#somebody help me get over my writers block

[hel7l7]

Looking at you gives me a stomach ache    B. 0623

I hate him. I hate him. I hate him.

I don’t.

This story is short and very simple. This story has been told a million times. This story is one about loving and wanting and always giving so much because you know what it feels like to never get anything in return. It is the emptiness you were born with reflected in them; it is them now. It is all them. It has always been them.

Did you know that none of this was ever real? That I probably only liked you because I knew you would never like me back? Because I am way too afraid to be loved by someone real. Want it all so bad but know I’m not ready.

I’ve looked into your eyes so many times and never saw anything but my own emptiness reflected.

I think we share the same pain but fail to understand how to reach the other.

There’s this emptiness. There’s this emptiness. There’s this emptiness. And inside it is fear. Endless fear.

Maybe you hate me as much as I hate you sometimes but don’t we just mirror each other?

Isn’t what you hate in me just a reflection of your pain? Isn’t what you hate in me everything you used to hate in yourself?

Don’t we just mirror each other? Isn’t what I hate in you just what I hate in me. Don’t you just show me that even though I want to be loved I still don’t believe I deserve it. Aren’t you the next one showing me that even though this is what I want I’m not ready. Doesn’t all of this just replay my past?  Isn’t this just me on my knees again? Isn’t this just me begging? Begging and never daring to look away. This is me painting myself the savior, this is me seeing you and turning you into someone else.  Sometimes I picture you as who I want you to be.

Pretend that all of this will all work out some day. Manifest you in my life, in my bedroom, I picture you in my shower, in my kitchen, imagine us eating together and going on a walk, I kiss you and it will feel nice and you’ll only touch me gently and soft, your kindness and patience magnified with my good hope and I’ll lose myself in the idea of you. Hope for a life that will someday be better than all I’ve ever known.

Some days I pretend you’re the villain. Think of every time you’ve hurt me. It doesn’t matter if you meant to or not. Pain is always a good source for creativity.  I try to hate you but I can’t. Always blame myself more. It was me who went back time and time again. Who left myself at your feet waiting for you to pick me up again. – my friends have their anger now though. They teach me how to blame you, point at the flaws that are too big to ignore.

I don’t know how to reach you and I’ve gotten so tired of trying.

[incognit0slut]

All I Need

Spencer realizes how much he wants to spend the rest of his life with you. What better time is there to propose if not in the middle of making love? Based on:

Warnings: 18+ mature content but nothing too explicit, this is just sweet love making

words: 2077

A/n: I’m supposed to finish my last kinktober and update my series, but both are very heavy and I needed something sweet to defrost my writer's block. I hope you don’t mind me squeezing something else until I finish my other WIPs🥲

“…every time I look into your eyes I see it, you’re all I need…”

SPENCER KNEW EVERYTHING ABOUT YOU. There wasn't a single thing he wasn't familiar with—from every mole, every scar, to every stretch mark. Any imperfection you considered of yourself he found to be perfect.

He was well aware of the small scar on your hip bone. Or the mole resting at the back of your thigh. Or the way you disliked caffeine, because every time you drank it, it increased your heart rate drastically. Which was why you always judged him every time he had a cup of coffee in his hand, especially with the amount of sugar he never seemed to stop adding.

"That is definitely not healthy," you would always say, to which he simply responded with a small peck on your lips. It was his way to shut you up without saying anything.

He also knew how soft you actually were underneath that hard exterior you always carried. You were an enigma the first time you joined the team, but Spencer always had a soft spot for mystery, and solving you became his mission even when he wasn't the best at maintaining conversations. He remembered making a fool of himself when he talked to you, stuttering about one of the random facts engraved in his brain.

But you still listened to him, and for once in his life, he finally found someone who didn't mind hearing him talk. It was nice to have somebody who found his knowledge interesting, and with that thought in mind, it didn't take long for him to take an interest in you.

Not that he wasn't interested at first, because honestly, you were a splendid sight when you first walked through the door. It was more so an interest that was considered surpassing a simple friendship. An interest that had him push his confidence into asking you out.

Spencer never pegged himself as someone who would be content having a significant other in his daily routine—his past relationships never seemed to work out, after all—but the more time he spent with you, the more he realized he was actually in pure bliss. It seemed as if you had cast a spell, drawing him deeper into your presence, a magnetic force of affection that went beyond the superficial. Every smile, every touch, seemed to emanate a radiant heat, and he couldn't help but be entranced by the sheer magnitude of your warmth.

Especially at this moment, staring into your eyes as they slowly fluttered open from a long night of slumber, he found himself leaning forward. You were so warm, so inviting. The soft light coming from the curtains cast a shadow over your curves and he couldn't help himself from trailing down your body.

You were fully awake now as he pressed his lips on every part of your skin. The slight movement of your arms wrapping around his neck had him grunting, and somehow he was suddenly positioned between your legs, pressing his hot length onto your wet folds, wanting nothing else but to push himself deep into your warmth.

As he watched you beneath him, eyes half closed, mouth open in anticipation, he couldn't help but mutter his next words because you looked breathtakingly beautiful. Heavenly gorgeous covered in a sheen of sweat, so damn pretty with eyes full of desire. You looked like a siren, an angel, and a lustful woman all rolled into one.

