearful of it somehow getting hacked. Only one phone call where you’d been too desperate, you had panted into your phones at each other about how much you wish the other were there. During such, you’d admitted how much the audio turned you on. You could hear the slick sounds of every stroke he took, and in turn he could hear the gentle buzzing of your vibrator as you brought yourselves to completion. His quiet moans and huffs of breath in your ear haunt you still. Strange how intimate a moment could be with an entire ocean separating you.

Occasionally, conversation turns to the heavier things that you both need to discuss. About your relationship, about what you are and where you are and where you’re going. Two days ago, the conversation had turned from a conversation to an argument. You’d both raised your voices, but not at each other. Out of frustration.

Often the questions ran along the lines of what are you? Or are you in an exclusive relationship? You’d both easily admitted you would like that, but then the what ifs about it. The insecurities and uncertainty. The pressure to be all that an exclusive relationship typically entails.

You’re under the impression Junmyeon struggles with it harder than you do, naturally. He’s an idol. He already under an intense amount of pressure. In your mind, he doesn’t need the additional pressure of having to be there for someone when he can’t be all the time. Can he commit to you like that? Normally you spin it much the same- you’re about to start your last year of college. Are you going to have time for him, too? What happens if the few times he’s available by chance, you’re not? How upsetting and frustrating that would be. Are you both mentally and emotionally strong enough… mature enough to understand that if you become an actual item there is a chance you might go months between seeing each other? What if the fans find out? What if that becomes not enough and one of you calls it quits because it’s driving you mad? What if something like that happened and if affected his performance as an idol? What if he couldn’t keep up the facade- a second is all it takes for someone to say something about his composure.

So, do you stay as you are? The hooking up when it works out for your schedules by random chance? You know that won’t work either because you hate it. You know he hates it, too. You like belonging to one another too much. You like being selfish.

Both of you struggle with all of it. It’s terrifying when you don’t know the answers to the what if questions. How can you commit without knowing how frustrating it’s going to be? Becoming someone’s partner means disappointment at missed holidays and birthdays, anniversaries. Lack of intimacy, which you both clearly need a healthy amount of at this point.

The most frustrating of all is that neither of you have an answer for those kinds of questions. It’s a vicious cycle.

You pull yourself from your thoughts with a sigh. So much for your unstoppable, fantastic day. You feel gross, having done all of your house chores and needing a shower. Even looking around your clean apartment wasn’t relaxing you how it should be.

You’re hopeful a shower might lift your spirit enough to save the day, but the spray and suds in your hair aren’t doing much good. Just as you step out, you decide to drain your hot water supply completely and run a bath to lounge in.

While it fills the tub, you brush your hair and pull it onto your head and refill your coffee cup, even going as far as to grab a bath bomb from your pampering supply for good measure.

For a few moments you watch as it fizzes and swirls the lavender, gold and cream colors around the steaming water. Goddess, the name of the bomb, and one of your favorites.

You’re too impatient for it to completely dissolve- balancing your coffee mug on the side of the tub as you get comfortable in the depths of vanilla scented water.

Intentionally- you left your phone on the kitchen counter. You want to relax. Instead of letting yourself hyper-fix on it, you focus on your coffee as it slips down your throat. You’re being warmed inside and out from the coffee and the water, slowly sapping the tension from your bones.

While you drink, you busy yourself deliberating about what you might want to wear tonight.

By the time you’re frowning at the coffee-stained bottom of your mug and your skin is prickling from the tepid bathwater, nothing has sufficed to distract your thoughts.

You feel lousy and terrible and kind of don’t even want to go to dinner because you know your shitty mood will ruin the evening. Soohyun knows your moods shift and fluctuate with the wind, and he wouldn’t judge you for cancelling, but you feel disappointed about it. How burdensome.

Pulling the plug on the drain, you pull your knees up to your chest and sit in the tub, watching the space between the water’s surface and the ring of purple foam grow wider slowly. The gurgling sound of the drain swallowing the last liter stirs you from your blank thoughts.

You stand and give the tub a quick rinse- then pat yourself dry with a fresh towel and grab your empty mug. There’s an uncomfortable feeling tugging at your chest the closer you draw to the kitchen, and your phone. Like you can’t reach it fast enough in hopes the unease will go away if you look at it.

Setting your mug down in the sink and letting some water run into the bottom, you side eye your phone. Sitting there right where you left it, incriminating and imposing beside the coffee pot. There’s a little text bubble icon on your lockscreen when you tap the screen and illuminate it, staring back at you. You don’t have to unlock it to know who it’s from. Swiping it from the counter in all of your stark naked glory, you carry it back to your bedroom and toss it onto your bedspread without checking it.

At least you can wear your favorite lounge clothes and curl up on your bed while you feel awful. After you dress, just to procrastinate, you even sit down at your vanity to put on some extra moisturizer and toner and use a spa roller.

Eventually, the feeling in your chest scalds to an unbearable degree. You can’t ignore it any longer, throwing yourself onto your bed like a petulant child.

Sure enough, the message is from Junmyeon. Luckily, it’s simple. A sufficient 'hello beautiful’ with a smiley face.

You can hear his voice saying it in your head, and it makes the corner of your lips tick upward just slightly. It makes you feel a little better. Junmyeon makes you feel a little better. He is good for you, and you know it…

But what about the rest of it? Your personal problems when your moods shift like the sands and your mental health status. The things that make you worry and fear and you want to keep from him for as long as possible so they won’t ruin whatever this is that you have with him.

He doesn’t deserve anything except the very best. What if he gets too close and you snap and then he goes running? Of course you don’t want that, it would only put you in a worse place. A place you’re doing your best to forget and move on from.

A slight pain in your jaw tears you from the cloud of your thoughts, realizing you were clenching it too tightly again. With practiced ease you release the tension, letting your mouth hang open and rotating the hinge. Idly, you check the time on your phone. Nearly one-thirty.

Staring at the device, you watch as the illumination dims. Just before it goes black completely, it lights up with a goofy picture of you and Soohyun. He’s calling you, and you fidget, hesitating to answer it.

The moment you decide to pick it up, you’ve already missed it.

Instead, you curl in on yourself and try to focus. You try to talk yourself into going to dinner still, but ultimately know your resolve is weak.

Before you move, forty minutes has gone by and there’s a knocking at your door.

The sound confuses you, and you swiftly move from your bed to check it. An oddly shaped Soohyun is staring back into the peephole, his nose looking far larger than the rest of his face, and it makes you laugh.

