#i have many thoughts and feelings as you can see when it comes to mr billiam

[shinysobi]

pretty u

summary: when joshua, your best friend gets engaged, you can't help but feel as though you're missing out on something important. jihoon, your other best friend, kindly offers to set you up with one of his many friends. chaos ensues, seungkwan is an observer who knows everything, and unfortunately, mingyu is a hapless victim.

pairing: woozi x fem!reader

genre: crack, fluff, angst

word count: 10k~ish

warnings: alcohol consumption, general warnings apply

a/n: this time we're bringing the trauma folks, im not sorry at all hehe >.< also this is dedicated to vaish and gigi, truly my biggest cheerleaders.

a/n 2: reblogs and comments are much appreciated! please tell me if you're liking this lmao

chapter 1 | chapter 2

Chapter 2

Someone yells as soon as I enter the restaurant, and I almost turn back on my heels and walk out of there. The culture desk is huddled around a large table, and judging from the empty bottles, half of them were well on their way to drunkenness already. I can spot Seungkwan at the end of the table, being the newbie, he must have been plied with alcohol by the rest of us. His entire face is slowly going red, and if I hadn’t been consumed with hatred over Jihoon being a weirdo, I would feel sorry for him too. But, he’s Jihoon’s friend, and any friend of Jihoon is an enemy of mine.

“The Associate Editor is here!” someone shouts, and I look on, horrified, as my editor, the boring, staid old man who wears the same style of suits five days in a row, waves and giggles at me, holding up a new glass of soju, “my, I thought you would never arrive. We’re all having a party without you!”

“Yes, I can see that,” I accept the offered glass, “sorry, the interview went on for much longer than I expected it to be, and the bus was stuck in traffic for a long time.”

“Just say that you didn’t want to come hang out with us,” the Assistant Editor, a woman in her forties, giggles, “we missed you so much!”

My breath is almost knocked out by the way she hugs me right after that statement, “no, I can assure you I wanted to come here. If not nothing, then just to congratulate the maknae on joining.”

“Huh?” the Editor blinks around, “oh yes, there’s Seungkwan!”

“Haven’t you given him too much to drink?” I ask, standing up to pour Seungkwan another glass, “Seungkwan, have fun in this department, okay?”

Seungkwan, drunk as he is, only mumbles something unintelligible, by way of a reply. Still, he accepts the drink and knocks it back, while the person next to him, Haewon, smiles drunkenly at me, “sunbae,” she says, “won’t you give me a drink?”

Haewon, unfortunately, has the habit of getting cutesy when she drinks, so I wordlessly extend the bottle to pour her another one. The Editor and the Assistant Editor are boisterous, singing a drinking song off-key.

“Can I get another bottle of soju here?” I call, and the surly-looking part-timer slams a bottle. He doesn’t even offer me a smile. Jerk.

“Drink up, drink up,” the Editor smiles happily, addressing the whole table, “did you know, she’s the only one who Mr Hong does an interview with?”

“Really?” Seungkwan perks up at that, “isn’t he famous for not giving any interviews?”

“He is, but she’s the only person who can get an interview with him.”

“Whoa, sunbae,” Seungkwan is all starry-eyed, which means he is definitely drunk, “I’ve always heard praises about you from the hyungs, but it’s all true! You’re legit.” And to drive home the point of my legitimacy, he hugs me, planting a huge, wet kiss on my cheek, “you’re my inspiration, sunbae.”

“Seungkwan, maybe the inspiration is a bit too much,” I reply, pouring myself a tall glass, “but I’ll accept it either way.”

“Wait, wait,” the Editor is suddenly interested in whatever Seungkwan is saying, “who are these people you’re talking about?”

“Oh, the hyungs?” Seungkwan is talkative even when he is not drunk, but alcohol has made him into one of the most loose-lipped people I’ve ever seen, “Jihoon-hyung, and Joshua-hyung. They’ve been friends since university, you know. They still hang out together.”

“Really?” Haewon looks interested, “are any of them the person you had lunch with this afternoon?”

“You had lunch with Joshua-hyung?”

“No, it was Jihoon,” I correct Seungkwan even though I don’t really need to, but it’s the alcohol, “Joshua doesn’t like the same things that I do.”

“Oh, is he your boyfriend?” Haewon giggles, and I sputter, “was that why he walked you to the company door?”

“No, Haewon, he isn’t my boyfriend, please drink some water.”

“No, no, I’m interested,” it’s a testament to how jobless we all are at the culture desk, because the Editor suddenly turns to Seungkwan with barely hidden glee in his eyes, “Jihoon, that’s his name?”

“Yes,” Seungkwan, who normally is the most tight-lipped out of all my acquaintances, is surprisingly talkative when drunk, “yes, Lee Jihoon. He’s the closest with her, out of all his friends. They even hang out all the time.”

I pour out some soju in a shot glass, then rethink it, drinking the rest of the bottle in one go. If this dinner goes on for any moment longer, they’re going to start speculating on my dating life. And based on what I’ve seen from the diner owner this afternoon, they’re going to assume that Jihoon and I are dating.

“Ah, so he’s the man you used to skip company dinners for,” the Associate editor says, “bring him around sometime! We’d all have fun!”

I’d rather stick my head in a vat of boiling acid than bring Jihoon to any place even remotely associated with my work, so I just nod and smile. Seungkwan, however, perks right up at this, saying, “do you want to see a picture of them?”

Enthusiastic cheers follow, from everyone at the table. I drink another half-bottle of soju.

“There you go!” does Seungkwan have all these pictures at the ready, or was he planning to make my life hell before participating in this dinner? Because the photo he’s pulled up is from the final year of university, when Jihoon and I were working on both our senior theses, and we’d spend a fair amount of that time huddled in between the stacks at the library, or over at each other’s apartments. The picture Seungkwan is brandishing around is from one of those days, and I would die before I admitted it to Jihoon, but I had a printout of it stuck on my wall. It’s a simple picture: Jihoon and I have our arms around each other, wide smiles on our faces, something that comes only after successfully finishing a gruelling paper, or from consuming too many snacks. Our cheeks are touching, and my free hand is thrown up in a victory sign.

“Ah, so you guys dated,” Haewon nods sagely, “that’s not a picture one takes with their friend.”

“No, this is—this is a very friendly picture,” I sputter, drinking more alcohol in an effort to dull the embarrassment that’s running through my veins, “we’re just friends.”

“I’ve seen couples who have less skinship than this.” The Assistant Editor says, “you both look very cute, I must say.”

On and on it goes, until both my ears have gone red, and still they go on, fuelled entirely by Seungkwan, who’s apparently a savant when it comes to remembering embarrassing incidents from university. Seungkwan. I’m gripped by a desire to commit murder, and it plainly shows on my face, but he goes on, unfazed by the looks I’m giving him, “they used to be practically inseparable during their university days! You could never see her without Jihoon-hyung, and if she wasn’t around, he would be irritable and angry all the time.”

“He’s still irritable and angry,” I murmur, senses highly dulled by the copious amounts of alcohol I’ve consumed. What’s my limit? One? Two bottles? I’ve drunk far more than that. My vision is swimming in front of my eyes, and everyone else’s words are coming slowly to my ears, as though filtered through sand. Is this how it feels to hear underwater? “he’s never—he’s never once been nice to me, you know that?”

“Really? He always takes care of you, though.” Seungkwan isn’t one to back down from an argument when its beginning, “I’ve always seen hyung take such good care of you.”

“Well, he doesn’t anymore!” I say, waving for another bottle, “He’s a little shit nowadays, have I told you that?”

“No, you haven’t. you don’t talk a lot.”

“That’s true.”

The third bottle (or is this the fourth) goes down far easier than the rest, and before I know, I’m stumbling out of the restaurant with the others, bundling the Editor into his car and the Assistant Editor into a taxi.

“Do all of you have money to go back home?” I ask the rest of them, but they’re already making plans to go on to the next spot. My watch says its midnight, but for people younger than me, it must be easier.

“Sunbae, do you want me to call you a taxi?” Seungkwan asks, but he’s tottering on unsteady feet, and I can see the longing looks he’s throwing the group of people who’ve started to move on without him.

“Go on, Seungkwan, I’m going to be fine by myself.” I wave a hand across my face, “it takes me ten minutes to walk back home, I’ll manage.”

“You sure?”

“Positive.”

Seungkwan doesn’t need much convincing, and trots off to his colleagues. I sit there on the sidewalk for a long while, as the night sky swirls around me. I want to ask myself, why do I have to put myself through these situations? Why couldn’t I, like every other person, be normal about finding love and romance and relationships, and have a perfectly average life?

I dial the first number that comes on my screen, and a few moments later, Jihoon’s scratchy voice comes through, “you’re calling awfully late.”

“I’m bored.” I say, settling back onto the sidewalk, “Seungkwan and the others went for round two of the company dinner.”

“And they left you all alone?” Jihoon sounds irritated, “shit, he should have at least called you a cab.”

“I’m old enough to get home on my own, Lee Jihoon, and besides, I’m also sensible enough to not come in between the affairs of my juniors.”

“You’re slurring, I bet you can’t even stand up properly.” Jihoon says, “hey, give me your address.”

“I can stand up!” I protest, “why would I give you, my address?”

“So that, I can go pick you up.”

“Why are you suddenly doing this? It isn’t as though I’ve never gone home drunk from a dinner before.”

“Yes, but you’ve also never called me before, so, I’m going to pick you up.” I can hear other people talking in the background, “hey, wait there, I got the location from Seungkwan. I’m coming to pick you up.”

“Seriously, Jihoon, you don’t have to.”

“Well, thank goodness I don’t listen to you very much.”

And he’s gone. All at once, I feel terribly alone. Why didn’t I go along with Seungkwan and the others? Why did I have to be a good senior and leave the youngsters alone? All that I can do now, is to sit alone, and contemplate.

When I was in school, and studying for the college entrance exams, all I could think about was how to get into university. When I got into university, all I could think about was how to get a job. Now that I have a job, all I can think about are the banal, everyday details of my everyday life, what to eat for dinner, what clothes to wear, whether I’m getting a promotion or not.

“You look like a drowned cat.”

I look up. Jihoon is dressed for the studio, wearing a comfortable jacket over comfortable pants and plush slippers on his feet. Its evident he’s rushed over here from the company. I want to feel sorry for him, but all I can think about is how much he looks like a steamed dumpling, all cozied up in his studio clothes.

“I look nice.” I say feebly, looking at my clothes. I’m wearing a shirt and trousers, and a coat that I haphazardly threw on before leaving my home; he’s right.

“Get up.”

“No.”

Jihoon doesn’t waste any time, he leans down, forcing me to stand. “The car is right there,” he says, hauling me towards the direction of his new car, “if you vomit, I’m seriously going to kill you.”

“I don’t vomit after I drink. That’s on you.”

“That was once,” he sighs, as though he’s some long-suffering saint, “please wear your seatbelt. I’m not about to get a ticket because of you.”

“Hey, Jihoon?”

“Hmm?”

“Can we have a sleepover?”

He stares at me, halfway through fixing my seatbelt. Its funny, how pretty his features are. If I could extend my fingers just a little bit, I could touch him, feel exactly how many lashes he has, see if his skin is as smooth as it seems to be. My hands remain firmly at my sides. “What do you mean a sleepover?”

“I don’t want to bring you to my house,” I reply, settling into the seat, “it’s a mess.”

“Because you can’t keep a house.”

“No, I’m moving.”

“I thought you had time?”

“I’m being evicted, Jihoon,” I yawn, “Kim’s hiked the rent again.”

Jihoon sighs, before getting into the driver’s seat, “I’ll get you some of my clothes.”

“Hey, Jihoon,” I ask, as soon as the car begins to run, “why are we stuck?”

“Stuck?” he seems confused, “I thought I was the one who was stuck, not you.”

“I’m stuck too, just that I haven’t told anyone.”

“You’re not making any sense, you know.”

I sigh, “I’ve been running my entire life, you know. When I was younger, I’d constantly worry about what kind of university I would get into, what course I’d get to study. I was so busy with my studies that I didn’t notice that my school life was slipping past me.”

“When I came to university in Seoul, I thought I had achieved something, but everything I did, my sister had already done it before me; for my parents, I was just following the footsteps of my sister. In university, I thought so much about my grades and how to get a good job right out of university, that I forgot to enjoy the fleeting moments of my youth. Even now, even when I’m worrying about how to get ahead in life and how to get ahead in my workplace, I don’t think I’ve ever stopped for a single moment to think, am I doing this correctly? Is this how I want to live my life?”

“Did you waste your youth? Is that how you think about it?” Jihoon asks, “really, truly, is that how you think you spent your university life?”

“I worried about grades, I worried about how to pay my university fees, I worried about so many things. I just didn’t tell anyone.”

“Is that why you didn’t join the others?”

“I’m jealous.” I admit. Its easier now, when one has said the words that have been bothering them, “I’m jealous of their youth. No, I’m jealous of how carefree they are.”

“Everything I do, I think twice, thrice, and four times, before I settle on it, and even then, something always goes wrong.”

“What if you could do it all over again?” Jihoon asks, and I’ve never seen him this serious outside of the studio, “what if you could do it all over again. High school, university, meeting us. Would you have done it differently?”

I shake my head, “Its not that I’ve never thought about it, everyone has. But honestly? If I could do it all over again, I’d do the same. Perhaps a little more honestly, but I’d still be the same person I was in university. I’d still like to meet you and Joshua and the others, even if I can’t get as close to them as they want me to.”

“They’re very respectful of the face that you’re an introvert, just by the way.” Jihoon parks his car, “I think Jeonghan-hyung would commit some serious crimes if you asked him to.”

“He’d commit them either way. He likes the chaos.”

Jihoon’s apartment building is far larger than mine, and he holds my hand to stabilise me as we walk to the elevator. I’ve been here before, it’s a building populated entirely by old people who like to take walks at six in the morning, and young married couples who like to stroll with their children at night. His hand is warm, perhaps from the car.

The elevator is empty as we walk in, and Jihoon punches in the number for his floor, “do you need anything? A hangover cure?”

“I’m fine.”

His apartment is much bigger than mine, with a separate room for his recording equipment, and I’ve been here many times before. I know the couch has a  spot where the spring digs into your skin, I know the perfect spot from where the television hurts less on your eyes, I’ve spent hours in here divvying up the banchan his mother had sent from Busan, arguing with him about what movies we would watch. Everything is the same, and at the same time, different.

Jihoon is standing in the middle of the kitchen, looking in his refrigerator for something to eat. I make myself comfortable in one of the chairs, looking at him work. Jihoon looks strange in this light, a change that I can’t put my finger on. He’s dressed in a white shirt, and from here, he looks lonely. Lonely like someone who has lost all sense of their being, like someone who’s barely hanging on. Do I look the same, from behind? I want to ask him, how I look when I walk away.

“Would you really not change anything? If you went back?”

“What do you mean?”

He pauses, still with his back turned to me, then continues, “I guess we were all immature in our university days. If I could go back, I would change some things at least.”

“Not take that sociology class?”

“No,” he shakes his head, “I’d still take it; even though it gave you an irrational fear of surveyors, I’d still take it. for me, that sociology class was one of the brightest moments of my university life.”

He turns to me, and under the bright lights of the kitchen, he looks strange, as though he has been restraining himself from doing something, “would you have changed anything?”

“I’d still take the sociology class,” I admit, “I met you and Joshua in that class after all.”

“And?”

“And it’s one of the brightest moments of my youth,” I say, “that class, it was the brightest spot in my university life.”

“Because of me, or because of Joshua?”

I scoff, “that’s a weird question, Lee Jihoon.”

“Answer the question.”

“I can’t choose.”

Jihoon sighs, before holding out a glass of water. “Its lemon water, drink up,” he says, “you can’t drink honey water.”

“You remembered?”

“I remember everything about you, you idiot,” Jihoon points towards the bedroom, “you’re going to hurt your back if you sleep on the couch, so take the bed.”

The bedroom seems inviting. So’s the bed, if I’m being honest. White sheets with an embarrassingly high thread count, with Jihoon’s books all arranged neatly in a bookshelf. There are pictures too, of us, hung up on a corkboard, half of them from university when we were too out of it to remember anything.

“This one is my favourite,” I say, pointing to a polaroid shot of the two of us, in one of Seungkwan’s birthday parties, me with my arms around Jihoon and Jihoon pulling a face, as though the last thing he wanted to do was take a picture with me, “we look so cute.”

“You and your ideas about cuteness.” Jihoon scoffs, throwing a pile of clothes onto the bed, “get changed. Or don’t, I’m going to be washing these sheets anyway.”

“You didn’t tell me which one’s your favourite,” I say, taking off my shirt and putting on Jihoon’s, “where do you even buy these shirts from? They’re so comfortable.”

“What do you mean?” Jihoon, who had been walking out of the door into the living room, walks back, “What the fuck! Don’t change your clothes anywhere, you idiot?”

I frown, “I’m changing in front of you because I trust you enough to not take advantage of me, is that not obvious? And besides, don’t act as though we haven’t changed in front of each other before.”

“There were circumstances, not you stripping in the middle of the bedroom like this.”

“Excuses,” I say, slipping on a pair of his shorts. They’re at least two sizes too big for me, “you still didn’t tell me which picture is your favourite.”

“You’re going to get killed one day, mark my words,” Jihoon mutters, pointing to a picture on the corkboard, “there, that’s my favourite picture of us. Happy?”

I lean forward, observing the picture. It’s a printout of a picture taken on the Jihoon went to the military, his head hidden under a flat cap that I had gifted after watching Peaky Blinders, and although Jihoon had hated it, he wore it all the same. It’s a simple picture, him with a bored expression on his face, and me, beside him, putting on a smile for the world to see.

“This was on the day of your entrance ceremony, right?”

“Hmm. You were the first to come. The others almost couldn’t make it.”

I look at Jihoon out of the corner of my eye. He has a strange, wistful expression on his face. I’ve never seen this expression on his face. Jihoon seems smaller than he is, vulnerable. The military wasn’t a great experience for him, I know that, but perhaps talking about it is too much.

“Hey, do you have any other pictures from university around?” I ask, looking at the corkboard, “or have you put up some of our new pictures?”

“I was happy in there, you know.”

I look at him. Jihoon’s serious, “I mean, it was difficult, but I got through it. I had my friends, and I had you.”

“Pfft. I wasn’t even in the military.”

“You used to come visit me every month or something.”

“And I remember you used to get annoyed by me.”

“I lied.”

“What?” now its my turn to be surprised, because all I remember is Jihoon getting angry with me over jajangmyeon, “You used to get pissed off all the time!”

“I lied,” he says, leaning against the doorframe, “truth be told, those visits were one of the bright sports in my military service. You and I, fighting over food, like we were back in university again. It made me feel, ah, I can tolerate this. I can get over this.”

I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. Is this what they say ‘lost for words?’ Jihoon shakes his head, “hey, go to bed. Its late enough that you’ll need to take a leave of absence tomorrow. I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“Hey, Jihoon?” I call behind him.

“What now?”

Maybe it’s the alcohol. I’m not as drunk as I was before, but I’m still drunk, right? Or maybe it’s the way Jihoon looks from behind, sad and lonely, someone struggling to hold onto his sanity, in a world that continually squeezes every last drop of humanity from us. Or maybe its both.

“Do you want to sleep here with me?”

Jihoon stares at me for a moment. “You’re still drunk.”

“I’m not! The couch is very uncomfortable, and I’d hate for you to sleep badly because of me.”

“Dude, I’m used to this.”

“Is it because ‘you’re a guy’? Jihoon, you have thousand-count Egyptian cotton sheets. You’re clearly going to be more uncomfortable.”

Jihoon sighs, then climbs into the bed, “don’t try anything funny.”

I laugh, “shouldn’t I be saying that to you?”

“I don’t trust you.”

I laugh, before climbing into bed beside Jihoon. Its awkward, but that’s simply because we haven’t done this in so long. Jihoon is warm beside me, his body heat permeating the thin fabric of the bedsheets. This is why I should not make decisions when blind drunk.

“Don’t think too much about it.”

“Hm?” I turn my head to see Jihoon, his eyes closed, “you’re thinking about it too hard. Don’t think so much. This is fine. We’re friends. Friends can do this once in a while.”

I nod my head. We’re friends, right. Friends do these kind of things, friends come over to each other’s homes, friends comfort each other when drunk. Its what friends do.

“Hey, have I told you something?”

“I’m trying to sleep here,” Jihoon groans, “go on.”

“Have I ever told you that my dream was to be a writer?”

“Not really. It was?”

“Yes. When I was a child, I’d write stories all the time, and I’d read them out to my parents. They were really encouraging when I was younger, but as I grew older, I had other things to think about, and I suppose I lost that dream somewhere along the way.”

Jihoon says nothing, so I continue, “it makes me jealous sometimes, when I see people following their dreams. I keep thinking to myself, ah, if only I had more courage, if only I could stick to my dreams, I would have been able to fulfil them; and then I look at my parents, the people who have stuck beside me and supported me, and I think to myself, would I have been able to support them as well as I do now, if I had followed my dreams?”

“Even me?”

I pause, “Especially you.”

Jihoon sighs, and for five minutes, all I can hear is his breathing, steady and slow. Did he fall asleep? I want to ask him what he thinks, but before I can open my mouth, he begins, “You still have that dream, you know.”

I look at him. Jihoon’s eyes are closed, but he’s speaking, softly, as though he’s scared that if he raises his voice, all this would disappear, “you can take a break. Its okay to take a break. But your dream is your own. It’ll always be there for you.”

“And what if I decide to give up?”

“Then that’s okay too. Just because you gave up on it doesn’t mean it didn’t give you happiness for a time.”

I fall silent, because really, what else is there for me to say after this? In the dark room, the moonlight filters in through the curtains, and Jihoon is there, beside me, his presence solid as a rock. In between us, my dreams lie, scattered and broken, a space that neither of us can cross. We’d always be on opposite sides of the river, me and Jihoon, despite how close we are. I’ll always resent him for being brave enough to follow his dreams, and he’ll always fail to understand who I am. Its better this way. Better to be far apart and resentful than be close and drift apart anyway. I’ll take this emotional distance over a physical one.

—

I wake up in the morning to find Jihoon gone, and a cooked breakfast waiting for me on the table with an attached note: don’t think too much about it.

“He’s the one who needs to think less,” I mutter, settling down to finish the omurice he’s made, (the onions were raw and the egg was rubbery) but it has been a long time since I’ve had anyone make me a meal, and I finish the entire dish, washing up in return. It’s fine if he doesn’t want to see me, its fine if he doesn’t even want to talk to me after I said that I was jealous of him; its common nature to avoid the other person if they are jealous of you, or if they are envious of you. “Still, he could have said good morning.” I murmur, putting on my shoes.

 For all Jihoon’s posturing about how much he loves his private space and how much he hates the chaos the rest of the boys bring, he still lives in the same building as Mingyu, whose door I tiptoe past on the way to the elevator. Wait, why am I ashamed? I’ve spent a lot of time in Jihoon’s apartment, and he’s spent an equal amount of time in mine. Then why am I treating this as a walk of shame?

I press the button to the elevator, and Mingyu’s door opens. Oh shit, now he’s going to see me—wait, I thought we were going to be normal about this? Before I can hide in the stairs, Mingyu’s walking over to the elevator, dressed for the day, his face lighting up when he sees me, “hi, noona. Crashed at Jihoon-hyung’s house?”

“Ah. Ah, yes, yes, I did. I simply slept over. Nothing else.” I manage to say, stumbling through my words. Great, now he’s going to think Jihoon and I had sex.

Fortunately for me, Mingyu doesn’t seem like the sort of person to take things to heart. “I didn’t imply anything else,” he says equally brightly, showing no signs of being awkward, “Seungkwan told me you all got wasted on a Monday night. Do you want me to give you a lift?”

“Yeah, that would be really nice, thank you. Also, blame our editor and assistant editor,” I reply, “they seem to have no sense of how to host company dinners. At least this time I didn’t have to pay out of my own pocket.”

“You had to pay out of your own pocket?” Mingyu looks aghast, as though my loss of funds is a personal slight, “that would never fly in my company.”

“Yeah, that tracks. Minghao always hated large get-togethers.”

“No, he didn’t.”

I roll my eyes, “he didn’t hate them when it was you guys. He absolutely hated them when he was forced together with a group of people he didn’t like.”

“Oh, you’re talking about that. He’s much better now, I can assure you.” Mingyu says, as the elevator dings to a stop, “noona, did you get the new clothes from the autumn collection? I sent you the women’s collection. I didn’t know what size you were, so I asked Jihoon-hyung for help. Did they fit well?”

“Kim Mingyu, if you give me new clothes from every collection, then how the hell are you going to  make any profit?” I ask, and he just laughs, “you’ve been sending me all these clothes when I don’t even post on Instagram! Minghao would have your head if he knew about this.”

“That’s his idea,” Mingyu replies, walking ahead of me to the parking lot, “you spent so much on us during university, then when M.M launched, you wrote a good review of us too.”

“I’m going to be accused of biased reporting, you jerk, I only said the truth. And besides, I left the job at the fashion magazine.”

“Still, you helped us a lot. And besides,” he opens the door to his car for me, “step in.”

“And besides?” I ask, putting on the seatbelt.

“Besides,” Mingyu gets into the car, “I like you a lot, noona.”

I smack him on the back of his head.

—

The office is empty when I walk in, which means I get to have five minutes of peace before the Editor walks in and demands all the articles of the week laid out in front of him, because of course, who else would take on all the jobs of the culture desk if its not for me, the Associate editor, the one who’s supposed to be happy to be included? Every week, the culture desk does a special feature, and usually, the assistant editor is in charge of it, unless, they decided to tack it onto my ever-growing list of things that need to be done.

“Sunbae,” I swivel around my chair to find a haggard-looking Seungkwan, “you’re here already?”

“Yes, I am, Seungkwan,” I tease, “are you feeling better?”

“Ugh, my brain feels as though it’s about to leak out of my ears.” Seungkwan mutters, sliding into his desk, “and we have the weekly meeting too, unless the editor isn’t feeling well enough to come in.”

“He’s got an iron stomach,” I wave, “he once came in after being blackout drunk, this isn’t even a big deal.”

Seungkwan groans, then opens his mouth to say something, stopping abruptly at the sight of my clothes. “Sunbae,” he says, “did you borrow those clothes from Jihoon-hyung?”

“What? I’m wearing my own clothes—” I look down at my shirt. Sure enough, its Jihoon’s shirt, the one he made to give as presents to give out to famous people who visited his studio. I can’t even lie and say that it’s from a former boyfriend. Fuck. “Yes, I crashed at Jihoon’s place last night. Was too drunk to take a cab, and he let me stay over at his place.”

“That makes a lot of sense.”

“Yes, yes it does. wait, why am I even explaining it to you? You were the one who ditched me to go for a second round at the karaoke bar.”

At the mention of the karaoke bar, Seungkwan presses two fingers to his temple, “don’t even start me on that. The people here drink so much, its sickening.”

“Who drinks a lot?” it’s the editor, with a pained smile on his face, “remind me never to host company dinners on Monday evenings.”

“I could have told you this before, sir, except you didn’t really listen to me.”

He shakes a finger, “then remind me to listen to you on matters of company dinners. God, my head hurts so much.”

Soon enough, people start filtering into the office; Haewon comes in with dark circles underneath her eyes that are barely hidden by makeup, the assistant editor walks in soon after that, nursing a bottle of hangover cure. The seven of us pile into the meeting room, where the editor looks as though he wants to be anywhere but here.

“The bosses have asked me to start a new column,” he says, after the larger part of the meeting is over, “just a general column, but new ideas will be appreciated.”

“A column on new books?” Haneul asks, “we could have a dedicated column on books.”

“We review every new book when it comes out, there’s no need to have a dedicated column for book releases.”

“Relationship advice?” Changmin raises his hand, “we could have readers send in their concerns, and one of us could write about them.”

“This isn’t Sex and The City, Changmin,” Haewon says, “stop trying to be Carrie Bradshaw.”

Changmin deflates, looking exactly like the stock photo of a blobfish, and Seungkwan decides to step in, “what if we did a comparative study of cultures across Korea? We could talk about provinces that aren’t really explored in media.”

An excellent idea, I think to myself, but too research-heavy for Seungkwan to do it himself. And sure enough, the editor shoots it down, saying, “we can’t spare two people going around Korea to find out about traditional villages. We don’t have the money, nor the manpower for it.”

Everyone sighs, and the editor looks at me, “any ideas?”

[Here we take a small break from our regular programming to tell readers that the following stunts were performed by a professional, under medical supervision, and must not be replicated in real-life situations.]

“What about—dreams?” I say, scrunching up my face and hoping the editor doesn’t notice my lack of preparation for this meeting, “what if, we had a weekly column where we talked about our dreams. Whether we have managed to achieve them, or whether we have only gone further away from it; like a confessional. One of us could write it, or we could have readers send in their entries. Like Hong Seung-Hee’s Suicide Diaries.”

The editor ponders over it for a minute, then looks to the assistant editor, who nods appreciatively. Great, I think, I’ve managed to save my ass. If there was anyone being reprimanded at this meeting it would not be me.

“You do it.” the editor says.

“Huh?”

“The column on dreams, you do it, since its your idea.” The assistant editor smiles encouragingly at me, “I think it’ll be something really good.”

“No, but,” I sputter, even as the rest of them shuffle out of the meeting room, “Editor! Why can’t you just take credit for my work like the rest of bosses?”

The editor looks at me, “why would you want me to do that?”

“I don’t know, it’s what others do!”

“Look,” the editor says, voice gentle, as though he’s speaking to a fragile toddler, which I can’t even blame him for, “if the workload is getting too much, you can always offload some of it onto us.”

“No, I can do it.”

Back at my desk, I groan, before almost smacking my head open on it. Seungkwan offers me a smile, before setting down a coffee. Bless that boy. I knew pulling something out of my ass would get me into trouble. If I hadn’t spoken up, they would still be considering Seungkwan’s idea of going around the countryside. At least that would mean a vacation on office time and office money, this just means I have to work twice as hard.

And why the fuck did I talk about dreams? I could have talked about esoteric theatrical performances, or trends in trot music, or even the different kinds of marinated crabs they sell around the company building (there are seven different restaurants that offer it), why, why, did I have to go and open my mouth to talk about dreams? Out of all the people here, I’m perhaps the least qualified to talk about my dreams, given how spectacularly I’ve managed to fail at following them, and the deadline is in three days.

“What are you thinking about, sunbae?” Haewon asks, depositing another can of coffee on my desk around lunchtime, “you’ve been working like a maniac all morning, aren’t you going to take lunch?”

“Can’t, Haewon, still have to put finishing edits on the three articles that are supposed to release this afternoon. Then I have to start working on the column, because I know its going to take me a long time to finish it.”

“Wow, you sure work hard,” Haewon grimaces, “well, if you need me to pick up something for you at the convenience store, make sure to text me.”

“Hey, Haewon,” I call after her retreating back, “where’s the article on the new movie?”

“Its in your inbox, I just sent it to you,” she calls out, “should I get you a lunch set?”

“Thanks!”

My eyes are itching. Perhaps from having stared at the computer screen for too long, but I take out my contacts in the washroom, instead of putting in lubricating drops. While on the toilet seat, I make a mental note of all the things I’m supposed to do, just in this week. Edit articles as they come by. Write a review of the play I went to. Write a new column, get it approved by the editor. Make amends with Jihoon. Look for a new apartment that doesn’t bleed me dry.

I moan as I press my hands to my temples, “there’s no way I can get this done in a week.”

My phone pings, and it is embarrassing how quickly I reach for it, hoping it to be a text from Jihoon. Its not. Instead, its Mingyu, texting me about my health.

Gyu: noona, you didn’t seem well in the morning. Should I get some medicine for your hangover?

I crack a smile. Having Kim Mingyu show up on the doorstep of my company would imply him being accosted by thirty people at least, and have his photo taken without his consent. It’s bad enough I took his car to come to the office this morning.

big dick (canon): no, Mingyu, please don’t put yourself in harm’s way by bringing me medicine.

Gyu: Minghao can do it too

Gyu: he hasn’t seen you in a while so he said he was missing you

Gyu: should I send him?

big dick (canon): no, I’m fine, Seungkwan brought me a hangover drink from the convenience store.

This is a lie, but I figure Seungkwan doesn’t really have anything to lose by featuring as the Good Samaritan in my story.

Gyu: tell me if there’s something I can do for you

Gyu: you know that we’re all there for you, right?

Ah, this cursed statement, ‘being there for you’. In my experience, people who say this, are rarely there for others. Everyone says it with such sincerity, but when it comes to the actual thing, they are rarely anywhere to be found.

big dick (canon): thanks for the offer, but I’m fine. Just a bit frazzled from all the apartment-hunting I’ve been doing over the weekends.

Gyu: no luck yet? I heard from Joshua-hyung that your lease was up

big dick (canon): he’s told all of you?

Gyu: no, just the guys

big dick (canon): so, everyone.

Gyu: well, unfortunately,  everyone’s aware. Sorry, noona.

big dick (canon): well, what else can I do about it.

Gyu: I can ask the other guys to not ask you about it

big dick (canon): no, no, if they can help, I’m going to be grateful

gyu: so, do you want me to help?

big dick (canon): yeah, what the fuck,  it's not as though I'm going to lose something by asking for help. 

Gyu: I'll ask my contacts if they have an affordable apartment around

big dick (canon): While this is a blow to my pride, I’d still be grateful if I can manage to get a good place that doesn't cost me an arm and a leg

gyu: on it, noona.

Back at my desk,  I trawl through the columns submitted by the reporters, adding edits to them to be published. One of the few perks of my job is the freedom I get while editing articles, because the editor and the assistant editor are both busy with administrative works to be bothered about the day-to-day works of the desk. To be fair, the new column should have been one of their duties, but now that it's my work,  I need to do my best.  Or at least,  not fuck up in a way that ends up with me being fired. 