Everything about you was so divine, and the desire to consume every part of your existence became an insatiable hunger. It was a need, a yearning that made the idea of spending a lifetime without you seem unfathomable as if oxygen slowly drained from his world, leaving him breathless. 

The words bubbled up from the depths of his heart, and before he could second-guess himself, he blurted out, "Marry me." 

Your eyes snapped open as he finally sank his hips into you, and before you could even respond, before you could even register his words, his rough thrust stole the breath from your lungs. Rational thoughts shattered as he filled you completely, stretching you in a way that was slightly painful yet completely pleasurable.

He slowly pulled out, then pushed back in, your back arching, legs wrapping around his waist. "Spence," you moaned as he started a steady pace, trying to gain your focus but failing miserably. You couldn't think of anything else except the sensation between your legs. "Oh, God."

Languid and smooth, his hips continued to roll into you. "This feels good, doesn't it?"

The feel of his cock sinking in and out of you had your head falling back against the mattress. Your fingernails tightened upon his back, and he drove you gently into the bed with low grunts. His voice was rough, broken by focused breaths. "We could do this every morning."

A whine broke out of you.

"I'd wake up first," he told you. "I'd make you breakfast in bed..." He slipped out again before thrusting into you slowly, dragging his cock along your inner walls that had you mewling. "...right after I wake you with my tongue between your thighs."

You let out another moan. He drank in the sound with a smile before lowering his mouth to the base of your neck. Heated kisses trailed along your skin as his fingers trailed down the outline of your body before they stopped at the warmth between your legs.

Your mouth was wide open against his shoulder, eyes watering with the force of pleasure from having his cock smacking through your wetness, his body forcefully shoving your knees apart. You felt his fingers trailing your clit in slow circles and you arched your back, each tender brush tightened that coil of heat simmering in the pit of your stomach. The simulation drove you further into a haze of pleasure that a soft yes finally escaped your lips without you realizing it.

The barely whispered word didn't go unnoticed by him.

"Yes to this," he wondered as prompted his weight on his other hand. "Or to my proposal?"

You glanced up at him, your face a mixture of pleasure and alarm as you gave him a look. "You're crazy."

He watched you closely, mesmerized by the way your hips were bucking every time his cock hit that soft spot inside you while his fingers continued their tease. "Maybe." He leaned down and softly bit your shoulder. "But I am crazy in love with you."

When you didn't respond, he slowly pulled away and fixed his gaze on you. Your reaction, or lack thereof, spoke volumes, and as his eyes met yours, he found himself captivated by the reflective pools of emotion within. There was a hint of fear and concern, shadows that danced with the flicker of uncertainty. Yet, beneath those layers, he could see the distinct longing in your eyes. It was hard not to distinguish it as it matched the same look in his. Your stare was warm and domineering.

They were so full of love.

And that moment, Spencer realized, that was what you were to him—love. You were the greatest passion he had ever known.

You felt completely in the moment with him as you let your gaze scan over his features. His eyes appeared darker in this light of the room, but you could still see the soft lightness of them. Then, you leaned up, noses brushing gently against each other before you pressed your lips onto his. His body moved again in response, hips bucking into you and you felt him pulsing inside your core as his mouth worked harmoniously along yours.

"Marry." Thrust. "Me." Thrust.

You whimpered. Everything was too much. The intensity of the pleasure was almost intoxicating, a heady concoction that wrapped around you, rendering you momentarily breathless.

"Having you for the rest of my life is a privilege." He continued, grunting as you clenched around him. He lost himself with one final, jagged plea. "Marry me and make me the happiest man alive."

His words, touch, and the stroke of him inside you—it all blurred together. It pushed you so wildly that the coil in your stomach twisted sharply through along your body. He lunged down to kiss you again, tongue pushing deep as he stole your moan before it could break into the air. He tugged you into him at the same time that you submitted to his pull.

There were times when you would appreciate this. The contact, the intimacy, the warmth of your boyfriend connected with you. Right now though, you needed release. So you buried your hand in his curls, all messy and askew.

"Spencer," you breathed out against his lips. Each of his thrusts fed the growing flame in your body as your body turned pliant for him. “Oh god, yes,” you cried, head thrashing side to side as your eyes rolled back, overwhelmed by pleasure.

He peppered kisses over your neck, your jaw, your temple, desperate to be even closer to you, to melt into you. "Yes to what?"

Your senses were heightened, every touch and every breath seemed magnified in the intensity of the moment. Your body shuddered with every vicious thrust.

"Yes, yes, yes." A desperate, needy little whine slipped past your lips and you opened your eyes wide to give him a pleading look. "Spencer, please, please."

You were panting, your breath hot and your skin even hotter, and you could barely hear him when he spoke, "Yes to what, Angel?"

Angel. The syllables carried a warmth that resonated deep within your heart. Sometimes you were his Angel. Sometimes you were his Sweetheart. While you cherished the way he expressed his affection, a yearning for more had taken root.

Marry me.

You could be more than his angel. You could be his wife. But it wasn't just about the affectionate words anymore; it was about a promise, a shared future, and you realized as he hovered above you, all sweaty and desperate, that you wanted to feel this bliss every day. How could you not when he fits so perfectly inside you that you could swear he was made for you?