He is loud from the moment you unlock the deadbolt, swinging into your apartment in his work clothes. Only his apron is missing as he waltzes in and swings you up in a hug.

Immediately, you protest, “Get off of me, I’m clean!”

He grins at you, setting your feet gently back on the wood of your kitchen floor. “Good afternoon to you too, and thanks for picking up my call?” he chides.

It earns him a slap to the arm, but as usual nothing can bring down his mood and he only laughs at his own punishment.

While he settles, you turn away and gesture to the now cold coffee pot. He loves cold coffee anyway, excitedly nodding his head when you gesture to the machine in offering.

Soohyun is at home in your apartment, much the same as you are in his. You watch him silently as he flits about your kitchen, grabbing his favorite glass, adding ice and draining the last of the coffee from the pot.

Graciously, he sets the decanter in the sink and fills it with water before he joins you on the couch.

“What’s up?” you ask sheepishly. His awareness of you makes you anxious suddenly. It’s been like that for a long time, even with medication.

Your knees join your chest, not bothering to look up from the floor or hide your mood from him.

Soohyun sips the coffee, “I wanted to see if you wanted to come hang out back at my place before we go to dinner… if you were still interested.”

His voice and tone give nothing away. Perhaps there isn’t anything to give at all, because you know he is not judging you for anything. Although he doesn’t have the same struggles you do, he respects you enough and understands that you sometimes have trouble. He doesn’t love you any less because of it.

“I’m so-”

“Don’t say it.” he clips before you can finish the word.

Your mouth snaps shut and you turn, foolish. “Okay.” you say instead after a moment.

“Do you want me to leave? If it’s not a good time that’s fine, too.” he offers instead, posture relaxed.

You shake your head, “No, you’re alright. I don’t mind the company, as long as you don’t mind my mood.”

Soohyun takes a large mouthful in pause before asking, “I don’t mind at all. Did you want to talk about something?”

You’re about to reply when your phone rings from where you left it on the kitchen counter again to answer the door, and you’re up off the couch to answer it. It’s Junmyeon.

“Hello?”

“Hello beautiful.” His voice is tired and stressed as it meets your ear from the receiver. You walk back to the couch with it pressed to your skull. He must be so exhausted, but his care and affection for you makes you warm.

“Are you having a good day?” he asks, and you smile. Soohyun is listening to you intently, pretending to be vastly more interested in his own phone than your conversation.

You sigh, “It’s just been a normal day. How are you, you sound stressed…”

You strain to hear Junmyeon’s dark chuckle over the phone. It’s hard to concentrate on his voice with the background noise; a movie playing perhaps?

“Junmyeon?”

“I don’t know. They got what they got.” he answers cryptically.

You frown, “What does that mean? Are you alright?”

He sighs, “I’ll be okay. I just wanted to hear your voice before I try to go to sleep.”

“Are you sure?”

You can hear the laugh again. A laugh you’re coming to understand means the opposite of what a laugh usually means. An uninspired one.

“I have to be sure.”

You don’t press him on the issue, “Okay. Are you going to sleep now?”

He hums, “Yeah. We just reached cruising altitude.”

“That’s good. I hope you sleep well. I’ll see you when you get back, okay? I’m off tomorrow night.”

“Mmm.” your lover replies.

You think he’s going to say goodbye, but he chooses a different direction, “I want to come over.”

A smile stirs upon your lips, he sounds so sleepy.

“Junmyeon, I don’t know if that’s a great idea. What about the media?”

“I don’t care, I just want to see you…I will be careful.” he murmurs, voice sulky at your answer.

You laugh gently, “I want to see you, too. We’ll see. For now, please rest well. Get sleep.”

He hums again, “Okay, I’ll see you soon.”

“See you soon. Sleep now.”

Removing the phone from your ear, you end the call and look at Soohyun. He’s staring straight at you with a grin plastered onto his face.

You hold a single finger up to your lips, prompting him to grunt and sip at his drink, pointedly looking away. Just as you think is going to abide by your rule- he speaks.

“I see things are still about the same in that lane.”

Huffing a sigh, you dramatically wipe your hands down your face. You groan, “It’s complicated.”

Soohyun huffs this time, surprising you, “Do you know that you just keep saying it’s complicated every time someone questions you?”

Brows furrowing, you pull your lip between your teeth, “Well, it is.”

“Do you like it being complicated? Seems to me it’s pretty frustrating and stressful on both of you.” he laughs gently and he narrows his eyes at you.

“Of course not. I just don’t know how to fix it.”

Soohyun sets his now empty glass on the shiny wood of your freshly cleaned coffee table before turning to face you completely. “Sure you do.”

Now you’re just confused, “If I knew how to fix it, I would.”

He barks a laugh that only sounds a little patronizing, “That’s the thing. You do know how to fix it. You just don’t want to because you’re afraid.”

You know Soohyun isn’t trying to be arrogant or mean, but his words still sting.

With your silence, he continues, “You’re afraid of the unknown, Y/N. You always have been. You’re always thinking a dozen steps ahead for your future and the things that are unknown and you have zero control over are not welcome in that equation. It drives you crazy not knowing what is going to happen with your relationship.”

“We’re not in a relationship.” you quip sharply.

“But you want to be!” Soohyun smiles wide, voice rising just a bit with his exasperation. His hand sweeps out over the coffee table as he explains. “Don’t even try to tell me you don’t want that. I know you, and I’m hearing enough from Sehun that 'Myeon wants that, too.”

You roll your eyes defensively, trying to change the subject, “You and Sehun have gotten close.”

He smirks at you and tilts his head, and his gaze is unsettling to your nerves. “Besides, it takes both of us. I’m not the only one struggling with this.” you say just to fill the unnerving silence with word vomit.

“I know.” he nods slowly.

“So what if I decide I want to try it? What do I do if he doesn’t?” you ask with a pout. It calls attention to the lump in your throat when you say it- you hadn’t realized it was forming.

Soohyun looks at you fondly, “Have you been listening to anything that man has said over the last few weeks, my dear?”

Serving him a look that says he’s about to regret talking to you like a child, you wait.

Proud of himself for getting a rise out of you, he answers, “I’m sure if you said you wanted that, he would be all in. From what I understand, you’re the only one who is letting the 'what if’ unknowns stop you.”

“But I-” you try.