Haewon, the absolute angel,  has brought a lunch set for me from the convenience store, with fried chicken and green salad. The chicken is rubbery, and the salad is stale, but to my groaning stomach,  it's all delicious. I pull up the word file sent by Seungkwan, and I'm not even two minutes into editing it,  when my phone pings again. I check it, hoping for a text from Mingyu, but instead, it's a text from Jihoon, who is apparently not ignoring me any longer. 

hoon: are you asking Mingyu of all people for help with your apartment search?

big dick (canon): he offered to help me, and I am not going to turn down help offered by anyone

hoon: you could have just asked me

big dick (canon): you left abruptly this morning,  so I thought you were ignoring me. Hence, I didn't want to bother you

hoon: get this concept clearly,  okay?

big dick (canon): what concept

hoon: you're my friend. Friends are allowed to help each other, even if the other person is a weirdo

hoon: how long do you have on the lease?

big dick (canon): not much,  but I can’t find an apartment that fits my needs. They are either out of the way, or too expensive, or just straight up bad

big dick (canon): I don’t want to spend an hour on my commute that’s going to eat into my free time

big dick (canon): and I don’t want to spend too much on a flat when I’m clearly going to be renting

big dick (canon): you know, usual demands

hoon: the flat next to mine is empty

big dick (canon): doesn’t someone live there?

hoon: you’re in luck, no one does

big dick (canon): keep feeling like there’s a catch that I’m missing

hoon: about that, well

hoon: the reason why its empty and people don’t get it is because an old lady died in there

hoon: so, you might be haunted by ghosts

big dick (canon): that’s an extremely stupid reasoning

big dick (canon): do you know the realtor

hoon: I don’t, since she’s new, but

hoon: I’ll call her and say that you want to see the apartment

big dick (canon): you’d do that omg thank u

hoon: in return

hoon: please cook for me

big dick (canon):KNEW THERE WAS A CATCH

hoon: I’m lazy and I don’t like to cook

hoon: too much prep too much clutter

hoon: I could use that time to make music instead

big dick (canon):ah yes, the great Woozi makes his appearance

big dick (canon): can I see the apartment this week

hoon: yeah, I’m done with this song, so I have a bit of free time before preparation for Soonyoung’s new album begins

big dick (canon): Hoshi is coming out with an album omg this is INSIDER SCOOP

hoon: are you for real? The company announced it in the beginning of the financial year

big dick (canon): right, I keep forgetting

big dick (canon): I totally remembered btw

hoon: I’ll pick you up at 5 if that’s okay

big dick (canon): yeah, that works

—

The realtor is a fifty-year old woman with an extravagant puff on her head, who glosses over the supposed ghosts living in the apartment and goes entirely too hard on trying to sell me the apartment. And she didn’t even need to, because I would have taken it anyway.  It’s less of an apartment meant for a singular person and more for newlyweds, with two rooms, a large enough living room, and on top of it all, a kitchen with plenty enough light for me to grow my own plants. The bedroom faces south, and there’s enough space in the living room for me to host my friends (two of them) when they come over. I can just tell Mr Kim I’m leaving the apartment tomorrow. He’s probably been itching to find another naïve university student to fleece.

“This is great,” I say, after the tour is over, “I’ll take it.”

“Great! This will be just perfect for the two of you.” The old woman titters, “I love selling newlywed houses!”

What?

I look at Jihoon, who seems just as surprised as I am, “uh, ma’am, we aren’t married.”

Now its her turn to look surprised, “what do you mean you’re not married? You guys look exactly like a married couple!”

“No, ma’am,” Jihoon says, “she’s my best friend. I’m only helping her get an apartment at a good price.”

“Ah yes, friends, is it?” there’s a twinkle in the old woman’s eye that I can’t quite place, “we’ll see about that, eh?”

“Uh, no, no one is seeing anything about it, because we aren’t dating, nor are we married.”

—

“There is only one perk to living in a hovel like a broke university student for six years after university, and that is the amount of money one saves in their bank account.” I say, taking a sip out of the shared kimchi jjigae pot, “I don’t even have to get a big loan out of the bank to pay for the deposit.”

“Are you that happy?” Jihoon asks, “you’ve been smiling non-stop since signing the agreement. You know, you could have seen more apartments, right?”

“No, this one is the best,” I say, “the kitchen has space for plants, there’s a veranda, the bedrooms are big, but not too big, you know? Just the perfect size.”

“The perfect size?”

“Yes, you know, the perfect size, not too small that it feels suffocating, not too big that it feels depressing. Just the right amount of cozy.”

“You’re crazy.” Jihoon says, “that’s some crazy-person logic right there.”

“I’m not!” I protest, but there’s no real spite in Jihoon’s words, and its almost as though he’s bickering with me to continue to keep things normal, or at least, as normal as they come.

“About the other night,” he begins, “you don’t have to feel envious of me that way.”

“I’m sorry about the other night. Admittedly, I was drunk.”

Jihoon stares at me. “Really? Are you going to pull the ‘I was so drunk I forgot’ trick? On me?”

“Uh, obviously, no.”

“So, you were.”

I grimace, and Jihoon sighs, “look, if you want to forget about this, you can, and I’ll pretend as though nothing happened that night, and you said nothing, we’ll move past it as we always do. but envy, jealousy, these are all important emotions, and I think you should at least try to talk to someone about it.”

“I’m talking to you.”

“Not me, I mean an impartial party.”

“Like a therapist?” I narrow my eyes, “Are you calling me insane?”

“What? No! I’m not saying that you’re crazy, I’m just saying that you might need to talk to someone outside of me and Joshua once in a while.”

“I talk to Eunseo. And Seungkwan. And the people at the newspaper.”

“None of these people are impartial listeners, and besides, you don’t even go out much!”

“I’m out with you right now!”

Jihoon sighs, “yeah, I get it, going to therapy sounds difficult. But I really think you need to—”

“And since when are you the arbiter of my needs and wants?” my voice comes out sharper than I intended, and Jihoon just stares at me with a mix of shock and awe and something I can’t quite explain, “you can come and sit here and tell me that you think I should go to therapy, but have you ever paused to take a moment to understand what I need? I don’t need someone to tell me what I need to do, I already know that! I just need someone to be there for me, even when I sound stupid and petty and foolish.”

“Do you always need to take things this far?”

“This far? Why is it always me taking things ‘this far’ with you, Jihoon? Why can’t you stop for a moment, and try to look at things from my perspective for once?” I pause for a moment, chest heaving, “this won’t do, I can’t bear to sit down and eat a meal with you right now.”

With this, I storm out of the restaurant, Jihoon running behind me, “hey, look, we can just talk it—”

“I don’t want to talk things out with you!” there are people staring at me, but I just cannot bring myself to care right now, “you’ve kept pushing the idea of me sleeping with people ever since you found out about my feelings. Have you ever stopped to ask if that’s something I really want?”

“Then tell me!” Jihoon’s yelling too, the two of us on a busy street in a late autumn evening, screaming at each other, “you never tell anyone anything! I’ve been friends with you for six years, and I still don’t know anything about you! What is it that you actually want? Why won’t you let me help you?”

“Because I’m scared!”

Jihoon stops, stunned. Terrified. There’s no other way to explain the expression on his face. I continue, “because I’m terrified that I’ll do something wrong. All my life, I’ve lived in the fear of doing something wrong, of letting people down. What happens when I take a step forward? Will it be the right decision? Will I do something wrong again? I’ve always thought that, and now, when you keep telling me to take a step, I’m terrified, Jihoon. There’s nothing I can do about it.”

There. Now I’ve said it. “I think we should stop talking to each other for a while, Jihoon,” I say, walking away from him, “with you, I’ll always think of the ‘what if’s’ and I’ll be stuck anyway, but this time, I’ll be terrified, and I’ll fail. I don’t want that for myself, and you deserve better than a friend who’s like me.”

—

What are dreams? Are they something that your inner child holds on to, in the hopes of a better future, or are they something that the adult of now, works toward? I’ve always thought about what dreams meant to me, and I’ve always come up short.

The psychoanalyst Sigmund Freud interpreted dreams as the manifestation of our subconscious mind, a look into our unfulfilled wishes. But this is the scientific interpretation. what does it actually mean, to be able to dream?

When I was younger, I dreamt of a happier existence. An existence where I was fulfilled, or better yet, my desires were fulfilled. I kept dreaming, and dreaming, and dreaming, until one day I woke up and felt myself in a foreign land where dreams held little meaning.

In truth, that is our reality. A foreign land where we are forced to give up on our childhood dreams, and become grown-up adults. The definition of a dream changes too, from the manifestation of our inner desires, to mere scientific fact, neurological phenomenon whereby we can ascertain the quality of our sleep. Is this what we are doomed to become? To go on with our lives from day to day, doomed to repeat the cycle until we die one day?

When I was young, I dreamt of being a writer. I wanted to weave worlds with my words, perfect the craft of storytelling until my words brought comfort to people. I wanted to be someone whose words could be someone’s comfort, someone’s pillar to lean on when distressed. But that was when I was a child. As I grew up, I realised, ah, this is the real world, a place where my words of comfort held no meaning for anyone. I struggled against it, because I could not accept my reality. I failed. The world was too big, too cruel for me to hold on to the foolish dreams of a five-year old, and I woke up to my reality. Now, my words bring no comfort to anyone, because they are no longer my own. My words don’t belong to me, and neither does my dream. It is something I’ve kept locked in a box, hidden amidst my childhood belongings.

I am an adult. I envy people, I get jealous of people, I hold petty grudges. It’s who I am. I envy people who have achieved their dream, I envy people who are working towards their dream, because it reminds me of a five-year old child, whose dreams I allowed the world to crush. And they didn’t deserve that. None of us do.

So, for all of you who are working towards your dreams, may they be fulfilled someday. And for those who have given up on our dreams. It will be okay. Even if we gave up on it, even if it is distant from us now, it doesn’t mean we weren’t happy once.

—

“That’s the last of it,” Joshua pants as he hauls up a flowerpot into my kitchen, “why do you have so many plants?”

“So that I can save on groceries.”

“Wow, noona, you’re really sensible,” Mingyu says, “should I keep a plant in my home as well?”

“You can barely keep a rock alive, Mingyu, and that’s me being nice.” Joshua mutters, laid out on the sofa, “this is not how I imagined my day off to be going.”

“I enjoyed today,” Mingyu jumps up form his seat on the floor, “do you want jajangmyeon?”

“I just ordered it,” I say, settling down in a chair, “wow, this is nice.”

The flat is piled high with furniture, but the majority of it had been done by movers the previous day. My landlord, who hated the sight of me, even patted me on the back and said he was sorry to see me go. Weird. But, now that I’m in my own room, with enough sunlight and air and a new place to start over again, I can feel myself growing happier. Is it something related to places? Can they really affect mental statuses? “I should host a housewarming party later on, when I’m all settled in?”

“Really?” Mingyu perks up at the idea of a party, “you’ll invite all the others too?”

“Yes, I’ll invite everyone.”

“Great!” he’s already on his phone, “Jeonghan-hyung will be so happy to see you again.”

“I haven’t seen him in months,” I muse, “god, I don’t think I’ve seen all thirteen of you together in months, now. Or has it been a year?”

“Probably a year,” Joshua groans, “the last time we met up was at Chan’s welcome back party. Ugh, my back is killing me.”

“Old man,” Mingyu laughs, “shouldn’t you be at home with your fiancée?”

“Eunseo asked me to help out since she couldn’t come.” Joshua clarifies, “she was the one who was asked initially.”

“Makes sense.” Mingyu nods sagely, then jumps up at the sound of the doorbell, “food’s here!”

This is how it should be. Life. Surrounded by friends, surrounded by people who make you laugh. If this is how I can live here, then I’ll be happy, I think. But happiness is a difficult construct, and an ephemeral state of being for me, always slipping out of my grasp.

“Noona, where is Jihoon—” Mingyu gets a swift kick to the ass for that sentence from Joshua, and my smile dies away on my face.

True, no one has commented on it, not at the office, nor between friends, but I can practically feel Seungkwan’s curiosity burning every time I take lunch by myself, or I go out to meet people out of office, and come back alone. I haven’t been attending Sunday morning brunch with Joshua and Jihoon either, and both Joshua and Eunseo have kept quiet about it, but sooner or later, someone would have to speak up. Its unusual, having Jihoon away from me, without his voice being a constant presence in my life. Now, even with him living next door to me, I can’t reach out. The metaphorical rift has now become real.

“He’s busy,” I say, trying to change the subject, “I think he’s busy with Hoshi’s new project.”

That gets Mingyu’s attention, and he starts talking about how his and Minghao’s company is the one who’s dressing Soonyoung for his comeback, and how Soonyoung keeps wanting custom tiger-print stuff, until I can comfortably lean back and just laugh along at his words, trying not to think too much about Jihoon.

Later that night, as I’m climbing into bed, exhausted, the doorbell rings again. I’m dressed in pyjamas, with a pair of fluffy slippers on my feet, and the sound of the bell makes me wary. Who could it be, at—eleven at night? All of a sudden, I’m gripped with all the things I’ve heard on true crime podcasts, about the perils of single women living alone.

Wait, you’re thinking too much. It’s probably Mingyu, dropping something off. Right, that’s it. it could be Mingyu.

I open the door a little, “Mingyu, could you come back in the morning? I’m tired—”

“Do I look like Mingyu to you?”

In my shock, the door swings wide open. Its Jihoon, dressed like he’s come home running from work, the tip of his nose pink. He’s dressed casually again, in a white jacket over a black t-shirt. In comparison, I look and feel horribly underdressed.

“Look,” Jihoon begins, “am I too late?”

“For?”

“Is there nothing I can do to repair this friendship? Am I too late?” he grabs my hands, “I’m sorry, I’ll apologise a thousand times if you want. I stayed away from you because you wanted me to, but I can’t. I can’t give you up as a friend. I need you in my life.”

“Jihoon,” I open my mouth to say something, but my heart starts beating erratically. Is this normal? I look at Jihoon again, wide-eyed, evidence of tears on his cheeks, and I can’t do anything but nod my head.

Fuck. I’m screwed.

[sugarushwriting]

vampire enhypen and you’re their human blood bank (part six!!???!)

jay isn’t happy with your decisions

neither is sunghoon

jake or heeseung

they became possessive over you and refuse to allow you to leave them

straight smut coming this chapter, forewarning. i will not warn anymore after the “keep reading” point. i am not the best at writing smut (jealous of those who can) so please be easy on me!!

next part (?) should not have heavy smut like this one or any at all. didn’t expect this many parts but hi, hello, here we are.

do not repost or translate. but please feel free to reblog, like, and comment! not proof read.

₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎ ₊˚⊹♡

your leg nervously bounced while you waited in class for the professor to begin. students began whispering wondering why this class was mandatory. the girls were whispering wondering where jay was.

where was he? he made it a whole ordeal that you come to class today and he’s not even here?

the entire class period went by boringly, but the professor did talk about important things. maybe he did need to talk about it to everyone, but no need for it to have been mandatory and worth so many points.

as he dismissed class 10 minutes early, he called you to the podium where he stood.

“yes professor kong?” you asked adjusting your backpack on your shoulder.

“mr park needs to see you in his office. he says it’s about your recent grade.”

you stood frozen, “um, i thought i did okay on that paper?”

“he did too, but he said he found some things and he’s worried about plagiarism?”

“that’s ridiculous! all that work came from me and i made sure to reference correctly.”

the professor shrugged, “i haven’t seen it myself, and i trust mr park.”

well you didn’t. “thank you professor kong.” you nodded politely and walked out the classroom, an immediate ding to your phone notifying you had a text.

jay: come to my office. im watching you. don’t try to hide and run.

you read the text and huffed in annoyance. you looked around for him, but of course, if he didn’t want to be found by you, he wouldn’t.

you made your way to his office in the business building, which was luckily the same building class was held. you took the elevator to the top floor, and made your way to the end of the hallway were his small but cozy office was.

your university gave teaching assistants either their own office or shared office depending on the amount of work they would be doing for the professor. plus teaching assistants were required to hold office hours for extra help for students with a minimum of 2 hours a week. whether it was in person office hours or through zoom.

you raised your fist to knock, but startled when you felt a hot breath on your neck. quickly turning around, you came face to face with jay. your back flat against his door.

he reached beside you, unlocking the door. “go in.”

it wasn’t a question or statement. it was a demand. his tone was hushed, but deep. you recognize his authority tone he usually used on the guys.

you quickly turned back around and walked into his office.

he locked the door behind him, hands in his pocket and made no effort to talk to you.

“professor said you had worries about my paper?” you asked.

jay was behind his desk now, and his brown eyes snapped up from the drawer he was rummaging through. “your paper is fine.”

“but—,”

jays sharp eyes made contact with you and you quickly hushed. his irises were red.

jay grabbed a roll of duct tape and made his way towards you. he ripped off a piece, and when you went to ask what he was doing, he quickly placed it over your lips. again, he said nothing, until you lifted your arms to take off the tape.

“take off that tape and i will turn your ass black and blue.”

his tone was threatening, and even though usually you’d push back, something told you not to this time. you put your hands to your sides, waiting for his next move.

he took your bag off of your shoulder, then next, he taped your hands together in front of you.

he threw the tape off to the side, it clattering to the floor. jay stood in front of you, straight eye contact, pushing your body subtly to his desk, until your butt rested against it.

you’ve never seen jay so quiet. it terrified you to be honest. but you also felt a thrill. is he showing you his dominate side you’ve been asking for? or maybe this is his fed up side with your behavior. you knew you were to be mad at him. and you still was, however, for good sex? you might put it aside just for now.

jay roughly pushed you down on his desk, and put your arms to rest above your head. “move your hands and arms, and you won’t be able to lift them for weeks.”

another threat. you swallowed. jay wasted no time lifting your sweatshirt above your bra, and removing your sweatpants off your legs. without warning, jay slapped your underwear covered pussy—hard. like someone would slap an ass.

you tried to scream, but of course your mouth was covered so it was muffled. jay smirked.

he removed your underwear, throwing them over his shoulder, and pulled your bra down to expose your breast. he took each in one hand, gripping hard, causing pain. another muffled scream.

jay wasn’t being his usual gentle self. and you were thinking this is more than his dominate side.

your arms jerked, and jay raised a brow, waiting for you to move it, but you didn’t.

“good girl.” he praised, and you rolled your head to the side. he clicked his tongue on the root of his mouth, “nope, eyes on me the entire time.”

your head rolled back to meet jays eyes. “good to know you do listen.”

you were surprised when jays fangs extended. your eyes going wide. his kissed your jawline, the tape where your lips would be, and one kiss to you neck. he peppered kisses down your chest before his mouth latched on to a nipple, and you could feel his fangs slightly break skin.

another muffle scream came. he did it to the other breast. then he kissed down your stomach, occasionally scraping his fangs against your skin. your stomach recoiled at the slight touch, because one you were ticklish, second because you were nervous he was going to break skin fully, not just a tease.

he kissed down your body, your left thigh, left leg, then made his way back up your right leg, to your right thigh, stopping just inches away from your core. you could feel his hot breath fanning, and you wiggled a bit. he didn’t move. you whined behind the tape, earning a chuckle from jay.

your eyes closed as you waited for the sensation of his tongue licking your core. you didn’t notice jay was taking his pants and boxers off, stroking his cock twice, aligning himself to your entrance.

he roughly, swiftly, and quickly bottomed out, cause a deep groan of pleasure from his mouth. a loud muffled scream of pain came from your mouth behind the tape.

fuck you wasn’t expecting him to just bottom out like that. usually jay takes his time with slowly entering you. he always makes sure you’re wet enough.

“what a shame, usually you’re dripping for me. this time you’re barely wet.”

if you could talk you would scold him and say it’s because he didn’t give you time! he didn’t prep you!

he knew that. he wanted to bring you pain. a tear slipped from your eye. he didn’t give you time to adjust to his thickness when he started ramming in and out of you, at an unhuman speed and strength, or at least something you weren’t used to. his hands and fingers tightly gripped your thighs to hold you in place. your body rocked against his desk, scared it was going to break.

your eyes rolled to the back of your head, as jay mumbled incoherently under his breath. you couldn’t hear what he was saying, nor did you care.

not until you realized your arms left the place they were supposed to be, and went to wrap around jays neck.

he quickly removed himself, you moaning low from the loss of him, and he lifted you off the desk by pulling you by your taped hands.

“what did i tell you?” he asked through gritted teeth. your eyes went wide and he flipped you on your stomach, the cold surface hitting your bare breasts and stomach. your arms back reaching over your head, gripping the edge of the desk.

jay quickly entered you from behind, this time gripping your ass so tight, you really were gonna be black and blue after this.

all you could do was let muffled sounds escape from the tape as he hammered from behind, landing slaps to your ass.

his cock was reaching into your cervix, and you didn’t know to scream of pain or pleasure. tears now flowing out of your eyes.

your orgasm began building, and with jays sloppy and low sounds leaving his mouth, you knew he was close too.

it didn’t take long for him to come inside you. but just as you were so close, he removed himself and watched his come drip out of you.

you whined. you whined and cried because you were so close to your orgasm and he stopped! that wasnt like jay. he always made sure you orgasmed first, if not, at least made sure you had a successful orgasm.

you banged your fists on his desk in frustration, as his come slowly dripped out of your cunt, down your legs.

you began crying fully, because you just couldn’t control your emotions. your legs bucking, your knees going week. jay emotionless put his boxers and pants back on, lifting you up by your hair, leaning down to whisper in your ear.

“not nice when someone won’t listen to you huh? when they ignore you. when they ignore what you want and your needs.” jay snickered and dropped you back on the desk.

jay went to the other side of his desk, grabbing scissors from his drawer. no further word, he cut the tape from your bound hands, and lifted your chin from the desk, removing the tape—not so gently—from your lips.

but you were too wore out to even complain. you can’t fathom how you were tired. 2 simple positions, but jay used his strength and energy on you. he probably could’ve went harder, faster, but that might’ve killed you.

you lifted yourself on your forearms to look at jay, who still had that lazy smirk on his face. you lifted yourself fully, and when you went to lift your bra, you had to use two hands, but lost balance and fell to the ground. while lying there you lifted your bra to cover yourself again, and pulled down your sweatshirt. you reached over to grab your underwear that was lying on the ground next to you.

“you’re seriously gonna get dressed while lying down?”

you had no energy to even speak. you grabbed your underwear, but couldn’t even bend to put them on your legs.

jay sighed in frustration and disbelief (how dare he, jerk!!) and came to assist you with getting dressed. “good to know you can’t fight back. you’re coming home with me.”

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

jay threw you onto a bed. you couldn’t even focus on who’s bed and room he brought you to. a small sound came from your throat. wasn’t even a full sentence. you said, “thirsty.”

jay nodded and left the bedroom. oh shit were you gonna die of thirst now? your limbs were still weak but you could slightly move. what the fuck happened?

footsteps could be heard and you saw sunghoon enter with a cup of what you’re assuming is water, hopefully.

sunghoon said nothing as he came closer to you, helping you sit up in the bed and brining the cup to your lips. he assisted you with drinking the water.

“thank you.” you finally said in a whisper.

“our baby doll can talk now.” he smiled and patted your head. he laid you back down on the bed. it must be his.

sunghoon hovered over you, straddling, as he took off his shirt with a smirk. “be prepared baby doll. you’re not gonna be able to move for a while once we’re done with you.”

his lips came down to yours, a rush kiss, as he swiftly took off your pants and underwear at once and lifted your sweatshirt to expose your belly.

you were so distracted by his tongue deep in your mouth, you didn’t feel or notice sunghoon taking off his own pants and boxers. it wasn’t until he rubbed his tip against your clit.

“ah,” you moaned out from the feeling. your body still not recovered from jays attack or lack of orgasm. was sunghoon not gonna prep you either? he loved to eat your cunt out, almost, almost, as much as jake.

this would also be your first time having sex with sunghoon.

your thoughts were answered when he entered into you, slightly slower than what jay did. sunghoon was longer than jay, but with slight less thickness to him.

your hands went to sunghoons shoulders to grip, and he bottomed out, a loud moan leaving his lips. “why have i never done this before?” he mumbled to himself. your walls gripping him snuggly. “baby doll you feel so good and right for me. for us.”

sunghoon found a pace rocking his hips against yours, you connecting your lips together to muffle the sounds. once he started to reach an orgasm, his paced picked up and so did the roughness of how he fucked you. he lifted his lips off of yours as his fangs extended and his teeth scraped your shoulder like a slight pinch and he buried his head in your shoulder.

“so so good, baby doll.” he moaned, using his hand to wrap one of your legs around his waist for a deeper and better angle.

your head tilted as far back as possible from the pleasure building in your stomach once again. “sunghoon, im close.” you groaned out, removing your hands from his shoulders to grab onto the headboard.

you felt sunghoon fill you up with his come, and you were worried he wouldn’t let you come, but he fucked his come deeper into you as you soon came as well with the loudest moan you’ve let slip past your lips.

maybe it was because of the first orgasm denial, so this one was so intense. it had your body shaking afterwards, specifically your legs and they went numb.

you were so tired, all you wanted to to was nap. not even caring as sunghoon pulled out, you closed your eyes.

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

when you awoke, you were in a different bed, and heeseung was playing a game at his desk in front of you.

you tried to move your body but couldn’t. not because you were tied down, but because your body was so sore and worn out. the only thing you could do was let noises escape your mouth.

your whine caught heeseung’s attention from the game and he smiled seeing you awake. he turned off the game, coming to the bed beside you as you finally noticed him shirtless, only in pajama pants.

all you could do was stare. “baby, you’ve been sleep for hours. was starting to get worried i wouldn’t get my turn.” he pouted.

hours? you slept for hours? you turned your head to look out the window and saw dusk was falling. what time was it?

you mentally did math—okay so class ended around 11:40, you met jay at his office around 12. how long did that last? a hour? maybe longer? then what about sunghoon? how long did that go?

with the light, it had to be around 5 or 5:30 in the evening. “time?” you croaked out.

heeseung smiled. “it’s almost 5, baby.” he pulled you to the edge of the bed, so your feet hung off the edge, your butt close to it. “i’m glad jay and sunghoon didn’t go too hard. was worried you wouldn’t be able to take me or jake.”

wait, they all were going to fuck you? and what does he mean they didn’t go too hard? you could barely move or speak!

you tried to form words, but your mind turned to mush when heeseung got on his knees and lifted both of your legs so they were over his shoulder. “i can’t wait to finally taste you.” he whispered against your inner thigh.

that’s when you finally realized, you were only in an oversized shirt and some boxers. you didn’t know who dressed you in it. maybe sunghoon or maybe heeseung.

heeseung kissed your cunt through the boxers, his nose burying itself to inhale deeply. he pressed open mouth kisses all along both of your thighs, before his vampire fangs felt like a pinch to your thigh. you jerked, but heeseung held you in place. his teeth scraped against your inner thigh, a moan leaving your lips as you turned your head to the side, and ran your fingers through is hair.

he swiftly took the boxers off your legs and lifted the shirt up above your belly button. no warning, heeseungs tongue swiped between your folds, your legs tightening around his neck as he buried himself between your legs like he was home. he licked, sucked, bit, nibbled, all he could on your cunt, clit and in between.

“fuck you taste too good baby. no wonder jake and sunghoon love to be buried between your legs.” heeseung sighed in pleasure, as he continued his attack. meanwhile, your head was rocking side to side, your eyes rolling to the back of your head, all while holding heeseung in place by your legs and your fist in his hair. the harder you gripped he would bite.

you were nearing your third orgasm of the day, but before you could let heeseung know you were close, he removed his delightful lips and tongue from your cunt, kissing up your stomach, lifting the shirt higher above your breasts, to your neck, still leaving open mouth kisses, licks, and occasionally nipping with his fangs.

you whine at the loss, heeseung smiling against your skin. his lips met yours in a sloppy kiss, you tasting yourself on his lips and tongue.

his lips made their way back to your breasts, his lips wrapping around one nipple, you sensitive to the feeling. another moan left your mouth, but then a louder moan mixed with a yelp came next as without warning, heeseungs fingers entered your cunt.

not one. not two. but three of his long fingers, knuckle deep. your body jerked at the feeling, but it caused heeseung to bite your nipple, your cunt growing wetter every second, and even wetter than before due to the bite.

“so so wet for me.” heeseung smiled then did the same attack on your other breast and nipple. he was loving the loud sounds coming from your wet cunt.

now, one hand was in heeseungs hair, the other on his muscular back as his fingers rocked in and out at a fast and bruising pace. “mhm heeseung.” you moaned out in between taking deep breaths. even without his cock he was filling you up deliciously.

your walls clamped tighter on his fingers, so he kept the speed of his fingers, his thumb rubbing circles on your clit. his tongue licked and sucked your nipple harder, his fangs making another appearance with a pinch.

it sent you over the edge. you came hard. your juices soaked his fingers, leaking onto the edge of the bed, down your thighs, and down his stomach.

you let out the loudest moan you ever had, and your chest heaved up and down as you chased oxygen as you felt so breathless.

you weren’t done. you kept coming and coming for at least a full 2 minutes, your body weakening every second as heeseung continued moving his fingers to your orgasm.

it wasn’t until tears filled your eyes that heeseung removed his fingers and lifted his body off of yours as you shook. you couldn’t imagine taking his cock right now.

“you’ll get my cock another time, baby.” he whispered against your forehead, easing your mind for the time being.

your eyes began to close as exhaustion took over.

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

different bed. you woke up in a different bed and next to a different body. your eyes slowly opened to the darkness both outside and in the room.

your heartbeat sped up to not knowing your surroundings. you felt familiar lips on your neck with a kiss and a familiar aussie accent, “you had us so worried baby.”

you swallowed, trying to find your voice. “sorry.” your voice cracked. “im so sorry.” you apologized. this was your punishment for ignoring them. they were letting you know, you were theirs.

“it’s okay baby. we know you won’t do it again.” jake sighed and began sucking on your neck.

you knew jake had a high sex drive. even before he became a damn vampire. you could only imagine how becoming a vampire upped it. usually when he feasted on you, he could stay for hours eating you out, giving you multiple orgasms in a short time period.

“jakey im tired.” you pouted hoping jake would give you a break.

“don’t worry baby, just lay there, jakey will do all the work.”

and he did. you laid flat on the bed like a damn mannequin. your mind couldn’t even focus on whatever jake was doing. you just remember the cold air hitting your naked skin, his lips, his tongue, his teeth, all over your body.

jake gripping your thighs so tight you were sure handprints would be left behind, along with his nails digging into your skin.

you moaned, whined, and cried. jake was enjoying it so much. he didn’t care if you couldn’t participate back. as long as his lips were somewhere on your body he was happy.

between your legs, your thighs, devouring your cunt. your breast, nibbling your breasts. your lips for sloppy kisses, spit mixing between your mouths.

he moved you onto your stomach so he could eat you out from behind. he positioned your body so your head was buried in the sheets, your hands by your side, your ass in the air.

jake feasted, slobber and spit running down your leg. or was it come? did you orgasm? you were so tired maybe you did and didn’t even know.

jake mumbled, “so wet baby. coming so much just from my tongue.”

your mouth was so dry.

jake landed a slap to your ass, you groaned in reaction, and jake smiled liking that you finally responded to stimuli.

next you felt long slender fingers enter your cunt from behind, this time you bit into the sheets. your cunt genuinely could not handle anything else.

jake pumped his fingers at an ungodly speed, or what felt like it, your screams muffled by the sheets of his bed. your hands found the strength to grip onto the sheets.

“come again for me baby. i know you want to.”

and you did. you don’t know what orgasm number this was. you don’t know how long you orgasmed for. you just know your body could not take anymore.

you cried, shaking your head. “no more jakey, please. i—i am so sorry.” you sniffled.

jake shushed you, rubbing your back trying to get you to take deep breaths through your sobs. “it’s okay baby, no more.” he kissed your back. you collapsed onto the bed.

jake got off the bed, and helped you sit up, bringing a cup to your lips. “drink some water baby.”

you did. he had to help you, get you to slowly drink as if you tried to drink to fast, it would miss your lips and dribble down your chin.

once done, he laid you back down, covering up your naked body.

you cried yourself to sleep being so worn out from your body being wrecked by 4 vampires.

₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎ ₊˚⊹♡

[xthejazzdalorianx]

Chapter Two ~ Against The Odds

pairing(s): logan (the wolverine) howlett x non-mutant!f!reader, uncle!wade (deadpool) wilson x non-mutant!f!reader, grandma!althea x non-mutant!f!reader

warning(s): explicit, minors do not interact! SMUT SMUT SMUT, plot with porn, yearning, needy, fluff, p in v sex, oral sex, sexual tension, wholesome, family, baby fever (to me because i want a baby lol), wade being a girl dad???

a/n: hello, this is a continuation of Chapter One ~ Fragile. i honestly don’t know how many chapters this will be, but i am very excited to release this one. it is a much longer read, but it is literally wade being such a girl dad. in a way, having wade and althea live with the reader and her daughter really teaches them to be better in a sense. either way, i hope you guys enjoy it as much as i did! let me know if there are any errors. :) <3

word count: 6.1k

- - - - - - -

summary: in this chapter, the bond between mara and you, as her mother, deepens as you navigate life after logan. with wade as a vital support, you enjoy a day at the park, where mara’s innocent questions about her father lead to heartfelt discussions on love and family. your emotional journey toward accepting love reemerges through your growing feelings for wade, highlighting themes of healing, family connection, and the complexities of moving on.

- - - - - - -

It had been a couple of years since your beloved daughter, Mara Howlett, was born. She showed her intelligence by imitating her first words, which weren't "mama" but "Uncle Wade." It was a heartwarming moment. Mara and Wade were already playing together and running around the house, engaging in games of hide-and-seek. Every morning, they cooked breakfast together and brought it to you in bed.

Uncle Wade had always been there for support, and even Grandma Althea, who was blind, pitched in financially as much as she could. To help with expenses and ensure that your little one had everything she needed, you took on a job at the nearby grocery store. As you worked long hours stocking shelves and checking out customers, your mind was always consumed with thoughts of your precious daughter and how grateful you were to have her in your life.

She was your light, your reason for pushing through the exhaustion and tedium. Every time you felt your eyelids growing heavy or your feet aching from hours of standing, you pictured her smile, her tiny hand in yours. You imagined the moment you'd walk through the door and she'd come running, arms outstretched, shouting "Mommy!" with unbridled joy.

During your short breaks, you'd sneak a peek at the photos on your phone - her first steps and the two of you with Wade at the beach last weekend. They never failed to bring a smile to your face, even on the toughest days.

As you restocked cans of soup and boxes of cereal, you made mental notes of items she might like for her lunchbox. When ringing up customers, you'd spot a toy or book she'd love, setting aside a mental reminder to pick it up later. Every decision, every action, seemed to revolve around her now.