And then you felt it, his hand trailing down your arm before it stopped right along your fingers, intertwining them with his. Your hand clutched onto his as his thrust sped up a fraction—but it was still deep and lazy, enough to make you squirm. His cock was achingly hard inside you and when you clenched down on him, you adored the twitch and resounding moan it drew out of him.

You wanted this for your life. You wanted him every day. You wanted to wake up each morning in his arms, him whispering sweet nothings as he buried himself inside you.

You wanted him so much you would be a fool not to accept his proposal.

"Yes," you breathed out. "I'll marry you."

He grunted against your lips. "Say that again."

His thrusts were now fast and ruthless, his groans filling the room while the sound of skin slapping together echoed with it. Every time you could feel him deep inside you, it brought you closer to that familiar coil in your stomach. It was a heady sensation, an intoxicating blend of desire that quickened your pulse and set your senses ablaze.

"I—shit," you cried out, legs shaking at the pleasure traveling along your body you were starting to wail desperately for your release. "Fuck, baby, I'll marry you."

A sound of satisfaction erupted from him as he kissed you with every ounce of power he had. He kissed you as he had never kissed anyone before. He kissed you deeply, possessively even, and it was messy and rough and probably looked horrific from different angles, but it felt perfect.

You felt perfect. Your lips. Your curves. Your scent. It was as if you were made especially for him. He was fully consumed with you, consumed by you, and yet he couldn't get enough. Though you were beneath him, he was at your mercy, and the fact that you could still have such control over him made his stomach twist even more.

He was so in love with you. He was so sure of it, so sure of this abundance of passion, for Spencer Reid could sometimes be dense when it came to sudden bursts of emotions, but he was not stupid. He wasn't oblivious, nor was he lacking in perception. It wasn't about intelligence or lack thereof, it was simply about the purity of his emotion. 

And he was deeply, unequivocally in love.

.

Oneshot taglist: @simpingforharryandcevans @strawbeerossi @lightvixxen @dim-i-try @annabellexox @baby-banana @natarataca @wolfbeanpotion @nagemasstuff @alexander-arcturus-black @rosieee491 @s00dastereo @no-honey-no @donttrustlove @tylevx @kailey-rae @sailorholly @ducksong @infinitegalaxiesworld @dreamsarebig @brilliantreid @boimlers-gonna-boim

PLEASE READ: The crossed out ones are blogs I can’t tag. And if any of you asked me to be added and you're not on the list OR you want to be added in the future, please comment on this post so I can see it. But make sure your blog can be searched by anyone or I can't tag you. Thank you :)

Don’t forget to interact with the story!

[algae-tm]

MATCH MY FREAK

Max Verstappen x Heiress! reader

You have a reputation for being high maintenance, Max thinks you’re perfect (oneshot)

Author’s Note: if you can’t tell I have major writers block on my kill bill series… this is why you plan folks! I’ve kinda written myself into a corner. However, I love doing these lil oneshots so here’s another :)

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

MESSAGES

yourusername just posted on instagram

liked by lewishamilton, maxverstappen1, and 5,234,432 others

yourusername : mom, i am a rich man

view all comments

user1 : a rich man yet all your exes say you bleed them dry

— user3 : at that point it’s a skill issue… if they knew they couldn’t keep up they shouldn’t have started dating her

— user1 : you females will defend each other no matter how in the wrong you are. — user3 : not fighting with a dude who calls women females

—user1 : lmao cause you know you’re wrong

user5 : I think oomf on twitter was right, she likes lavish things so she buys them and the men in her life are threatened.

— maxverstappen1 : couldn’t be me I’m very secure in my masculinity!

— user5 : MAX VERSTAPPEN!!!!??????

— user6 : what is bro doing here

— user8 : y/n’s freshly single and brother decides to shoot his shot lmao 🤣🤣

— user1 : brother run away whilst you can she’ll only drain your energy and your bank account.

— maxverstappen1 : me and my bank account can handle it

carlossainz55 : bro @maxverstappen1 thank you for lending me that 5 million euros after I lost my job! — maxverstappen1 : the least I can do brother!

landonorris : Max Verstappen let me win the Miami gp! — maxverstappen1 : No bro it was all you!

georgerussell63 : hey dude @maxverstappen1 when do you want me to return that lambo you lent me?

— maxverstappen1 : of course you can just keep it!

charles_leclerc : max verstappen saved my mother and my dog from my burning yacht, then gave me his spare yacht cause he felt bad!

— maxverstappen1 : no worries say hi to pascale and Leo for me!

danielricciardo : Max Verstappen is the most passionate lover I’ve ever had!

— maxverstappen1 : bro what? — maxverstappen1 : this is not true!

— user6 : lmao Dan I don’t think you did this correctly…

—danielricciardo : I only speak the truth 🤭

maxverstappen1: oh what a coincidence I am also a rich man, we should talk about our similarities over dinner

lewishamilton : catch flights not feelings

— yourusername : so right lew 🖤

MESSAGES

TWITTER

INSTAGRAM

yourusername just posted

liked by maxverstappen1, lewishamilton, and 4,324,367 others

yourusername : is somebody gonna match my freak?

view all comments

user23 : isn’t the saying like luxury whispers or something?