“But nothing!” Soohyun comments loudly, holding up a hand, “Are you really going to let the unknown possibilities stop you from enjoying what’s right in front of you? I’ve seen enough and heard enough to know there’s a wonderful person standing in front of you. Someone who, by the way, could have anyone they wanted, and is choosing you and all of your crazy talk of the unknown bullshit.”

Stunned, you blink at him.

“I’m sorry.” Soohyun says, voice lowering, “It’s very frustrating for the people that love the both of you, too. It’s hard to watch your self torment stop you.” When you don’t respond right away, he adds, “It’s frustrating for Sehun and the others, too.”

“Won’t I regret it though if we don’t work out?” you ask him, face serious.

Soohyun coos at you, “I don’t know. You don’t know, and he surely doesn’t know, and you will never know.” You consider his words for a moment, “By the way- you’re never going to find out if you don’t do it, either. Do you want to be stuck wondering if there would have been regret if you never even take the leap to find out? You’re so set on getting answers that you stop yourself from even trying to answer the question, skipping it completely.”

Your eyes widen, and he makes perfect sense. He’s right- if you don’t try, you’ll never know. It’s a revelation, making you physically bring your hands to your mouth as you stare at him with your doe eyes.

He smiles at you, knowing he got through.

“Now that you understand, let me ask you something, you goof.” he snickers.

It earns him a playful smack on the leg.

“Have you enjoyed the last few weeks of talking to him, even though he hasn’t physically been here? Even if you’re not actively in conversation- do you still look forward to his texts and communication?”

You don’t need to answer him with words as the smile softens your tense features.

“Do you want to be with him?”

“Yes.” you murmur immediately, gaze resolute as it flicks up to meet the depths of Soohyun’s dark eyes.

“Okay. Then what happens if you let the unknown eat at you and let him go? You’ll still want to be with him, but you might have to see him with someone else someday. Surely then you’ll be wondering and regretting and hurt because you never found the answer.”

He pauses, but holds up a hand that he isn’t done. “Now, as your best friend, I can’t just sit here and be okay with that. It’s my job to talk some sense into you, Y/N. I am going to tell you right now, from my perspective, you have never been this invested in another person like this. Even your last real boyfriend didn’t have this big of an affect on you over, what was it… a year? Fourteen months?”

He looks at you pointedly, driving home his point. “From another outsider’s perspective, Sehun says much of the same.”

You cut in, “Oh my god, what are we to you two, a soap opera? Don’t you have anything better to talk about than someone else’s love life?”

He chuckles, pulling a laugh from you in return and resuming his monologue, “Shut up, we love to talk about you two. As I was saying, he can assure you that Junmyeon has never met someone like this, either. They’ve been best friends for long enough that his word has credibility.”

You’re softly smiling at him by the time he finishes, “He’s not the type of guy to be really into all of that.”

Soohyun claps his hands, “See, that’s my point. If you know he’s not the type to be creeping into people’s DMs and sleeping around a lot, why are you having such a hard time understanding how much you affect him, too?”

“I see it.”

“Then why are you hesitating and driving you both insane?”

You frown, picking at your fingernails, “I don’t want to hurt him.”

Soohyun’s posture freezes, his lips dropping to match your own expression. “Why do you think you’d hurt him?” he asks, but you feel like he knows the answer.

You stare at him pointedly before your gaze wanders to the kitchen and lands on the prescription bottle on the counter.

“Does he know?” Soohyun asks calmly.

Shaking your head, you reply, projecting your voice around the ball in your throat, “Why would I tell him?”

Your best friend smiles softly at you, quietly taking your hand that is closest to him and holding it so you’ll stop picking your nails, “It’s not my business how you handle that, but it might be worth considering to tell him about if you want a relationship with him. It might make it easier for him to understand you sometimes.”

You nod, not really sure what to say. Instead, “I don’t want to put that kind of pressure on him, either. He’s already under so much stress.”

Soohyun releases one breath quickly through his nose, “I think you are what relieves his stress- not just in that way, either!” he clarifies, “I think it might stress him out less to know and I imagine he would be understanding, but that’s just my opinion.”

“It’s still scary. When someone knows you that personally.”

He whispers, patting your hand, “It’s a sign of weakness to you. Y/N, I know I’m one of the only people who knows, but I think getting help and taking medication takes a lot of strength and not at all a weakness. Hell, it takes a lot of courage to admit it to yourself, right?”

Nodding, you lean into him, “Yeah.”

“Let me ask you one more time, do you want to be with him? Totally? Like exclusively?” he asks into your hair, pulling his arm around you.

You don’t care anymore that he smells like work and you’re clean. This time, you can’t get your voice through the weight of your throat, so you nod into his frame, rubbing your face against his shirt.

“Then do it, okay?” he presses his lips against the side of your head.

You nod again, just leaning into his warmth and letting the silence settle over you.

Eventually, Soohyun gently removes you, “Are you still going to be boujee and get some damn good food with me?”

His question makes you laugh. You know this man well enough to already assume he would ask you this once the conversation lulled. The feeling in your chest isn’t as heavy as it was before, and you realize that sulking around your apartment all afternoon isn’t going to do anything for your well being.

Instead, you allow Soohyun to talk you into wearing a dress that you hate but has always brought you good luck. He has enough time to shower in your bathroom and rummage through your closet for a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie of his that you swear you never stole while you do your makeup.

He buys you an iced americano from the cafe across the street from your apartment building before you’re comfortably weaving through the throngs of people on the subway system this afternoon.

It takes seven minutes to reach his apartment. Even though you hate it because of how congested the area gets, you admit there is a convenience for Soohyun to live in an apartment mere steps away from one of the busiest subway terminals in the city. Especially for someone who is perpetually pushing the clock to be on time.

The moment the door is unlocked, Mingho is standing in the entryway, meowing in greeting and running forward to twist herself back and forth between Soohyun’s legs with affection. Her spotted fur shines in the afternoon light cutting across the room from the living room window, and her purring grows in volume when he scoops her up to cuddle as he walks to his room.

Just as at home here as you are in your own apartment, you peek toward her food bowl and notice it’s empty. You look down the hallway from the kitchen to see her jump off of his bed just as you open the pantry and shake her food container.

“Thanks!” Soohyun calls to you from his room, already flinging his hoodie off to find an appropriate outfit for the evening.

Mingho winds herself between your legs as you place a scoop of food into her bowl. She immediately begins to eat, raising her rear into the air as you scratch gently down her back.