The store's bell chimed, and you glanced up to see Mrs. Henderson shuffling in, her weathered hands gripping her walker. You smiled, already reaching for her usual items before she made it to the counter.

"How's that daughter of yours?" she asked, her eyes twinkling behind thick glasses.

"Growing like a weed," you replied, your chest swelling with pride. "She starts kindergarten week."

Mrs. Henderson clucked her tongue. "My, how time flies. Seems like just yesterday you were telling me she'd been born."

As you bagged her groceries, your mind wandered to the little girl waiting for you at home. You imagined her curled up on the couch, engrossed in her favorite cartoon, and holding her favorite stuffed unicorn.

It was moments like these that made life feel simple and complete again. But then those thoughts would be interrupted by memories of Logan, the father of your child. Mara's blue eyes and black hair were a constant reminder of him, even though he wasn't there with you.

Some nights, the pain would become too much and you would wake up crying, only to have Wade embrace you until you fell back asleep. He had been so supportive and present lately...but did that mean you were falling for him? Could you actually love someone else after everything Logan put you through? It didn't seem fair to Wade, but then again, he wouldn't hurt you. Maybe you can talk to him about it when you get home.

"All done, Mrs. Henderson," you say, handing her the bags. "Have a great day."

As she shuffles out, you glance at the clock. Your shift is almost over. Just a few more customers and you can head home to Mara, Wade, and Althea.

The next person in line steps forward, and you force a smile. But your mind is elsewhere, grappling with the swirl of emotions that have become your constant companions.

Later, as you drive home, you rehearse what you might say to Wade. The words tumble around in your head, never quite falling into place. How do you explain the tangle of grief, gratitude, and budding affection?

- - - - - - -

As you drive into the parking structure of your apartment complex, you park and make your way up the stairs to your shared apartment. The sound of laughter greets you as you approach the door. You smile, feeling a sense of warmth and comfort. You quickly grab your keys and unlock the door.

You enter the room and witness him playing with Mara. Her laughter echoes throughout the space as she rides on his back, her hair flowing behind her. Your heart feels full as you watch them, overwhelmed with love.

"Mommy!" Mara squeals, spotting you in the doorway. She scrambles off Wade's back and runs toward you, her little arms outstretched. You scoop her up, breathing in the scent of her hair, feeling the softness of her cheek against yours.

"Hey, sweetheart," you murmur, holding her close. "Did you have a good day with Uncle Wade?"

She nods enthusiastically. "We made a fort and had a tea party with Mr. Unicorn!"

Wade stands up, brushing off his knees. His smile is warm, but there's a flicker of something else in his eyes. Concern? Uncertainty?

“Hey there, welcome home!” he says, sauntering over with the enthusiasm of a kid who’s just seen their favorite movie. “How was the grind today? Did you dodge any major disasters, or was it more of a ‘stuck in traffic’ kind of day? Either way, I’m here to make it all better—snacks and terrible jokes included.”

You set Mara down, and she immediately tugs on your hand. "Mommy, come see our fort!"

You follow Mara to the living room, where an impressive structure of blankets and pillows dominates the space. "Wow, sweetie, this is amazing!" you exclaim, crouching down to peek inside.

"Uncle Wade helped me build it," Mara says proudly. "We even have a secret password to get in!"

As you admire the fort, you feel Wade's presence behind you. His hand briefly touches your shoulder, a gesture of support that sends a small shiver through you.

He gently comments, “You look like you’ve been wrestling with a bear and lost. How about you kick back and let me whip up some dinner? I promise not to set the kitchen on fire this time.”

You turn to face him, your initial reaction is to chuckle but then you feel a pull on your heartstrings. You are taken aback by the sincerity in his eyes. These moments leave you feeling torn and wistful. "Thank you, Wade. That would be wonderful."

- - - - - - -

As Wade heads to the kitchen, you settle into the fort with Mara, listening intently as she recounts her day's adventures. The soft glow of fairy lights strung inside the blanket structure casts a warm, comforting light on her animated face. You can't help but marvel at her boundless energy and imagination.

"And then, Mommy, Uncle Wade pretended to be a dragon, and I had to save Mr. Unicorn from his evil clutches!" Mara giggles, hugging her stuffed unicorn tightly.

You smile, running your fingers through her silky black hair. "That sounds like quite the adventure, sweetheart. Was Uncle Wade a scary dragon?"

Mara shakes her head emphatically. "No, he was a silly dragon. He kept making funny faces and tripping over his own tail!"

The sound of pots clanging in the kitchen momentarily distracts you both. Mara's eyes widen with excitement.

"Ooh, I think Uncle Wade is making his special pancakes!" she exclaims, bouncing on her knees.

A chuckle escapes your lips, as you recall Wade's infamous "special pancakes" that are always loaded with an excessive amount of chocolate chips and whipped cream. "Maybe you're onto something. But at this time of night? I suppose... we should lend him a hand?"

Mara shakes her head vigorously, her pigtails swinging. "No, no! We have to stay here and protect the fort from the tickle monster!"

"The tickle monster?" you ask, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes!" Mara nods seriously. "Uncle Wade said the tickle monster comes out when little girls don't eat all their vegetables. But I ate all my broccoli at lunch, so I'll protect you from the tickle monster!"

You can't help but laugh at her earnest declaration. "Well, I'm glad I have such a brave protector. But maybe we should check on Uncle Wade, just to make sure he's not burning down the kitchen?"

Mara considers this for a moment, then nods. "Okay, but we have to be really quiet so the tickle monster doesn't hear us!"

Hand in hand, you and Mara tiptoe out of the fort and towards the kitchen. The smell of butter and vanilla wafts through the air, confirming your suspicions about the pancakes.

As you round the corner, you see Wade at the stove, his back to you. He's wearing an apron that says "I’m Not Actually a Cook, I Just Play One in the Kitchen" and humming off-key to himself as he flips a pancake with impressive flair.

Mara giggles, alerting Wade to your presence. He spins around, spatula in hand, a comically exaggerated look of surprise on his face.

"Well, well, well! What do we have here? A couple of fort-dwellers venturing out into the wild?" he says, grinning. "I hope you're ready for the breakfast-for-dinner showdown of the century! Spoiler alert: it’s going to be epic."

Mara runs up to him, bouncing on her toes. "Are you making your special pancakes, Uncle Wade?"

"You bet I am, munchkin!" Wade ruffles her hair. "And I've got a super secret ingredient this time. Want to know what it is?"

Mara nods eagerly, and Wade leans down to whisper dramatically in her ear. Her eyes widen, and she lets out a delighted gasp.

Rainbow sprinkles!" Mara exclaims, clapping her hands with glee. "Can I help put them on, Uncle Wade? Please?"

Wade pretends to consider it, tapping his chin thoughtfully. "Well, I don't know. Sprinkling rainbows is a very important job. Do you think you're up for the challenge?"

"Yes, yes!" Mara bounces on her toes, her eyes shining with excitement.

"Alright then, my little sous chef," Wade says, lifting her up to sit on the counter. "But remember, with great power comes great responsibility. And also a lot of colorful mess."

- - - - - - -

You lean against the wall, watching as Wade guides Mara's hand, showing her how to sprinkle just the right amount of rainbow bits onto each pancake. The sight of them together, laughing and working in tandem, makes your heart swell with a mix of emotions you can't quite name.

"Hey, don't just stand there looking pretty," Wade calls out to you, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Come join the pancake party!”

You push off from the wall, shaking your head with a smile. "Someone's got to be the responsible adult here," you tease, but you move closer anyway.

"Responsible? In this kitchen? I don't think so," Wade quips, flipping another pancake with unnecessary flair. "We left responsible at the door, along with our dignity and our fear of sugar crashes."

As you approach the stove, the warmth from the griddle and the sweet aroma of pancakes envelop you. Wade hands you a spatula with a flourish.

"Your turn, chef," he says with a wink. "Show us how it's done."

You take the spatula, your fingers brushing against his for a moment. The touch sends a small jolt through you, and you quickly focus on the task at hand.

"Alright, let's see if I remember how to do this," you say, positioning yourself in front of the stove.

As you pour the batter onto the hot surface, Mara cheers from her perch on the counter. "Go, Mommy! Make it a unicorn shape!"

You laugh, attempting to form the batter into something vaguely unicorn-like. "I'm not sure if this is a unicorn or a blob with a horn, but we'll call it artistic license," you say, chuckling as you watch the misshapen pancake sizzle.

Wade leans in, his shoulder brushing against yours as he inspects your creation. "I'd say it's more of an abstract expressionist unicorn. Very avant-garde."

His closeness makes your heart skip a beat, and you fumble slightly with the spatula. Wade's hand quickly covers yours, steadying your grip.

"Careful there," he says softly, his breath warm against your ear. "We don't want any pancake casualties."

You turn your head slightly, suddenly aware of how close his face is to yours. For a moment, time seems to stand still, the kitchen fading away except for his eyes, warm and full of an emotion you're afraid to name.

"Mommy, it's bubbling!" Mara's excited voice breaks the moment. You blink, coming back to reality, and quickly flip the pancake.

"Nice save," Wade says, stepping back with a small smile. "I think you've got the hang of it now."

You nod, unable to find your voice for a moment. The pancake sizzles on the griddle, filling the silence.

"Can I put sprinkles on this one too, Uncle Wade?" Mara asks, oblivious to the tension in the air.

"Of course, kiddo," Wade replies, his voice cheerful as he hands her the sprinkle shaker. "Just remember, a little goes a long way."

As Mara carefully sprinkles the rainbow bits onto the cooking pancake, you steal a glance at Wade. He's watching Mara with a soft expression, his eyes crinkled at the corners with genuine affection. The sight makes your heart ache in a way you can't quite define.

As the evening progresses, the kitchen fills with laughter and the sweet aroma of pancakes. Mara's excitement is contagious, and soon you find yourself relaxing, the stress of the workday melting away. Wade keeps the mood light with his jokes and silly antics, but you catch him watching you with a soft, thoughtful expression when he thinks you're not looking.

- - - - - - -

After dinner, as you're helping Mara get ready for bed, she asks, "Mommy, can Uncle Wade read me a bedtime story tonight?"

You hesitate for a moment, feeling a mix of emotions. "Sure, sweetie," you finally say. "If Uncle Wade doesn't mind."

Wade, who's been cleaning up in the kitchen, pops his head into the room. "Did someone say bedtime story? I thought I heard my cue. What'll it be tonight, munchkin? 'The Princess and the Pea' or 'Wade's Totally Awesome and Definitely True Adventures'?"

Mara giggles, snuggling deeper into her blankets. "The Wade story! Please, please!"

You can't help but smile as Wade dramatically clears his throat and settles into the chair beside Mara's bed. "Alright, gather 'round, young padawan. Let me tell you about the time I saved the entire world from an invasion of sentient, evil broccoli..."

As Wade launches into his fantastical tale, complete with silly voices and exaggerated gestures, you lean against the doorframe, watching. The sight of them together fills you with a bittersweet warmth. Mara's eyes are wide with wonder, hanging on Wade's every word, and Wade is fully immersed in his storytelling, his face animated and full of joy.

You can't help but think of Logan, wondering if he would have been this way with Mara. The thought sends a familiar pang through your chest, but it's dulled now, softened by the scene before you.

As Wade's story reaches its climax, with him dramatically reenacting a showdown between himself and the Broccoli King, Mara's giggles turn into yawns. Her eyelids start to droop, even as she fights to stay awake.

"And so," Wade says, his voice softening as he notices Mara's drooping eyelids, "the day was saved, the evil broccoli was turned into a delicious soup, and everyone lived happily ever after. The end."

Mara yawns widely, snuggling deeper into her blankets. "That was a good story, Uncle Wade," she murmurs sleepily.

Wade leans down and plants a gentle kiss on her forehead. "Sweet dreams, munchkin. Don't let the bed bugs bite - or the sentient broccoli."

As Wade stands up, you move to Mara's bedside, tucking her in and giving her a goodnight kiss. "I love you, sweetheart," you whisper.

"Love you too, Mommy," Mara replies, her eyes already closed.

- - - - - - -

You and Wade quietly exit the room, gently closing the door behind you. The sudden silence in the hallway feels heavy with unspoken words. You both linger for a moment, unsure of what to say or do next.

Wade breaks the silence first, his voice uncharacteristically soft. "She's really something special, isn't she?"

You nod, a small smile playing on your lips. "She is. I don't know what I'd do without her."

There's a pause, and then Wade says, "Or without you. You're an amazing mom, you know that?"

His words catch you off guard, and you look up at him. In the dim light of the hallway, his eyes are warm and sincere. You feel a flutter in your chest, a mixture of gratitude and something else you're not quite ready to name.

"I couldn't do it without your help," you admit, your voice soft. "You've been... incredible, Wade. With Mara, with everything."

Wade's expression softens, a hint of vulnerability showing through his usual jovial demeanor. "Hey, that's what family's for, right?" he says, gently nudging your shoulder with his. "Even if we're a bit of an unconventional one."

You both chuckle quietly, mindful of Mara sleeping nearby. As the laughter fades, a comfortable silence settles between you. You find yourself studying Wade's face, noticing the tiny laugh lines around his eyes, the way his lips curl up slightly even when he's not smiling.

"Listen," Wade begins, his tone more serious than usual. "I know things haven't been easy for you, with Logan and everything. And I don't want to complicate things or make you feel pressured in any way. But I just want you to know that I'm here. For you, for Mara, for whatever you need."

His words hang in the air between you, heavy with implication. Your heart races as you process what he's saying - and what he's not saying.

"Wade, I..." you start, but the words catch in your throat. How do you express the tangle of emotions you're feeling? The gratitude, the affection, the fear of letting someone in again.

Wade takes a step closer, his hand reaching out to gently touch your arm. "You don't have to say anything," he says softly. "I just wanted you to know. Whatever happens, whatever you decide, I'm not going anywhere."

As you look up into Wade's eyes, you can see the sincerity and the hunger there. Without thinking, you lean forward, and your lips meet his for the first time. They're soft, warm, and inviting. A spark ignites between you, unfamiliar but thrilling. Wade's hand moves to cup your cheek, his thumb stroking your jawline gently.

"Well, hello there, beautiful," he whispers, his voice low and husky. His breath tickles your lips, sending shivers down your spine.

- - - - - - -

Without breaking the kiss, you both make your way towards the living room couch, your lips locked in a heated kiss. The soft fabric of the couch cushions your bodies as you collapse onto it, your hands roaming over each other's bodies with increasing urgency.

Wade's hand travels up your shirt, his fingers lightly tracing the curve of your waist. He groans as he feels the smoothness of your skin, whispers hotly in your ear, "Fuck, you're so soft... Logan doesn't know what he's missing out on."

You smile against his lips, feeling a thrill at the mention of Logan's name. Wade's rough hands feel even better against your skin now, as if you're sharing a deliciously dirty secret. You tug at the hem of his shirt, lifting it over his head to reveal his muscular chest. The sight of his defined abs and pecs makes you feel weak in the knees.

He leans in, pressing a kiss to your neck, and you feel a jolt of pleasure shoot through you. "You taste so fucking good," he growls, his teeth grazing your skin.

You moan softly, tilting your head back to give him better access. Your hands explore his chest, feeling the hard muscles beneath your fingertips. You can feel his heart pounding against your palm.

Wade's hand travels up your thigh, his fingers teasing the edge of your panties. You can feel the wetness pooling between your legs, and you squirm beneath his touch.

He groans as he feels how wet you are. "Fuck, you're so ready for me," he murmurs, his voice thick with need.

You nod, biting your lower lip. "I need you, Wade," you whisper, your voice shaky with desire.

He doesn't need any further encouragement. He tugs at the hem of your panties, sliding them down your thighs to reveal your wet and swollen folds. He takes a moment to admire the sight before lowering his head to lavish attention on your clit.

You cry out as his warm tongue circles your clit, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. He groans as he tastes your sweetness, his tongue darting in and out of your folds.

Meanwhile, your hand travels down his body, finding the hard length of his cock straining against his boxers. You stroke him gently, feeling him throb beneath your touch.

Wade groans as you touch him, his hips bucking involuntarily. You can feel him growing even harder in your hand.

He slides his boxers down his hips, revealing his thick and throbbing cock. You can't help but stare at it, mesmerized by its size and power.

Wade smirks as he sees the look of desire in your eyes. "Like what you see?" he asks, his voice teasing.

You nod, biting your lower lip. "It's so big," you whisper, your voice full of awe.

Wade chuckles, leaning in to press a kiss to your lips. "And it's all yours," he murmurs.

He positions himself at your entrance, teasing you with the tip of his cock. You moan as you feel it slide against your wet folds.

"Please, Wade," you beg, your voice needy and desperate.

He doesn't make you wait any longer. He slowly slides inside you, filling you up completely. You gasp at the sensation of being stretched and filled, your walls clenching around him.

Wade groans as he feels your tightness, his hips bucking involuntarily. He starts to move, thrusting into you with long, slow strokes.

You moan as the pleasure builds, your nails digging into his back. Wade leans in, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss as he moves inside you.

He reaches down, his fingers finding your clit. He rubs it gently, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your body.

"Come for me, baby," he whispers, his voice hoarse with desire.

You do as he says, your orgasm crashing over you like a wave. Your body shakes and trembles as you cry out quietly, your nails digging deeper into his back.

Wade soon follows, pulling out quickly as his orgasm shudders through him. He came onto your stomach.

You lay there for a moment, catching your breath. He leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. "That was amazing," he whispers, his voice filled with wonder.

You nod, smiling up at him. "Yeah, it was," you agree.

As the evening light fades, you and Wade reluctantly rise from the plush couch, but let's be real��who can resist that level of comfort? You both find yourselves sinking back into those soft cushions like two marshmallows in hot chocolate. Wade grabs the throw blanket that’s been carelessly flung over the armrest like it was a battle flag and drapes it over you, creating a cozy fortress of solitude as you snuggle in.

- - - - - - -

The following morning, you wake up abruptly as a soft tickle dances across your nose. The bright light shining down on you reveals Mara's adorable face, radiating sunshine and mischief. You can't help but smile back at her. With delicate fingers, she nudges Wade's hand, which is resting comfortably on your hip, startling him awake with wide eyes. "Thor! I thought we were battling frost giants!" he exclaims before realizing the situation. You roll your eyes and laugh.

Your bodies are feeling the effects of last night's activities - as if you just survived a zombie apocalypse, but in a much more enjoyable way. Just then, Mara interrupts your thoughts with an insistent voice, "Hungry, mommy!" She toddles over, clutching onto Mr. Unicorn for dear life, her wild hair tousled in the cutest way possible. She's like a miniature whirlwind of adorableness.

You stretch out your limbs like a cat, each muscle protesting slightly before swinging your legs over the side of the couch.

"Alright, sweetie, let's get some breakfast," you say, scooping Mara up into your arms. She giggles as you plant a kiss on her cheek.

Wade sits up, running a hand through his messy hair. "I vote for pancakes. Again. Is it possible to overdose on pancakes? Asking for a friend."

You laugh, shaking your head. "I think we've had enough pancakes for a while. How about some eggs and toast?"

"Eggs!" Mara cheers, bouncing in your arms. "Can I help crack them?"

"Sure thing, munchkin," Wade says, standing up and stretching. "Just try not to recreate the Great Egg Disaster of last Tuesday, okay?"

As you head to the kitchen, Mara chattering excitedly about her plans to become a world-famous egg cracker, you can't help but steal glances at Wade. He catches your eye and gives you a warm smile that makes your heart flutter. There's an unspoken understanding between you now, a shift in your relationship that both excites and terrifies you.

- - - - - - -

In the kitchen, you set Mara on a stool at the counter while Wade retrieves the eggs from the fridge. As you gather the other ingredients, you feel Wade's hand brush against your lower back as he passes behind you. The touch, though brief, sends a shiver through you.

"Alright, Chef Mara," Wade announces, setting a bowl in front of her. "Show us your egg-cracking skills!"

Mara's face scrunches up in concentration as she carefully taps an egg against the side of the bowl. To everyone's surprise, she manages to crack it perfectly, the yolk sliding into the bowl without a single shell.

"I did it!" Mara exclaims, her face lighting up with pride.

"Way to go, kiddo!" Wade cheers, giving her a high five. "You're a natural!"

You can't help but beam at your daughter's accomplishment. "That was perfect, sweetie," you say, leaning down to kiss the top of her head.

As you whisk the eggs, Wade starts on the toast, humming a tune under his breath. The domesticity of the moment strikes you - the three of you working together to make breakfast, moving around each other with easy familiarity. It feels right in a way you hadn't expected.

"So, what's on the agenda for today?" Wade asks, popping bread into the toaster.

"Well, I have the day off," you reply, pouring the whisked eggs into a heated pan. "I was thinking...we could take Mara to the park. She's been begging to try out the new playground equipment they installed last week."

"Yay, park!" Mara cheers, clapping her hands excitedly.

Wade grins, his eyes lighting up. "Sounds like a plan. I'll pack us a picnic lunch. Maybe we can finally teach Mara the art of proper frisbee throwing without accidentally beaning any unsuspecting joggers this time."

You chuckle, remembering the last park incident. "Let's hope so. Mrs. Johnson from apartment 3B still gives me the stink eye in the elevator."

As you finish cooking the eggs, Wade assists by spreading butter on the toast and helping Mara set the table. Suddenly, Grandma Al emerges from her bedroom with her white cane in hand. "Did someone think of making breakfast for me as well?" The four of you settle down at the table and engage in lively conversation while enjoying your meal and sipping on coffee (or, in Mara's case, apple juice)

As you watch Wade help Mara wipe egg from her chin, you feel a surge of affection. This man, who had started as just a friend, had become so much more - to both you and Mara. The realization both thrills and terrifies you.

- - - - - - -

After breakfast, you help Mara get dressed for the park while Wade packs the picnic lunch. As you brush Mara's hair, she looks up at you with her big blue eyes - Logan's eyes - and asks, "Mommy, are we going to live with Uncle Wade and Grandma Al forever?"

The question catches you off guard, and you pause, the brush hovering mid-stroke. "Well, sweetie," you begin, choosing your words carefully, "Since it is their home, it depends. But for now, yes, we're staying here. Do you like living with Uncle Wade and Grandma Al?"

Mara nods enthusiastically. "I love it! Uncle Wade is so funny, and Grandma Al tells the best stories. But..." she hesitates, her little brow furrowing.

"But what, sweetie?" you prompt gently, resuming brushing her hair.

"But sometimes I wonder about my daddy," Mara says quietly. "The other kids at daycare talk about their daddies. Where's mine?"

Your heart clenches at her words. You've been dreading this conversation, knowing it would come eventually but hoping you'd have more time to prepare.

"Your daddy..." you begin, trying to keep your voice steady. "Your daddy had to go away for a while. But he loves you very much, even though he can't be here with us right now."

Mara looks up at you, her eyes wide and questioning. "Will he ever come back?"

You take a deep breath, fighting back the tears that threaten to spill. "I don't know, sweetie. Sometimes... sometimes daddies can't come back, even if they want to. But you know what? You have so many people who love you. You have me, and Uncle Wade, and Grandma Al. We're your family, and we'll always be here for you."

Mara nods slowly, seeming to process this information. "Okay," she says finally. "But can we still talk about him sometimes? I want to know what he was like."

You smile softly, running your fingers through her hair. "Of course we can, sweetie. Anytime you want to know about your daddy, you smile softly, running your fingers through her hair. "Of course we can, sweetie. Anytime you want to know about your daddy, you just ask me, okay?"

Mara nods, seeming satisfied for now. "Okay, Mommy. Can we go to the park now?"

You smile softly, running your fingers through her hair. "Of course we can, sweetie. Anytime you want to know about your daddy, you just ask me, okay?"

Mara nods, seeming satisfied for now. "Okay, Mommy. Can we go to the park now?"

"Sure thing," you say, relief washing over you that the conversation has ended for now. "Let's go see if Uncle Wade is ready with that picnic basket."

As you and Mara emerge from the bedroom, you find Wade in the living room, struggling to close an overstuffed picnic basket. He looks up as you enter, a sheepish grin on his face.

"I may have gone a little overboard," he admits, finally managing to snap the basket shut. "But hey, you never know when we might be ambushed by a family of hungry bears, right?"

With a chuckle, you help Wade with the picnic basket, while Mara runs off to fetch her favorite frisbee. As you all leave the house, the sun is shining brightly, and there's a sense of anticipation in the air. The laughter and chatter on the way to the park is a welcome distraction from your earlier conversation.

Arriving at the park, you release Mara's hand and she dashes towards the playground, her laughter echoing in the air. Wade follows her, a playful grin on his face. You and Althea find a nice spot under a tree, laying out the picnic blanket and opening the overflowing basket. The sun is high in the sky, casting a warm glow on everything around you.

The park was alive with activity, and Mara couldn't contain her excitement as she ran from one attraction to the next. Wade was the perfect uncle, chasing after her and making sure she had the time of her life. Althea, on the other hand, was content feeding the ducks with leftover toast from breakfast. As you watch them, a warm feeling spreads through your chest.

- - - - - - -

As the day turns into evening, the exhaustion starts to catch up with everyone. Wade scoops up Mara onto his shoulders, her face lighting up as she takes another lick of her melting ice cream cone. Althea holds onto your arm as you all make your way back to the apartment.

The cool breeze brushes against your skin, providing a welcome refreshment. The sun slowly sinks in the sky as you make your way inside. You guide Althea to her room for some much-needed rest while Mara eagerly anticipates her nightly bath and bedtime routine. With everyone settled for the night, it's just you and Wade in the bathroom.

As the steam fills the room, Wade's fingers trace along the curves of your body, leaving a trail of warmth behind them. He backs you up against the sink counter, and you can feel his hard cock pressing into your hip. His mouth crashes into yours, and your tongues dance in a desperate, passionate kiss. You moan into his mouth as his fingers trail up your thigh, teasing the edge of your panties.

Wade's hands slide up your body, gripping your hips as he drops to his knees. His breath hot on your skin as he hooks his fingers into your panties, tugging them down. He takes a moment to admire your wet, swollen pussy before diving in, his tongue lapping up your juices. You grip the counter for support as his tongue circles your clit, his hands gripping your ass to pull you closer.

"Fuck, baby, you taste so good," Wade growls, his voice low and husky. He sucks on your clit, flicking his tongue against the sensitive bundle of nerves. You cry out, your hips bucking against his face as he adds a finger, sliding it into your slick folds. He curls it upwards, hitting your g-spot with each stroke.

Your orgasm crashes over you unexpectedly, and you cling to him as the waves of pleasure wash over you. Wade pulls back slightly, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth as he tugs off his boxers, revealing his hard, throbbing cock.

He lifts you up onto the counter, and you wrap your legs around his waist as he lines himself up with your entrance. He teases the head of his cock against your clit, making you writhe with need before plunging into you in one swift motion.

The feeling of him inside you is almost too much to bear, and you grip his shoulders as he thrusts into you, his movements strong and steady. Your moans fill the steamy bathroom as he takes you harder and faster, his fingers digging into your hips.

"You like that, baby?" he asks, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.

"Fuck yes," you gasp, your nails leaving marks on his skin. He chuckles and leans in to capture your mouth in another searing kiss. Wade's fingers dig into your hips as he thrusts deep inside you, each stroke hitting that sweet spot that sends shivers down your spine.

"Fuck, baby, I'm gonna come," he growls, his voice low and rough with desire. He pulls out of you, his cock still throbbing and slick with your juices. His hand wraps around his shaft, pumping it a few times as he leans in to press a hard kiss to your lips.

With a final groan, he pulls back and you watch in fascination as ropes of cum erupt from his cock, landing in hot streaks on your stomach. You can feel the warmth of it against your skin, and it sends a thrill through your body.

"Fuck, that was intense," Wade pants, his chest heaving as he catches his breath. He leans in to trail kisses down your neck and across your collarbone, his hands roaming over your body.

"Mmm, yes it was," you moan, your own desire still pulsing through you. You reach down to run your fingers through the sticky mess on your stomach, then bring them to your lips, tasting the salty tang of his cum.

Wade groans at the sight, his cock twitching with renewed interest. "You're so fucking sexy," he growls, his hands sliding down to cup your ass and pull you closer. You can feel his hardness pressing against you, and it makes you ache for more.

The two of you continue to kiss passionately as he lifts you up from the counter. Your legs remain wrapped around his waist, while your arms drape over his neck as he carries you into the shower. The warm water washes away any thoughts of Logan, leaving behind only lingering sensations from a night of intense passion and pleasure. Your body still tingles with delight under the cascade of water, and you can't help but smile at the memory of Wade's skilled fingers playing your body like a finely-tuned instrument.

- - - - - - -

glossary: n/a

[ohitslen]

My dad told me to watch Gungrave with him (we have just watched one episode atm) and I was like wait the vibes, this feels so awfully familiar, where have I seen this, the characters hmm no but I’m so sure I’ve never seen this anime before

And I was right I have never seen it before…BUT… as I google for some facts I immediately found out that Nightow was the character designer along with good sir Kōsuke Fujishima of the og game, and the anime is under Nightow’s name as it seems and I was like—

OF COURSE. NIGHTOW.

[violetrainbow412-blog]

A fair payment [W. W.]

Willy Wonka x fem!reader

word count: 1.5k

People who might be interested: @strugglingwriterwattpad @cattail5 [Timothée masterlist]

some minor Wonka spoilers I guess! If you like it, tell me in the comments, that will make me happy :)

“Can you mend it?” Willy asked, carefully holding his emerald green jacket that had the sleeve seam torn.

The boy had arrived a couple of weeks ago to turn the world of everyone present in the laundry upside down and, honestly, you were already beginning to enjoy his presence. You looked in the background at the blackboard that Noodle used at night to give him lessons in the hope that he would learn to read because, according to the girl's words, because of that he was almost eaten by a tiger. But in the man's words, what was important was the almost part. 

However, tonight he had asked you especially to go to his room, because he had a problem that he thought only you could solve.

“I think so, I just have to pass the needle a couple of times” you smiled.

Since your arrival Mrs. Scrubbit had used your sewing skills for her own benefit, because after all you had ended up in that mess trying to save a little to be able to buy the necessary materials to make a pretty dress that would be worth enough to advance in the business. Although, obviously, that had not been possible.

"Thank you! I'm afraid that's my only jacket."

“It will be ready in no time. I’ll just go to my room and come back, okay?” you said kindly, placing the garment in the boy's lap and earning a sweet smile from the aforementioned.

Just as Willy had his little briefcase for his chocolates, you had your own, full of threads, needles, and buttons, which you just had to grab from the floor to get everything you needed. When you arrived back you settled at the little table and he remained attentive to your every movement, pulling out a chair so he could observe what you were about to do.

“There was a boy on the ship who helped me with these things,” he began to tell you, keeping his curious nose on your shoulder “But I never thought about learning. You know, for when I had to be alone”

“Well, it's lucky you ended up here. We are a curious collection of workers,” you murmured ironically, referring to all the people gathered there against their will by the work of fate "What did you do on the ship?"

"Cook. Mostly sweet things, but I also know a couple of useful non-chocolate-related recipes. I was the chef,” he said, and you laughed at the exaggerated way he pronounced the last bit.

Willy began to tell you about some of the adventures he had had on the high seas and you listened attentively as the tip of the needle went in and out to join the fabric. It only took a few minutes to get his clothes looking like new, taking the liberty of repairing other places that also needed it.

“Put it on,” you asked, trying not to look at him too much when he did so or pay attention to the way the jacket fit him perfectly.

"It is perfect! You can't even tell it was torn, huh?” he said with emotion, feeling with his hands as much as he could. “How much do I owe you?”

“Oh, it's nothing.”

“I insist,” the man murmured. His curly hair bounced across his cheeks as he sat next to you and he lifted his small briefcase off the floor, opening it to reveal all the little bottles of ingredients. “Your talent for mine. It's a fair exchange."

You had to admit that the chocolates you had eaten were a complete delicacy, but a part of you didn't want to get used to that luxury or you knew that when Willy was gone you would miss his sweetness. In the literal and figurative sense.

Locked in that laundry it was impossible to meet many people your age and Noodle was your greatest company, as if he were a little sister to you. But now that he was there, there was a certain happiness in chatting with him, much more now that his ingenious mind had devised a way to get you out of there even if it was just for a few hours to see the light of day and get coins from the sale of the chocolates to free you of the enormous debt to Mrs. Scrubbit.

“What flavor do you want to try today? Do you want me to add some unicorn skin glitter? Rays of sunlight from a twilight on the seashore? Tears of an African crocodile?”

“Just give me something you think I need,” you replied softly.

Willy thought about it for a moment, because it wasn't the kind of answer he would have expected. What was he supposed to give you that night? A little hope? Happiness? Nostalgia? It was difficult to decide.

Through his bright eyes you watched him reflect and just a second later his hands began to work. You noticed there was a hint of mischief in his smile as he poured milk, chocolate, and the contents of a couple of jars into the processor, glancing at you from the corner of his eye from time to time.

“What are you going to do when we get out of here?” he asked suddenly, not neglecting the tasks.

“Working in a sewing workshop, I guess.”

“Why don't you open your own fashion house?” Willy suggested carefreely, as if it were a very easy thing to do, “You are a great dressmaker.”

“And you are a great dreamer”

“It's my best quality,” he exclaimed, almost offended. You waited a moment before answering.

“I just don't think it's that simple. It requires effort, time, and a lot of money…”

“We will have everything,” he interrupted you, with that optimism that characterized him. Suddenly he stopped what he was doing and one of his hands traveled to take yours. “When I open my factory, we will all be able to fulfill our dreams. And you are going to have a fashion house, I promise you.”

“You make a lot of promises,” you responded, blushing.

“And he planned to fulfill them all. I always do it"

Maybe there was something about the softness of his grip on your hand or perhaps the sparkle in his eyes that made you look away out of sheer nervousness. He seemed to be good and innocent, to the point that he probably didn't even realize how close he was to you or how inappropriate the position would be if Noodle ever walked in.

A tap interrupted your moment and then he abruptly pulled away, excited to show you the product he had just made. It was a pretty circular candy that was bright pink and seemed to be emanating smoke from the inside.

"What's that?"

“You'll have to try it to find out,” he murmured, as he extended the treat in your direction.

You had to admit that you were somewhat curious to discover what the man was offering you, so you took it between your fingers carefully, and even under his watchful gaze you took a bite.