— yourusername : why should I whisper? My people deserve to be luxurious loudly!

lewishamilton : I actually have the perfect person to ‘match your freak’ he’s equally as weird as you

— yourusername : 🤨🤨🤨 I’m all ears

— maxverstappen1 : me me me!! He’s talking about me

MESSAGES

A YEAR LATER • INSTAGRAM

maxverstappen1 just posted

liked by yourusername, charles_leclerc and 8,234,432 others

maxverstappen1 : I MATCHED HER FREAK!!

view all comments

yourusername : yeah you did baby!!

danielricciardo : that should be me 😔😔

— yourusername : stop trying to steal my man!

— danielricciardo : he was mine first!!

— user42 : this dynamic is everything

user44 : max actually bagged a baddie??

— user56 : they’re gunna divorce in like 2 years once he realises she’s too high maintenance…

— maxverstappen1 : NUH UH

lewishamilton : for the role I played any children you have should be named Lewis…

— maxverstappen1 : you extorted me!

— lewishamilton : I helped you get the girl!

— yourusername : yeah max, was I not worth the extortion??

— maxverstappen1 : what no, of course you were! I’d be extorted 1 million times for you!

— user65 : wow they really do match each others freak…

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

TAGLIST

@forevercaffeinated-lee

@callsignwidow

@a-beaverhausen

@emryb

@c0deincrazy

@dontworryaboutitokie

@c-losur3

@chuxk-lerclerk

@silkenthusiasts

@ietss

@sp1rl

[emmylksblog]

Hey I love your stories and account

I wanted to ask if you could do a Hector fort x fem reader story

The reader is Marc guiu‘s sister and she mets hector fort for the first time at an after party (party for winning a match) and then you can come up with something I’m not that creative😭

DANCING DESIRES // H.FORT

requested

content: suggestive, smut

warnings: bad written smut

words: 3613

a/n: sorry for being so late, i got writers block and also tried to figure out how to write smut, hope it’s not that lame 😭

The party is hot and cramped. You push through drunk bodies sweating through clothes and perfume. You don't like parties, but you're here because your brother was insistent that you came here.

Suddenly, someone grabs your hand, yanking you to the side. You turn around, coming face-to-face with Hector Fort. Your brother's teammate and best friend.

His eyes are dark and intense as they lock onto yours, and his grip is firm. "What are you doing here by yourself?" He asks, his voice deep and smooth.

You scan his face, noticing the slightly off-balance nature and the smell of alcohol on his breath. Yep, he's definitely had a few too many drinks.

"I could ask you the same thing," you reply, trying to keep your voice casual. He’s very handsome, with his tousled hair and his intense gaze. Focus, you think to yourself.

"Me? I'm just enjoying a drink after my game," he says, a sly smile playing at the corner of his lips. "But I couldn't help noticing you alone over here. Te ves un poco perdida. (You look a little lost)"

You roll your eyes, feeling a flush of annoyance. "I'm not lost. I'm just here against my will, watching out for my idiot brother. He's somewhere around here, getting drunk off his ass."

Hector chuckles, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Oh, so you're the responsible one. That's a shame, I was hoping for some fun tonight."

"Yeah well, somebody has to be responsible," you say, unable to help feeling a spark of attraction to his confident arrogance. Bad idea, very bad idea, you should just walk away, you think to yourself.

Hector leans in closer, his eyes never leaving hers. "Come on, lighten up a little. I bet you can be fun when you want to be," he says, his voice low and seductive.

You scoff, trying to act unphased by his charm. "Oh please, I've seen your type before. I bet you've got a dozen girls eating out of the palm of your hand at every party you go to."

He grins, unashamed. "And yet here I am, wanting to talk to you." He steps closer, invading her personal space. "There's just something about you that's different. I can't quite put my finger on it."

You raise an eyebrow at him. "That was the most cliché line I've ever heard. Do you use that with every girl you meet?"

Hector laughs, not seeming bothered by your bluntness, if anything it only seems to intrigue him more. "I don't need pickup lines to get girls. But I was hoping it would work on you," he says with a coy smile.

You roll your eyes again and shake your head. "As if. You're going to have to work a lot harder than that."

His smile widens, his eyes lighting up with a challenge. "Oh yeah? And what do I get if I prove to you that I'm serious?"

You cross your arms, raising an eyebrow. "You first have to prove to me why I even should give you my time."

Hector steps closer still, now only a breath away. His voice drops to a low, seductive murmur. "Because you're the most beautiful, captivating woman in this entire room. And I can't take my eyes off of you."

Your heart jumps in your chest, caught off guard by his directness. You try to stay cool, but you can't help the hint of a flush rising to your cheeks. "That's a start. But you're going to have to do better than flattery."

Hector grins, loving the fact that he's gotten a reaction out of her. "Then how about I show you instead? Come dance with me."

You hesitate for a moment, caught between wanting to shut him down and secretly wanting to see where this goes. Finally, you decide to throw caution to the wind. "Fine. One dance."

He grins triumphantly and takes your hand, leading you to the dance floor. The music is loud and the air is thick with bodies grinding together. Hector pulls you close to him, the heat of his body pressing against yours.

Suddenly interrupting the rhythm of your dance your brother Marc emerges from the crowd.