______________________________________

You wake with a groan. You remember walking into your apartment at midnight and falling into bed shortly after. While you had expected to be home after dark last night, you had hoped you would at least be home with enough time to get a solid eight hours of sleep before your brunch shift this morning. No such luck.

Rather, you’re ensuring you’re showered and decent and quickly standing in an impossibly crowded subway car so you can get to work on time.

You hadn’t bothered with breakfast this morning and are barely sipping on your coffee, still too full from the amount of food you had consumed with Soohyun and his friend Beomsuk last night. His friend Beomsuk… who was very tall and very handsome and very much interested in you.

On the ride home, Soohyun swore up and down he had no idea, and you were sure he was telling the truth. You had only kindly declined his invitation to bring only you back to the restaurant as a date under the guise of your busy schedule. You’re extremely cautious now, too afraid to confirm that you have someone special to you in the event someone would try to find out who that special person might be.

Shaking your head, you think back to how it might have swayed you differently before you met Junmyeon. Perhaps you would have let him whisk you off into the night or played with him. Now, nobody else on the face of the planet even compares.

The rest of the morning drones on slowly, just like that. The money is good, filtered through the hands of a crowd of business people having meetings over brunch and lunch. It’s still a little slow for your usual pace, but you don’t mind when you walk out into the afternoon sun with a wad of cash on par with your average for an early day shift.

Your stomach feels empty now, having worked off majority of the food baby. The cafe across the street from your building suffices enough, stepping into the shade and removing your sunglasses. Their bagels have always been delicious and fresh. You order one with your favorite flavor of cream cheese spread.

Walking up to your apartment door, you let the last half of the bread hang out of your mouth so you can use your hands to unlock your door. When the door clicks shut behind you, a tension you didn’t know you’d been carrying leaves your shoulders.

You kick off your shoes and use one foot to slide them neatly into place on the mat before tossing your trash into the bin in the kitchen. Even though you just showered, you smell a bit like food and old people’s cologne from walking through clouds of it over and over again at the restaurant.

While you’re in the shower, your phone rings. Obviously, you can’t answer it, but you hasten your routine. While you wrap your towel around yourself and wipe a hand over the fogged mirror, you check it. It was Junmyeon.

You swipe to call him back right away, pressing your thumb into the speaker button and setting it on your vanity as you dry yourself and find some comfortable clothes to wear. You don’t plan on going anywhere for the rest of the day.

“Y/N?” he says after the first ring. His voice sounds painful and sad.

“What’s wrong?” you ask immediately, staring a frown into the device.

There’s only the sound of him catching his breath for a moment, then, “I don’t know. I’m just really stressed out.”

“Where are you?” you ask. He said he was stressed when you talked to him yesterday, too.

“Out.” he murmurs.

You sigh, “Where? Do you want to come over here?” You wait for an answer while you pull on your panties and pull up the straps of your bra.

He sucks in a breath from the other end of the line, breathing hard. It sounds like he’s outside. “I don’t want you to see me like this.”

Instantly you pick up your phone, swiping the call to the edge of the screen so you can access your display. You type in your address into the message box and send it to him.

“I want to see you, even when you’re stressed out.” you say quietly, stuffing your head and arms through the wide holes of a thin camisole. Your legs follow suit in a pair of distressed denim shorts that hug your hips just right.

The notion that you care enough to want to fix it for him dawns on you. The realization that you want to do anything to make him smile and not be stressed and worried. You want to give him strength and support. Your heart is thunderous in your chest suddenly and your voice seems gone.

After the moment of panic passes and you calm enough to speak, you take a deep breath.

You ask when he says nothing, “Junmyeon?” You swallow and take the leap.

“Yeah?” he replies softly.

“How can I be a good girlfriend to you if you won’t let me try to help you when you’re not feeling your best?” The questions puts a halt to your breath, picking at your nails and furrowing your brow as you wait anxiously.

There’s silence on the other end of the line. Not even the sound of his breathing as you imagine he may have pulled his phone away from his ear to look at it suspiciously.

“How am I supposed to help you feel better and support you when you won’t let me?” you ask again, nervous by his lack of response.

He makes a sound like an unbelievable chuckle into the receiver, “…Does that mean what I think it means?”

You smile at the sound of his voice. It’s still small and shallow, but there’s not as much sadness to his tone.

“That depends on what you think it means.”

Junmyeon hums, “You’re willing to give us a real shot?”

“Do you want to?” you ask with a hint of apprehension in your throat.

“Yes.” he whispers immediately. The word sends such a sense of relief washing through your body you’re vaguely aware you have to blink several times to disperse the moisture pooling at the rims of your eyes.

“Then I guess that makes us together, doesn’t it?” you comment breathily, pulling your wet hair into a loose bun on top of your head.

You can hear him smile through the phone, swallowing a sound you can’t place, “What changed your mind?”

You sigh, picking up your phone and carrying it to the kitchen with you, “Did you know our best friends are wholly invested in our relationship and talk about us a lot?”

Junmyeon laughs loudly on his end, “I assumed as much. Sehun has been complaining a lot about us. In a good way though, like he really wants us together.”

“Hm…” you agree, “Same on my end.” There’s a sound from the other side of your front door, just down the hall.

“Hey Y/N?” he asks. His voice drops again, like he is tired.

A sound that tells him you’re still listening lulls through the phone. Waiting for his question, you pour yourself a glass of water and stare at the bottle of pills on the counter beside the coffee pot. The pills you’ll have to tell him about if you’re really trying to give this your all. It terrifies you.

“Can you open the door?” he asks unexpectedly.

Your head whips to the door not five feet from you- the sound was him? You don’t bother replying to him verbally, instead crossing the space easily to fling the door open.

“How did you get here so fast?” you gawk at him, checking the hallway for your neighbors before you pull him inside. There’s a dark hat and a pair of oversized black sunglasses hiding his face. He looks casual otherwise, wearing a branded baby blue hoodie, black athletic pants and a pair of black slides. In the middle of Summer.

He melts into you instantly, “Don’t kill Soohyun, okay?”

You know where he’s going with the remark, but you raise one brow at him expectantly.

“A week ago he may have told me the name of your apartment building just in case there was an emergency. He didn’t tell me what number though.” he says sheepishly.

“I see.” you say, not caring about it anymore. Junmyeon was here now, like you wanted him to be. He puts his shoes beside yours at the door and follows you into the kitchen, “Would you like something to drink?”

He removes his hat and sunglasses, shaking his hair free, “No, thank you. I just wanted to see you.” You take a mild sip and place your glass of water back on the counter.