At first it tasted like ordinary chocolate, but then it took on a strange tone, which made you feel a certain warmth in your chest that spread to your cheeks. It was a most pleasant feeling, like bubbly joy combined with the embarrassment of a hug.

You thought for a moment about what flavor that could be, without any success, until after a few seconds you realized that it wasn’t a flavor in itself, but a feeling, an experience... Was it love that Willy had given you?

“How does it taste?”

“Yummy,” you responded, covering your mouth so he wouldn’t see the wet chocolate on your tongue, but also to hide your smile “Delicious, actually. What does it contain?”

“A special and secret ingredient”

"Oh, come on! Aren’t you going to tell me?”

“I just want to know if I got it right,” he murmured and you frowned slightly, not understanding him “About what you asked for. Did I give you something you needed?”

You had to bite your lip to keep from smiling again, your cheeks feeling hot from the simple fact that he was looking at you. You thought that this could even be a love potion that you had consumed without thinking about it, just because he was the one who was offering it to you.

“We could say yes”

“We're even, then,” he exclaimed as he waved the sleeve of his jacket and you nodded in amusement, eating the rest of the chocolate he had made for you.

A yawn leaving your lips made you aware of how exhausted you were and although you didn't love the idea, you knew it was time to leave.

“It's late, I should go to sleep before we wake anyone up.”

“Yes, yes, of course,” Willy said quickly, getting up from his seat to accompany you to the exit. “I'll see you tomorrow.”

“Rest,” you said kindly, and, gathering courage, you leaned forward a little to say goodbye with a hug that he gladly returned.

As you walked down the hall to your shabby, damp room, you thought that it probably wouldn't have even taken a love potion to fall for the charms of the pleasant chocolatier. You just needed one of his smiles.

[tojirights]

fem!reader with a size kink and alastor just teases her about it. It starts off innocently before angel dust just teases and teases her about it until alastor decides to have fun with it.

a/n: this is prolly very ooc alastor but uhhhh this is fun sooo 🩷

word count: too many i don't even know

tags: 18+ smut nsfw, alastor has a big dick, unprotected sex, alastor cums a lot, slight cervix fucking (?), teasing

alastor first notices your inclination for pointing out he's much larger than you when you're always grabbing his hand. he easily covers your hand with his and it gives you butterflies every time. you think he doesn't notice your flushed cheeks, but alastor keeps a close eye on your emotions. he likes to make little snide comments but other than that, it's mostly harmless.

it evolves into him coming up behind you and resting his arms on the top of your head with ease, barely even straightening his back to do so. "hey!" you whine, crossing your arms over your chest. "im not an arm rest, y’know?" alastor just laughs, tugging gently on your hair to pull your head back. your eyes meet his, and your body tenses. the look he gives you is intoxicating, the way he easily peers over you makes you want to shrink into him and let him envelop you.

"yer not?" angel chirps in, breaking you from your daydream. "coulda fooled me. thought you were a coat rack, especially the way you hang onto mr tall dark 'n handsome over there like ya life depends on it." you gasp at his words, immediately trying to put distance between you and alastor but his arm hooks around your waist. "h-hey this isn't fair..." you huff, but alastor's chest is warm against your back and it's making your head fuzzy. "you like 'em big, dont'cha sweetie?" angel snickers, enjoying the way your cheeks go bright red.

all you can do is wiggle around in alastor's grasp until he lets you flip around and face him. you waste no time in burying your face in his chest, hiding the pure embarrassment written all over it. "oh come now angel, the poor girl can only take so much." he laughs when you put your fist to his chest. "i bet she can take more than you think..... alright i'm done i swear!" angel leaves the room cackling, too proud of himself. "alastor... please..." you sigh, your face still pressed against his chest.

he lets out a soft chuckle before petting your head. "just a little friendly teasing, hm?" he steps away to give you some much needed air. "i wouldn't want to break you, my dear." alastor all but pouts, making you audibly groan. you can't take it anymore, the desire burning a hole straight through you. you grab his hand and drag him from the hotel lobby into your own room of the hotel.

closing the door to your room, you're about to speak when alastor surprises you by pinning you to the door. "you want to be broken, hm?" his voice, shrouded in static makes your skin crawl and your heart rate pick up. "i-i..." all of your confidence from earlier fades from your grasp as alastor towers over you, deep red eyes seeing straight through you. "your words, darling. tell me that you just can't wait for me to take you, to push your limits."

his breath is hot on your ear, threatening to burn you. "w-what if i can't take it?" you whisper, words shaking just as much as your body with how much adrenaline is being pumped through you. alastor's mouth finds your neck as sharp teeth gently nip at your skin. "i think that's what you're hoping for, my dear." his words end in a sharp hiss, his hips pressing you into the door. and then you finally feel it, alastor's hard cock against your body.

oh fuck.

"this is long overdue, please forgive me if my patience seems short." he mutters into your skin, barely containing himself from biting your soft flesh. with ease, alastor lifts you off the floor and begins carrying you to the bed. the effortlessness sends an ache straight to your core. laying you down, you look up at him with wide eyes. it's such a head rush, you almost don't notice how he lifts your ass up just enough to remove your shorts and panties.

your breath hitches at the realization that you're mostly bare and yet he's fully clothed. "can i..." you swallow hard, hands trailing down his body. "i-i wanna touch it... wanna hold it." alastor bites back a groan, not sure he's ever heard you say something sexier. its a frenzy to remove the remaining clothing, neither of you wanting to waste any more time.

you're practically drooling by the time alastor's cock is freed, knowing damn well that this wasn’t fitting. the head of his cock alone would probably stretch you to your limit. straddling his hips, you finally wrap your fingers around his aching cock and moan aloud. "jesus christ al..." you breathe, eyes wide while you slide your hand up and down slowly, like you're engraving it to memory. alastor's body shudders, seeing just how small your hand looks wrapped around him. flicking your thumb over his leaky slit, you smear precum down his length.

"you can play later babe, fffuck, no more though." the gravelly sound you're used to hearing in his voice seems to be doubled, anticipation swirling in your gut. alastor's hands reach around to cup your ass, and flips you onto your back. everything about alastor was overwhelming, his size, his attitude, his cock. your head spins as alastor presses the head of his cock to your entrance, you can already tell it's barely going to slide in even with how soaked your cunt is.

"i-i don't-" alastor shushes you, easing into you inch by inch. your thighs shake, and you're sure there's no way you'll be able to take it all. "ngh, alastor." you whine, the ever growing stretch starting to make your stomach hurt. "ah ah, you're doing so well darling. so tight." he sighs, watching his cock disappear into your sweet wet heat.

your eyes roll into the back of your head, his cock pressing snuggly against your cervix. "thats it, good girl." he almost wants to laugh as he pulls back out, seeing there's still a few couple of inches that aren't covered in your wetness. "we're going to have to work on this, aren't we?" you reach your hand down and feel where your bodies are connected and moan. "t-there's still that much?" and alastor does laugh this time. "don't you worry about that, we'll train this pussy to take every inch."

each thrust of his cock makes your stomach ache, and the feeling of being so full keeps pushing you closer to the edge. "s-soo big, 'm gonna..." you cry out as alastor's hands find your hips. he picks a brutal pace, you're not sure how you'll be able to walk tomorrow, but the stretch and burn of his cock forcing his way deeper and deeper has that coil in your stomach about to break.

and when you do cum, it's the most explosive orgasm you've ever felt. "a-alastor !" your vision goes black, and you almost miss the feeling of alastor's release. well, you would have missed it, but the sheer amount of seed he spills deep against your cervix is immediately leaking from your abused hole. it seeps down to your ass even, covering you in such a way you'll probably never forget.

breathing heavily, you lay comfortably still under him. alastor places a gentle kiss to your forehead before removing himself from the bed. "rest, darling. i will be right back." you’re half asleep by the time he comes back with a warm towel, and even more so when he pulls the blanket over you. he waits until you're sound asleep before he goes to shower off.

"well, i suppose i owe angel a thank you..." alastor hums to himself.

[saintobio]

blank canvas: the epilogue.

pairings. ryōmen sukuna, fem!reader

genre. past lovers, angst, opposites attract

tags/warnings. mentions of toxic relationships, purple hearts-ish themes, maybe some heartache

notes. 2.4k wc. i said it’ll come in a few days, but i had free time so here it issss!

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

TWO YEARS LATER

Tonight was Yuki and Choso’s going-away party. 

Their decision to migrate to another side of the world was because Yuki had always talked about wanting to live abroad, and so when Choso was offered a once-in-a-lifetime job opportunity in another country, it became the perfect chance for them to make that dream a reality.

So despite your apprehensions, you couldn’t miss the chance to see Yuki one last time and accepted her invitation to the party.

The evening was alive with laughter and chatter as their families and friends gathered to celebrate their bittersweet departure. Among the crowd, you spotted some familiar faces who exchanged greetings with the couple, as well as some strangers you had never seen before.

But one person was conspicuously absent. 

It had been two years since you had seen Sukuna, and the thought of potentially running into him again filled you with a strange mix of anticipation and dread. However, deep down, you knew he wouldn’t be there. There was no chance of him ever showing up because you hadn’t heard from him since that fateful night. The apartment you once shared together now housed a new tenant, and the tattoo shop across the street had transformed into a record store. Neither Yuki, nor Choso (even Yuuji), had mentioned anything about Sukuna since then, possibly avoiding any mentions of him to you out of his request. He had simply disappeared, evaporated from existence, leaving behind nothing but a fading memory.

As you scanned the room with a forlorn smile, your thoughts were interrupted by Yuki’s cheerful voice. “Y/N! So glad you could make it! I thought you weren’t gonna come, too.”

Your first instinct was to hug her tightly. “Of course, not! You know I can’t not see you before you go.”

“Aww.” She embraced you tighter before pulling away with a sad smile. “I’m gonna miss you so much. You’re like a little sister to me.” 

Indeed, and she was the big sister you never had. Things would feel different without her here, but you supported her decisions and would always wish her the best in her future endeavors. So, despite the distance you two would soon have, you gave her a reassuring pat on the back. “We can still keep in touch. And maybe, I’ll pay you a visit there, too.” 

“Honestly, I would love that!” she enthused, “Please do, even if I have to harass Getou and Gojou about it.” 

You chuckled as she mentioned the duo’s name and spent the next few minutes with you chatting for a bit, catching up with your life, talking about your future plans. It was amazing how much can change in two years, and how some things can also stay the same. Like your friendship. And this bond that you would never find with anyone else.

For now, the night was still young, and you knew Yuki still had many more guests to accommodate, so you didn’t want to take all of her time. Eventually she did excuse herself to greet more guests, and you found yourself standing by the kitchen island, absentmindedly stirring your cocktail.

As you stood in the corner of the room, surrounded by the chatter and laughter of the party, you felt a sudden jolt run through your body as loud voices boomed across the room. They were Yuuji and Choso’s exuberant greetings cutting through the air, drawing everyone’s attention, including yours.

“Nii-san!”

“There he goes, Mr. First Lieutenant!” 

Your eyes widened as you saw the figure they were addressing with playful salute—a man in a crisp military uniform, standing tall and confident. It took you a moment to recognize him, but when you did, your heart skipped a beat.

It was Sukuna.

He looked different, transformed almost, his demeanor more composed, his smile softer yet still retaining the undeniable aura of masculinity. He looked a lot more muscular than the last you remembered. His hair, now dyed back to its natural color, was neatly trimmed. You recognized that the uniform he wore was of the Japan Self-Defense Forces, adorned with badges and insignias that spoke of his achievements. The reckless, wild look in his eyes had been replaced by something steadier, more focused.

It wasn’t just the sight of him that made your heart skip a beat—it was how different he looked. 

“That’s so cool!” Yuuji raved about his older brother’s badges, his starry eyes genuinely intrigued at the sight of Sukuna in a uniform. 

Choso, on the other hand, was pulling him in a hug in an emotional jest. “Dammit. You said you couldn’t make it!” 

“Don’t cry now,” Sukuna teased, patting the younger brother’s back. He seemed to be genuinely having fun teasing his brothers. “Had to pull some strings. I was on duty, but do ‘ya think I’d let you go without seeing you?” 

You felt a pang of nostalgia in their interaction, but also recognized the visible difference in the way your ex-boyfriend spoke to others. He was genuinely happy. He was all smiles. He was the healthiest version of himself, both physically and emotionally.

It was clear to you that Sukuna had turned his life around, and it was evident that he was doing well in his field of work. The man you once knew, who had been consumed by his reckless way of life, was now standing tall and respected as an honorable member of the military.

When you said you had never met Sukuna again in your lifetime, that was true. Because the Sukuna you knew was no longer here. It was an entirely different man, changed for the better, just not for you. 

As if sensing your gaze, Sukuna turned and your eyes mirrored each other’s surprise. For a moment, the world around you seemed to fade away, as if you were characters in a movie screen seeing each other for the very first time. It was as though your eyes were the camera, and he was the actor. You could say you were starstruck, your heart thumping so loud that you could hear it vibrate through your ears. 

Two freaking years, and Sukuna still had that effect on you. 

You didn’t know what to do. You found yourself at a loss, the red cup in your hand now shaking from the sudden surge of anxiety. Your mind was a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts, a kaleidoscope of heavy emotions, a tornado of nostalgic bliss, leaving you feeling adrift in a sea of memories. 

You wondered if Sukuna hated having to see you here. And if so, should you leave to spare yourself—or perhaps him—from any potential discomfort?

Caught in this internal struggle, you felt paralyzed, uncertain of what to do next. But then, you saw a flicker of recognition and regret in his eyes. 

Before you could even contemplate your next move, Sukuna was already excusing himself from his brothers. Their knowing looks exchanged in silence spoke volumes, indicating they were aware of where he was headed. The realization then hit you like a wave. Sukuna, your ex-boyfriend of two years, was coming toward you, and you were suddenly faced with a decision between confronting the past or making a quick escape.

“Y/N,” he greeted with a boyish grin, his voice deeper, more controlled. The bad boy persona he used to carry was completely gone. 

“Sukuna,” you replied, struggling to keep your voice steady, a complete opposite from his confidence.

There was a moment of awkward silence before he spoke again. “You look great.”

“Thanks,” you meekly replied, clearing your throat and gesturing to his uniform, “You, too. Military suits you. I never saw that coming.”

He smiled in agreement, seemingly happy about his current appearance. You had never seen this kind of bliss from him before, like he was filled with content and a sense of self-worth. He was proud, and truth be told, you were, too. 

“It’s been a good change. It gave me structure, purpose,” he paused, taking a red cup from the kitchen island nearby, “I finally got something ‘better’ to do with my life, huh?”

You smiled softly, not missing the implication of his last statement. “I’m happy for you. Really.”

“Thank you.”

“Of course.” 

“Mhmm.” 

The minutes that followed were some of the most agonizing of your life, not because of Sukuna, but because of the overwhelming awkwardness that enveloped the two of you. It felt as though you had nothing else to discuss, knowing full well that delving into your shared past was a territory you could never comfortably navigate. However, Sukuna, always the more vocal one in your relationship, had finally broken the silence.

“Do you…” he began, leaving you on edge, anticipating his question, “Do you wanna get some fresh air outside?” 

Right. And with a smile, you nodded. “Sure.” 

— —

You were grateful for the opportunity to escape the stifling atmosphere of the party and find some solace in the cool night air. Both of you were at the front porch, sitting over the pavement talking about anything but your past. 

Sukuna excitedly talked about his time in the military, where you learned that he had enlisted two years ago and joined the army. After enlisting, he quickly excelled in the rigorous training required for the Special Operations Group (SOG). It didn’t surprise you that his physical prowess, sharp intellect, and determination made him a standout candidate.

“I actually completed advanced courses in counter-terrorism, reconnaissance, and combat survival,” he shared, his gaze set on the clear starry night above you. “Oh, and last month, I was deployed on a high-stake mission overseas. We extracted hostages from a conflict zone. Remember the action movies we used to watch? It was exactly like that. It was fun, thrilling.” 

You listened intently, an elbow propped on your leg as you absorbed the enthusiasm in his stories. Pride and joy swelled in your heart as you heard him talk about something he was passionate about, because it was a stark contrast to the old Sukuna who wouldn’t have shown interest in these things. And this time around, you felt like you were infatuated again, but with the new him. 

“I’m really proud of you.” Longingness dripping from your voice. “Very proud. And you’re First Lieutenant, too? Wow.” 

The compliment seemingly made him blush, a sight so rare to see that you haven’t seen it throughout your relationship. “I wanted to become a better man.” 

You felt a squeeze in your heart. You recalled the words he said that night at the parking lot, of him telling you that he had his own insecurities, too. That he knew all along that your uncertainties about him were rooting from his way of life. That he was aware that he couldn’t give you the life you deserved. 

“Y/N.” Your name rolled off his tongue in an affectionate manner. He soon rose from his seat, prompting you to follow suit, before turning to face you. “I forgot to mention.”

You swallowed hard. “Yeah?”

His smile was sweet and genuine. “I’m engaged now.”

Oh.

Of course. 

What did you expect?

His words settled in your heart like a suffocating shroud. Despite the ache in your chest, you managed a polite nod, concealing the storm of emotions swirling inside you. But you couldn’t contain it—the damn tears that pooled in your eyes. Please, not now. You turned away, hoping to shield your reaction from him.

But it was all too late. 

He was already pulling you into an embrace, the familiarity in his warmth only making you weaker inside. “You are and will always be my greatest love,” he whispered into your ear, pressing his lips against your temple, “And also my biggest regret.”

Damn it. You covered your face with your hands, feeling ashamed of the tears streaming down your cheeks. What an absurd twist of fate. You could have gone about your day without encountering him again, yet here you were, shedding tears over the same man who had broken your heart two years ago.

“When I say regret,” he continued, cupping your cheeks and smiling at you lovingly. He ran his thumb across your cheeks, wiping your tears away. “I meant regret of not being that man for you. I didn’t treat you the way you deserved, or respected your boundaries like I thought I did.” Sukuna’s charm had you holding your breath still, too enamored by his beauty under the moonlight. He used to be a man of a few words, and now he didn’t shy away from pouring out his raw emotions. “I’m sorry I was two years too late. I’m sorry I had to let you go and be with someone else. But you and I know that it’s for the best.”

You weren’t crying because you wanted to get back together with him. You weren’t crying because he had promised marriage to someone else. You were crying because it felt like he was the one who slipped through your fingers, the one that got away, the one who could have been your forever if circumstances had aligned differently. It was the regret of a lost possibility, the ache of knowing that in another universe, you and him could have shared a lifetime together, untouched by the mistakes of the past.

He had dreams of making you his wife, dreams of having your children, dreams of growing old with you.

But the old Sukuna was dead, replaced by the new Sukuna who was happy and free from love’s toxicity. You realized it was time to let go. Time to bury the past and instead celebrate the future. 

“Congratulations on the engagement,” you offered your well wishes, pulling away slightly to meet his gaze with your tear-filled eyes. “I hope she doesn’t find you a handful.”

He let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. “No, no. I have to behave or else I’m a dead man,” he joked. “She's in the army, too.”

“Well, I’m glad you met her, Sukuna. You deserve it,” you said, your voice filled with genuine warmth as you wiped your lachrymose eyes. 

Gratitude and comfort shone in his gaze. “And I’m glad you found your peace, Y/N. You always deserved better.”

You smiled in appreciation of his words as he helped you dust off your pants. Just then, your phone buzzed in your pocket, briefly taking your attention away from the current scene. “Uh, I think I need to go,” you hesitated, glancing back at the house. “But I think Yuki’s pretty busy.”

“It’s fine,” he assured. “Do you want me to call you a cab or?”

“No, it’s okay,” you replied, shooting him a grateful expression. “Satoru’s on his way to pick me up.”

He nodded, smiling. “Cool.” You were surprised when he offered his hand, a gesture to finally close whatever remained between you two. “It was nice seeing you, Y/N.”

You shook his hand and gave him a playful salute. “Likewise, First Lieutenant Ryomen Sukuna.”

As he returned to the party, immediately attacked by his friends, there was no hint of yearning or longing in him, as if the poignant exchange with his ex-girlfriend had never occurred. He was back in the scene in a fluid motion, laughing, catching up with his loved ones, telling stories about his life. No heartbreaks, no painful memories.

While as you stood there, knowing you had shared respect and love for each other, you were happy that there was a sense of closure in seeing Sukuna as the man he had become. You had both grown, both changed, and in that moment, you knew that your story, though painful, had led you two to where you needed to be. 

That your love’s canvas, once blank, now held colors to complete the portrait.

[hannie-dul-set]

the breakup soup — [y.jh].

SYNOPSIS. you and jeonghan get into an argument in the middle of the meeting. the rest of your organization’s officers slowly start to realize that this isn’t just about whether the mountains or the sea would be the better venue for your event.

PAIRING. yoon jeonghan x female! reader. GENRE. lovers to exes to lovers, humor, romance, tiny angst, orgmate! jeonghan, college! au, a whole lot of forced proximity, only one bed inn room, a bunch of nosy men. WARNINGS. written breakup (obviously), so much swearing, many many dumb inappropriate jokes (divorce, fucking, diarrhea, to name a few), parliamentary procedures jargon. WORD COUNT. 15k.

NOTE. after six, seven months, this this is finally out of hell (my gdocs). the soup is overcooked. holy shit. everything is written in the pov of a certain teener (excluding jeonghan and the mc. this fic is about them but no, you do not have access to their thoughts). this is super duper fun to write and i hope it’s fun to read as well HHAHAHAHA. please let me know what you think! enjoy!

“TODAY IS SEPTEMBER 7, 20XX. THE MEETING WILL NOW PLEASE COME TO ORDER. Mr. Secretary, please call the roll.”

The words robotically fall out of Seungcheol’s mouth as he turns over the pages of his clipboard, marking a precise, red dot next to the word ‘agenda’ on the page. Another day, another meeting. He can’t wait for the moment he can finally retire from this god damned position. Every single time he repeats his presiding officer script, it feels like a digit gets added to his age.

“Yes, Mr. Chair. Please say ‘present and voting’ once your name is called to be acknowledged.” 

Wonwoo starts the roll call, and Seungcheol is desperately trying to cover his yawn with the clipboard, else Seungkwan is gonna grate at him again for dozing off in his own meeting— the aforementioned straightening himself in his seat when his position is called.

“Public Information Officer 1?”

“Present and voting.”

“PIO 2?

“Present—” says Joshua, flicking a paper clip across the table and into Vernon’s nth latte of the day. “—and voting.”

“Next. Assistant Business Manager.”

“Prese—”

“Okay, got it.” Chan brandishes a look of offense when Wonwoo cuts him off. “Business Manager?”

“Present and voting. Do we really have to keep doing this one by one?” 

Mingyu has a point, Seungcheol mentally agrees. But his god damned seniors wrote in the damned constitution and bylaws that every meeting of SVT (Society of Virtuous Timetravellers. He’s in the process of renaming it because your organization that’s supposed to be for history and culture is attracting weirdos instead— and two of them are Soonyoung and Seokmin) must abide by strict parliamentary procedures, so he has no choice but to suck it up and listen as Wonwoo continues to read out the succeeding positions on the attendance list, and it’s starting to sound a lot like a lullaby.

“Secretary, yours truly, present and voting.” The scratch from Wonwoo’s throat signals Seungcheol that it’s to zone back in. “Vice Chairperson-External?”

“Present and voting.”

Your voice draws Seungcheol's attention. He turns his head towards you and he notices the sheets of binded up papers you have in your hands, straightened with a few taps on the table surface before you settle them back down, a swell of pride when he sees what’s printed on the topmost page. 

It’s impeccably organized, the task he assigned to you only three days prior. Hell, you even have page tabs sticking out of the sides of every page. Your work ethic never fails to impress him. On top of that, you’re always so professional— able to separate your personal and org life with strict barriers in between because even though you and Junhui have been friends for ten years, your sharp glare holds no reservations when you catch him folding paper turtles with sticky notes right next to you when inside the meeting room.

“Sorry,” Jun breathes out. You retract your leg from under the table after giving him a discreet kick.

Anyway, Seungcheol has high hopes for you, and he’s eyeing you to replace him as SVT’s Chairperson next year (he’s already in the process of manipulating you into taking the job: the compliments he gives away aren’t for free). You’re perfect. You’re flawless. There’s no one else fit for the position but you. 

Which is why the next course of events comes as nothing less than a shock to him.

“Vice Chairperson-Internal?” Wonwoo calls out but is met with silence. He looks around. “VCI?”

No answer. You scoff.

“Alright, moving on. Mr. Chair?” 

Seungcheol stiffens, second-guessing what he’d just heard, but the near-invisible crooked twitch of the corner of your mouth proves that no, that wasn’t just his imagination. You just scoffed. A sharp noise laced with derision and contempt. That should’ve been the first sign that something is off.

“Present,” he coughs out, resigning his attention back to the meeting he has to preside over. It must be nothing. Even you can get annoyed sometimes. Maybe Jun is fucking around again and you’ve just had about enough.

“There are thirteen out of fourteen officers present, Mr. Chair. We are in quorum.”

“Thank you. Seeing that we are in quorum, it is now legal for us to conduct business. Mr. Secretary, will you please read to us the agenda for today’s—”

The office door swings open. 

“Sorry, I’m late!”

And Mr. VCI rushes in with his white coat still hanging off his shoulders. The meeting is put to an abrupt pause as Jeonghan hastily walks up to his assigned seat, trying to explain the reason for his tardiness. “Our lab session took longer than expected,” Jeonghan huffs out, dragging out the chair next to him. “Dr. Han wouldn’t let us—”

“It’s common decency to enter the room and sit down quietly when you’re late so as to not disturb the ongoing meeting. Especially when you haven’t informed the body beforehand.”

Seungcheol flinches when he hears the interruption of your sharp tone. His head quickly snaps to your direction before gleaning Jeonghan’s reaction. His friend’s jaw tightens but he says nothing. That should’ve been the second sign.

“Mr. Chair, may we proceed with the reading of today’s agenda?”

He eyes you carefully and, with a hesitant drawl anchoring his tongue, proceeds with the meeting while Jeonghan quietly settles into his seat. “Mr. VCI, you may send your excuse letter later for record keeping. Anyhow, Mr. Secretary, please read to us the agenda for today’s meeting.” Wonwoo does as instructed. The problem is, Seungcheol can’t hear anything that he’s saying. Not when his seat is exceedingly uncomfortable at the moment.

It’s not his seat. It’s the two people cornering his seat that’s the problem.

Cold sweat breaks out from his forehead. The air is stuffy. You and Jeonghan lock eyes for zero-point-five seconds and there’s a chill in the atmosphere that only Seungcheol can feel. What the fuck is going on?

“Thank you Mr. Secretary. We’ll begin with the first agenda— SVT’s Orientation and Membership Training. Alright. As you all may know, this will be our organization’s first event for the academic year, thus I am expecting everyone’s undivided cooperation in making sure that this event will be a success. We have already discussed the initial details of the event during the previous meeting, and we also distributed the tasks to the officers and committees.” He flips through a page and clears his throat. “I believe our Vice Chair External was tasked to scout for the venue. Ms. VCE, have you prepared your presentation?”

You nod, rising from your seat. “Yes, Mr. Chair. I’ve prepared a comprehensive list of all our options.” Okay, Seungcheol breathes in through nose. You seem normal now. Maybe he was just overthinking things. “I ask for everyone’s assistance in distributing the copies.”

Seungcheol looks at the text written in bold when you pass a copy to him— SVT ORYE & MT 20XX: VENUE PROPOSAL. While everyone is passing the paperclip-bound photocopies to each other, you take the liberty to start speaking. “If you look at the second page, you can see the overview of the entire document. I’ve listed five possible venues and compiled their respective addresses, rates, inclusions, menus, and of course, pictures for your reference. We’ll look at each of them one by one, starting with—”

You pause. Jeonghan is raising his hand. Your eyebrow twitches. Seungcheol gets a bad feeling. “Yes, Mr. VCI?”

“Thank you for the acknowledgement,” he says. “I’d like to ask why exactly are all of these venues located in the mountains? Don’t we have other options? It would be fine if it were just us officers, but I believe holding the event in such terrains would be far too inconvenient for more or less a hundred people.”

A very bad feeling.

“I appreciate your insight,” you respond. Uh oh. Your smile is strained and Seungcheol knows it. That’s the smile you wear when you’re about to pulverize a representative for a disadvantageous partnership to the ground. “However, I’d like to bring to your recollection that the theme of this year’s Orye is traditional South Korean folklore. That considered, I came up with the judgment that the mountainous and forested areas would be the most appropriate and immersive venue if we wish to bring this concept to life. I hope that is clear, Mr. VCI. Anyway—”

“It’s still impractical, Ms. VCE.” 

Your face stiffens.

Jeonghan just cut you off. 

Shit, he just cut you off. 

He stands up, leveling you from across the table. “What about our members with asthma? Heart problems? What if it rains on the day of the event? Do you expect everyone to climb up a mountain trail in all these conditions?”

“If you read through my document before inadvertently interrupting me, Mr. VCI, you’d know that three out of the five venues offer uphill transportation in order to get to the accommodations. And although I understand your reservations about the possibility of inclement weather, may I remind you that it’s also the driest season of the year. You’re being unreasonable.”

Fuck. Seungcheol thinks he needs to butt in but he can’t find the timing when there’s literally an invisible fucking electric fence deterring him from reaching the both you. He catches a glimpse of Joshua’s concerned eyebrows. ‘Do something,’ his friend’s eyes say. He’s about to until you drop a sentence that shoots the tension off the roof.

“Furthermore, I’ve surveyed all of the officers through text if they agree with my venue proposal and I was met with no objections. You’d know if you opened any of my messages last night, Jeonghan.”

Holy fuck.

Holy fuck, you called him by his first name. 

You never call anyone by their first name. At least not during meetings and it’s very clear that this is a reason for alarm because everyone else’s eyes fly wide open. Except Jeonghan’s. He just looks pissed— mirroring your very own expression. Something is wrong. Something is very wrong and Seungcheol is slowly starting to realize that this argument isn’t just about the venue conflict.

“Ahem.” He clears his throat for the nth time, a wound might break open. “We will take our VCI’s concern into consideration. If you believe holding our Orye in the mountains is impractical, where do you suggest we should hold it instead?”

Jeonghan’s shoulders relax. He gives you a momentary look before settling back into his seat. “Thank you, Mr. Chair.” You do the same. Seungcheol breathes out a sigh of relief. “I’d like to suggest that we hold it by the beach and sea. Not only would it be more accessible, it would also be considerably cheaper considering there’d be no extra expenses for transportation up the hiking trail. There are also more options if we hold it on the beach. I already have contacts from last year’s set of events. We don’t have to worry about negotiations.”

Seungcheol nods in response. He’s about to say something but once again, he hears an unmistakable scoff from your direction. “Of course, you’d go for the low effort option.”

Oh no. Oh god, no.

Jeonghan’s eyes dart towards you. “What was that?”

Seungcheol doesn’t get paid enough for this shit.

“I’m just saying that it’s so like you to go for the easy way out.”

He doesn’t get paid for this at all.

“What are you trying to tell me here, Ms. VCE?” Jeonghan’s tone is getting more pointed, and the rest of the table are starting to pick up on what’s going on. Mingyu is slowly inching off of his seat and finding the right time to book it. Chan and Seokmin are nervously flitting their eyes back and forth between Jeonghan and you. Minghao hao stopped paying attention. He’s got his airpods on and scrolling through his phone. 

“The sea is not theme-appropriate for our event, Mr. VCI,” you firmly press on. “There are myths and folklore that reference the sea and ocean, however as an introductory event for our organization we should defer from making far too uncommon references since most of our members are beginners to our advocacy.”

Vernon is about to be swallowed by his chair. Seungkwan has his face in his hands. Seungcheol’s phone vibrates and it’s a message from Wonwoo. Should I include all of this in the minutes? he asks. Seungcheol isn’t even sure if this argument is still about the venue.

“May I also add that beach events are overused. Everyone holds acquaintance parties, Christmas parties, sensitivity trainings at beaches and beach resorts. Should we follow that template, I doubt our event would be memorable enough for our members to remember.”

“Then it’d be the obligation of the program committee to make it memorable.” The said committee flinches upon hearing Jeonghan’s words. Joshua and Junhui don’t look like they agree with the additional burden. Jihoon’s forehead is wrinkling from secondhand stress. “We don’t need to sacrifice the affordability and accessibility of our location in order to hold a note-worthy event. And, may I also reiterate that we should consider our members with health problems, Ms. VCE.”

This is enough. This is probably enough. Maybe it’s time for Seungcheol to intervene.

“However, I understand,” Jeonghan continues. “I understand that it’s not easy for you to be considerate.”

But how the fuck is he supposed to do that when you two fucks won’t stop provoking each other?

“Oh, for god’s sake!” It’s hopeless. It’s gone out of control. Your voice has bordered on yelling ang Seungcheol himself is afraid of being caught in between. “Are you still mad about the cat thing?!”

What is the cat thing? What in the hell is actually going on?

“This is not about the cat thing and you know that.” There’s a ruffle in Jeonghan’s voice. He lets out a groan and throws his head back with his fingers digging into his hair. “Fuck. Let’s talk later.”

Yes. Yes, please just talk later so we can move on with the meeting.

“Did you just swear at me?”

Nevermind.

There’s a second silence. One second— until the corner of Jeonghan’s mouth twitches and he expels a huff of incredulity. It’s ominous. It’s a harbinger of uncomfortable destruction. “So swearing is crossing the line, but refusing to let me meet your parents and forcing us to keep this relationship a secret is completely justifiable?”

Well shit.

This meeting is done for.

Silence washes over the office once again. Wide eyes are being exchanged and not even Wonwoo is filling the tension with his incessant typing on the laptop. Chair, I don’t think I should include this part in the minutes, Seungcheol receives another message from him. Of course he shouldn’t. A relationship reveal isn’t part of the agenda. Neither is a breakup but he fears it’s teetering to that outcome.

It’s uncomfortable. It’s suffocatingly uncomfortable and Seokmin looks like he’s about to cry at any moment.

“Well,” you simmer. “I guess it’s not much of a secret anymore, isn’t it?”

“Damn.” Soonyoung receives an elbow from Jihoon. He gets hushed down very quickly to make room for another agonizing exchange between you and Jeonghan. 

“Is that literally all you have to say? You’re so insensitive, it drives me fucking nuts. This is why it’s so hard to keep seeing you—”

“Oh, so you think I’m not having a hard time? If you can’t understand why I had to do that, then let’s just stop seeing each other!”