Marc's eyes flick between the two of you, his expression changing from surprise to irritation. "Qué estás haciendo con ella? (what are you doing with her?) " he asks Hector, his voice low and protective.

Hector grins sheepishly, clearly trying to avoid causing a scene. "Calm down, Marc. I was just having a chat with your pretty sister here."

Marc's eyes narrow as he steps closer to the two of you. "Yeah, I can see that. But why do you have your hands all over her?"

"Marc, relájate. Todo está bien. (, relax. Everything's alright) Hector's just had a bit too much to drink," you say, trying to calm your overprotective brother down.

Marc looks at Hector skeptically, but he seems to relax a little at your words. "Are you sure? You don't want me to kick his ass?"

You roll your eyes and shake your head at your overprotective brother. "Marc, eres muy ridículo a veces. Hector está borracho y solo estaba hablando conmigo. Además, él todavía es tu mejor amigo, ¿no es así?" ("Marc, you are very ridiculous sometimes. Hector is drunk and was just talking to me. Besides, he is still your best friend, isn't he?")

Marc huffs, still not fully convinced. "Yeah, he's my best friend. But you're my sister, and I don't like seeing him putting his hands all over you."

You can't help but laugh at your brother's protectiveness. "Marc, I can handle myself, you know that. I'm not some fragile little flower. Besides, Hector's harmless."

Hector chuckles, clearly enjoying the dynamic between you and your brother. "Yeah, I'm harmless. And I have to say, your sister here is quite feisty. You should give her more credit."

Marc looks at Hector and then at you, his gaze softening. "Fine, I'll back off. But if you do anything to hurt her, I will kick your ass. Got it?"

Hector holds up his hands in surrender, his expression mock-serious. "Understood, boss. I promise I'll behave."

Marc gives Hector a firm tap on the shoulder and leans in to whisper something to him. Though you can't hear what he's saying, you see Hector's expression soften, and he nods at whatever your brother had said. Marc then shoots you a final protective look before disappearing into the crowd.

"What did he say to you?" you ask Hector curiously, wondering what your brother could have said that made him look so unusually serious.

You can't help but think about how protective your brother had acted just now, wondering what it was that made him so adamant that you not spend time with Hector. He must think I'm not capable of handling myself, you think to yourself, annoyance prickling up your spine.

"I can tell what you're thinking," Hector says suddenly, breaking the thread of your thoughts.

You turn to look at him, surprised. "And what am I thinking, listo (smartass)?"

Hector grins at your sassiness. "You're thinking that your brother is too protective, and you're wondering why he's so against the idea of us getting to know each other."

You frown, not liking how accurately he had guessed your thoughts. "And if I am? So what?"

He leans in closer, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "If you want to know the truth, I think I know why he's so protective."

You raise an eyebrow, curiosity getting the better of you. "Oh yeah? And what's the reason behind my brother's overprotectiveness?

Hector grins, clearly enjoying having your full attention. "Promise you won't get mad if I tell you?"

You huff, already getting a sense of what he's going to say. "I can't guarantee that. But go on, tell me anyway."

Hector leans in even closer, his voice low and intimate. "I think it's because your brother knows me better than almost anyone. And he knows that I have a bit of a reputation for being a heartbreaker."

You look him straight in the eye, not intimidated. "Is that so? You think you can break my heart that easily?"

Hector chuckles, clearly enjoying your confidence. "I didn't say I could, I just said that's what your brother thinks. But let's be real, I could probably have you begging for more within a week if I wanted to."

Feeling emboldened, you step closer to Hector and whisper in his ear, your voice low and sultry. "Bold of you to assume you could break my heart. But if you think you're up to the challenge, I bet I could have you begging for more before the night is through."

Hector's eyes widen in surprise, clearly not expecting your forwardness. The challenge has been issued, and he can't back down now. "Is that so? You think you could have me wrapped around your little finger that easily?"

You grin, enjoying the flicker of doubt you see in his eyes. "Oh, I know I could. But the question is, are you brave enough to take the bet?"

Hector's gaze heats up with a mix of desire and caution. "I don't back down from a challenge. But you better bring your A-game if you think you can tame me so easily."

You lean in closer, your breath tickling his ear. "Oh, don't worry. I have a few tricks up my sleeve."

Feeling a sense of victory, you decide it's time to start playing your game. You press closer to Hector, your body almost flush against his. You tilt your head, allowing your lips to brush against his ear as you speak. "Here's how this is going to play out. We're going to dance, and every now and then, I'm going to touch you in a way that you wouldn't expect."

Hector shivers, the sensation of your lips against his ear sending a jolt of electricity down his spine. "And what happens if I can't handle it?" he asks, his voice hoarse with anticipation.

You chuckle, enjoying how quickly he's unraveling under your touch. "If you can't handle it, then I win," you reply smoothly. "But be warned, I don't play fair."

Hector grins, clearly enjoying the challenge. "Good. I like a little bit of chaos."

He pulls you closer to him, his hands resting on your hips as he begins to lead you in a slow, sultry dance. His breath is hot against your neck, sending shivers down your spine.