Smiling, you don’t give in to him just yet. “Okay. I’m here, so now do you want to tell me what’s been bothering you?” you try, taking his hand and leading him to the couch.

He looks away from you, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth and rolling one string of his hood between his fingers idly, “The interview didn’t go well.” he finally whispers after a moment.

You frown, “What happened?” You lean toward him and Junmyeon reaches for you, pulling you to tuck against his side. He sighs and relaxes a little, pressing his cheek against the damp coolness of your hair.

You wait for him to tell you, letting your fingers play with the opposite string of his hoodie and pulling your feet up on the couch.

“Being an idol is one thing. Being in a relationship is another…it,” he pauses, trying to find the proper words to explain. Eventually, he gives a frustrated sigh, “You have to cater to the fans as an idol. I love our EXO-Ls, don’t get me wrong. But it doesn’t make me feel good to give them false hope, either.”

You remain silent, letting him get out his words before you comment.

“I can’t easily say fanservice comments anymore about marrying them or about loving them most in the universe. It feels like a really shitty and shallow thing to do, and it bothers me more than I thought it would.” he reveals.

“I understand.” you answer carefully.

He pulls you tighter, wrapping both arms around you, nearly tugging you into his lap, “But the interviewer asked us questions along those lines and I had a really hard time playing to it. I reacted poorly and we had to do a second take and I had to act like it was fine. It was embarrassing and our manager made the interviewer sign a nondisclosure about the incident.”

The explanation has your stomach dropping through the floor. You push up from his body and meet his eyes. He’s clearly upset but you’re not sure what you’re supposed to do in this situation.

“I had to have a meeting with SM about it. About you, and me.” you want to cry. There’s no way after all of the internal struggle to come to terms with wanting and trying to have a half way normal relationship, it’s going to be taken from you. Obviously he would have to choose being an idol. It wouldn’t even be a competition for you.

“Oh.” you croak, blinking.

He pulls you back forcefully, “I told them I’d be fine. I didn’t know I would react that way… it’s my first time even trying to have some semblance of normal.”

You’re worried but his sentiment makes your smile a little nonetheless.

“I’m not the only one going through this. I talked to the other member about it, too, and he gave me a lot of advice.” he adds.

Your brows furrow, “Someone else in your group is in a relationship?” It makes you feel much better knowing he wouldn’t have to choose between his career and you.

“Oh, sure. There are lots of labelmates that are in relationships, but yeah, another EXO member is.” he clarifies against your head.

Pouting, you ask, “Who?”

You can feel his smile against your temple, “I want you to guess.”

Scoffing, you accept his challenge, “Jongin or Baekhyun?” It was educated, considering their previous relationships. It was more than likely one of them.

“Nope.”

You think a little harder on it. Most of the others seem to shy or too busy. You think back to the last time you saw them, all at karaoke. Was anyone glued to their phone or giving away hints? You may have missed a clue when you went to the bathroo- oh.

“It’s Jongdae.” you state matter-of-factly.

Junmyeon stills, “How did you guess that?”

You laugh, “Last time, he made a comment about you and I being in a relationship right before you came out to find me and he said it in a weird way? Now that I think back about it, it was in a way that said he knew what it was like to struggle like we do.”

Junmyeon huffs, “I understand.”

You want to ask, now that it’s been brought up, “Is that why you knew we weren’t talking about anything weird in the hallway? Why you knew for sure Jongdae wasn’t into me?”

It’s his turn to chuckle softly, “Yes.”

You feel foolish, “I’m sorry I said you were jealous then.”

He laughs louder, smiling a bit more, “It’s okay. You’re right, I can get jealous. Especially when we were not exclusively together yet- the idea of anyone else being interested in you made me very frustrated.”

“But your own members though? That seems a bit unlikely.”

He pouts at you, “When Baekhyun and Jongin first invited you over I didn’t like it. I thought they might try to steal you from me.”

You laugh obnoxiously this time, covering your mouth, “I knew something was wrong! I felt you stiffen up!”

Both of you are grinning like idiots now, “Don’t worry. I’m happy to be friendly with everyone but I’m only interested in one person.”

“Oh?” he inquires, “Who might that be?”

Your grin is playful, “Oh just some guy. He’s like the leader of this band of chaotic singers or something, I don’t know.” You add a shrug to the end to emphasize your feigned nonchalance.

“I better make sure I let him know you’re mine, then, right?” he smirks with one brow cocked upward, face leaning closer to kiss at your lips.

You push back at him, making him lean back into his seat on the couch, “Later. Right now, I want to take all of that stress away for you.”

He pouts, “You don’t have to do anything, I’ll be okay.”

Shaking your head, you stand from the couch and make yourself comfortable between his knees on the floor, “I want to. You work so hard, let me take care of you, please.”

The way the words unfurl from your mouth has Junmyeon complying in no time at all. He quickly shuts up, letting your hands creep up his thighs slowly. It doesn’t take long for your fingers to wander, slipping beneath the fabric of his hoodie to grasp the waistband of his pants. You let them pause, heating with the warmth of his skin.

He smiles lazily at you, “You’re so pretty.” he whispers just audibly enough.

His compliment makes you smile, teasing him by laying your cheek against his thigh. You mouth rests just beside the place you want, letting him twitch to life from the anticipation alone.

You sigh, letting your chin turn upward gently to rest over the area, looking directly at Junmyeon. A grin tugs at your lips, feeling the proof of his growing arousal. His eyes are on your lips, his own pouted open.

At an agonizingly slow pace, you pull at his pants. He helps you guide them down, lifting his buttocks from the relaxing hold of your couch. You want Junmyeon to enjoy this. Enjoy it messily and without delay, throwing caution and propriety out of reach. You want him aching and swollen and ready to burst. You want to see him forget about his stress and fall up into cloud nine.

With these thoughts in mind you drag the athletic pants until they are around his ankles along with his boxers. You attention remains focused on him, almost all the way hard against his thigh just where your face was.

Gently, you let your fingers smooth back up and over his knees, your mouth quick to follow the path until you force his knees apart as best you can. So far, he seems to have no complaints about your control over him.

His breath hitches at the first touch of your warm fingers against his cock, loosely gripping around the base. It doesn’t take long for him to gain full rigidity in your soft grasp. Subconsciously, your lips pout, realizing this may not last as long as you hoped.

He laughs quietly, squirming in your grip.

“What?” you ask with a silly smile, eyes wide.