“Fine, I’m glad we’re on the same page this time.”

“Great!”

“Great.”

“Your clothes better be out of my closet by tomorrow.”

“Throw them away, I don’t need them.”

“I will! Thanks for the suggestion!”

Things have now gone beyond the point of salvation and he can’t even interject to formally end this disaster of a meeting.

“Mr. Chair, I apologize, but I’m afraid I will be leaving early today.” Oh, so now you remember his existence. You’re fuming, slinging over your shoulder bag and haphazardly collecting your things from the table, and Seungcheol simply massages his temples and nods in acknowledgement to your sudden leave. “Please go through the document at your discretion and I’ll be respecting whatever decision the body makes. Thank you and have a good day.”

Just like that, you’re gone. Jeonghan also starts collecting his things. “My phone lines are open in case you need anything. Goodbye.” With that, he also disappears with the harsh swing and slam of the door, leaving behind another blanket of uncomfortable silence for everyone else to drown in.

Seungcheol sighs. He feels a headache kicking in. 

“So...are we having the event in the mountains or by the sea?”

He groans.

Is it too late to file a resignation?

*‎

The following week has been nothing less than hell for SVT (Seungcheol has yet to change to the org name. He’s getting there. Slowly. Fuck university bureaucracies). The Orye is fast approaching, so there are still a lot of matters to be settled— printing documents, processing permits, making calls. The venue dispute is yet to be settled. Mr. Chair instructed a team to check out the mountain and sea accommodations you and Jeonghan forwarded within the weekend to get a better feel of both options.

There’s still so much work, which honestly doesn’t pose a problem with Boo Seungkwan, one of the org’s information officers. He’s used to it, being a member of SVT since his freshman year and all. This workload is nothing to SVT. Nothing to you.

It’s almost like you’re a machine. Printing documents? You’re a one-woman printing shop. Processing permits? You’ve befriended all the office heads and one word from you will get the event approved. It’s basic shit. Completely rudimentary. Seungkwan has always been at awe with how you operate. But right now, the problem is not the work. 

It’s the work environment that’s the problem.

“Can someone pass me the stapler?”

Your voice cracks into the tense silence in the office like a cold blade, causing Seungkwan to flinch and look up from his paperwork. The whirring of the printer fills in the void left behind by your voice, with Chan carefully organizing the freshly printed pages with tight lips. You’re met with no response. He locks eyes with Joshua. The stapler is beside Jeonghan, who’s running through the program for the event. They share a look of dread.

“Where is the stapler?” You look up from the table. The clear stiffening of your face upon noticing where the damned thing is forces knots into Seungkwan’s temples. Oh god. Here we go. “Nevermind.”

The stupid stapler skids across the table. It’s been transported from one end to your end. Jeonghan’s eyes are glued to his laptop when he slides it down. Jun is nervously hovering behind him. Seungkwan wants to throw up.

“Jun,” Jeonghan calls out. “How many steps does it take for you to get from one end of the meeting table to the other?”

“I—I’m sorry?”

“Can you try walking from here to the other end of the table?”

Jun is sweating. He hesitantly nods and slowly creaks away from his spot behind Jeonghan, cautious steps towards your end of the table. Three steps. All eyes are on him. Five steps. Seungkwan is not religious but he’s making the sign of the cross. Seven steps. 

“Wow. Ten steps is easier and faster than I thought! Anyway, you can come back now, Jun. I have some questions regarding—”

Swoosh!

Something rockets through the air, missing Jeonghan’s face by a mere inch from its trajectory. Holy shit. It hits the wall behind Jeonghan and crashes into the floor. “My bad,” you announce. “I wondered how quick it’d be if I threw something from here to there. It’s definitely faster than just walking.”

Assault. That must be assault. This is insane. This is getting out of hand. Seungkwan can’t deal with this shit anymore.

“I can’t fucking deal with this shit anymore!”

As he says, the moment you and Jeonghan leave the office to attend your respective classes. Jun takes a hefty intake of air and everyone relaxes almost immediately. “Seriously. Why should we suffer because they can’t hold their relationship together?!” he fumes. “If they wanted to break up, they could’ve done it in private. I’m sick and tired of walking on pins and needles whenever both of them are around!”

Murmurs of agreement break out. If their Chair was here, they would’ve been scolded. Thank fucking god he’s at the admin office processing their name change. “This reminds me of the time my parents got divorced,” Soonyoung offhandedly mentions while fiddling through their budget plan.

Wonwoo narrows his eyes at him. “Wasn’t that also the time you started perceiving yourself as a tiger as a coping mechanism?”

“Yeah.”

“Jesus christ.”

“I agree with Seungkwan,” Minghao announces. He had just finished sweeping up the shattered stapler from the ground. “I can’t keep up with them anymore. Whenever I’m with our VCE I have to talk shit about the other. Why don’t we just lock them up in a closet so they can fuck and make up?”

A grimace creeps into Chan’s face. “I abhor the image you’ve just supplanted into my mind.”

Minghao furrows his brows. “Who told you to imagine them having sex in our dirty storage closet? Weirdo.” Chan is unable to say anything back. “Anyway, how do we fix this? I have to meet with Jeonghan hyung for dinner and I’m running out of bad things to say about his ex-girlfriend.”

“I thought the plan was to lock them up in the closet?” Seokmin tries to clarify. They’re all actually considering it. Seungkwan is sure they have a death wish.

“You guys can’t be serious. Didn’t you see Vice Chair’s face when hyung walked into the room earlier? She looked like she was considering murder, I had the fucking chills. We are not locking them in a closet unless you all want it to end with a dead body in our office.” Seungkwan pauses. “Thirteen. Thirteen dead bodies if she finds out we orchestrated it.”

“Then what should we do?” Vernon asks. “Get one of them to resign?”

“No!” Soonyoung interjects. “I can’t deal with another divorce!”

Jihoon’s face contorts. “They aren’t your parents. You didn’t even know they were together until they broke up.”

“Still,” Seokmin joins in. “I don’t want any of them to leave SVT.”

Jun presses his lips together. “I think I saw her drafting a resignation letter earlier.”

There is silence. Then the dawning of realization. Then chaos erupts.

“Oh no. Oh no no no no way.”

“We can’t let that happen!”

“Let’s burn her letter before she can submit it!”

“Nobody let her near the office!”

They’re all behaving like idiots, but Seungkwan has to agree. There is without a doubt that even though your breakup has recently put the organization into an uncomfortably tight spot— SVT would be done for if either of you leave. Seungcheol hyung can’t shoulder everything by himself. The both of you are the bedrock of SVT’s internal and external affairs respectively. Resignation is out of the question. 

“Heh. You’re all overlooking something.”

It’s a new voice. Seungkwan wondered when this fucker would speak up, and he’s making his entrance in a gratingly obnoxious way.

Mingyu is sitting on Seungcheol’s swivel chair in the latter’s absence. He slowly spins it around, facing the rest of the members with the pads of his fingers pressed together. “To fix a problem, we should find out the root cause first.” Seungkwan wants to hit him, but Mingyu looks like he’s onto something. “Nobody’s resigning. I have a plan.”

*‎

Jihoon didn’t want to have anything to do with this.

It’s not his business whoever from his orgmates are fucking around or have completely fucked their relationship. It’s not his business whether or not you and Jeonghan have the chance to get back together again.

“If your previous supplier didn’t scam us last summer, we wouldn’t even be out here right now.”

Yet that is exactly what he’s been tasked to do— to dig his nose into your business, on a hot day, while having to canvass printing shops in the district. But finding a replacement supplier for your org shirts is the least of his concerns at the moment because—

[Operation We Are Never Ever Getting (Them) Back Together: Kim Mingyu: any update??? have you gotten through her yet?????]

How the hell is he supposed to fish out any information from you about your relationship with Jeonghan?!

“But these rates are seriously unreasonable. I’ll put this one on the table,” you say, ticking off a box from your checklist and Jihoon is sweating bullets. “What do you think, Hoon?”

Sure, you two work pretty well together and you praise his competence any single time you get the chance, but that’s the problem. You aren’t close. Your relationship is strictly professional. Hell, your text convo is nothing but org-related and Jihoon doesn’t fucking understand why he has to be the one doing this job when he can give less than two shits about the situation. 

“Let’s check out the next place on the list first,” he replies. “I think the quality for this one is still better than the previous.

Dealing with someone else’s relationship problems wasn’t part of the job description when he got elected as treasurer. He’s got his own love life (or lack thereof) to worry about.

“Alright,” you reply with a deep exhale. It’s hot, and you’re getting tired. He’s also getting tired. Can’t you all just go home? “We’ll take a break first. Let’s continue after getting a drink, but where’s Mingyu? Did he get diarrhea or something?”

[Operation We Are Never Ever Getting (Them) Back Together: Kim Mingyu: hyung status report plz.] [Operation We Are Never Ever Getting (Them) Back Together: Hoshi: wow we sound like actual secret agents.]

Jihoon feels his head starting to hurt. “I’ll text him.”

“Thanks.”

Mingyu isn’t coming back. Not until Jihoon manages to get something out of you. According to Jun, you’ve branded him as ‘Jeonghan-allied’ (whatever the fuck that means), so there’s no way you’d be talking if that street lamp is hanging around. “They went to the same high school! I can’t trust bastards from Hyangnam anymore,” Jun quoted from you personally, and they all started wondering what your conjectured alignment for each of them is. 

However, Mingyu is functionally obligated to tag along with your canvassing venture today because he’s SVT’s business manager and Jihoon has all your org money. You’re here because you can’t stay put unless you’re directly involved in the task. Mingyu asked permission to go to the bathroom earlier to give his comrade an opportunity. That was forty-five minutes ago. Jihoon still hasn’t gotten anything from you.

“It’s an emergency, he says. A big one. Gigantic.” Mingyu never said that. Jihoon’s phone is a black screen. “Public toilets aren’t trustworthy. He went to his apartment. He told us to continue without him.”

You grimace with the click of your tongue. “Gross. Those god damned Hyangnam bastards. Let’s go. I need something cold.”

Time is ticking, his phone keeps on buzzing, and Jihoon grows steadily more restless by the minute. You two finish ordering and pay for your two lemonades with SVT money. “It’s the least this damn org can do for us,” you say. He fears you might actually resign, and it doesn’t do his ever escalating nerves a favor. How does he do it? How does he bring up Yoon Jeonghan without invoking your fury?

“Jihoon,” you call out, and he flinches. “What’s wrong? You’ve been spacing out since this morning.”

You’re both sitting on the nice leather seats of the air-conditioned cafe. Being out of the heat seems to have bettered your mood. Maybe he can wiggle something out while you’re pacified by the lemonade and cool air.

“So, uh,” he clears his throat. His knees are shaking. Shit. This is harder than processing your cash advance for the fucking orientation. He needs to ease it in. To bring it up discreetly. “I never really suspected that you and Jeonghan hyung were dating.”

Regret comes instantaneously the moment the words fall out of his mouth. 

So much for being discreet. Your face stiffens. Jihoon knows he fucked up badly.

“I—I mean, I’m not trying to comment on anything, I was just surprised to find out.” Dammit. Wrong move. He might get blacklisted like you did with Mingyu. He’s not panicking because their stupid operation might fail. He’s panicking because he’s gonna lose the bragging right of being on good terms with SVT’s intimidatingly unapproachable Vice Chair.

The ice in your drink clinks around. Jihoon squeezes his eyes shut and prepares for the worst.

“God. I can’t believe I dated him in the first place.”

Then he opens one eye. He sees you swirling your lemonade with one hand, the other used as a resting place for your chin before you take a sip from the straw and continue complaining. “I can’t stand him. I shouldn’t have let him sweet talk me into that first fucking date, that venomous bastard. His face is a weapon. I should’ve known better than to trust that face.” 

Jihoon’s eyes are now fully opened. He discreetly pulls out his phone from his pocket— the device still constantly buzzing— and opens his recorder app all while his heart is nervously barrelling against his ribcage from the remnants of his fear. “Did he like—” Jihoon presses record, “—cheat on you or something?”

“What? No way. He’d never do that.”

“Then,” he continues prodding. “Why did you two break up?”

“Ugh,” you grunt, taking another long sip from your drink before slamming it down the table with a thunk. Jihoon flinches. He secures his phone underneath the table, checking if it’s still recording everything. “Don’t get me started. You don’t get it, Hoon. He’s just so—”

Jihoon never expected you to just lay down everything for him. You just continue pouring and pouring everything out like a fountain. A fountain of dirty laundry and too many swear words that his audio recording might get flagged if it gets uploaded online. This...was easier than expected.

*‎

Seokmin’s eyes are narrowed at his senior— zoomed in and in focus as the aforementioned finishes talking to a group of SVT’s new members. He’s taken a step back with a stack of flyers pressed to his chest. He can’t miss anything. He can’t miss a single thing.

“Thank you! I better be seeing your faces during the event, alright? Enjoy your lunch!”

Jeonghan is giving them the copy of the program for your upcoming Orye and MT. Freshmen. All women, as far as his eyes can tell, and they’re all giggling after his senior bids them off. He’s never seen Jeonghan hyung smile at you like that. In fact, he’s never even seen him wave at you goodbye like what he’s doing right now. Has he moved on? Oh no. This is bad. This plan might be ruined before they could even conduct an intervention. 

“Seokmin, what’s wrong?” asks Jeonghan, snapping him out from the brink of a spiral of despair. “You don’t look too good. Is the weather too hot? Should we take a break?”

“N—no, I’m alright! Let’s keep going!” Seokmin needs to know if his hyung’s unnaturally sweet behavior was an isolated case. There’s not enough information in the air to make a solid conclusion.

“Well, I’m not alright,” Jeonghan grimaces. “The heat is unbearable. Let’s have lunch first, then we’ll continue. Go find us a good place to eat.”

A lump grows in Seokmin’s throat and he nervously swallows, watching as Jeonghan pulls out his phone and starts typing a message, to the SVT group chat probably to give them an update. Or to one of the girls he was talking to earlier. Shit. “Hyung, who are you texting?” he asks. Jeonghan responds with a pause, a suspicious smile, and tells him that ‘it’s a secret, hehe,’ and that he should hurry and look for a nice restaurant because he’s starving.

That wasn’t a helpful answer at all. Seokmin’s anxiety grows by the second. “What...what do you want to eat, hyung?” He should ask more questions later.

“You pick,” is Jeonghan’s reply with yet another grin that puts him ill at ease. “I’m placing my faith in you Seokmin. It better be a good place.”

There’s another lump in his throat. Oh god. This guy sure knows how to pressure people in the weirdest ways. And now instead of prodding around to figure out if his senior has indeed moved on or still has lingering feelings for you, he’s scrolling through his phone trying to look up a good restaurant— panic-stricken because god forbid he make a disappointing choice— while Jeonghan starts talking to another SVT member who just happened to pass by.

“We’re having it next month,” he overhears Jeonghan speaking, momentarily taking away his eyes from his phone just to see his hyung yet again looking and smiling at the org member with an alarming amount of sweetness pouring out of his eyes. “I’ll see you there?”

“Y—yes…!”

His observation is cut short by the buzz of his phone. A message bar pops up, covering the top of the screen and preemptively stopping his resto search.

[Operation We Are Never Ever Getting (Them) Back Together: Seungkwan: seok, do we have updates??? jihoon hyung hasn’t gotten back to use since thirty minutes ago!!] [Operation We Are Never Ever Getting (Them) Back Together: Minghao: I told you all this plan was hopeless] [Operation We Are Never Ever Getting (Them) Back Together: Kim Mingyu: why is noona telling me to take herbal teas and drink lots of water?????]

“So, where are we eating?”

Seokmin’s bones rattle and the phone nearly jumps out of his hands like a live fish.

“Talking to people is tiring,” he hears his senior lament with a long sigh. “Seokmin-ah, you take over after lunch. Let’s go.”

Go where? He hasn’t picked a place yet! Why are there so many food places around campus?! Jeonghan quickly starts walking and, out of even more panic, Seokmin picks a random direction, robotically taking the lead, brain overheating and eyes spinning out of focus until muscle memory lands them across the street of a hotpot place he frequents, just a few blocks away from campus. “O—oh, haha! Hyung, we’re here! Let’s—let’s quickly get inside, yes—”

He stops upon the realization that Jeonghan isn’t following him along the crosswalk. When Seokmin turns his head back, he sees Jeonghan staring at the place with a dampened expression. His first thought is maybe Jeonghan hyung doesn’t like hotpot. His second thought is maybe he shouldn’t be stopping in the middle of the road, so he quickly pads back to the sidewalk. 

“Hyung…? Are— are you not in the mood for hotpot? Should we go somewhere else?” Seokmin’s gut churns, devastated because he had just betrayed his hyung’s trust in finding an acceptable restaurant. What’s wrong with hotpot at Red House? Did he have a bad experience here? But his place is so good! He and Soonyoung and Jun hyung have been eating here twice a week, Wednesday and Saturdays, ever since you recommended the place to them as your favorite, and— oh.

So, that’s the problem.

You’ve probably eaten here with him too.

“No, no. We’re not going anywhere.” Jeonghan’s demeanor suddenly switches gears. He brushes past him with a sudden determined look, not looking back even when Seokmin calls after him.

“Hyung, I know another place nearby. We don’t have to—”

“Let’s get inside.”

Seokmin has no freaking idea how to dissect or interpret this reaction. Nervous steps follow his senior inside the restaurant, and a server welcomes them both and leads them to a table by the window. “Oh, you’re not here with your girlfriend today,” says the waiting staff after they’ve made their orders, and he sees Jeonghan visibly flinch in the middle of passing back the menu. Jeonghan simply responds with a stiff smile. Seokmin is sure that he had just screwed up big time.

Why did the server have to mention you? Why?! Now, he can’t help but look at the server with an utter look of betrayal as he sets the ingredients on the table. “Is...is there something wrong, sir?” asks the server with uneasy concern. Seokmin’s bottom lip juts out, shaking his head with a sniffle, and thanks the server with a weak voice and tone.

Jeonghan doesn’t appear to be faring any better. While waiting for the broth to boil, all Seokmin could do is soak up the steadily deflating expression of his hyung and worry that it might affect the taste of the food somehow. He was pretty sure Jeonghan is already over you, considering he seemed to be mildly flirting with the org members earlier and all. But now he’s not so sure. Not when his hyung is poking his chopstick into a block of tofu with a gut wrenching look of longing.

“Hyung...” Seokin makes an attempt. “I’m—I’m sorry for bringing you here, I didn’t know it was—”

“Seokmin-ah.” Jeonghan speaks along with the crank of the stove. “A gente world of advice: don’t bring up sensitive topics when the person you’re talking to has a weapon on him. You’re going to get in trouble.”

The sunlight leaking through the window gives a dangerous glint to the scissors Jeonghan is holding. Seokmin bites his tongue. Jeonghan cuts up the noodles and the two start eating quietly.

Seokmin loves eating. He really does. But this time, every bite tastes like hot sand, and he’s pretty sure he’s going to get indigestion afterwards.

He swallows down another mouthful with the help of a glass of water, and as he’s trying to get the mix of meat and vegetables down his throat, the sound of utensils that were previously clattering suddenly stops. When Seokmin puts the glass down, he sees Jeonghan seasoning the warm broth with salt.

The natural salt that comes out of your eyes when you start crying.

Holy shit, his hyung is crying.

“Sorry, I just— haha, the soup’s a little spicy, right?”

No. No it’s not. They ordered chicken broth. The soup isn’t spicy at all.

“H—hyung…”

Seokmin’s eyes are now also starting to water. Oh no. Oh no, dear god, what has he done? He didn’t mean to bring him here and reawaken stashed away memories. All he wanted to do was find a good place to eat!

“Hyung, I’m so sorry.”

This was a mistake. They should’ve just had kimbap and ramyeon at the nearby 7-Eleven.

*‎

“So, let me get this straight. One of them did nothing but talk shit about the other for thirty minutes, and the other started crying because Seokmin brought him to her favorite restaurant.”

The SVT officers (minus their Chair and Vice Chars) have reconvened the next day at the office. Their upcoming event isn’t a priority right now. The only thing on the agenda is the problem with you and Yoon Jeonghan— to which Mingyu is trying to wrack his brains in coming up with something in light of their initial investigation. 

“After listening to the recording Hoon sent, I don’t think she hates Jeonghan. She sounded like was just nitpicking in the heat of the moment,” says Jun. “If she’s still angry at him...maybe she isn’t over him yet? Maybe there’s still a chance?”

All eyes are on Jihoon, who witnessed your rant firsthand. 

“I don’t know. All I can say is that she looked a little sad while talking about him. She didn’t add anything else beyond the recording.” It’s not like the recording was of any help. Most of it was just you calling Jeonghan a son of a bitch, a piece of shit, and so on, as well as a few tangents about Mingyu that he himself didn’t quite appreciate. He thought he was your favorite. Like, why are you assuming that he’s on Jeonghan’s side?! They weren’t even friends back in high school! 

He spins the office chair in annoyance. To think he gave you a higher score than Jeonghan on your quarterly evaluation. Maybe he should ask Cheol to take it back.

“Well, if one of them is still on the hook, then there’s still a possibility that they can still get back together,” Wonwoo conjectures, eliciting murmurs of agreement from the rest.

“Does this mean we can finally lock them inside a fucking closet?”

“We are not locking them in a closet,” Seungkwan says. Minghao rolls his eyes at the dismissal. “We can’t do that. But we can bring in some forced proximity in a different way.”

Mingyu stops swiveling the chair. Why is Seungkwan looking straight at him? Wait. Why are they all looking straight at him? His throat tightens. He forces down a swallow. What, what, what’s the matter, why are they all looking at him?

“Oh no!”

Suddenly, Seungkwan starts a one-man drama. He exclaims, an arm jutting into the air before he lets the back of the loose hand drop onto his forehead, stumbling into Vernon who’s standing next to him.

“I just remembered I have a doctor’s appointment this Saturday— the same day where I’m supposed to accompany our Vice Chairs and Business Manager in checking out the venues! Oh no! I don’t think I can make it!”

Right. He along with Seungkwan, Chan, Jeonghan, and you are scheduled to evaluate each of the places on your list so that you can finalize the event venue. Not long after, Chan also breaks into a gasp, catching Seungkwan’s signal. “Oh my! I forgot I also, uh, have a thing on Saturday! What a bummer!”

“Then, I also—”

“No!” 

Mingyu winces. He’s shocked. He’s appalled. He’s offended. Why is he being yelled at?! Wasn’t he supposed to go along with the other two? “You don’t have a thing on Saturday, Mingyu. You have to be there to make sure that things don’t go wrong!” Seungkwan tells him, and at first he understands. He’s goes ‘oh, right, of course, yeah, sure,” but the moment what that situation entails finally dawns upon him— the fact that he has to be stuck in between you and Yoon Jeonghan for at least ten hours, maybe more— his blood runs cold and his face pales. There’s no way in hell he’s dealing with that.

“Why me?! Why can’t Joshua hyung go?”

Joshua answers with an offended look of bewilderment. 

“Hey, it’s your assignment,” answers Jihoon. “And it was your idea to try and get them back together again. You have the moral obligation to make sure this shit actually works.”

There is no hope to get out of this. They adjourn the meeting and everyone starts filtering out the office— not without giving him looks of sympathy and pats on the back before leaving. “Good luck,” Wonwoo says in passing. Vernon sends him a salute before closing the door. Damn him and his meddling ass. He should’ve just let your relationship die out for good.

The day of reckoning comes. It’s five in the morning at the campus parking lot, you and Jeonghan on the opposite ends of his car, and Mingyu already wants to tuck himself in bed for the day. You’re tapping your feet in impatience, looking at your phone with a glare, while Jeonghan pockets his phone with a sigh and welcome’s himself into the front seat of Mingyu’s car with a distinct slam. You huff and do the same into the backseat. 

Shit. This might actually be his last day on earth. Mingyu hurries into the driver’s before either of you yell at him to get moving.

“Tell Boo Seungkwan and Lee Chan that they’re getting sanctioned for this,” grits Jeonghan. Mingyu closes the door and prepares himself for an inevitable six to eight hours of hell.

“The kids are sick and you want to penalize them?” you interject from the back. Mingyu notices Jeonghan’s jaw clench. He shuts his eyes tight and whispers a few prayers. “You’re abusing your authority, Mr. VCI. Cut them some slack.”

“Negligence of duty. Section one under General Prohibitions,” rebuts Jeonghan, making eye contact with you through the front view mirror. “Failure to inform ahead of time the inability to do a task or assignment delegated to them shall be considered an act of negligence on the part of the officer. I’m not abusing any authority, sweetheart. I am acting well within my functions. It’s too early for this kind of—”

Silence drops. So does the temperature in the car which at this point feels like negative fourteen degrees. Jeonghan stifles a cough and rolls down the window for air. You look down and flit through the pages of the document you brought. Mingyu’s grip on the steering wheel tightens and he wants to cry.

“Can we go now? Please? We have six places to visit and I really don’t want to be driving until midnight.”

“We can rotate,” you tell him. “Let’s switch drivers after every location.”

Something tells Mingyu that if he lets your explosive temper behind the wheel, this will not only be the last he’ll be seeing of his cherished car that his parents got him as a gift for his twenty-first birthday, but this will also be the last he’ll be seeing of this mortal realm as well.

“No, haha, it’s okay,” he answers, finally starting the engine. “You two have been working really hard for this event so the least I can do is drive.”

“Well, alright. But there better be no more emergencies like last time.”

Mingyu still doesn’t know what you mean by that. Nor does he know why you’ve been giving him herbal teas and digestive supplements. Anyway, the three of you finally hit the road and proceed to your first stop— all the way to Daecheon, which will take about an hour if traffic grants them kindness. Jeonghan rolls the windows back up at some point because besides the ice-cold tension between the both of you, it really is getting cold, and the sky has been cloudy since earlier, and the weather app is telling him that there’s a twenty percent chance of rain. Literally all odds are stacked against him today.

He does live long enough to get through three venues, thankfully. The first one, near Daecheon beach, you complained that the rooms were stuffy and Jeonghan told you to sleep by the ‘goddamned beach if you wanted to feel extra fresh.’ The second beach location couldn’t accommodate your amount of people. The third one— the hanok-style villa in Gyeongsang which you’ve just finished surveying and which Mingyu thought was really nice— Jeonghan said that there’s too many bugs for it to be conducive. You told him to wear a mosquito net ‘you fucking princess,’ while walking back to the car. At this point, it’s already past four in the afternoon. The eleven hours of being trapped in a car with your ex-boyfriend is probably finally getting to your head.

“You really could care less about your members’ well being as long as we do what you want, don’t you?”

“I wasn’t bitten by a single mosquito there. You’re just making problems up to discredit my—”

It’s getting to Mingyu’s head, too. One more minute in this enclosed space with the both of you and he’s jumping out the window.

“Anyway, let’s head to the next location,” you say with a sigh. “Woodland Springs Resort. Luckily, it’s only an hour away.”

Mingyu’s knuckles twitch on the steering wheel. “I can’t. I can’t do this anymore.”

He catches your face through the mirror, brows furrowed with a frown. “Mingyu, let me drive this time. You’ve been at it for hours.” 

“She’s right. Go sit in the back, we can take over.”

He has. He’s tired and annoyed and exhausted by the constant fear that you two might actually make a murder scene out of his precious car, that he’s pretty sure that him driving would soon become a road-risk. It would be fine, right? You two have probably expelled your energy, anyway. Or at least about to. Worst case scenario is that Jeonghan hyung pisses you off and you’d expertly crash the car in a way that would only kill him and leave you two alive.

“Okay,” Mingyu weakly breathes out. “I’m gonna rest my eyes for a bit.”

He opens the car and gets out. So do you. So does Jeonghan. The three of you are out of the car. The math isn’t mathing.

“What are you doing?” you ask Jeonghan.

“I’m taking the wheel,” he simply says, already making his way over to the other side of the car.

“What are you talking about, Mingyu was talking to me.” You’re fast. Fast enough to swat away Jeonghan’s hand from the door handle to the driver’s seat. Jeonghan tightly presses his lips together and releases a huff of air. You look at him with sharp eyes with no intention of moving. Mingyu is literally, physically, and positionally caught in between this shit and he wishes he should’ve just floored it.

“I’m driving,” Jeonghan asserts. “You look barely awake, yourself. Do you plan on crashing us or something?”

The worried undertone completely flies over your head. “Are you saying I’m a bad driver?” Mingyu really doesn’t want to witness this argument at this proximity right now. Jeonghan sighs and digs into his hair.

“No, I just want you to—”

Cr—ack! Boom!

Suddenly, there’s thunder.

And when there’s thunder, there’s rain.

Pshhhhhhh!

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!”

“Hurry and get in, let’s go—”

Mingyu really wanted to yell at that moment. Thankfully, the sky beat him to it.

It starts pouring. The three of you scramble back into the car.

All things considered, you all decided that it’d be too dangerous to stay on the road, taking into account the weather and exhaustion and all, so you looked for a nearby inn through Google Maps and Jeonghan drove you there (yes, he won in the end and you’re still bitter in the backseat). 

Boom! Another round of thunder, and the rain just continues to pour harder and harder. At this rate, you guys won’t be able to check out the rest of the locations today. Meaning, his prison sentence is bound to be extended. God freaking dammit. Mingyu continues to bitterly lament while rushing into the cabin inn. The door jingles upon entry. He lets out a sigh of relief upon being saved from the rain.

“Hi, good evening! Do you still have any rooms available?”

You’re there at the front desk doing your thing, being the externals head and all, while he and Jeonghan wait behind, damp and uncomfortable. He can see his hyung getting more and more impatient by the second, tapping his wet soles against the wooden flooring with his arms crossed. Mingyu can only sigh and hope to take a meditative shower soon, once you’ve booked the three of your rooms.

“Ah, yes,” says the lady behind the front desk. She looks at you, then spares a glance at him and Jeonghan in all their soggy glory, before flitting her eyes back at you. Okay what the hell. He knows they look terrible right now, but that was just rude. “Will it be for the three of you? Unfortunately, we only have one room left available, ma’am, peak season and all, and it’s only good for two people.

“That’s fine, we’ll take—”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Judgemental Front Desk Lady interrupts. “I meant a maximum of two people can occupy the room. It’s our policy.”

Well that’s stupid. The hell were you guys supposed to do, then? Run back to the car, get even more wet in the process, and look for another place to stay in this stupid weather? Mingyu can practically see a vein throbbing on the back of your head. He catches your shoulders lift and drop along with an exhale, a momentary pause before you respond. “Can’t you make an exemption? The weather is terrible outside and we really need a place to stay for the time being.”

Mingyu decides to look over and see how the other ticking time bomb is faring, but when he leers over to the side, Jeonghan is no longer beside him. Wet footsteps against wooden floors can be heard. He snaps his head back to the front desk and sees his hyung walking up to you— placing his arm around your freaking waist when he lands next to you, and alarm bells suddenly go off in Mingyu’s head.

“Babe, what’s the problem?”

Goosebumps prick all over his body.

What. 

What the fuck? 

“What’s wrong?”

Mingyu rubs his eyes, thinking that he just saw (and heard) wrong, but no. Yoon Jeonghan has indeed reigned claim over your waist. The fuck? He refocuses into your expression, expecting you to look disgusted and send a kick to his hyung’s shin, but that doesn’t happen. Instead, you flash a look at Jeonghan, then back to the receptionist, peering down at the desk surface where her hand is resting, before looking back up at Jeonghan and nudging yourself closer to him with a sigh. What in the everloving fuck is going on?

“They’re saying that only two people can stay inside the room,” you lament. “This trip really isn’t working out for us. After our disaster of a honeymoon, the last thing I thought would happen was for us to get stranded in Gyeongsang in the middle of a storm.”

“Let’s just go look for another place to stay, sweetheart.” 

“But it’s pouring outside! I can’t let you drive in the weather. It’s too dangerous.”

Honeymoon? What? What the hell is this improv sketch? Why the fuck is his hyung giving you the lovestruck eyes and why are you letting him look at you with lovestruck eyes? Why are you lovestruck-eyeing him back?

“Oh, you’re newlyweds?” asks the receptionist, and Mingyu didn’t think his eyebrows could scrunch up any further until he heard Jeonghan agree.

“We just got married last week,” he says with a sickeningly sweet tone. 

“How lovely!”

“Actually, we just came back from our honeymoon at Geoje Island,” you add. “It’s a long trip, and we wanted to get home as soon as possible, but that...wasn’t exactly an option for us.” Suddenly, you turn your head back to look at him. Now, you’re all looking at him. Why are you all looking at him? This is fucking scary.

You lean into Jeonghan and whisper something into his ear. A look flashes on Jeonghan’s face. He doesn’t like this look.

“Brother, can you please give us a moment?”

There’s a pause. Mingyu’s mouth is hanging slightly ajar and he hesitantly points to himself. Brother? Me? Jeonghan nods and smiles and returns his attention back to you and the receptionist. The three of you are talking about something. In a significantly lower volume. While sending him looks of remorse in between. What the hell are you two bullshitting about now?

Not long after, Mingyu sees the lady drop a room key into your hands and sends you off with a smile. “Second floor. Thank you, and have a great evening!”

“Thanks!” 

Mingyu isn’t exactly sure what just happened or how it happened, but at least you have a place to stay for the night? When the three of you hike up the stairs and spot the room with 203 labeled on the door, Mingyu decides that he needs to know what you fuckers talked about. “How did you do it?” He blocks the door before you could open it. “I thought only two people could use this? How did you get us the room?” Jeonghan and you exchange a look before relenting.

“Your fiance called off your engagement and you were so depressed that you followed us all the way to our Geoje,” you blankly respond.

“Our parents are on vacation so you couldn’t go to them. We were kind enough to let you third wheel on our honeymoon,” adds Jeonghan. Mingyu blinks. “But on the way back it started raining, so we’re stuck here for the moment. We noticed a wedding ring on Soonja’s finger, so it was pretty easy to get her sympathy.

Soonja. You even know the lady’s name, holy fuck. At least that explains the pitiful looks sent his way. But Mingyu is still very much perturbed. The hairs on his arms are still standing. “You two are con artists,” is all he can say back.

You roll your eyes and toss the key to him. “Hey, it got us the room.”

“Right,” Mingyu grunts, catching it mid-air. “You’re both so good at lying, even I’m starting to think you’re still married.”