True to your word, you begin to make your moves. Every now and then, you'll brush against his body in a way that's just a little bit more than innocent. You'll lean in to whisper in his ear, your lips brushing against his jawline. You'll let your fingertips trail lightly down his chest, feeling the muscles tense under your touch.

Hector is struggling to maintain his composure. Every touch, every move you make is driving him crazier than the last. He tries to focus on breathing, but it's becoming increasingly difficult. The desire to take control of the situation is growing stronger, but he's determined not to let you win so easily.

Hector is clearly not one to be outdone. As the dance continues, his own touches become more intentional and deliberate. His hands slide from your hips to your waist, pulling you even closer to him. His fingers dance along the edge of your clothing, occasionally skimming across bare skin. He bends his head, his breath hot against your ear as he whispers words that are more than a little provocative.

Each touch from him only fans the flames of desire further. You can feel the heat emanating from his body as his movements become more assertive. He pulls you against him tightly, his body pressing against yours in a way that makes it difficult to think straight. His lips brush against your neck, leaving a trail of kisses that make your knees weak.

Seeing that Hector is starting to gain the upper hand, you silently acknowledge that it's time to up the ante. As you continue to dance, you decide to pull out your "ace in the sleeve". You angle your body so that your back is against his chest, and then you roll your hips against him in a slow, seductive movement.

Hector lets out a sharp intake of breath as your body grinds against his, the action taking him by surprise. His hands on your hips suddenly grip tighter, his fingers digging into your skin as he struggles to maintain his composure. You can feel the heat radiating off his body as his breathing quickens, an obvious sign that he's losing the game.

Emboldened by his reaction, you continue to move against him, enjoying the effect you're having on him. You let your head fall back, exposing your neck to his gaze, and you know he's completely lost. He's too wrapped up in the sensations you're creating to resist anymore.

Hector loses all self-control, the desire to have you all to himself taking over. He snatches your hand and pulls you away from the dance floor, leading you through the crowd and towards a secluded area.

Hector drags you into a private bathroom, the sound of the music muted as soon as the door closes behind you. He pins you against the wall, his body pressing against yours in a way that's both possessive and desperate.

He doesn't say a word, instead his mouth crashing down on yours in a fierce, hungry kiss. His hands begin to roam, exploring every inch of your body with an intensity that's almost primal.

Your mind is spinning, overwhelmed by the sudden whirlwind of sensation. Hector's kisses are greedy and relentless, his fingers digging into your skin as he fights to get closer, to claim every inch of you.

He lifts you up, your legs wrapping around his waist as he carries you across the room. He deposits you on the edge of the sink, his body wedged in between your thighs. His kisses trail down your neck, his teeth nipping and biting at your skin as he presses himself even closer.

Hector's hands move impatient to remove any barriers between you. He pulls the dress over your head, his eyes drinking in the sight of you in only a bra.

He takes a moment to admire you, his hands tracing over the skin of your chest, his gaze dark with desire. "Eres aún más hermosa de lo que imaginé." ("You're even more beautiful than I imagined.")

Your hands are just as eager, tugging off his shirt and exploring the hard planes of his chest and stomach. Your fingers trail along the ridges of his muscles, relishing the feel of his skin against yours.

He growls lowly, the sensation of your touch driving him even wilder. He pulls you back against him, his mouth finding your neck once more. His hands move to your back, deftly unclasping your bra.

The garment falls away, and his lips move lower, his mouth finding the sensitive skin of your chest. He worships your body with his mouth, his hands roaming every inch of you as he feasts on your skin.

Hector's lips and hands continue to roam over your body, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. His kisses become more demanding as he continues to taste your skin, his fingertips tracing light, teasing patterns on your flesh. He whispers your name, his voice deep and rough with desire.

"Me estás volviendo loco," ("You're driving me crazy,") he says, his lips against your ear. "I want you so badly, I can hardly stand it."

Your hands tangle in his hair, holding on as he worships your body with his mouth. You can feel the heat of his skin against yours, the muscles of his chest rippling under your touch. You arch against him, wanting more, needing more.

His hands grip your thighs, pulling you closer to the edge of the sink. His mouth moves down the center of your chest, his tongue trailing a path of kisses down to the hollow of your stomach. He looks up at you, his eyes dark with desire, his voice a growl.

"Tell me you want me," he says, his fingers digging into your thighs.

Your breath catches in your throat, the raw hunger in his eyes setting your body aflame. You pull him back up to your face, your hands framing his face.

"I want you," you murmur, your voice low and sultry. "I want you so badly, it's almost painful."

Hector growls again, the sound primal and feral. He captures your lips in a savage kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth as he presses himself flush against you. You can feel the proof of his desire, hard and demanding, against your hip.

Growling against your lips, he devours you in a hungry kiss, his tongue tangling with yours. His grip on you tightens, as if he's scared to let you go. His hips buck involuntarily, pressing his erection against your hip with an insistent need. Fuck...

Your mind is a haze of lust and need, your body burning for his touch. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, trying to get as much contact as possible. Your hands roam over his back, your nails digging into his flesh, leaving marks that will leave a delicious reminder tomorrow.

His body tenses, a moan escaping his throat as he starts rocking his hips, rubbing his erection against your heat. Fuck... He grunts, his hands groping at your body in desperate need.