He smiles, lifting one hand to poke at your lip, “It shouldn’t be cute but you pouting at me in this kind of situation turns me on.”

You huff indignantly, instead angling yourself toward him and kissing the tip to shut him up. It’s super effective, and Junmyeon can only suck his lip between his teeth and stare as you set to work.

You’re determined to give him the best orgasm of his life, slowly sinking your wet mouth over him, letting your lips envelop him fully and lowering until he hits the back of your throat.

He moans softly, and you can hear the sound of his head falling back against the plush cushion. You want to smirk or look up and see his face, but you remain focused on your mission.

Slowly, you repeat the motion several times, listening intently to the increasing respiration of your lover. You let your nails softly scratch over his hip or abs while the other remains holding the base of him, occasionally pumping to match the rhythm of your mouth.

Too quickly for your liking, Junmyeon seems close. His abs are twitching beneath your palm, stuffed under his hoodie, and the muscles in his thighs are quivering slightly. His mouth spills beautiful sounds of pleasure as you take him deeper. Relaxing your throat, his length slides past with mild effort until your nose is pressed into his skin and he keens.

Swallowing once, he whimpers out a weak 'fuck’ with a ragged breath. You can feel his abs clench as he tries not to sit up and curl himself over your body to bring you closer.

His hands have behaved all this time until he collects a bundle of your hair and makes a soft fist, trying to control your pace.

Instantly, you’re rising off of him, forcing his hand from your head. You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, giving him a stern look of pure mischief.

“No.” you say, “Keep your hands to yourself until I say so.” You like the authoritative sound of your voice, and love the look he serves you at your instructions. His eyes suddenly seem to sparkle.

He doesn’t say anything about it, apparently accepting your words as law. Rather, he licks his red bitten lips and lets his eyes flick down to the shining head of his cock, glistening with your saliva as if to ask what you’re waiting for.

As punishment, you purse your lips and blow cool air onto him gently. His answering hiss makes him get the picture and settle back against the couch. Immediately, you’re back on him.

The whine that pitches up his throat has your core clenching around emptiness, but you ignore it in favor of bringing him bliss. Hollowing your cheeks, you continue your onslaught, sucking and swallowing around him until he’s a shaking mess in your hold.

Before he can reach his high, you back off, gripping the base of him tightly. Junmyeon cries softly, “Wha… what don’t stop, please.” His head flops back to the couch cushion again and he puffs out his cheeks to catch his breath.

You shush him, letting the nails of your free hand drag a little harder against his hip and thigh to distract him as you kiss the head of his cock, angry and red.

He’s panting, stuffing a hand into his hair to sweep it back off of his forehead. He lifts his head, blinking rapidly down at you with furrowed brows, you can feel his hips flexing against your arm as he tries to create friction and control himself all at once.

“Please, sweetheart, I can’t.” he breathes.

You smile at him, reassuring, “Yes you can, just relax and calm down.”

Junmyeon tries his best for you, letting his body sag back into the cushion and breathing deeply with his eyes closed. His fingers jerk and flutter at his sides.

Once you think it’s safe, you resume slowly. Relaxing the tight grip you have of him, you let your mouth descend upon him again. You kiss, lick and tease him with gentle stimulation. The sounds you’re creating together are obscene, and it paints an instantaneous flush over your skin. You’re so warm and you can feel your own arousal pooling.

Junmyeon is having a hard time controlling his body from the small spasms of pleasure beginning to curl his toes. The most sinful groan drops from his lips as he feels you lips wrap around his wet, aching cock once more. Your pace is much slower but you don’t think he’s complaining.

The sound of your lips gliding over his slicked skin are tearing you apart and setting your body on fire. You can feel his thighs quaking and his hips softly lifting as he comes close to the edge again.

He dips his head back, “I need to come.” he warns, voice quiet and strained through the tension in his jaw.

So you ease yourself back off of him, kissing at his thighs while you wrap your hand tightly around the base of him once again. Fascinated with the strong feeling of his pulse from his cock, you go to war with yourself on what is better to stare at. His perfect manhood, angrily flushed and swollen, leaking and soaked from your mouth. Or his face, spun up in a tragic pout as his mouth hangs, seemingly unhinged from his jaw. His abs flutter when you pass your palm over them. He groans sourly but it still sounds so delicious.

“You’re so pretty.” you murmur back to him, mirroring his earlier sentiment to you with a saccharine smile. He tries and fails miserably to smirk at you, whimpering when you give him one tiny, shallow stroke up from the base.

“Too m-much.” he blurts out, hardly able to keep himself all the way seated against the couch holding his twitching form.

You feel powerful having reduced such a man to a mess of quivering whimpers, a mess of pleasure just for you. It makes you feel good, and it feels even sweeter to know Junmyeon will get the relief he so desperately needs. It feels like lightning courses through your being, vibrating with excitement as you smile, lowering your mouth over him again.

He cries out this time, an exclamation of pleasure and he cannot contain his jittery limbs anymore as his hand finds its way into your hair. He doesn’t try to control your head though- choosing instead to gently push the hair that has fallen into your eyes from your loose hairstyle as it dries. You allow it, cherishing it even more as you lift your eyes up to see he’s slouched over, head tilted against his own shoulder to watch you almost choke on his cock over and over again.

“P-please… oh,my god, please, I want to c-come.” he comments with lips apparently too loose to form words as sharply as he normally does.

Your fingers spread over his thighs, feeling them shaking as he pushes himself further back into your couch, reflexively raising his hips to bury himself impossibly deeper in your mouth.

You decide it’s enough, hollowing your cheeks and hastening your rhythm by just enough, sucking at his length lewdly until he’s moaning with every breath he takes. His body is hard and tense beneath you.

Flicking your eyes up to his, he whimpers, “Oh, god, yes… yes, fuck.”. You nearly choke as you try to take him back farther, your throat constricting around the bit of him that reaches. His eyes screw shut tightly and he mimics a face of pain until he releases the loudest groan you’ve ever heard from him, along with his impending release.

Even though the taste isn’t something you always enjoy, the act of giving a blowjob and seeing your lover fall apart in such an explicit way is something you don’t ever think you’ll dislike.

Junmyeon is a beautiful human being and a beautiful soul and you feel your own pleasure soaking your underwear as his orgasm rocks through him so completely. His body jerks, a tear spills from the corner of one eye, his lips are red and puffy and shiny as they split and release sounds that make you shiver with desire.