The doorknob clatters open. You and Jeonghan quickly jump away from each other, and Jeonghan loses the steady hold he had around your waist since earlier. Mingyu stifles a grin. The alarm and embarrassment on both of your faces makes this day’s worth of stress all worth it. 

“Hurry up and get in! I need a shower and a change of clothes, gosh.”

Fortunately, you three prepared extra articles of clothing for the trip, having anticipated sweat from the heat instead of getting pissed on by the rain clouds. Unfortunately, Mingyu lost at rock paper scissors so he gets to shower last. “There’s a drying rack in the bathroom,” you tell them upon exiting, a towel to your head before plopping down on the bed next to the window. 

When Mingyu finishes showering, he hears you and Jeonghan arguing over something again. Cheol’s voice can be heard somewhere too. Upon re-entering the room, he spots you two occupying the floor right by the bed, a laptop sitting on the mattress that’s showing a very tired Seungcheol trying to cut in between your yelling.

“In hindsight, I think the beach in Daecheon is our best option. The kids can run around more freely there.”

“No, you were right about the mountains. The hanok-style villa is better suited for our event theme. We can just add bug repellent to our budget plan.”

“Listen to me for a second—”

“You’re the one who’s not—”

“This could have been an email,” says Seungcheol’s choppy voice thanks to the shitty reception. Yeah. Mingyu isn’t dealing with this. Over twelve hours of being a third party to your arguments is already enough, thank you very much. He drops down the unoccupied bed, already getting comfortable, and uses the nonstop swearing next to him as a lullaby.

Weird enough, it’s an effective lullaby because Mingyu slept like a rock. He yawns, stretches out of bed thanks to the early morning light through the curtains waking him. It’s clear out. The windows have watery dots painting it from the aftermath of the rain.

It’s pretty outside, Mingyu notices, but there’s something more eye-catching than the pretty natural scenery of the mountainside.

The laptop is still on and laying on the bed, pushed further to the edge with a low battery notification obscuring the open document of the event’s program that he’d seen Jeonghan preparing in the car yesterday. But what’s occupying most of the mattress is the both of you— you and Jeonghan— with your printed documents scattered around, surrounding a sight that he probably isn’t meant to see.

You’re laying on Jeonghan’s arm as a pillow, face turned to the side and slightly tucked into chest. Jeonghan’s chin is buried into the top of your head, his legs tangled with yours and the blanket has been kicked off the side. The morning light is showering the both of you like a spotlight. Mingyu snaps a picture. The kids are gonna eat this shit up.

*‎

It’s the day of the event, and Choi Seungcheol has not slept a wink since last night.

There were some last minute things he needed to take care of. Game props, printouts, and powerpoint presentations he forgot to quality check until ten in the evening. Grocery shopping for snacks, and an error in the bus booking. The works. But none of that matters now. They’ve all been settled, everyone has made it to the hanok villa in Gyeongsang in one piece with no asthma attacks nor heart related concerns occurring, and not once had you and Yoon Jeonghan argued ever since last night.

To be honest, it’s freaking him out a little. He wasn’t the only one who had to pull an all-nighter. His two Vice Chairs had to suffer with him too and the both of you have been extremely civil to the point of unease. It’s weird. It’s eerie. Like right now, as you two are welcoming the lines and lines of members in hanboks and traditional attire with matching smiles and pleasantries. You run out of program printouts and ask Jeonghan if he has any left, he gives you a stack, and the exchange ends without even a scoff, a swear, a mock, or even a look of derision.

This is...ominous, to say the least. It’s like the calm before the storm. Choi Seungcheol cannot rest easy.

“What the fuck is going on with them?”

It seems like he isn’t the only one who’s noticed. Currently, it’s lunchtime. They’d just finished presenting the constitution, bylaws, and internal rules and regulations of the organization. Now, they’re queueing up the kids to the food table. 

Among the ushers are you and Jeonghan. Standing next to each other. You aren’t arguing but you aren’t talking to each other either. Joshua is the one who brings it up to the small group preparing the drinks right now— him, Soonyoung, and Vernon. If Joshua doesn’t know the reason for your sudden civility, then no one does. Junhui gets interrogated too, but he provides no answers, only confusion. “Wow. Wild,” is all Jun remarks. They have no idea if you two have made up, have settled your differences, have gotten back together, or all of the above.

It’s fucking with him, especially after weeks of being perpetually on the edge because of your cold war. Seungcheol calls Mingyu to a corner while everyone else is in the midst of preparing for the next part of the program. Mingyu jogs over, mildly scared and mildly confused.

“Hyung,” he calls out. “What’s up?”

“Our two Vice Chairs,” Seungcheol starts. He looks over at the center field where the members are sitting. Chan and the rest are still handing out the paper slips. He can still interrogate Mingyu. “You went with them for location scouting. Did something happen between them?”

Mingyu looks taken aback. “Uh.” He stiffens. Seungcheol narrows his eyes at him.

“Kim Mingyu.” 

“Define ‘something,’” Mingyu delays. 

Now, this is suspicious. He definitely knows what that something is. Choi Seungcheol isn’t gonna let him off without squeezing the information out of him. “I don’t know,” he huffs. “Anything that could explain why they’re acting like—” 

Seungcheol points in a direction. Mingyu’s eyes follow the trajectory, and his gaze lands on a very alarming scene: Yoon Jeonghan sitting on one of the monoblocks, Yoon Jeonghan seeing you pass by, Yoon Jeonghan standing up, Yoon Jeonghan stopping you with a tap on your shoulder, Yoon Jeonghan offering his seat to you, Yoon Jeonghan leaving the scene and busying himself with some other task, after you had taken his seat.

“Like that?”

Mingyu is now sweating. “Uhhhh,” he hesitantly drawls. Then his eyes dart around. Until he spots Seungkwan pass by with a stack of boxes. “Can I talk to my lawyer first?”

“Mingyu.”

“Let’s—let’s—let’s get back to work, hyung! I have to go—”

He attempts to chase Kim Mingyu down. Attempts. Because Mingyu suddenly has the speed of a track and fielder and drags Seungkwan away into the accommodation building, the hanok, and he’s suddenly pulled back by Chan, who’s holding a box containing two or three small pieces of folder up papers. “Hyung,” Chan starts. “It’s your turn to pick.”

Seungcheol furrows his brows. Drat. Kim Mingyu has escaped. “Pick what?”

“Your manito. Duh,” Chan answers. It’s the box he’s been passing out since earlier— a box filled with the names of all the attendees and whoever you pick out, you’re tasked to take care of them throughout the entire trip and pay them special attention. For relationship building, according to Jeonghan, when he pitched the idea. Seungcheol is aware of this mini activity, but he didn’t know he’d be participating. He stares at the remaining three papers. “Hurry up. I still have to give the rest to Seungkwan and Mingyu hyung.”

“Show me some respect,” he scolds, picking out a random name. “They ran inside. Storage, I think.”

Chan hums in acknowledgement and takes the box away. When he’s left, Seungcheol rolls open the piece of paper. Looking at the members gathered around the field right now (who are listening to the intermission number prepared by Seokmin and Jihoon) he notices that a few of the kids are already getting pretty chummy. He sighs, pretty sure that he picked out a new member that’s most probably three years younger than him. How is he supposed to overcome the generation gap? Won’t the kid find it weird if this old man suddenly starts acting close?

Much to his initial relief, a familiar name greets him. Yours, in big bold letters. That’s...that’s pretty doable. His favoritism for you is already blatant to the point that Soonyoung gets jealous. You’d been working hard since, well— the moment you’ve been a member of fucking SVT. He can just tell you to sit and rest and transfer your tasks over to the other guys.

“Hey.”

Seungcheol calls out to you, who’s sitting on the seat Jeonghan gave away earlier. Seokmin and Jihoon are hyping up the crowd (mostly Seokmin), but you’re hunched over in your seat, massaging your temples while looking over a document. “Chair,” you snap up, visibly tired and stressed (and unrested, by the way). “A few members are absent, so the number of members for each group for the team building later are mismatched. Should we keep it as is, or should we transfer some of them?”

A pang of guilt hits him. Christ, he’s been taking advantage of your competence and diligence. “Transfer, but leave that list with me. I’ll take care of it.” He lays a hand on your shoulder, urging you to go rest inside one of the hanoks for now. “You didn’t even nap on the bus. Go get some sleep. I’ll ask one of the guys to wake you before team building.”

You look up at him, smiling. Oh, his poor successor. He’s been overworking you to the bone. “Will do, Chair. Thanks.”

He mirrors your smile, watching fondly as you walk into one of the houses. It’s all warm and sweet. Until it’s not.

Seungcheol jolts. He feels a chill run down his spine. What the fuck? 

He whips his head around, startled by the sudden cold flash. Then, from a few feet away, he spots Jeonghan, preparing the multicolored handkerchiefs for the team building, but has stopped arranging them by color because he is glaring daggers at him. Hello? What in the world? He’s about to approach, but then he staggers in his steps upon seeing you pass by Jeonghan’s station. 

Jeonghan stops working, circling from behind the station to say something to you. You say something back— something that’s enough to tighten Jeonghan’s expression, and Seungcheol knits his brows. He can’t hear what you two are talking about, but he’s pretty sure it’s an argument. Oh god. It is an argument. You’ve got your angry face on and Jeonghan is raking his hair. Oh no. You two have been so well-behaved. You’ve been getting along so, so well lately. Is he at fault for ruining your peace?! How was he supposed to know your ex-boyfriend is a jealous bastard?! He was just doing his task and being nice to you!

“There goes all our progress.”

Seungcheol snaps his head back to see Jun. He’s sipping on a juice box, a leftover from lunch. There’s a good amount of disappointment in his face. “Pro—progress?” 

Junhui pulls down the juice from his mouth, shaking his head. “Hyung. You’ve ruined everything.”

Now, what the fuck is this cryptic bullshit? Jun just walks away, leaving even more crumples in Seungcheol’s brain. Seokmin and Jihoon’s performance is about to end, the mic screeches, and an applause breaks out, but he’s still debating on what to do. Should he pry information out of Jun? Or run after the both of you? However, he gets to do neither because at the end of the intermission, Seokmin does something off-course.

He’s supposed to pass the mic to Seungkwan by now, to announce the short break before team building. But Seungkwan isn’t here, and Seokmin is still holding the mic, and the crowd is still cheering. He meets eyes with Seokmin onstage. A bad feeling hits his gut. And since the breakup meeting that happened a few weeks ago, Seungcheol has learned that whatever his gut is feeling is unquestionably correct.

“The show isn’t over yet! Let’s give it up to our dependable, hot, and arguably aging Chairperson— Choi Seungcheol! Woohoo!”

This.

This was not part of the program that he remembers approving.

“Choi Seungcheol! Choi Seungcheol! Choi Seungcheol!”

This was definitely not part of it at all.

“Again, give it up for Mr. Chair!”

Illit’s Magnetic, Viviz’s Maniac, and KIOF’s Midas Touch later (with his face mimicking a red and ripe cherry), Seungcheol was finally allowed off the stage. “Wow! That’s our Chair, everybody! Who knew he was hiding this kind of charm?” Seungcheol wants to die. Seokmin’s voice is cheery in the microphone, but his officer suddenly turns his face away from the mic to whisper something to him. “Hyung,” Seokmin’s voice is suddenly grave. “I got a text from Seungkwan. He says he can’t find the VCs.”

Oh, fuck this. He’s going to kill himself.

“Tell—tell the kids we’re gonna have some free time first before proceeding to the team building.” Seokmin nods. Seungcheol’s face is still very very hot, but he swallows the embarrassment aside for now to deal with this problem. You and Yoon Jeonghan can’t just disappear. You’re both leading two teams for the games. Well. Maybe he can give you a pass, but Jeonghan is still needed out there. He feels unreasonably wronged by him too for that glare earlier. 

Seungcheol marches into the hanok. He spots an equally stressed looking Seungkwan inside the living area. Mingyu and Jihoon are there, too. So are Joshua, Vernon, and Chan. Why are they all here? They’re supposed to be preparing for the team building. These kids are slacking.

He’s gonna give them an earful later. For now, there’s a bigger issue to solve. “Where are the two?” 

“We don’t know!” Seungkwan exclaims. “We’ve been looking for them too.”

He hears a sniffle come from one of them. It’s from Soonyoung. “The last I’ve seen them, they were arguing.” Seungcheol gulps. Maybe…by any chance…that may have been his fault? “This happened with my parents too. And they came back with divorce papers.”

“Stop projecting your unresolved familial trauma onto them,” Jihoon sighs. “They aren’t your parents.”

“I’ve sent a text to Wonwoo and Minghao hyung,” Vernon brings up. “Maybe they’ve seen them.”

At that moment, Minghao enters the living area. Seven heads snap to his direction. Minghao stops in his tracks. “What?” He looks awfully relaxed, not looking as though he had just dealt with two ex-lovers who say they hate each other and that it’s over, but have too much sexual tension for their assertion to be believable. In fact, he looks quite at peace. Satisfied, even. Accomplished. This is fucking suspicious. “Isn’t it time for the team building activities?”

“Hao,” Seungcheol starts. “Have you seen the two Vice Chairs?”

Minghao looks at them. There’s a pause of anticipation. There’s literally no reason for this suspense build-up. “Oh,” Hao exhales. Why are they all waiting for the pin to drop? “I did.”

What they hear next, they never could have been prepared for. 

“I locked them in a closet.”

The pin has dropped. 

Seungcheol is the first to speak up. 

“You...you what?” he starts. “Come again?”

“They were arguing,” Minghao shrugs. “I got annoyed.”

Seungkwan’s mouth is hanging open. “You— you got annoyed,” he stammers. “So you…”

“Locked them in a closet,” Minghao finishes. “Yeah.”

It doesn’t hit them at first. Then it does. It hits them hard.

They all exchange looks. In a matter of soundless seconds, they immediately run to the direction Minghao just came from. What does he mean he locked you and Jeonghan in the closet, why would he lock you two in the closet, locking you two in the closet is a recipe for shit-eating disaster, does he want Yoon Jeonghan to fucking die?

“Shit, what if Jeonghan hyung is dead?”

At least they’re all on the same page. They come to a screeching halt upon reaching the room at the end of the hallway, but there is no sign of either of you. The only semblance of humanity within the vicinity is Wonwoo, who is sitting at a table, headphones on, laptop open, and typing without a care in the world. 

Seungcheol’s eyes dart around the room. Closet. Closet. There’s an indication of a sliding door at the opposite wall. He walks up to it, hesitantly with shaky steps, his heart hammering against his chest. The others inch behind him in caution. Sweat starts trailing down from his forehead. He reaches out for the handle, one hand outstretched, and then—

“I wouldn’t open that if I were you.”

Wonwoo’s voice cuts through the tension. He freezes. They all look back at the man by the desk, unaffectedly writing his documents, the sound of keyboard clicking filling the gaps in the air. “Why?” Seungcheol chokes out. Thunk. Their heads snap back to the closet. He feels Soonyoung clutch him from behind.

“There was yelling from in there until a moment ago,” is Wonwoo’s simple answer. “I think they’ve moved on to something else.”

Another tense pause fills the room. “Who...who was yelling?” Jihoon raises. “What kind of yelling? Why didn’t you check if anything was wrong?”

Wonwoo wrinkles his nose, momentarily taking his eyes off from the laptop to give their huddled group a look of disgust. “And risk walking in on them making out or something? No, thanks.” Then resumes what he’s doing. They all look at each other. Surely, that can’t be the case, right? You’ve got more pride on your shoulders than to fold for Yoon Jeonghan just because of some contrived forced proximity. It’s more likely that you’ve found an opportunity to strangle him. To kill him in cold blood. Which is why they’ve all run here out of concern right now.

“Why would there be yelling if they’re making out?!” Mingyu exclaims, concerned.

“I don’t know the kind things they’re into,” Wonwoo leers at them. “And frankly, I don’t want to know.”

“Then...what are you doing here, hyung?” Vernon prods. “Of all places.”

Once more, Wonwoo stops typing to grace them with an answer. “This is the only spot with good reception.” This feels like a fever dream. Seungcheol does not know what to do. His attention is directed back to the closed closet door, hearing another...thud coming from within. He locks eyes with Seungkwan. And then Mingyu. And then Jihoon. Holy shit. In his four years of Chairmanship over SVT, this, by far, has been his biggest obstacle yet.

The officers before him never warned him about this. What exactly is the best course of action here? What would result in the least amount of emotional, mental, and physical repercussions? Leave the door alone? Unlock it and witness horrors untold? There’s still an event they have to manage. Seokmin is probably freaking out outside right now. Yet here they are, watching the unmoving and locked closet door with uncertainty and caution, like it’s an oracle that will show them the way, that will give them a command to do something. Anything. And, much to their surprise and horror—

“Mr. Chair.”

It does.

“Would you please unlock the door?”

The oracle is wearing the sound of your voice? No, wait. It is your voice. From behind the door. “Holy shit,” he hears one of them hiss out from behind. Holy shit indeed. Seungcheol knows better than to test your temper. Quickly, he reaches out for the handle, clicks it open, and a force stronger than his slides the door gaping and completely open, revealing the dark and until interiors of the closet.

You emerge from the darkness. So does Jeonghan. Alive. Unstrangled. Maybe? That’s up for debate because there are some visible marks on his throat. Seungcheol pretends not to see. 

“W—welcome back…?” Soonyoung hesitantly drawls out. You walk out from the closet, Jeonghan trailing behind you slightly from behind. You’re both still wearing the in theme hanboks, but the fabrics are clearly disheveled. And loose. And Jeonghan is hooking his fingers on the hand lagging behind you. And looking at the back of your head with a concerning amount of heart eyes.

You don’t mention a thing about it. “I believe we are behind schedule,” you simply say. “Team building, right? Let’s head off to our posts now.”

They don’t say anything about it either. Seungcheol clears his throat, creaking his body back to the direction of escape. “Y—yes. Everyone is waiting.” The rest follow. You all exit the area except for Wonwoo, who’s still doing his work. When Seungcheol turns back to check on you two— you know, just in case— he immediately regrets it.

Jeonghan is still a step behind you. But he leans slightly forward, dipping his head down to reach your ears. His mouth moves, whispering something. A silent laugh cracks through your features. A laugh. Not once has laughter occurred since the beginning of this predicament. Not a. Single. Instance. You bump your elbow against Jeonghan’s chest. Jeonghan continues to move behind you with a thin smile on his face.

He sees nothing. They see nothing. They leave the house. They immediately scatter to inhale fresh, free air.

“Hyung! Oh my god where have you guys been?! The members are waiting!”

An unspoken agreement was formed. There will be no further mention about this occurrence. Not a single word. 

*‎

“TODAY IS SEPTEMBER 27, 20XX. THE MEETING WILL NOW PLEASE COME TO ORDER. Mr. Secretary, please call the roll.”

“Yes, Mr. Chair. Please say ‘present and voting’ once your name is called to be acknowledged.” 

It’s the first Executive Board meeting after SVT’s Orientation and Membership Training. The agenda for today is just a feedbacking session on the said event. Seungcheol yawns, not bothering to cover it up with the clipboard and Seungkwan sends him a dirty look for it. Wonwoo carries on with the roll call, one after the after stating their attendance for the meeting today. It’s the same routine for the most part. Seungcheol glances at the empty spaces on both his left and right. He taps on the table with a pen impatiently. 

“Secretary, yours truly, present and voting,” Wonwoo drones one. The two seats are still empty. Seungcheol digs his pen into the wooden surface. “Vice Chairperson-External?” 

No answer. Wonwoo continues.

“Vice Chairperson-Internal?

Still no answer. Wonwoo continues.

“Chairperson, Mr. Chair?”

“Present,” Seungcheol gruffs. God damn it, where the hell are you and Jeonghan? This feels like a rerun of their group traumatic experience last week. “Proceed.”

“Yes, Mr. Chair. There are twelve out of fourteen officers present. We are in quo—”

The door swings open.

You and Jeonghan enter in a hurry.

“We’re sorry we’re late!”

Again. Seungcheol feels the horrible, wrinkly slap of deja vu. His eyes follow while you and Jeonghan rush to your seats, out of breath and in a hurry. Joshua has stopped flicking origami frogs on the table. Seokmin and Mingyu pause in between chair spins. Junhui’s mouth is glued to the latte straw while darting his eyes wide back and forth, between you and Jeonghan. And Minghao cannot be bothered by any more relationship problems.

Wonwoo clears his throat. “Fourteen out of fourteen officers present, Mr. Chair,” he amends. 

“Yes, thank you,” Seungcheol sighs out. “Seeing that we are in quorum, it is now legal for us to conduct business. Mr. Secretary, will you please read to us the agenda for today’s meeting?”

Much to his surprise, the meeting proceeds quite...smoothly. Wonwoo reads out the agenda. No objections. They start the feedbacking session. No problems. The incident with the closet is not even mentioned. Not once. Not even a hint despite the shared knowing looks when Seungcheol asks if there are still more matters to discuss.

“No more, Mr. Chair,” Vernon confirms. Seungcheol nods. This is going awfully well. When’s the curveball going to hit him? When? “Thank you, Mr. Auditor. Since there is nothing else on the agenda, let’s proceed to announcements.” He looks at his clipboard. There’s only one thing scribbled under announcements. It’s not his handwriting. Seungcheol squints. “Lee Chan’s...pool…barbecue...dance party on the 29th?”

There’s a pause. Seungcheol looks up from the clipboard.

“What is this?”

All eyes are on Lee Chan. He looks like he enjoys the attention. “Lee Chan’s pool barbecue dance party on the 29th,” he answers, as a matter of fact. “You’re all invited.”

This is the curveball he’s been expecting. Seungcheol feels a knot in his temples. “How many times do I have to say this?” he releases a heavy breath. “Announcements on the order of business are reserved for org-related announcements. It is not an opportunity for you to invite everyone to your parties, nor to your outings, nor to your nephew’s baptismal shower, Soonyoung.”

The man in question swallows down a gulp. Seungcheol sighs for the nth time.

“I hope that is crystal clear.” He’s so done. He’s so tired. When is adjournment coming? Why can’t it come sooner? “Anyway, do we have any other announcements? Relevant announcements, rather.” Seungcheol sees you with your arm up. He feels a rush of relief. “Yes, Ms. VCE, you are raising your hand?”

You put your hand down, allowing it to rest gingerly on the table when you say, “Thank you for the acknowledgement, Mr. Chair.” You look like your usual self— in between smiling pleasantly and staring blankly. Seungcheol nods, prodding you to continue. You do. “I would like to put the matter of my resignation on today’s table, Mr. Chair.”

“Oh, yes, the matter of your—” 

A screeching halt. Seungcheol’s tongue stops working. He stares at you, wide-eyed.

“Sorry, can you repeat that?”

“My resignation.” You pull out a white, ghostly envelope from somewhere. His throat tightens. “I am filing it today and hoping for its immediate attention.”

It’s like time stops completely. The entire office is frozen. They wait for you to say it’s a joke. Any moment now. Please.

“Mr. Chair?” you call out. “Allow me to repeat. I will be resigning from my position as Vice Chairperson-External. What process do we need to undergo to finalize this?”

You don’t say it’s a joke. You are dead serious.

“No?!”

“Did—did I hear that right res—res—resigna—hiccup!”

“Breathe in, Seokmin. Breathe out. Yes that’s—”

“Why would you do this to us?! Why?!”

“Oh my god, it’s happening to me again, it’s happening to me again—”

“What do you mean resignation, what the hell are you talking about?” Seungkwan shoots up from his seat, slamming his palms against the table in distress. “Aren’t you two back together?! Why would you resign?!”

It’s a mess. It’s a room of hysteria and panic except for you, him and Jeonghan. Seungcheol is trying his best to...understand. To not throttle you and shake you violently because why? Where did he go wrong? Has he not been treating you well enough? Did he need to compliment you more? Do you need more compensation? 

Whatever the reason is, you’re looking awfully calm being the recipient of manic yells and hyperventilated cries of anguish. Jeonghan, too, is quiet. He’s just seated there, arms on the armrest, like he is in a completely different room altogether. Seungcheol narrows his eyes at him. Did he do this? Did he talk you into resigning? That bastard— how could he! Seungcheol’s heart is broken, not just once, but twice. First, from his dearest protege. Second, from his (formerly) trusted right hand man.

“Ahem.”

Before things could get worse (i.e. Soonyoung and Seokmin full-on sobbing and begging on their knees), you catch their attention. You look at them, calmly, and, with a carefully enunciated voice, begin your piece that brings all of them to silence. 

“I sincerely apologize for the trouble that our personal issues have caused to SVT,” you begin, a singular glance at Jeonghan. Seungcheol bites his tongue. Traitor. Evil man. Evil jealous man. “I am well aware that my recent behavior has led to some lapses in the organization’s operations, clearly seen in the management of our latest event. We have all heard the feedback, the concerns—where things went wrong. As you have witnessed, it is quite difficult for us to separate our personal feelings from our professional work here in the org, which was the root of most of our experienced problems.” 

That is not true! No one has the best work-life balance than you! Granted, there was an issue just earlier in the month, but Seungcheol can overlook that! He can overlook it as long as you take back your resignation, and take on his spot as Chairperson next semester!

“Which is exactly why I’m resigning,” you decisively say. Shit. “There were a lot of…ingredients that eventually led to the unforeseen outburst between Mr. VCI and I during one of our previous meetings. One of those ingredients was my affiliation with the organization. The rest of the details can be found in my resignation letter. Thank you for allowing me to serve thus far.” 

It’s like a needle pricked most everyone in the room and left them deflated. Chan looks sunken. Even Jihoon. Minghao just looks like he’d been expecting this. Kim Mingyu looks like he cannot accept this.

So he jerks out of his seat, springing to his feet, and points an accusatory finger at Yoon Jeonghan.

“You!” Mingyu shrieks. “Say something!”

“Hyung,” Seokmin adds onto the pile. He’s choked up and about to cry. “Are you just gonna let this happen?”

For the first time since, Jeonghan finally speaks up. But his tone is…sourer than expected. “What do you want me to say?” he starts. It makes everyone jolt. “That you’ve been overworking my girlfriend since freshman year to the point that we started arguing about it because she’s been skipping meals and sleep and taking care of herself just to manage the org?”

Even you flinch. There’s an apologetic look on your face, but there’s no denial. 

Jeonghan lets out a sigh. Oh, Seungcheol realizes. Oh. Oh, crap. Maybe. Maybe he and SVT had a lot more to do with your breakup that he initially thought. The workload. The shit you had to catch and bury with your bare hands whenever the org had problems, had too much to do, had one person in mind to fix up any messes made. Maybe they’ve been relying on you too much. Maybe he’s been relying on you too much and Yoon Jeonghan noticed that.

Of course Jeonghan would notice that. He’s been dating you under their nose for god knows how long. That explains why Jeonghan would suddenly act pissy towards him. It was whenever you’d been tossed in a sinkhole of work.

Once more, you clear your throat. “I have immense attachment to this organization. However, my priorities have shifted. I am sincerely grateful and sorry, but I hope all of you understand.”

It starts clicking inside each head, one-by-one. It’s slow. It’s hard to accept, but they eventually do. Seokmin eventually stops sniffling. Soonyoung stands up to give you a hug. This was a loss for all of them. All of them except you and Yoon Jeonghan. 

“Hyung, but why aren’t you resigning?” 

Jun pokes the bear one last time. It’s a question in all their heads, and Jeonghan’s expression alone isn’t enough to answer it.

“Jun-ah, do you want me gone?” Jeonghan replies, a little too seriously. They freeze. Then he laughs. “It’s going to be difficult to re-elect someone at this point, so I’ll be taking over some of her workload for the remainder of the semester. The rest of you should do the same as one last thank you to our now outgoing VCE. You owe her that much, at least.”

Before Jeonghan can start nagging, you quickly overtake his field of vision from his left. “Don’t worry, I’ll be finishing up my pending tasks, Mr. Chair. I will also be leaving some notes behind for everyone’s ease of—”

“What did I tell you about being more considerate to yourself?” the one from his rightbutts in. “These kids can handle it on their own. You don’t have to micromanage them. I’m begging you, stop overworking yourself.”

Okay, he sharply inhales through his nose. Seungcheol gets it. They all get it. No need to act all sweet in front of their faces and during org hours. It’s sending shivers down his spine. All of their spines. None of this spine shivering is healthy. “Please leave your resignation letter on the table. We will give some time for the other officers to read and consider it before making a final decision during the next meeting.”

You smile. “Thank you, Mr. Chair.”

“Thank you for your service, Ms. VCE.”

It hurts him to say this. It really does. You were the perfect successor. Now, who the hell from this pile of twelve men is he supposed to pick to be the next Chairperson? Does he have to— god forbid— retain his position?

Seungcheol lets out a sigh.

“Meeting adjourned. You are all dismissed.”

the breakup soup. © hannie-dul-set, 2024.

[mrslestappen]

Disease : paranoid ✦ cl16

summary: The fact that you have to work as a Formula One driver's assistant for your final college grade is not the worst of your problems; the true issue is that no one told you that you would become a emotional support human for him.

pairing: charles leclerc x assistant!reader

tags: fluff + angst?, caring charles (tiny bit) + comfort, bad thoughts.

# part one - next part [ series masterlist ]

Everything feels unreal. You're watching the mechanics work in the garage, and the only thing you can think is: has red always been such a pretty color?

It was the first race of the season, and you didn't have much to do yet, they told you that you just needed to make sure that Charles did everything that they asked him to do, and that was easy, thanks to him.

“Have you seen my notebook?" Charles asks as he looks around to see if he can catch a glimpse of the tiny notebook somewhere, you let out a chuckle, grab your purse from the floor and give him what he needs. 

“How is it that you always have everything I need?” he took the notebook from your hands and opened it “I try my best” he gave you a knowing look.

Charles still remembers the first time he saw you at the Ferrari headquarters in Maranello, you had just signed your contract with them and he had just been told that he had a new assistant. 

You were quite awkward and a bit clumsy when he first struck up a conversation with you. He learned that this was your first job, and he made a mental note to make you feel welcome, and also he didn't want you to leave him like the others. 

He tried his best to make you feel as comfortable as possible before the season started, he was patient and generally nice, which was what you really needed at that moment. 

When you made your first mistake and didn't tell Charles that he was supposed to be in a meeting, he took the blame and told Fred that it was his fault. 

You thought he would be angry, but he just said "It's okay, everyone makes mistakes" and in that moment you thank the angels for making him such a nice person. 

"Thank you, Mr. Leclerc" 

"None of that, we are a team you and I, if you ever need help just come to me." 

That was a month ago when you were still new and walking on eggshells trying not to make any mistakes, luckily you got better after all your final grade depended on it. 

"Have you eaten today?" Charles asks, handing his notebook back to you, just needed to check something he thought he should comment on the car in the next meeting they will have. 

"I haven't, but I was about to do so," you told him as you walked out of the garage with him beside you, trying your best not to look at him to see his face, which probably had a disappointed look on it. 

"I thought you said you already ate." 

"I did." 

"What did you have?" 

"Coffee," you mumble softly as you enter the Ferrari hospitality, "that's not food y/n," he scolds you again, you already lose count of how many times he does this.

Charles grabs a plate and starts to put different kinds of fruit on it, "you already ate," he nods, "This is for you," you try to grab the plate out of his hands, but he stretches his arm as high as he can to make sure you don't have a chance to grab it. 

"It's my food, let me grab what I want," he ignores you, grabs your wrist, and walks over to one of the tables. 

He pulls out a chair for you and you sit down, he puts the plate in front of you and sits across from you, motioning for you to start eating, which you do, but not before giving him the meanest look you can.

You take out your phone and play a YouTube video while you eat, it is a bad habit and Charles has told you several times but he still watches with you. 

When you put the phone at the right angle so that you and Charles can see the video without any problems, you notice that he is not watching.

“Mr. Leclerc" you called him but he didn't answer, you sighed softly, you know he heard you. 

"Charlie?" 

"Yes?"

"You have to stop doing that," he tilted his head as if he didn't know what you were saying, "I shouldn't call you that," "Why not?" "Because you're my boss.”

"There's nothing wrong with calling me that, besides it makes me feel old when you call me Mr. Leclerc."

"You are old" 

"I'm twenty-six." 

The look you gave him was enough to make a dramatic gasp come out of his mouth, you were already used to his tactics so you didn't apologize for calling him old. 

When the alarm on your phone went off, you grabbed it and stopped it before it could keep ringing, "Time to go, you have a meeting," you said as you handed him his notebook that he needed for to take notes. 

He gave you a quick thanks, but you grabbed him and raised your hand, he gave you a pout, but you shook your head at that, he took his phone out of his pocket and placed it in your hand, "it was worth the try," he muttered to himself. 

✦ ✦ ✦

While you were waiting for Charles' meeting to end, you took out your laptop and started to finish the assignment you were supposed to send for this month. 

You were quite happy when your professor told you that all you had to do was to send in a report on what you had done, the experience you had gained, and what you had become better at, for your monthly assignment. 

It was a pretty easy assignment since you were traveling around the world and learning things that you didn't even know existed, and since this was your first job, it was easier for you because you were learning a lot of new things. 

“Y/n?" You took your eyes off the computer and looked at the person calling your name, you tilted your head as if to ask if they needed anything but they shook their head and motioned with their hand towards the hospitality door. 

You quickly grab your things and walk to the door to greet your friend, "Did you see what Professor Brown posted in the announcements?" You shake your head and ask, "Is it something important?" "Depends, he wants us to take pictures of what we have been doing lately." 

It didn't sound too bad, if the assignments continued to be like this, you were pretty sure you'd get an easy A. 

"Did you do it?" You ask her, "I did," she nods, "but I came here to tell you because I know sometimes you don't check the announcements," you give her an embarrassed smile, "I'm not that bad," you mutter softly, and she gives you a look, which you shrug off. 

"Well, I'm going back, I'm pretty sure Lando is already out of control again, see you, take care," she gave you a quick hug before walking quickly towards the McLaren hospitality. 

You watched her go and sighed, taking your phone out of your pocket, ready to take some pictures to send with the assignment, "Hey, have you seen Andrea?" You jump a little at the voice next to you, "Don't do that, and yes he’s in your driver's room, are you okay? You've been acting weird since yesterday" you ask him with concern evident in your voice, but he quickly shrugs it off and tells you that he is fine. 

You make a mental note to ask him later. "I'm going to exercise, go to my driver's room if you need anything, okay?" You nod, take his phone out of your purse and hand it to him. 