The feeling of you tightening around him brings Hector to the edge. He groans as he reaches his release, letting out a deep, visceral sound as he pushes himself deeper into you. His muscles tense and his head falls forward, resting against your shoulder as he catches his breath.

You hold onto him, your body continuing to feel the aftershocks of your own release. Hector's weight presses you against the sink, his body still trembling with the aftermath of pleasure.

He lifts his head, his eyes meeting yours. There's a vulnerability there that you've never seen before, a raw honesty that makes your heart flutter.

He strokes your cheek, tracing his thumb over your lips. "You're amazing," he whispers, his voice soft and sincere. "I've never felt anything like that before."

You smile, feeling a warmth spread through your chest at his words. You reach up and touch his face, wanting to return the tender gesture. "Neither have I," you murmur, your voice filled with a mix of wonder and awe.

Hector leans in and kisses you again, this time it's gentle and slow. It's a kiss that's laced with affection and tenderness, a stark contrast to the frenzied passion of moments ago.

He lifts you from the edge of the sink, setting you gently on the ground. He gazes at you, his eyes roaming over your still-trembling body. "We should probably fix ourselves before someone comes looking for us," he says with a soft chuckle.

You nod, knowing that he's right. You quickly pick up your discarded clothes and begin to get dressed, your movements a bit shaky from the intensity of the moment. Hector helps you, gently pulling your arms into the sleeves and zipping your dress.

Once you're both presentable, Hector glances at the mirror and runs a hand through his hair, trying to smooth it down. He looks at you, a mischievous glint in his eye. "You know, we didn't get to finish our dance."

You raise an eyebrow, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "You're right, we didn't. Is that your way of asking me for a second dance?"

Hector grins, the cocky smirk returning to his face. "What if it is? Are you going to turn me down?"

You shake your head, a hint of regret in your expression. "Unfortunately, I'm afraid I can't. My brother will start to get suspicious if we disappear for too long."

Hector's expression falls a bit, disappointment evident in his eyes. "Ah, right. Your brother." He sighs, running a hand through his hair again. "I guess we'll have to save the second dance for another night then."

You give him a soft smile, trying to reassure him. "Don't worry, I'm sure we'll find another opportunity. Plus, it gives us something to look forward to, right?"

Hector grins again, the disappointment replaced with a hint of excitement. "You're right. Something to look forward to." He reaches out and takes your hand, bringing it up to his lips and pressing a tender kiss to your knuckles.

You feel a flutter in your chest at the gentle gesture. "Just so you know, I expect some fancy footwork next time," you tease, trying to lighten the atmosphere.

Hector chuckles, that cocky smirk returning to his face. "My footwork is always fancy, darling. You're the one who's going to have a hard time keeping up with me."

You roll your eyes playfully. "Is that a challenge? Because I might surprise you with my own dancing skills."

Hector laughs, pulling you closer to him. "It's a promise. Next time, we'll dance until the sun comes up."

He gazes at you for a moment, seeming to memorize every detail of your face. Then, he reluctantly releases you. "We should really go back now before your brother starts questioning our absence."

Hector and you make one last check in the mirror, ensuring that you're both presentable. Then, he opens the door and leads you back into the ballroom, where the music and laughter of the other guests envelop you once more.

The rest of the night is spent dancing, drinking, and chatting with friends. However, throughout the evening, you can't help but feel the heat of Hector's gaze on you, and the promise of a second dance hanging in the air between you.

[localkiss]

Yapping about death island and re4r leon!

slight nsfw:3 mostly fluff/angst thoughts doe

i want death island (or re4r) leon to like smother me with his weight. I want (need) him to soothe all my worries and frustrations with small pieces of affection.

I know he would subtly be touchy. Hand grabbing onto the hip and rubbing his thumb over the bone.. drooling rn. Wiping your lip if there's a crumb, or under your eye if there's an eyelash. Will go out of his way to make sure you feel comfortable and make sure you eat enough or drink enough water... (ahem I struggle w the second one so much ...)

Would find any excuse to help you get dressed, just to admire you in all of your glory. All the scars, stretch marks, beauty marks, he loves them all. Makes him feel better about his own scars when you dote on them. So he's gonna always dote on you twice fold :33 bc he's just like that.

Death island Leon will always find a way to spoil you rotten. Whether it be with gifts, his time, or finding new ways to make you feel so good you can't walk for days; count on him to always cheer you up! Will always ask if you want anything special for breakfast or if you want cereal. Because he genuinely wants to feel needed and like he's doing something that's helping you. (His ass is getting better at not feeling so down about himself because of his therapy 👍🏻☺️..+Chris is there too!) Take you on dates to the most expensive restaurants, while constantly holding your hand and rubbing his thumb across your smooth knuckles. If y'all are sitting down, he's gonna find a way to put his hand on your thigh. It soothes him, what can he say *wink* *wink*!

Re4r leon... Wheewww. Don't get me started. I think he's not good at expressing himself here and so he just likes to lay in bed with you in silence. Or watch a movie while cuddling you. Smallll things like that really gets him going. I think he would try buying you flowers every week or giving you massages. Things that would also bring the both of you together (whilst also grounding himself with the now!) Because of his depression and ptsd (no therapy AND no Chris💔) he often pushes you away and will just endlessly workout. Like he genuinely feels guilty for not doing anything all day, sometimes if it's with you. Until one day you suggest to like go to the beach and pick up trash, while also enjoying yourself with the scenery. Two birds with one stone !