You feel triumphant when you rise, having brought him to such heights as he twitches with every inch you rise off of him until he slumps back and takes a single deep breath. A lopsided, easy grin is plastered onto his face, the apples of his cheeks dusted a warm rose. He’s looking at you through half-open eyes.

Your knee pops loudly in the following silence when you stand.You brush away his bangs from his forehead, dampened by a bit of sweat.

“Thank you.” he whispers reverently, taking your hand from his face to hold it to his chest.

His softness breaks a wide smile over your face. You feel so light and elated at having successfully released some of his tension. The urge to take care of him is strong, making it easier to ignore the desire to have him between your legs.

You rise from your place, “You’re welcome.” you whisper in reply. It feels like it would be too loud to talk at normal volumes in this space.

He reclines, moving a hand into his hair as he releases your hand, smiling to himself sweetly as he watches you move. With his eyes fixed on your form, he looks your way until you disappear into the bathroom. He can hear the water running and the sound of scrubbing. You must be brushing your teeth.

When you emerge from the hall with a damp cloth, you sit beside him again, letting the warmth run over first his thighs and then his softened manhood. Junmyeon twitches and sucks in a sharp breath but doesn’t move or say anything otherwise until you’re finished.

With warm and gentle hands he pulls the cloth from your fingers and toes off the pile of clothing tangled around his feet. The rag joins his pants on the floor, followed by his hoodie as he rips it over his head.

No words are said as he slowly clasps one of your wrists and guides you to sit, fully clothed, over his lap. His palms are warm where they settle against one hip and the opposite side of your ribs.

You make a sound of surprise as the flavor of his lips meets yours, unexpected yet delightfully fruity. Junmyeon grins, holding you so delicately in his arms. His kisses are slow and grow in depth as he sweeps his tongue along the seam of your lips.

Complying, your arms settle around his shoulders, fingers playing with the hair that sweeps across the nape of his neck, cupping his jaw softly, anywhere you can reach to caress your adoration for him against his skin.

He groans softly at the heat of your body pressed against him, and his fingers skim below the edges of your camisole, lifting slowly in a silent plea.

“It’s okay, we don’t have to.” you whisper against his lips, turning your head to press your cheek against his.

You feel more than see Junmyeon smile against your face, “I want to. I just need a minute to recover.” He laughs quietly.

Your heart leaps as you realize you can hear his smile in his voice. Lifting your head, you grin back at him with a nod. He wastes no time in slowly peeling your top off and flinging it to the floor with the rest of the clothing.

Junmyeon kisses you again, hungrily this time, as if the growing exposure of your soft skin is more than he can bear to control himself over. He cups the back of your neck, pulling you to lean into him smoothly until his mouth can reach your shoulder easily.

He kisses, some chaste, mostly open mouthed and warm, from the side of your neck, down your shoulder, pulling the strap of your bra down your arm until his trailing mouth reaches the joint. His hand slides up your side, over your ribs until he’s cupping the swell of your breast over the clothing.

In one smooth motion he pulls the cup down until he can easily grasp the fullness of it without clothing, and he moans softly as his mouth freely descends over your nipple.

You gasp and whine against him, pushing your chest further into his delicious mouth. His tongue, skilled and wet, rolls over the bud until it’s peaked. He releases momentarily to plant a kiss directly over it, making you shiver against him.

Impatient, you break out of his loose grasp, sitting up to reach behind you and fling the offending garment from your body. You smile against one another’s mouths, claiming each others breaths until his hands slide up the back of your thighs.

His fingertips skim beneath your shorts, and the touch of them against the swell of your ass under the fabric shifts something in the both of you. A sudden urgency to be connected as you pull back to look at his face and watch him looking at you with the same desire and fascination.

It registers in your mind that he’s half hard beneath you, stiffening with his need to be buried in your warmth. Junmyeon’s breathing comes shallow now as his blood begins to race faster for you. His fingers ghost over your hips hurriedly, fumbling for the button of your shorts.

The moment he pops it you climb off of his lap to shove them to the floor along with your panties. As you do this, he adjusts, moving to recline his shoulders against the arm of your couch in a split second. His hands and mouth can’t find your skin fast enough when you try not to hurt him in your attempt to climb back into his lap.

The angle of his body forces you forward until your breasts are pressed firmly against his strong chest. He plants a messy kiss to the side of your neck as his hands find your hips as he takes himself in his hand, guiding himself back and forth through your wetness.

The repeated motion pulls a whimper from you and a groan from him, sucking in a breath as you plant your palm against his chest and sit back. You can’t wait any longer, having been so desperate for him for what feels like hours.

The relief of his cock filling you with no trouble is so intense it spills a tear from your eye. Below you, Junmyeon moans, digging his heels into the couch harder to let you fall back into his chest.

Neither of you move for a moment, just breathing and enjoying the pressure of your bodies pressed together completely.

Junmyeon is staring at you, his eyes wide and bright as he looks between each of your own with a fondness you simply bask in. You’ve learned when he looks at you like this, he sees you as a flower that only blooms for him, with him, because of him.

He slides himself out, almost completely, before just as slowly raising his hips to bury himself back inside of you. His gaze remains on your face, mirroring your pleasure on his.

You compliment his rhythm with your body, meeting him softly thrust for thrust. Small sounds of pleasure slip between you but the intimate moment is mostly filled with the sounds of your mingled panting. It won’t take you long to reach your high, you can feel how tightly wound you already are.

Junmyeon’s cheeks are flushed, his forehead damp with a sheen of sweat again as he closes his eyes and kisses you. One of his hands curls over the back of your neck to keep your lips against his.

He gives a particularly deep thrust, using the other hand clutching your hip to push you harder onto his lap with a groan. Driving on like this, you’re close.

You lift your head to breathe, settling your forehead against his own and closing your eyes. Every thrust pushes a soft gasp past your lips as he works your bodies in unison.

“Can you come like this?” he asks on a whisper against your cheek, checking. He can feel that you’re close, but isn’t sure if it’s enough to push you over the edge.

You nod, feeling the edges of your orgasm beginning to creep in. The air is humid in the space around you, all of the skin between you sticky with heat. Junmyeon tilts you further into him, sinking lower onto the couch so he can angle his hips better.

Just enough so he hits a place he’s never hit before. A spot that spins you rapidly toward your release as he hits it a second time and you cry out his name.

“Oh, fuck.” you whine in his ear, one of your hands tangling your fingers in the back of his hair. He hisses, brow furrowing in concentration with your tightening heat.