He quickly says goodbye and walks away before you can say anything else to him, you have noticed that Charles has been acting strange since you arrived in Bahrain. 

You have been meaning to ask him about it, but every time you get the chance he seems to run away, which is so unlike him. 

You snap out of your thoughts and head back into the hospitality area, ready to take some pictures and send off the assignment. 

✦ ✦ ✦

Practice one is about to start and everyone is running around making sure everything is perfect. The only thing that seems not to be here is the driver. 

"Y/n, where is Charles?" Fred asks, you want to shrug your shoulders but then you remember that this is your job, and you should know where he is, you look at him and tell him you're going to get Charles, and he gives you a thumbs up.

You look for Charles everywhere, including his driver's room and the hospitality area. Has he left? You were pretty sure you saw him a few minutes ago.  

How can a person disappear so quickly? you even ask people from other garages and they haven't seen him. 

You tried to call him, but his phone was dead, it didn't even send you to voicemail. 

"Y/n!" You hear someone yell your name and quickly turn your head towards Carlos, he seems out of breath, and you can see his chest rising and falling faster than normal.

"Charles is in my driver's room, I don't know what happened," he said, but that was enough for you to start running towards the Ferrari driver's room. You still shouted a thank you to Carlos and that seemed to have caught the attention of other people who looked at you strangely.

But you did not care about that, you needed it to find Charles and to make sure that he was ready to get into the car. 

You reach the driver's room trying to catch your breath as much as you can, you probably look terrible with hair sticking in your face from how much you've been sweating, you want to kill him for making you suffer like this.

You were now outside Carlos' driver's door and you could hear soft mumbling, was he talking to himself?

You knocked softly on the door and waited for an answer, when you got none you decided to open the door. 

"Charles how can-" you couldn't continue as Charles was lying on the floor with his hands on his head rocking back and forth as if trying to calm himself down, your thoughts of scolding him left you just by seeing him in such a vulnerable state.

You walked as slowly as you could and bent down to his level. You grabbed one of his hands, and that was enough for him to look at you quickly. 

"I'm sorry - I can't, it's going to be like last year," he said quickly, you know from what you heard that last year was not a good one for Charles, the car didn't seem to work for him at all, you didn't know he was that affected by it, and now looking at him you didn't want him to feel that way. 

He's such an amazing person and always so happy and joking with you, but he was hiding a lot of things that had hurt him and you couldn't let that happen.

"Hey, you can do this, okay?" both your hands grab his face and you give him a tiny smile, "I can't..." you shush him and try to get as close to him as you can, were you allowed to hug him? You did not know, but at that moment he probably needed it. 

"Hey, those bad days don't define you, you're amazing and such a talented driver, last year the car wasn't good, let's leave that in the past, okay? This is a new opportunity and you're going to show everyone who Charles is, you're going to make them eat their words, so go and destroy them, champ". 

That seems to make Charles' worries melt away a bit, you told him to take a deep breath with you, and when you felt that he was better you slowly let him go. But that seems to be a wrong move, because when you do, Charles seems to look at you as if you took something away from him, but you ignored it. 

"Okay champ get up, time to make jaws drop with your amazing driving" you joked and you were quite happy because you could see the corner of his mouth move up a bit. 

"Thank you, Mon ange" 

"None of that, we are a team, you and I, remember?" 

He nodded and in that moment he let himself look at you while you smiled at him, he felt as if your smile had the power to melt away his worries leaving behind a feeling of peace, in that moment he was grateful for you, he took a deep breath and let it out, there was nothing to worry about.

He's pretty sure this season will go well with you by his side because you wouldn't leave him, would you?

Scuderia :: @evie-119 @tempo-rary-fix @spookystitchery @boiohboii @halleest @itsjustkhaos @aphroditeisamilf @vicurious28 @lozzamez3 @doofenshmirtzevil-inc @heyheyheyggg @teamnovalak @fakeplastiqtree @michelleyw81 @lillyssh-tposts @these-books-are-ruining-my-life @kqliie @deliciousfestsalad @biitch-with-wifi @xohollie01 @charlesleclerc2003 @loloekie @elliegrey2803 @steamy-smoker @doesnt-care @delululeclerc @vip-access @theseerbetweenus @haikyuen @arian-directioner @marvelfangirl04 @melagem02 @rach3164 @zucchinimalfoy @scopeiguess @landoslutmeout @reiofsuns2001 @badussybumper @nixily @forevercaffeinated-lee @i-wish-this-was-me @gabys-gabs @entr4p3 @trouble-sistar @thef1diary @puttyly @solo2leo @f1and1d4eva @liliummz

Team radio: I hope you like! it I feel I could have done better but English is not my first language but I will do my best to improve, I will keep practicing and improving my writing every day.

[creekfiend]

I wanted to make a bonsai kitten recovery post that outlines some of the stuff that I've been doing. Because I don't think that you need to ✨see a therapist✨ to start dealing with a lot of this stuff and I get really frustrated when that is the answer that everyone is constantly giving. Firstly a disclaimer, because I know what website I am on: this is a guide for things that have worked for me! I am not everyone and if there are things on here that do not work for you or even that you think are stupid, that is fine, but please do not make it my problem. If you are reading it and you're like "that sounds like it would actually be detrimental to my specific mental health because of my specific issues" then please disregard it. Use your critical thinking skills and do what you think is right for you!

My second disclaimer is that I didn't make any of this up myself; most of these are collected from various places either in therapeutic guide books or various websites about emotional regulation etc. Some of it is stuff that I have extrapolated from those places based on experience with what works for me or does not work for me. A lot of the way that I treat myself when I need to get my body and brain into a place where I can think about stuff productively is actually directly from gentle parenting guides, because frankly cptsd recovery stuff is very often like parenting a toddler. And the toddler is you. ALL THAT SAID,

The first skill that I had to get good at, that many of the other skills depend on, is to learn how to understand when I am Reacting to something. If I am Reacting it is extremely likely that that's going to only escalate the situation and make it much worse. I HAVE to be able to tell if I am Reacting emotionally to something in a way that is coming from a place of fear and panic. This is important because it involves not being prescriptive about your emotions. You could be Reacting to something that you do not logically feel is at all justified in making you feel that way and that doesn't matter! You can't be doing math equations to try to come to the answer of how you SHOULD be feeling; you have to be observing your mind and body to see how you factually ARE feeling and then respond to THAT. This can be really hard to learn how to do especially if you were abused as a child. (If you cannot think of yourself as someone who is abused as a child perhaps it would help to think of yourself as someone who simply was not taught various emotional regulation skills for mysterious reasons that have nothing to do with your parents' inadequacies.) I need to be able to glance inward and see what the physiological reaction that I'm having is and identify whether or not I feel like this is the biggest emergency in the world that needs to be addressed right now immediately! That is a sure sign that Mr Fight and Mr Flight are in the building and it is bad to make declarative statements or important decisions when that is the case. So, I have to work on dismissing them first. That is literally the first step to any of this. One of my friends calls this "fire mittens," which is to say, if you are wearing mittens that are on fire and you try to touch stuff, the stuff will also become on fire. You have to put the fire out first before you can touch other things.

Once I have determined that I am indeed Reacting and in a physiological state of fear, I have a document in my notes app that is a "what to do when you are in fight or flight mode" guide and it has several helpful things that I will try to outline here.

Firstly, the really important thing for me for trying to get back into an emotional state where I'm capable of making decisions and being thoughtful is to feel safe and comfortable. So I actually have some stuff in my document that is straight up just like "go in the blankie nest. put on this specific music album. light this specific scented candle." etc. You might want to have a specific food or drink that is comforting to you or some other sort of stim toy that helps you regulate. If there's any calming medication or supplements for anxiety that you take as needed, now is also the time to do that. Physical sensory grounding is really important for this. This is probably especially true if, like me, you are neurodivergent, but I think it is also true for everyone because we are animals! And you can't just think about it, you have to actually do it. Which sounds obvious but is the thing that has often tripped me up in the past. Once you start getting into the habit of actually physically doing this it DOES become easier though.

One of my rules is that if I want to respond to something but I am in fight or flight mode, I don't get to respond to it for at least 24 hours. I'm only allowed to respond once I've gotten myself out of fear mode. If it is some kind of comment on Facebook that has set me off, often this means that 24 hours later I realize that I actually don't want to get into it to begin with, which is great. If it's something that is pretty serious and interpersonal with a friend, sometimes that means I have to communicate to them that I'm going to take a while to process it and then get back to them. IMPORTANT: You CANNOT do this passive aggressively or else it undermines the whole thing. You can't phrase it in a way that will make your friends think that you are guilt tripping them for "making" you feel a way. It is VERY tempting to do this when you are in the first stages of trying to form this habit and you simply need to resist the urge because it will render this step worthless. I know. It sucks.

If I am feeling fearful and insecure about friends or loved ones, I also usually try to spend some time thinking about the people that I love and care about. Because often this stuff manifest for me as insecurity that the people that I care about do not care about me, or that they think that I'm being annoying, or that they are secretly thinking mean things about me. It's obviously not good for me to constantly be imagining that the people in my life who I care about are actually avatars of my own insecurity who are here to tell me that I'm secretly fundamentally unlovable! But crucially also it's ALSO not fair to those people to imagine them as that. They are not that guy, they are their own complex human beings with their own lives and experiences and interiority. So sometimes I do thought exercises where I will imagine my friends or loved ones doing things in their everyday lives and I will think about them as people and I will think about the things that they like to do and the things that they say and the places that they go, and I will try to imagine them fondly in those circumstances. This helps to remind me that they are just people and that the scary puppet wearing their faces is not real. To this end I sometimes will have a document of screenshots of things that they have said to me that I can use to reality check myself. I personally find reality checks to be essential for a lot of this. Things can feel true when they are not true at all. Things can feel wrong when they are actually true. The point of most of these exercises is to gently remind myself that those feelings are normal for me to be having, but that I do not need to let them dictate my responses.

It is crucial throughout all of this that you are nice to yourself. You can't talk to yourself in a mean way while you're doing this, or you will not get to a point where you are feeling safe enough to react from a place of not-fear. You can't make yourself feel ashamed or defensive for your emotional reactions. This is the particular area where I find gentle parenting protocols helpful. You HAVE to be patient with yourself.

Ok that's all for now bc I ran out of steam but I will try to think of more to add on another day maybe. Godspeed everyone

[kiwiikato]

mommy’s here // ken sato x reader

Chapter Seven

warning: suggestive names??? slight boss bitch reader (dom) BUT FOR LIKE A TEENY TINY BIT 0.o NO MATURE CONTENT HERE…. unless??

masterlist

kenji wakes up during the night, groggy from the lack of a full nights rest in the many days that he's been taking care of the baby kaiju with you. and this being another one of those days.

he woke up to tapping on his face, opening his eyes to meet with mina who had a little mechanical hand tap at his chiseled cheek. "ken, the baby is awake. she is not calming down to videos or pictures of you and y/n. she needs you." mina 'whispers', trying her best to not wake you up in the process.

ken could only groan but not his head to which nina floats back downstairs. he turns to see you cuddled up next to him, one of your hands around lazily around him as the other one lays on the pillow above you.

ken slowly moves away, trying his best to not wake you up out of sympathy for the slight eye bags that your eyes adorned. he gently pulls your hand off his frame, laying it back onto the bed as he gets up. noticing your frog plush on the floor, he picks it up, dusting it off as he places it against your chest for you to hug in the time he is gone.

slowly stepping out of the room, he makes his way down the hallway. it isn't long before he's in the elevator going down to where the baby kaiju and mina now were, with the baby crying.

he walks up, instantly making her jump as she sniffled, he clapped his hands in a jingle as he transformed into ultraman. reaching into the containment unit, he pulls her out, resting her on his chest. he rubs her back, slowly tapping it to make her feel better.

it wasn't that long till she burped, a bit of saliva coming out of her mouth to which he groaned to, but chose to ignore in the time. it's been so long that he's been taking care of her with you, that he could tell when she just needed a good burp before going back to sleep.

but she didn't go to sleep. she stayed awake as she babbled from being placed back into the containment unit. she whined for him but kenji was too tired, tired from the lack of sleep and the events of the previous day. "mina, turn the videos on please." he mumbled as he walked away.

the videos worked as the baby happily watched, cheering occasionally at the clips of her dad playing baseball. kenji moved towards the couch he had in the room near them, throwing himself down.

mina floated to him, worried for his health and the events that happened to him a couple hours ago. "a simulated therapy session perhaps? i have several in my database." he looked at her aggravated, tired from everything. "really?" "maybe call someone? a friend?" mina insisted.

"yeah, wish i had one of those." he said as his slammed against the cooler cabinet under his seat. "you have friends. y/n is a friend." mina said as he fought the cabinet.

his calf slammed against it, making him wince as he fell down. he grunted but looked at mina, while grabbing the ultraman figure nearby him. "y/n isn't just a friend. she's my co-parent, like my partner in crime... well saving." he said as he ran his hand through his hair.

mina nodded, letting him be. kenji sat, his thoughts consuming him as he thought about what he could do. what could he do? he didn't really talk to anyone. he was popular but being a hero meant having to be distant with people. who could he call? then it hit him. he searched for his phone in his pocket, until he found their number.

▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄

a phone rang in a cozy themed room. a hand dived into the piles of magazines of famous athlete ken sato. "whoooo!" a cheerful child ran through the room as their mother answered. "hey settle down. hello?" she whispered as she put the phone to her ear.

"ami, it's ken. ken sato." the receivers eyes widened through her circular glasses at the call. "um, mr. sato. hi!" she enthusiastically responded at the call. "look, if this is about my comments, i can only judge you on what i see. if you want to set the record straight-"

she was cut off. "can we just chat? like, off the record?" ken's hand ran through his hair as he spoke, staring at the figure in his hand. on the other hand, a mother dealt with her child who ran around the room. "whoo! schuwatch! take that gazoto!"

she stared at her child as she sat on the couch. "i'm really busy right now... put that down!" she cut herself off, yelling at her child. ken stared ahead, his eyes widening slightly as the child yelled "boom! scatter drones!" whole throwing toy pieces up into the air.

"it's just... you're the only person who'll talk to me." his head flashed to the idea of y/n who laid asleep in the room above, knowing he couldn't ask her for advice as the both of them were struggling to take care of the baby kaiju.

"i'll make you a deal. i'll give you five minutes. but you have to give me a follow-up. a real interview this time." ami spoke into the phone as ken cheered, happy to have someone to talk to. "done. whatever you want!" he said smiling.

"okay, we are off the record." ami said.in that moment, the baby kaiju cried, sad that the videos of her ken were finished. "please mina, keep her busy." ken hurriedly whispered to mina, while pulling the phone away from his ear.

the baby's crying was cut short, but not early enough as you had found yourself waking up to it. you turned to see that you were the only one in the bed now, giving off an empty feeling. it felt weird, to grow so close to someone, only to unexpectedly loose that warmth over night. you shook your thoughts away, knowing you were only being dramatic in that moment from being tired.

getting out of bed with a creak, you exited the room, making your way to where your baby kaiju was. her crying was no more but you still wanted to make sure she was okay, especially since you had grown a fondness for her.

the doors to the elevator opened, showing her happily watching videos of kenji playing baseball. it was an absolutely adorable sight as you walked to her. your eyes drifted off to see kenji, awake, with his phone pressed against his ear from a distance. you waved at him, giving him a soft smile as he waved back, only to then point at his phone and then put his hand in front of you like a stop sign.

the hand signs were choppy but you understood that he was on the phone and wanted you to wait a bit before he went over there. you turned back to your unofficial official baby, seeing her coo. kenji watched from afar, a soft smile on his lips, slowly brought back to reality.

"ken, you still there?" "yep! i'm still here, im here," he sighed, "so what's the secret? how do you do it? juggle everything. your job, your kid?" he said going back into a more serious mode. don't you ever just want to jump out a window?" his voice rang through emi's ears as she watched her daughter play on the wall, doing a supported handstand, only to cartwheel into the room near it.

"ken, do you have a secret love child? because that would be a story!" ami spoke hushed with her hand cupping over her mouth. her eyes widened, excited at the idea like a middle school gossiping with her friends again over a new crush.

kenji on the other line nervous chuckled, scared to be caught in a sense. "ha ha nooo. just, uh, curious." her said trying to play it off. ami smiled, a small laugh leaving her lips.

"honestly, it's not easy, ken. they're like little monsters sometimes." ken smiled at the irony of his baby being a little monster, a kaiju to be precise. ami's daughter tumbled to the floor, a small 'mama' emitting from her lips in a cry, as she rushed over to ami to hold her. she laid her head on her lap, whining from the pain.

"but they can surprise you too. they have hearts and minds of their own. they're trying to discover who they are and what they want. and the only support they have, is us. imperfect, messed up us, dealing with our own issues, trying to figure out who the heck we are."

kenji stared at his baby kaiju who cooed at the videos of him, watching as you and her both playfully swung your hands with a bat motion. a soft smile came to his lips as ami's words rang through his head.

"and you know what? that's the beauty of it. i look at my daughter sometimes and think that i'm learning as much from her as she is from me." the baby kaiju swung back and forth, making sounds of joy as kenji's eyes widened, his phone in his hand moving down in awe. "amazing."

"yep, they sure are." ami responded, unaware of the thoughts that flew through ken's head. he rose from his seat, walking to mina as he whispered. "lower the containment unit." and so it did as it slowly went into the ground, leaving the baby out to the open.

your eyes snapped towards kenji walking to you both, confused and unaware of the revelation he was experiencing. the baby kaiju cooed, confused by stared at her dad with curiosity.

"and before you know it, she won't be interested in toys anymore and your heart will break. i'm sure you have no idea what i'm talking about ken." but he did, and it made him happy. he ran to the side, pulling out a giant kids baseball bat. it was colorful blue. he handed it to the baby kaiju, making her jump as she help it in her claws.

"ken? ken? and your five minutes is up. you gonna honor your part of the deal?" ami spoke, her voice echoing from his phone against his ear, practicing bat hits as the baby mimicked. you smiled seeing them play, deciding to join their side.

"oh uh uhm yeah yeah. tomorrow night?" ken responded distracted as he watched you jump with the baby. "oh uh sure." ami responded shocked at the sudden time. "great. tonkatsu tonki. 7:00? bye." he hung the phone up instantly, playing with the baby still as he shoved his phone in his pocket.

kenji turned to you, happy at the sight in front of him. "y/n! do you see this? she's copying me!" he said childishly excited as he ran over to you, leaving mina to play with her. "i see it, she want to be just like you." you said teasing him as he gave you a toothy smile. "yeah, she wants to be like me..." his words were hushed to himself, almost like he couldn't believe that he had became a role model.

a figure of imitation. he was now someone that a baby looked up to. he was like a dad. he's a dad now. his eyes swelled up slightly, almost like he was holding back tears as he rubbed at his eyes. you chuckled at his emotional reaction. "aww don't cry, i thought she was supposed to be the baby, hmm~"

his cheeks flushed red as he pouted at your teasing. "well maybe i want to be your baby..." he whispered softly, but yet you still heard him. almost like a chain reaction, you blushed making him blush more. "oh-" you said stunned, shocked even. "i don't mind-" you said with a sort of newfound confidence, only it didn't last long.

almost like a switch flicked in him, his head snapped to you in shock. his shy expression changed into a smirk as he wiggled his eyebrows at you. "oh really, huh? you wanna call me baby, don't you?" he said, his voice was husk as he teased you.

he boldly strutted to you, getting rid of the distance that separated the both of you as he now stood behind you, his body towering over you as his leaned down to your head. "you wanna call me baby, y/n? i think i'd prefer if you'd call me daddy." he voice was smooth, sweet and seductive all at once.

your skin heated from the emotions you felt, almost lime you could pass out in that second. "so? hm?" kenji was like whiplash, so sweet and gentle one second, than childish and silly, to a whole 180 as he switched to seductive and bold out of nowhere.

it was then that his words flashed through your head. "call you daddy huh? seems like someone else wants it more, don't you think?" you said as you turned around and pressed a finger against his chest, hooking it into his shirt roughly. he could only gulp, turning back into the shy and sweet kenji you were used to.

"oh! would you uh look at that- she's using the bat!" kenji nervously ran from you with his face red, hiding his face with his blue cap. you laughed at his reaction, smiling and trailing behind him as he faced mina.

"uhm mina, load up a park. maybe start her out with one of the older simulations." he said, acting as though nothing happened earlier. mina listened to him as you stood next to them both, watching g as the once dark, black-like room turned into a children's baseball park. it felt homey and cute, you couldn't help but relish in the sweet feeling.

you heard cheering to the side, noticing a holograph of a women show up. you recognized her, it was kenji's mom. you remembered those days where professor sato would ramble to you all the sweet little stories they went through as he searched for her after suddenly disappearing.

you couldn't help but frown at the idea but shook it off hering kenji praise mina. "nice touch mina." he said softly, running to the base in the middle, getting ready to play a game of baseball with the sweet baby kaiju you both grew to love.

note: a/n! i'm sorry if the chapter seems rushed, i just wanted to get one out to you all so you all won't have to wait that long :( ALSO FBNABDSJ THE WHOLE DADDY AND THEN SLIGHT DOMINANT READER - that's on me y'all, it's the voices in my head 👹 so i guess it's a teeny bit 'mature' but well, who doesn't mind some fan service >:3 also i won't be posting till after june 29 since i will be busy that whole day so i hope u all understand <3 I PROMISE U ALL THE WAIT WILL BE WORTH IT!!! trust me >:3

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[clockwayswrites]

City Pigeons Bleed Green Part 17

Somewhere in the back of Bruce’s mind, there a voice that was grateful that no one Bruce had slept with had experimented on their own child. With Talia and himself there were already lines that had been crossed, but what Danny had been through was another level of horrible. Which is why that tiny voice didn’t mater.

This wasn’t about Bruce, this was about Danny. Danny who looked ready to bolt again. Bruce reached out and placed his hand on Danny’s still cold cheek.

“Danny, being my clone doesn’t make being my son any less true.”

“That’s not—” Danny’s eyes welled with tears again and he leaned into the touch even as his foot scooted backwards. “That’s not how it works.”

“It does for us. Our family is messy. It’s complicated and confusing and… wonderful,” Bruce said. He spoke slowly both so that his words were clear, but also so that he could find the right words. “It’s a butler and orphans, assassins and demi-gods, sons and daughters and sometimes people who are neither. You being a clone is just one more thing in that mix. You’re still my son, if you’d like to be.”

“You can’t want me, I’m dead,” Danny insisted.

Jason set a pot down, loud enough that Danny’s eyes flickered to him.

“Kid, Danny, that doesn’t mater,” Jason said in a carefully controlled tone. “It’s the same as I’ve said before, they all know I died.”

Danny’s eyes widened, causing the tears to sleep free. He blinked rapidly.

“…Oh.”

-

They’re sat around the living room, each with their own mug of hot chocolate, even Bruce Wayne— even… well, Danny supposed it would be Tim Drake-Wayne, once he had shown up. He had flown through the door as he spoke through gulped breaths of air. He didn’t have a domino on either. They all sipped slowly at their drinks.

They were waiting for him to talk.

Talking seemed an insurmountable challenge.

Danny took another sip of the hot chocolate and licked the sugar sprinkle bat from his lips. He didn’t look at them as he spoke.

“Dick Grayson, Jason Wayne, Tim Drake-Wyane. Cassandra Wayne… Duke Thomas, and Damian Wayne. I don’t know Spoiler or Oracle. I only… I looked up Bruce Wayne on a library computer after I ran. That’s why I know.”

“Close friends of the family,” Mr. Wayne said.

“And ex-girlfriends,” Night— Dick spoke up.

“Right. Red— Tim said him and Spoiler had dated.” Danny mumbled. He glanced over at Hood from under his bangs. Hood… Jason? Hood. Too many changes. Hood hadn’t said anything since he had revealed everything.

He must have noticed Danny looking though, because he sent a melancholy smile Danny’s way. “I get it. We kept a really huge piece of information from you, but we didn’t lie. When we said you had us no matter what Bruce Wayne did, we meant it.”

“But he’s your dad.”

“And that means we're all very good at not listening to him,” Tim said proudly.

Mr. Wayne just gave an amused snort at that.

“Dandelion,” Hood said, ignoring his family, “the first time that you looked up at Red and I we both clocked who you were instantly.”

“Not the clone part,” Red added.

This time it was Danny who gave a little snort.

(Fuck, they even snorted the same.)

Hood just flicked Red off. Tim. “Sure, not the clone part.”

“Because someone wouldn’t let me take DNA,” Tim interrupted again.

“It’s corrupted anyways,” Danny said and suddenly all eyes were on him again. He ducked his head down into a shrug. “From my death. This form I guess it would match enough? But my ghost form wouldn’t be any help.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” Tim said softly. “But also Hood was right, you didn’t deserve us doing that to you right then, even if I just wanted to help. But that doesn’t mean we didn’t know that you came from Bruce. You just came from him in a different way than we thought.”

“You were family right away, kid,” Hood said. “If didn’t matter your name or pronouns or history or if you’ve died or even that you’re a clone. As soon as we got a good look at you, you were family.”

Danny could feel the tears coming again and he wiped at his eyes in frustration. He wanted to just stop crying today.

“You could have been wrong,” Danny said. They didn’t get it, why didn’t they get it?

“Could have. But you were still a hurt kid that needed help,” Hood said.

“You don’t need blood to be family,” Dick said. “Me and Jason and Tim and Cass and Duke… Alfred, none of have blood with each other or Bruce and Damian. If you had turned out to not be related to Bruce at all? Well, you were already family.”

The tears came now and Danny couldn’t stop them. The hot chocolate was taken carefully from his hands by Jason while Dick pulled him into a hug.

“I don’t— I don’t get it,” Danny said through the sobs. “Why can you all— why can you all love me after a month when they— when my— when the people that were supposed to be my parents never did?”

“Danny—”

“They killed me!” Danny roared. He was shaking now and Dick help him tighter. “They made me just to kill me and cut me into pieces! I was their son! I was…. I was their son. Why couldn’t they love me?”

Between one blink and the next Mr. Wayne was up from his chair and in front of Danny. His large hand was so warm on Danny’s cheek. Danny sobbed harder.

“I don’t know, sweetheart, I don’t know because you are so loveable. It’s something wrong with them, not with you. I already know you’re wonderful and I can’t wait to get to know you more.”

Danny didn’t get it.

Danny didn’t believe it yet.

But god did Danny want it.

Danny flung himself forwards, landing in the arms that were waiting to catch him, and let himself cry.

-

“Nose bleed stopped and he’s resting now. Jay is staying in there with him in case he wakes,” Dick said as he closed the door to Danny’s bedroom softly behind him. A sad, wet blue lump was in his other hand. “We’ll try to get his bear dried out, it was in the bag he took.”

“See if the dryer has an air dry setting,” Bruce said. When both sons in the room looked at him in surprise he just gave a little shrug. “Dickie used to play with Zitka outside all the time. I learned to help make sure she was always ready for bed.”

Dickie gave a little laugh. It was heavily tinged with stress, but it was a laugh. Bruce would take what he could get right then. Jay still had a job, so he’d be alright for now. Dick would need to stay busy and close to people, but both those would do most of the work for the moment. It was Tim that Bruce had to worry about the moment; he was being very silent.

“Tim, chum, are you done with your drink?”

Tim blinked up from staring down at said drink. “What?”

Bruce crouched down in front of Tim (trying not to think of how he crouched down in front of a sobbing Danny just a bit ago) and took the mug. “What are you turning over in that head of yours, chum?”

Tim fiddled with his nails now that the mug was out of his hands. Bruce wouldn’t stop it unless Tim managed to make himself bleed. It wouldn’t be the first time or the last.

“Sweetheart?”

“It’s going to take him a long time to believe us— this,” Tim said, the words almost a rush.

Bruce nodded slowly. “That makes sense.”

“And he could run again,” Tim continued, still speaking quickly. “It could all be going well and then suddenly he could be thinking of running again because he’s doubting things.”

“Okay Tim,” Bruce said with careful words. His mind was running through all the times when Tim had pulled away from the family, “what do you think we can do to help that?”

Tim shrugged and looked away. “I guess— I mean, saying things to him is good but it won’t get as far as actions. And those actions need to include making him feeling useful.”

“But—” Dick started, the dryer now rumbling away in the linen closet.

“I’m not saying make him do work,” Tim interrupted. “But until he can consistently believe that we want him in the family, him feeling useful will help give him a reason to stay. As long as he’s useful, he won’t think that there’s no reason for him to stay when he thinks no one wants him around.”

Gently, Bruce reached out and took Tim’s hand away from where his cuticle had started to split and bleed. He pulled out his handkerchief and dabbed at the spot gently. “We’ll make sure to offer him ways to help out. We’ll talk as a family about where the lines will be and what sort of work is alright, especially as Danny is still healing.”

Tim took a careful breath and nodded. “Good.”

“And Tim?” Bruce waited until Tim was looking at him to continue. “I love you and I’m very glad that you are part of this family.”

-

Bruce sent Dick back to the manor after Cass arrived. They talked about what was best and agreed together that for Danny, Bruce still needed to be here in the morning. Bruce knew Dick hated to leave, but he was the other one who could handle Damian and whatever moods this may have invoked. And they were both worried about pulling Jason away from Danny right then.

Once Dick had wrangled Damian, they all had a meeting. Jason joined in with headphones Tim delivered and stayed mostly silent. Alfred lingered behind Dick’s shoulder.

Bruce went over the day, doing his best to treat it like a debrief just so that he could get through it without his heart breaking the rest of the way.

Danny had run of his own volition, afraid that those who had hurt him would find them. He was most afraid of them hurting Jason and Damian. (Dick pulled Damian close). He wasn’t Bruce’s son, biologically speaking, but his clone. They would try, with permission, to take some blood and analyze it soon. There were worries about the state of Danny’s DNA that Bruce wanted them to look into, for Danny’s safety.

There was worry any tests might set Danny off.

Danny knew about their identities, though they did not share Stephanie and Barbara’s name— both girls gave their go ahead. He seemed confused, but alright. They had to be ready for a possible out burst over it later after everything that had sunk in.

They would be sure to give Danny things to do that made him a quick part of the family, Bruce wanted everyone to think what those would be. There was to be nothing that was patrolling or anything dangerous. They would all agree on the list.

When Bruce ran out of things to say, Alfred stepped forward, there as always to help with the next step. “Is there anything specific I should prepare for his room?”

“Blue,” Cass suggested.

“Stars,” Tim said from where he was tucked into Cass’ side. “He likes space. Maybe one of those projectors that turns the ceiling into the night sky?”

“Soft blankets,” Jason spoke, a quiet addition.

“An air diffuser, natural scents like flowers and earth,” Dick chimed in.

“A… a pet,” Damian said, words uncharacteristically hesitant, though he straightened up defiantly at the look of confusion on everyone’s face. “If he is a flight risk, then a pet will be something he stays for. It will also be a responsibility for him that is little effort and not dangerous. Also, when he needs company but the family is… overwhelming, his pet will be there for him. There are many cats and some suitable dogsat the shelter right now, I will take him.”

Bruce’s mouth twitched up in a little smile. “That’s a very good idea, thank you. I’m sure Danny would like your help, after we introduce you two properly.”

Damian nodded, though that slight uncertainty was still there in the curve of his shoulders.

“Dami?” Dick prompted.

“When will I be able to meet him? Properly.”

“How about in a few days, before we move him to the manor, I’ll bring you over with me, okay ayouni? We can bring lunch with us and have a meal together,” Bruce offered.

Damian nodded sharply, a slight smile on his lips. “Acceptable.”

“Good. We will try to have everyone over before we move Danny, which will be mostly on his timetable. For now, everyone get some rest.”

There was a chime of voices agreeing to that and signing off. Bruce made sure he was the last to leave the call.

---

AN: It's... mmm... not great day, so you all are getting this now instead of tomorrow when ao3 updates. Stay delightful, darlings <3

[kosije]

c/w ★ ׂ duke!miguel x fem!afab reader. smut. all smut. miguel tries to exercise restraint. spoiler alert: he fails. sins in silk extra <3

duke!miguel o'hara: who enjoys taking you in the most compromising of places.

he'll fuck you in the garden, behind the tall bushes of flowers taunting you on how loud you're getting.

"oh princess, i don't think it would fool anyone if they heard the flowers calling my name. if you can't bite your tongue, even the k-kingdom next door will hear of this."

"heavens," he groans. "i bet you'd like that, huh? want everyone to know how you have the best fucking cunt, yeah?" he all but moans into the back of your neck. "too bad it's all for me."

he'll excuse himself from the table just to eat you out inside the kitchen storage room, away from your father, his colleagues, and the cooks.

messily making out with your puffy pussy, moaning into your mound when your hand pulls on his hair. "m' baby needs 't don't she?" he slurs like a drunk man. his large hands wrap around, digging into the meat of your thighs only to pull himself in deeper. you're having trouble keeping your voice down, but thankfully the kitchen is a mess of noise and masks your low mewls and his groans completely.

he sneaks back to the table while you to your chambers, but you don't miss his cheeky "oh, im afraid i've already eaten dessert."

his favorite place, however, is the place he took you for the first time. he takes his time in those moments. working you up, till you almost break, then taking you apart only to put you back together over and over again.

slowly licks up your neck, with your legs fold in front of you, he pistons himself in and out of you. your antsy hands drop from your thighs to his back, up to his neck, and down into the sheets, crying out at how deep he fucks you—at how much you can see how he's been needing you. how he's been missing you.

it's in the way he kisses and worships your body, the way he whimpers whenever he's inside you, how he looks at you, even while around so many people at your father's party. how big they got when they saw you, how wrinkled the sides were when he smiled. in the way he holds you after he's fucked you—tight and warm. how he nuzzles into your neck, kissing your shoulder, completely flush to you.

but you're no better. calling out for him whenever you touch yourself, wearing his favorite color every time he comes around, with matching panties. how you wrap your hands over his arms, kissing the meat of them. how you hide little gifts, sonnets you've worked, sweets you've baked, intimates you've worn. and the way when he writes you back, "thanking you," you feel like you could die.

it's easy to secretly write about him. gush to yourself about your scandalous love with "mr. frown," you write for hours. tuck them safely into the hole inside your closet that you made when you were younger. you write all the days you don't see him, and when you do you always have to mention something from them.

"i wish time would stop when we are together, so we can see what forever feels like."

"i need you more and more every time we part. you take a piece of me with you i desperately need back. that spins and leaps inside of you when you see him again.

"if only you'd stay tonight, then my room wouldn't feel so empty."

when you tell him this, with that sparkly look in your eyes, he pauses. looking you over.

"it won't be good for us, princess."

"why is that?"

"i won't—i won't be able to control myself, just not safe for us."

"you don't know that," you all but plead. "you have to at least be curious, of what can happen if we try?"

he understands what you're referring to because those same thoughts bounce around his mind whenever he's alone, missing you. those pestering "what if's," that keep him up, keep him wondering. the ones that eat at his resolve.

so even though it's risky, and is no good for him at all, he sinks back into your bed. kisses the back of your neck, nosing your baby hairs, and whispers a weak, "i can never say no to you"

and for a night, you two don't have to spend it missing something.

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Honey Girl. Chapter Ten.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Eleven. Series Masterlist. The Playlist.

Chapter Synopsis - The two of you have some time to yourselves for what feels like the first time in forever.

Pairing - Dadsbestfriend!Bucky Barnes x female reader - soulmate au

Warnings - smut. cursing. mention of a panic attack. initial hospital setting. one alcohol mention.

Word Count - 4k

Authors Note - 10!! 10 whole chapters!! can you believe it!! pancake recipe taken from mr carlos sainz - thanks carlito <3. double date next chapter (with protective/jealous bucky, as requested ;)). and the much awaited conversation… coming very soon. thanks for the love and support and kindness. it means the world, always <3

as always, if you enjoyed this, please consider reblogging!! reblogs are the only way to circulate my writing, which generates more of it. feel free to send me a comment or an inbox, too!! thanks, my loves!! <3

Masterlist. Inbox.

“Before I came down to find you, your Mom raised a question with me.”

“… which was?”

He takes a deep breath. Exhales it shakily.

“She asked me how long you and I have been soulmates.”

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

“We can’t sit out here forever, honey.”

You stretch out your legs from where they’ve been tucked up against your chest, chin resting on your knees. Bucky places a hand on your thigh, thumb rubbing gentle circles.

“We can.”

He chuckles, pressing a kiss into the top of your head.

“I know it’s scary, but we can’t run from this any longer. We’re just going to have to face it head on.”

“I know,” you sigh, taking his hand in yours. “I’m just…”

You trail off, leaving words unspoken in the air like particles of dust in the sunlight.

“What are you so afraid of? Is it that they won’t support us? Honey girl, they aren’t gonna have much of a choice. We are literally soulmates.”

You’re trying to find a way to explain, but none of your thoughts are coherent enough to articulate into something comprehensible.

“I don’t know, Buck. At first, I think it was that. But now? Maybe I just feel guilty that we’ve kept something so huge a secret for so long. I used to tell my parents everything - by choice. That’s how we’ve always been. And suddenly, the biggest event of my life happens, and I… didn’t tell them?”

“You’re letting this guilt eat you alive, baby. Listen, I feel it too. You’re not alone in this. Do you know how many times your parents have asked me about dating in these last eighteen months? How many times we’ve talked about soulmates? And I guess I never lied… but I haven’t exactly told the truth. I’m just as guilty as you think you are.”

“I’m sorry,” you confess, resting your head against his broad shoulder. “I’ve had such tunnel vision with this whole situation. I’ve been selfish. I should have thought about you more.”

“You haven’t had to.”

“Hmm?”

“You’ve got nothing to apologise for, honey baby. You’ve never had to ‘think about me more’, because you’ve known how I felt this whole time. In here.”

He places a hand over your heart. You close your eyes, letting the warmth from his palm bleed into your chest. The weight of it grounds you back down to Earth, tethered to your soulmate in more ways than one.

“That’s the beauty of it,” he continues. “You don’t have to guess how I’m feeling, or when I’m feeling it - because I’m always telling you. And you’re always listening.”

“I don’t deserve you,” you whisper, squeezing his hand where it’s still linked with yours.

“The Universe disagrees,” he whispers back, leaning in to kiss the spot underneath your ear. “I disagree.”

It’s all so tender, so gentle, so real, that a lump in your throat forms instantly. You blink rapidly, fighting back tears as you press your side into his. If you could sew yourself into his ribcage and live there forever, resting your head on his beating heart, you would.

“Come on,” he coaxes carefully, pulling you to your feet and watching to see if you’re steady enough. “Let’s do this thing.”

You stare up at him, lost in those ocean blue irises. For a moment, you swear you see the waves moving in them, crashing against the shore in a motion so comforting, it reminds you of home.

“I love you.”

Bucky smiles at you, pupils dilating and heart beating that little bit faster. He’ll never get sick of hearing those words.

“I love you more than all the stars in the sky, honey girl. More than anything.”

Tangling your fingers with his, you inhale deeply before taking the first step forwards, towards the front doors of the hospital.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

When you reach your Dad’s room, you drop Bucky’s hand as if by instinct. When he links your fingers once more, you panic momentarily, before realising it’s futile.

They already know. There’s no point in hiding it anymore.

You walk through the door hand in hand, pressed into each others sides as if it’ll keep you standing upright. Maybe it will.

Your Mom instantly bolts out of her chair, coming over to assess you. She looks you up and down, cradling your face in her hands as she checks you over.

“You were gone a long time, sweetheart. You okay? Have you been crying?”

Bucky lets go of you to give you some space, but doesn’t go too far. You can still feel his warmth from behind you as you watch your Mom’s eyebrows furrow with worry.

“I had… I think it was, um… like a - a panic attack, or something. I don’t know. I just got overwhelmed.”

Your voice sounds so small again, so fragile. You mentally chastise yourself for not being stronger for her.

“Oh, honey.”

She pulls you into her chest, stroking your hair just like she did when you were a child and had a nightmare. You’d run across the hall and into your parents room - your Mom would always bolt upright when she heard little feet on the wooden floors, waiting for you with open arms.

“Your Dad is gonna be fine. I promise you, the Doctors have said he’ll make a full recovery.”

“It’s true.”

The voice is croaky and rusted from misuse, but it unmistakably belongs to the man lying in the hospital bed.

You make your way over and sit down carefully, cautious and calculated. Your Dad takes your hand, stroking his thumb across your skin.

“I’m gonna be just fine, kid. I know I scared you, and I’m really sorry. But I’m okay. Promise.”

You smile at him, genuinely this time, before leaning in to press a quick kiss to his cheek.

“You guys should go home.”

“What?”

“You heard me. Go home, get some rest. The two of you look almost as exhausted as Lori does.”

Your Mom laughs, shaking her head. You chuckle, watching them. There’s no one funnier than your soulmate.

“I think we should stay a little longer, Jack.”

Bucky’s voice has all three of your heads whipping around to face him.

“Buck, please be on my side here. You’re tired. Go home, sleep it off. All I’m gonna do for the next twenty four hours is sleep anyway. There’s no point in you sitting here watching me like a bunch of creeps.”

You chew your bottom lip, watching your Dad’s face carefully.

“Mom, Dad - we need to talk about-”

“I know, babygirl,” your Dad interrupts. “And we will. But not here, and not now. We’ll do it when I’m home. We can all sit on the couch and drink your Mom’s cherry lemonade and talk about how you and Bucky have been soulmates this entire time.”

“Not this entire time,” you grumble at his attempt at a joke.

“Seriously, you two. I won’t ask again. Go. Home.”

You look at your Dad for a moment, before averting your gaze to your Mom. They’re both wearing the exact same facial expression - the one they used to give you when you’d refuse your bedtime as a six year old on a school night.

“Come on, honey. You heard them. We’re practically dead on our feet.”

You rise from the bed reluctantly, pressing another kiss to your Dad’s cheek before doing the same to your Mom.

“Call me if anything changes, or if you need anything. I mean anything, you guys.”

They both nod as your Dad does a mock salute, laughing at himself.

Bucky extends his hand out for you. This time, you don’t hesitate to take it. You hold it tightly all the way back to his truck, and then all the way back home.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

You and Bucky get ready for bed in silence, both of you flitting around your apartment as quickly as possible. You can’t wait to finally get under your duvet and lose the stress of the last twenty four hours.

The minute your head hits the pillow, you’re wide awake.

The exhaustion has seeped into your bones, making you weary but restless. You can’t settle, physically or mentally.

Bucky, on the other hand, is out like a light.

He looks so peaceful like this. The moonlight soaks through a gap in the curtains, illuminating his face like some sort of angel. His hair is a little longer than usual, stubble growing out across his sharp jawline. He looks rugged, a little rough around the edges. He’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.

As if he can feel your gaze on him, he cracks an eye open, blinking to adjust to the dimly lit room. He has a pillow crease across his skin, cheek flushed pink with a dusty blush.

“You okay, baby?”

His voice is hoarse and all sleep heavy, rumbling through you like gentle summer thunder.

“Can’t sleep,” you whisper, trying to fight back tears. “I’m so tired, Buck. So fucking tired.”

“But you can’t sleep?”

He pulls you into his chest, tucking your head into the crook of his neck and stroking your hair soothingly.

“It’s like my body is exhausted, but my brain is wide awake,” you mumble into his bare skin. “Doesn’t make sense.”

“Nothing makes sense,” he chuckles lowly. “Nothing in this goddamn world makes sense. Except for me and you.”

Bucky spins you in his arms so your back is to his chest, bodies pressed together without an inch of space between you. Pressing a kiss into your neck, he starts mumbling.

“You just need to turn your brain off, baby. I know it’s easier said than done… so I’m gonna help you. All you need to do is focus on my voice, on my touch. Focus your attention on my hands on you, my lips on your skin. The heat of my body against yours.”

He skims his fingers down your side, gripping at your hips to ground you. He’s still kissing your neck, nipping occasionally to vary the sensation. He slips a hand down your front, cupping you over your underwear as you close your eyes, breathing him in. He smells like salt water and sea air and gasoline and home.

You cant your hips into his touch, trying to get him where you want him. Bucky takes the hint, slipping his hand into your panties and running a finger through your wetness. You groan, throwing your head back into his solid shoulder.

“Just switch off, honey baby. Give in to me.”

Bucky glides a finger into you, crooking it towards him. His palm hits your clit and you keen, whining all high pitched and breathy. His hips buck into your backside at the sound, and he chuckles.

“Fuck, you sound so sweet. Sweetest girl in the world.”

He adds another finger, using his thumb to circle your clit in precise, firm motions. You’re writhing against the mattress like a serpent, unable to stay still as Bucky takes you apart.

“Come for me, baby. Can feel you squeezin’ my fingers. That’s it, atta girl… ride my hand, take what you need. Wanna hear how pretty you sound when you come.”

Your entire body tightens up as you reach your climax, back arching away from Bucky as he continues to curl his fingers. He pulls you close, anchors you to him as you moan and shudder.

Your head is empty, besides the thought of your soulmate. All you can think about is Bucky.

Bucky Bucky Bucky Bucky Bucky.

You take a stuttered inhale as you try to catch your breath, beads of sweat dripping down your back.

“You okay?”

He’s muttering into your shoulder, mouth never leaving your skin. You nod, linking your fingers with his where they rest on your waist.

“You didn’t come,” you whisper, leaning your head back into Bucky.

He kisses your cheek, chuckling lowly.

“This wasn’t about me,” he reassures. “It’s all about you, baby. Always is.”

The two of you breathe together for a little while, allowing you to come down from your high. Eventually, Bucky taps your thigh, nudging you up.

“Come on, honey. Get up and use the bathroom, and then we’ll sleep for the next week.”

You do as he says, crawling back into bed with limbs that feel like jelly.

“How you feelin’?” he asks as he pulls you into his side, resting your head on his chest.

“Fucking fantastic.”

He laughs and you can’t help but laugh too, as if by reflex.

“Yeah? No more racing thoughts in that pretty head of yours?”

“None. All I can think about is how much I want to sleep right now.”

Pressing a kiss onto the top of your head, Bucky tightens his arms around you.

“Then sleep, baby.”

You snuggle into your soulmates side, relaxing into the mattress.

“I love you,” you mumble into his skin.

“I love you,” he murmurs back. “Sweet dreams, honey girl.”

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

When you wake, you can’t tell if you’ve slept for five minutes or five days.

The sheets are crumpled, linen strewn across the bed as the pillows sit completely unmoved at the headboard. Sunlight filters in through the curtains, warming your skin that’s exposed to the sea soaked breeze.

You reach over to the other side of the mattress, seeking Bucky’s warmth. You’re met with empty space, and the sound of a throat clearing on the other side of the room.

The man in question is leaning against the doorframe, shirtless and sun kissed. His boxers are hugging his thighs just right, and you repress the urge to crawl over and sink your teeth into the muscle. Later.

“Morning or afternoon?” You croak out, watching as he softly smiles at your sleep addled voice.

“Morning. Eleven twenty four.”

You stretch your arms above your head, unaware of the way Bucky’s eyes are glued to your bare stomach.

“You want breakfast, or have you eaten?”

“Haven’t eaten yet. Was waiting for you.”

You slide down to the end of the bed where Bucky meets you, leaning down to press a minty kiss to your lips.

“Have you been awake long?”

He shakes his head, stealing another kiss.

“Ten minutes or so.”

“How’d you sleep?”

He moves some hair away from your face gently, the morning affection making you light up inside.

“Like a baby. Don’t think I moved once.”

You laugh, running your fingers over his bare shoulders.

“I can’t remember the last time I slept like that.”

“Me neither. I think we need to start prioritising sleep a little more.”

“It’s just… so hard,” you murmur, rising onto your knees on the bed so you’re face to face. “I don’t ever want to sleep when I have the most handsome man alive in my bed. I can think of many other things I’d rather be doing.”

He groans, chuckling lowly.

“Watch it,” he warns. “Or I’ll keep you in this bed all day. Won’t let you leave.”

“Is that a threat or a promise, Barnes?”

He football tackles you suddenly, both of you falling backwards into the plush sheets. You squeal, caught off guard as his hands squeeze your sides firmly.

“Keep running your mouth and see what happens, angel.”

You card your fingers through his hair, tugging slightly to get a reaction. When his eyes flutter closed, you breathe out a laugh.

“I’m so scared,” you tease, peppering his face with gentle kisses. “Like, quaking in my boots.”

He goes to retort, but is interrupted by the deafening sound of your stomach rumbling.

“If we weren’t about to get noise complaints from the neighbours about that hunger of yours, I would absolutely continue this. But…”

“We need to eat.”

“Yes, we do.”

You peck his cheek before jumping off the bed, stretching as you make your way to the kitchen. Bucky follows you eagerly. Of course he does.

You click the coffee maker on as you spin to face him where he’s leaning against the counter.

“I’m about to make you the best pancakes you’ll eat in your entire life, James.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. Watch and learn, baby.”

When he doesn’t move, you walk him backwards, pulling out the bar stool from underneath the island.

“You just sit there and look pretty.”

He shakes his head with a smirk as you wink, turning on the stove and grabbing your bowls and utensils. He didn’t ask for a cooking lesson, but you’re about to give him one.

“The trick is to separate the egg whites from the yolks, and whip them. When they’re fluffy, you fold them into your mixture, and it makes the pancakes light and airy and gorgeous. Then you add honey, for extra sweetness.”

He watches you flit around the kitchen as if you’re the sun, bright and warm and radiant. He can’t take his eyes off you for a second. He couldn’t if he wanted to.

Bucky’s blinking back tears, suddenly, as you sway your hips while flipping the pancakes at the stove. He wants to drop to his knees, yell out to a higher power and ask what the hell he did to deserve someone like you. He’ll beg, if he has to, for someone, something, to make sure that he finds you in every universe, in every version of this crazy life.

“I love you,” you beam at him, as if you’ve read his mind. “I love you more than anything.”

Your grin is so blinding, so utterly brilliant that the entire room lights up with it. Your own form of electricity.

“I… I-”

“I know, Buck.”

It gets like this, sometimes. Too overwhelming to put into words. To love someone more than anything, anyone - a love that knows no bounds - is completely indescribable.

So he doesn’t even try. He just nods at you, watching as your eyes light up at the sight of him.

“Will you pour us some coffee while I put these on a plate?”

“Anything you need,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your hair as he squeezes past you to grab the mugs. “Always.”

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

You settle down to eat on the balcony, letting the midday sun warm you both up.

“I brought syrup, but, I also brought this.”

You hold out a plastic tub that contains a dark pink mixture, popping the lid off.

“Try it.”

Bucky sticks his little finger in, putting it in his mouth and sighing in contentment at the taste that coats his tongue.

“Good?”

“So good. What is it?”

“My homemade raspberry and lemon coulis. I make it to go on top of pancakes and waffles - it beats maple syrup any day.”

“You’re a genius.”

“So it’s been said,” you laugh, pouring it over your plate. “Now eat before they go cold.”

“Yes ma’am.”

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

“You weren’t lying,” he says when he’s finished. “They were the best pancakes I’ve ever eaten.”

You laugh, sliding across to press your side into his.

“There’s a lot more where that came from. I have so many recipes I want you to try.”

“God, I’m so lucky. I have the most perfect soulmate in the world, and she’s a baker. What did I do to deserve you, hmm?”

You lean in to kiss him gently, licking across his lips. He tastes like raspberries and sugar and eight hours of sleep.

You’re sat in comfortable silence when your phone rings, startling you both.

“Hello?”

“Babe?”

“Lacie?”

“Hey!”

“Hi!”

You smile instantly, and Bucky does too, by default.

“Your Mom called me and told me about your Dad. She’s been keeping me updated over text. How are you guys holding up?”

“We’re good, honestly. It was a little touch and go at first, but now… we’re okay. All of us.”

“Good. I love you guys.”

“Love you too. So much.”

She sighs all deep and wistful, and you can’t help but chuckle.

“What’s up, Lace?”

“Well… I’m calling with a proposition. And I feel like you’re gonna say no, but your Mom already told me that I had to force you to do it, so.”

“Oh, God.”

“Come on a double date with me and Cameron tonight. Come for dinner and drinks with us.”

You take a deep breath, looking over at Bucky. He nods in agreement, encouraging you.

“Okay.”

“Yeah?”

Her surprise is undeniable, the octave of her voice rising ever higher.

“Yeah. I haven’t seen you in too long, and it’ll be good for me to meet Cameron, finally. Plus, we’re visiting my Dad this afternoon, so we have a free evening.”

“Oh my God, I am so excited! Okay, I’ll text you the address of where we’re eating. Cam knows so much about you already, he can’t wait to meet you. And I can’t wait to meet Bucky… again? I mean I’ve met him before, but not as your soulmate.”

“Yeah,” you giggle. “It’ll be good for everyone to get… reacquainted.”

“Exactly!”

“Alright, Lace. We’ve gotta get ready to visit my Dad, but I’ll see you later?”

“See you later, babe. I am so excited. See you then!”

She puts the phone down, and you can almost picture the cloud of perfume and pressed powder that’s about to rain down on her bedroom. You wish you were there to watch it happen, like old times.

“Our first double date, huh?”

“It’ll be our last if you don’t behave,” you tease, leaning in to peck Bucky’s lips.

“Don’t tempt me.”

You laugh into his mouth, running your fingers through the ends of his hair at the back of his neck. It’s the longest you’ve seen it, and it’s starting to curl all cute and soft and wispy.

“Come on. Let’s go see my Dad, and then spend hours mentally preparing ourselves for Storm Lacie.”

“I always liked her. Seemed good for you.”

“She is. She’s the best.”

Bucky wraps a strong arm around your shoulder as you swing your legs over his lap, burying yourself in his bare chest.

“You nervous?” he asks into your temple.

“A little, weirdly. Meeting each others soulmate is the kind of thing we’d talk about when we were kids. And now we’re doing it.”

“We can handle it,” he reassures, his thumb rubbing patterns into your arm. “We can handle anything, you and I.”

“Anything?”

“Anything, honey girl. Anything.”

tag list part one

@lillytracy6996 @securegorgon @roostersforevergirl @povlvr @val-writesstuff @dreadfulxives18 @1deadpool26 @abbygraceasd @nyutasgirl @mavrellover91 @winterslove1917 @f-this42 @skewedcherries @noisesinthedark @kandis-mom @black-cat-2 @harrystylesandthegoobs @vladsgirlxx @h0nestly-though @arienotari @nash-dara @wandaneedstherapy @galaxy-dusk @justherefortheficandsmut @cremebruleequeen @cjand10 @buggy14 @avengers-fixation @blueberrybambi @beautiful-loserr @sarah1barnes @miss-rebel-without-applause @ragingrainbowshipl @shamrockqueen @savemeroman @jenn-f @8crazy-freak8 @daddyjackfrost @openup-yourmind @adangerousbalance @mandijo17 @daddylorianisastateofmind @rcarbo1 @casa-boiardi @spideegwen @navs-bhat @mssbridgerton @asuni921 @middle-of-the-earth @mfrnchsk

[jadeylovesmarvelxo]

There's Eddie and then there's you, who has moved into the trailer park. Eddie discovers this one morning and proceeds to make an ass of himself. Features cute and flirty Eddie.

Or alternatively Eddie spots you while he's rushing to get to his van for school and nearly knocks himself out.

Eddie has no game but he tries, sweet Eddie.

🖤

Eddie doesn't pay much attention to the new family moving into the trailer park. He's too focused on getting a song prepared for Saturday at The Hideout, alternating that with writing in his notebook, poring over ideas for a new Hellfire campaign.

Wayne pokes his head out of the trailer door, he's clutching cups of coffee for them both. Eddie's coffee is in his favourite mug- the Garfield one that Wayne bought for him when he first moved in with him many moons ago.

He gulps the coffee down, almost burns his tongue at the scalding temperature then swears when he realises what time it is. Shit shit shit. He's already late for school, he's determined to graduate this year so no skipping any boring shit no matter how much he wants to.

It's when he's climbing inside his van that he realises he's forgotten his essay for Mrs O'Donnell's class, it took him long enough to write the shit. If this was about D&D or metal music or any one of the fantasy novels he loves then he'd ace it, but it's not and he's not interested in another fucking love story.

Honestly, he wouldn't put it past the old dragon to fail him if he forgot the essay and he can't use the excuse that a dog ate it- that got him a week's detention last time.

It's then that he sees the trailer door open that's not far from Mayfield's house and he's not seen who's moved into the new trailer so sue him, he's curious and looks over.

You can imagine his surprise when he catches a hint of a cheerleading uniform then you peer up at him, the momentum as he runs or if he's being honest tries to strut and the fact he's gawking at you causes him to trip over his feet and he nearly knocks himself out on his van door and sprawls on the ground.

"Jesus h Christ" he growls and he cringes that he almost knocked himself out because he was hawking at a pretty lady. Smooth Munson. Real smooth.

"Are you alright?" Suddenly you're beside him, kneeling in the grass and peering over him anxiously. He thinks he might have died and he's now in heaven because your fingers are in his hair and you murmur that you're checking for blood.

"Beautiful" he thinks to himself but then he realised he said it out loud and a pink blush coats his cheeks. You bite your lip and a sweet smile blooms on your face.

"Okay, I think you've definitely hit your head" You grin at him and his heart is fluttering, racing like a hummingbird's wings. Fuck, he has no game when it comes to women, usually he tries to make them laugh or makes an overdramatic fool of himself.

But this right now with you? this stumps him and makes him nervous. Eddie was rarely nervous, perfecting a don't give a fuck demeanour over the years but one look from you and he's putty. Feels shy and tongue-tied, he can't remember the last time he was ever tongue-tied.

Trying very carefully not to make an ass of himself he gets up and takes a bow which makes you giggle. "Eddie Munson at your service princess"

"I know. Your reputation precedes you, Eddie, though you're nothing that I thought you'd be like" he smiles impishly, knows exactly what you mean.

"Mmm, mean, scary and is known to make Jason Carver piss his pants" You snort and nod, eyes lighting up and he's eager to hear your sweet laugh again.

Maybe you have some jock boyfriend who would kick his ass for flirting or talking to his girl but at this moment he could not give a shit.

"Yeah and I didn't expect you to almost knock yourself out just because you looked at me" there's a shyness to your tone and he shrugs.

"It's not often that I'm graced with someone who is so enchanting Milady" he teases but it's the truth at the same time and you

"Enchanting? I've never been called that before" you seem surprised that someone could think that about you and that pisses Eddie off. If you did have a boyfriend then he was the biggest jackass in the world if he didn't show you how special you were.

And he never thought there would ever be a bigger jackass than Jason Carver.

"I've never made a complete ass of myself and nearly gave myself a concussion in front of a girl before sweetheart, guess there are firsts for everything" he hides his smile with a lock of his hair, his heart rate spiking again at the look on your face.

"Should probably get going, I'd offer you a ride but uh I'm sure your boyfriend would kick my ass if I did that and you know you're from the dark side and Hellfire would lose their shit" he's disappointed he can't talk to you more but at least you live close, maybe you would speak again.

It's only when he realises that you've walked past him and you're waiting at the van door that he comes out of his reverie.

"The dark side? We're not in Star Wars and if I was I'd be Leia and kick the dark side's ass. Also it's good that I don't have a boyfriend so you can drive me huh Munson?" You wink at him and his brain short circuits.

No boyfriend. You just winked at him. He feels like a deer in headlights then promptly snaps out of it. Feels like he's the cock of the walk as he struts to his van.

He absolutely does not nearly trip over his own feet again trying to impress you with his suave strut. Absolutely not.

He does.

[littledovesnow]

a growing family pt. 2

a/n: yay for part 2!! read part one here

word count: 1.8k

warnings: pregnancy, pretty canon-level violence and stuff i think. also i'm sorry in advance about this part <3

-----

"Now, Mr. Snow, you and your wife leave tomorrow for your District Tour." Lucky Flickerman spoke into microphone, eyes bouncing between Coriolanus and you.

Coriolanus nodded, not quite sure where this was going. He was briefed on the. main topics that Flickerman would go over during the interview and this was not one of them.

"Is there any worry about the twins? Congratulations, by the way! Twins! How lucky are you!"

You smiled, patting your husband's hand to signal that you would answer this question.

"Thank you, Lucky," you started, sweet smile on your face. "I've been in conversation with my medical team, and we've all come to an agreement that it's quite safe for me to travel with Coriolanus and the rest of his cabinet. I'm not due for another couple of months, anyway."

Coriolanus smiled at you, voicing his answer, as well. "We've also spoken to the OB/GYN, and she will be joining us on the latter half of the tour. We hope she can just enjoy the travel, not needed for any medical emergencies."

Lucky nodded, satisfied with that answer. "Now, Coriolanus, you've mentioned in some changes to the Hunger Games in the coming years. We've had questions coming in from watchers, but first, a few words from our generous sponsors."

The red light went off on top of the cameras, and you let the superficial smile fall from your face, hand going to rub your lower back.

"Your back still hurt, love?" Coriolanus asked, noticing your discomfort.

"I think our kids are going to be soccer professional, Coryo." You grumbled, one of the twins had been kicking mercilessly for a few weeks.

Coriolanus chuckled, removing your hand, using his palm to massage the area. "Well, you can tell them off when they're out here."

Lucky, who had been observing the couple from his spot on the seat across from them, wore a smile. "One thing that my wife asked I do when she was pregnant with Caesar was massage her back every night. Sometimes she still makes me do it."

You smiled at the TV host, humming. "Not a bad idea. Coryo, I think I know what your next job will be."

Coriolanus snorted, hand still massaging your back. "Anything for the mother of my children."

-----

The train car you were currently seated in was more luxurious than you remembered, seats having been upholstered from your last trip out of the Capitol.

You looked away from the mountain ranges decorating the horizon when the door opened, Coriolanus entering.

"How are you feeling?" He asked, coming to sit in the seat across from you, moving your feet from the seat to his lap.

Humming, you leant your head back as he began massaging them. "Better now. What was that meeting for? I thought you had travel days free."

Coriolanus pondered over how to answer, not wanting to tell you he had just had some rebels executed for a potential threat in Six. "Nothing you need to concern yourself with."

Opening an eye to look at him, you could read the man like an open book. "How many were there?"

There was a beat of silence before Coriolanus spoke up.

"Four. Would have been three but some things you can't avoid."

You didn't reply, simply wiggling your foot when Coriolanus' hands stopped massaging the arch of your foot.

He laughed, resuming the action as you two watched the mountain ranges and nature outside of the train.

-----

You yawned, staring at the ceiling of the Crane's hotel in District Three. It was nearing one in the morning, and you had gotten a sum total of about two and a half hours since you and Coriolanus crawled into the bed.

Moving as quietly as you could, you rose from the bed, waiting a beat to see if Coriolanus woke up.

His rather loud snore told you he was still off dreaming, something you were thankful for. He had a lot on his shoulders, and you didn't want to add onto the never-ending pile of worry and stress with the upcoming election.

Moving to the bathroom, you softly closed the door and looked at yourself in the mirror. The twins had been keeping you up at night more frequently, and your OB/GYN said it was just because while they were starting to get a regular sleep pattern, they couldn't tell day from night and often slept during the day.

When you opened the door, you frowned when you saw your husband sitting up in the bed, cheek still indented from the creases in the pillow.

"What are you doing up?" He asked, voice hoarse from sleep.

Rubbing one hand across your ever-growing bump, sleepily blinking at the man across from you. "Your children are wide awake, it seems."

Coriolanus smiled, patting the spot you had previously occupied. "Come here, I'll rub your back."

With the promise of that, you made your way back into the bed, stuffing one of the many pillows on the bed between your knees.

"Oh, well hello, little one."

You looked at where Coriolanus was staring at your bump, tiny foot barely visible. "Oh that's the most disturbing thing I think I've ever seen."

"Don't say that!" Coriolanus chided, though there was a smile on his face. "That's your child in there!"

"Coryo, you shouldn't be able to see their hands from outside!" You laughed, even though your OB/GYN said it was very possible to start to see little hands and feet as there became less and less free space.

Coriolanus pressed a kiss to your hairline, rubbing the place where the foot was. "Hi, babies. Please let your mother sleep, she needs to help me win over the hearts of Panem."

Rolling your eyes, you moved Coriolanus' hand to your back, letting your head fall back against a pillow. "Rub my back."

"Yes dear."

-----

Hand clasped tightly in Coriolanus' you two followed the Peacekeepers to the barracks to meet with the district's mayor and Commanding Peacekeeper.

You two had won the hearts over a majority of each District you've visited, but as you two traveled farther from the Capitol, you knew it would be more difficult and the chance of threats and rebels increased.

The number of Peacekeepers surrounding you two had grown within each stop, Coriolanus wanting to make sure nothing happened to his wife and mother of his children, his heirs.

"Mr. and Mrs. Snow, we're very pleased you two could be here!" The mayor smiled, shaking both of your hands.

You returned the sentiment, eyes locked on the plush-looking chair behind him. "Is it alright if I sit? My feet are killing me."

The mayor, who seemed to have just realized how large your bump had grown, nodded quickly, gesturing to the chair you had pointed to.

Coriolanus stood behind you, one hand smoothing your hair as he and the mayor discussed the afternoon's speeches and tour around the main hub.

"Will you be joining us, Mrs. Snow?"

"No, she's been feeling a little more tired." Coriolanus replied before you could speak up.

The mayor frowned, seemingly disappointed.

"Is there a problem?" You asked, feeling Coriolanus' hand still at the nape of your neck.

"Well, the children here have been so excited to meet you, but I'm sure seeing Mr. Snow will be just as fine."

Coriolanus knew you had a soft spot for children, how they still saw the best in everything. "Love, you barely slept last night. It's safer if you rest."

"Coryo, it won't be too long. And besides, we have a couple travel days I can catch up on sleep."

You ignored your husband's deep frown, instead smiling at the mayor. "We can't possibly let the kids down, can we?"

The mayor clapped happily, rising from his seat. "Well then, shall we go?"

You stood from the chair with some help from your husband, who placed a hand on your lower back, unable to keep his hands off of you.

"You're a spoiled brat, you know that?" He whispered, lips brushing the shell of your ear.

"And you love me for it." You replied, sharp smile on your face.

-----

Coriolanus watched as you followed a few of the schoolchildren around the classroom, letting them explain the backgrounds of their various posters and projects.

"She's going to be a wonderful mother." The mayor spoke, standing next to Coriolanus.

He nodded, watching you kneel down to listen more to a rather small girl, your eyes focused on her entirely. "She already is."

"Mr. Snow, Mayor, we're going to be late if we don't head for the town square now."

Nodding, Coriolanus walked over to your side, kneeling down next to you and the young girl. "Hi, love. Mind introducing me to your friend?"

You looked at your husband, and then at the young girl. "Coryo, meet Clementine. Her friends call her Clemmie."

Coriolanus saw the twinkle in your eye as you looked back at the girl. "It's lovely to meet you, Clemmie. You know, Mrs. Snow and I have a friend named Clemmie."

"Really?" Little Clementine asked, eyes wide.

Nodding, Coriolanus helped you stand up straight. "We do, but don't worry, we can have two Clemmies. Now, I do have to steal Mrs. Snow now, we have to go to town square."

Clementine pouted, but nodded. "It was nice to meet you!"

"You, too, Clemmie! Good luck with your new brother!" You smiled, squeezing Coriolanus' hand as the two of you followed some Peacekeepers out of the school and down to the town square and stage.

You've only seen the stage on television for the Reaping Ceremonies, it looked larger on screen. "She was so sweet, Coryo. She was telling me how her mother looked like me and now she has a little brother."

Coriolanus smiled, thumb rubbing your hand. "That's very sweet. I'm sure you made her ent-"

A loud explosion cut Coriolanus off, Peacekeepers immediately springing into action, separating the two of you to get you both to safety.

There were a few more explosions around the stage, sending debris and dirt in the air.

"Coryo!" You called, trying to wriggle out of the Peacekeepers' grip and find your husband.

You coughed as you inhaled smoke, eyes wide to spot Coriolanus. "Let me go! I need to find Coriolanus!"

"Ma'am, you need to come with us! We have orders to bring both you and Mr. Snow to a safe room, please cooperate."

You had a disdain for the Peacekeeper who spoke to you rather harshly, feeling his hands tighten their grip on your bicep.

Stumbling a few times, you had finally made it to the small bunker, heart hammering when you saw Coriolanus and the mayor already in there, dirt on both of their faces and clothing.

"Love," Coriolanus sighed in relief, though it was short-lived as he ran his eyes over your body. "Love, you're bleeding."

-----

a/n: oh how i love a good cliff-hanger