He thrusts sharply, pace becoming fast and hard into your heat, making a mess of  his lap where you drip around him. So long you’ve waited for him. The explicit sound of your activity, the heat of his skin, the smell of his cologne and sweat. The taste of him on your lips, the closeness of his body, all things that propel you to cloud nine suddenly as if having launched to the sky on a rocket.

Junmyeon can feel you before you make a sound, squeezing him so tightly, your thighs shaking, your breath holding in small pants that you release with a gasp each time. Your body freezes on top of his until you cry loudly against his hair.

It’s beautiful, he thinks. You’re beautiful, surrounding him and surrendering to him like this. Shaking in his arms as he drives his cock deep into your perfect heat, your fingernails digging into his shoulder and tightening in his hair.

It’s the sound of his name falling like a prayer, a blessing and curse, gasped from your lips all at once that rips his orgasm from him suddenly. He groans, freeing a breathe he didn’t realize he’d been holding until he’s panting right along with you, riding his high.

In the back of his mind he takes note of how tired his body feels, how deeply his thighs ache from exertion. You laugh above him, your bodies stuck like glue as you bend to kiss him, carefree.

“You okay?” he asks you on impulse.

Nodding, you dip your head to kiss him again, “Never better.”

You bask with him in the moment, the post-sex glow that has you both smiling at one another, not minding the sweaty mess you’ve become there on your couch.

The moment he softens and slips from your core, you grimace. The slick mess you’ve made begins to ooze down the inside of your thigh onto his, and you look at him with a frown.

“Shower?” he offers, still grinning.

__________________________________________

You sleep the best you have in ages. The birds don’t wake you as easily today. Instead, all of your own, your body wakes you with an uncomfortably full bladder.

The soft snores beside you gain your attention. Junmyeon, your boyfriend, is sound asleep. His face is relaxed and peaceful. The sun envelops your room from the window, like always, shining across the floor and spilling its warmth onto your bed.

His dark hair is pushed partially off of his forehead and up onto the pillow. From where his cheek rests against the soft white of your linens, his face squishes adorably, and you stifle a giggle so you don’t wake him yet.

You’re reminded of your wish, to see him in your bed, uninterrupted. To steal those first glances of him, his skin and hair glowing with morning sunlight while he still sleeps. You feel wonderful in that moment, eyes mapping his face and memorizing everything about this moment, down to the heat of his body beside yours in your bed. The comfort of him being here. The sense of peace.

A rhythmic vibration comes from your dresser. You realize, sneaking out of bed, it’s his phone, plugged in and charging from the outlet beside the furniture. Glancing at him, he doesn’t move.

Approaching the device, you stand in the sunlight heating your carpet. You flex and wiggle your toes over the softness, reveling in the warmth as you peek at his phone. A selfie of himself with Sehun is illuminating the screen, a phone icon tilting from left to right in the center with Sehun’s contact information below it.

For a moment you debate answering it until it’s too late and it stops. It’s only when it repeats and Sehun calls him a second time do you decide to unplug it and carry it quickly to to the living room to answer it.

“Hello?” you say gently into the receiver.

“Y/N?” Sehun breathes, sounding relieved.

You look back at your open bedroom door, leaning back to further look inside at Junmyeon, who hasn’t moved an inch.

“Yeah, is everything okay?” you ask, walking to the kitchen. You glance at your medication on the counter. You should take it- but you need to relieve your bladder before you drink anything.

Turning back to the living room, Sehun answers you in a rush, “I’m assuming since you answered, he’s with you?”

“Yeah, what’s wrong?” you ask, leaning against the wall and looking out of a window, down at the street in front of your apartment.

Sehun sighs, “He just up and left and didn’t tell anyone where he was going and oh, I don’t know, hasn’t answered any of our texts or calls.”

You feel guilty suddenly, “Sehun I’m so sorry.”

“Even Soohyun didn’t know if he was with you. He said he tried to call you but you didn’t answer either. He told me if you didn’t answer this morning he was going to go to your place.”

Quickly and quietly, you fly back to your bedroom, leaning down to check your phone.

Sure enough, you’ve got seven missed calls from Soohyun and one from an unknown number. Twelve text messages accompany the notification bar. Majority are from Soohyun, but you read two of them are from the unknown number, telling you it’s Sehun and asking if Junmyeon is with you. Checking why you missed all of their attempts to reach you, you see your phone is on silent, somehow.

You breathe in deeply, “I’m sorry, my phone was on silent by accident.”

The idol is silent for a minute, “Just tell me he’s okay.” he demands softly after a moment.

Junmyeon, having heard noise, stirs in the sheets. His body curls in on itself slowly, his dark hair disappearing beneath the white covers before he stretches back out, his bare arms reaching over his head with a groan.

“Yeah, I think he’s okay now.” you say quietly.

Junmyeon rolls over, facing you and squinting one eye open. He smiles at you but frowns shortly after, seeing his phone pressed to your ear.

He sits up, quickly rubbing his eyes and holding out a hand.

“Hang on, he just woke up.” you comment, passing the phone over to him before climbing back on the bed.

His arm curls around your waist as you curl up next to him. He kisses your hair and you can hear Sehun from the other line yelling at him.

“Yes, yes, okay, I got it. My bad.” he groans, still half asleep.

You’ve come to learn Sehun doesn’t just get mad- he gets concerned. Angrily upset, when it comes to Junmyeon, his best friend, his brother, his leader. You can hear the fear in his voice, answered by Junmyeon’s soft assurance that he’s okay and he is sorry for making him worry.

“I just needed some space away.” your lover comments with a sigh, rubbing the warmth of his palm up and down your arm.

While you listen, you shoot Soohyun a text that everything is fine and he doesn’t need to come over and you’re sorry your phone was on silent. The anxiety of the situation fizzles out and you relax just to notice you still need to pee.

With a pout from him, you extract yourself to use the bathroom while he finishes his conversation, slumped over and groggy, rubbing his face.

He’s still on the phone when you emerge, so you head for the coffee pot. Your hands work on autopilot to fill the decanter with water, pour it in, spoon in the grounds, get out cups and click the ‘start’ button.

Lost in thought, you pick up the imposing bottle of your medication where it rests beside the coffee pot. You reread the label over a few times, just as always, before unscrewing the safety cap and shaking one out into your palm. You make a mental note to order a refill soon, squinting one eye to look into the bottle and count how many are left.

Rough hands sliding around your waist startle you, dropping the bottle onto the counter and spilling some onto its surface.