Both versions just like to see you happy. I know he struggles with feeling like he needs to always be saving somebody or else he's just useless. Doing things with you like skincare, brushing your teeth, eating, showering, help him by a lot. Because he gets to be with you. It's special! Whenever he's away with you, he always pictures you in his mind, right next to him doing said activity.

Maybe I should've included re2 Leon... 💔 My stink, I miss u... (Can you tell who's my fav leon)

I dunno what this post was or why i wrote all of this down. (grrr im gonna get u writers block! Let me finish my fics without getting distracted!!!! 😡) aughhhhhh.

anyways... I just need him to be my savior god damn it😭😭😭!! Let me be the president's daughter getting saved😔 LMAOO im yapping too much.

[sungbeam]

nonidol!kim sunwoo x f!reader

you never thought your humble, little podcast would ever touch somebody's soul like it did one kim sunwoo's.

▷ genre, warnings. s2f2l, mutual pining/crushing, college au, fluff, minor angst, humor, comfort, swearing, i actually know very little about anything going on w their majors tbh LOL 💀, uhh sunwoo's a simp but wbk, the outline of sunwoo's abs but if u read too fast u will miss it, kissing, low-key miscommunication trope (im sorry i hate those too), rip sorry yangyang, uhm they're kinda cute i *guess* :/, if there r typos then whoops i don't like editing !!

▷ word count. 28.7k help TT

this is the fifth installment of the love in unity series! this fic can be read as a standalone, but there will be references to the main plotline and all other yns will be referred to as _!yn. ALSO, the second episode specifically has a direct reference to a scene from flight risk, but the rest of the fic won't need any other outside context!

a/n: for @justalildumpling and her chopsticks <3 i dragged myself out of writer's block, pls reblog :'))

EPISODE ONE (PILOT): RHAPSODY… LIKE THE BOHEMIAN ONE?

THERE was something about general education requirement courses that felt too much like a university scam. Why was it required to learn more about things that wouldn’t help one’s chosen career path in the long run? Sunwoo hadn't necessarily been thrilled when he wasn't able to get one of the lower level English classes to fill his requirement, but the 300-level literature class had so far turned out to be… actually interesting. Well, the literature itself was interesting enough. The professor?... Not so much.

There was one thing about this class that he could safely say kept him sane though. And it was more so a person than a thing.

The discussion classroom wasn't terribly full as he strolled through the door with his hoodie thrown over his dark brown curls and headphones, a pretty voice flowing through the ear pieces as he took his usual seat to the side of the room.

"...and we're back! Hope you all enjoyed this week's song recommendation. It's been a favorite of mine ever since my dad introduced it to me when I was a kid. An absolute road trip banger—"

Sunwoo's eyes flickered up to see that the TA for the discussion wasn't yet here, but he lowered the volume on his headset slightly in case.

"—kudos to all the songwriters out there. Writing relevant stuff that transcends time is hard, man. I can't even make meaningful conversation with my graduate student supervisor."

A small smile curled the corners of his lips upward. Just as he anticipated the segment on the host geeking out about her favorite oldies music picks, he heard instead—

"I can't even make meaningful conversation with my other grad student supervisors, you know?"

Wait a minute. Confusion flickered across Sunwoo's face as he checked and lifted one of his headphone ears. That can't be right…

Somebody sat down in the seat beside him, almost startling him because he had his back to the door. It was you, the pretty second-year who he had met on the first day of this discussion a few weeks ago. But he was peering at you now in a whole new light as a smile lingered on your face from your conversation with the class’s TA.

When you felt his eyes on you, you flashed him a bright grin. “Hey, Sunwoo.”

He cleared his throat, fumbling to turn his headphones off and follow your lead in taking out the materials needed for today’s discussion. “Oh, hey, Yn.” It occurred to him just how creepy he was probably being just then…just watching you. But the thoughts in his brain were flying around like mosquitoes around his head—had he been hearing things?

“What’d you think of the reading?” You asked him pleasantly.

The reading from the past week had been the first third of a novel called The Stranger, a version translated from its original written in French. Sunwoo sucked in a breath, grimacing, “It’s not my favorite,” he drawled. “I have no idea what the point of his character is, to be honest.”

You pursed your lips and nodded your head. “Yeah, he’s a little… flat,” you chuckled.

“Is this supposed to tie into the theory that professor was talking about last week?” He asked then, in an effort to actively shift his brain’s focus away from your awfully familiar voice and sayings, and to the present.

“Something about how he doesn’t fit societal standards. I think it’s existentialism and nihilism. Well, at least I think it is.”

Huh. Interesting. Sunwoo gave a little bob of his head, and this was just when the TA turned everyone’s attention to a class discussion about the novel. He definitely hadn’t thought of those terms specifically when reading, but at the same time, he did understand where you were getting that sentiment from. He just couldn’t articulate his view of literature quite as well as you could. That had made you somewhat intimidating to him in the beginning, besides your very cute smile, but he was hoping he could learn something from you nonetheless.

You weren’t even a literature major, he realized as he listened to you offer your thoughts to the group. It was cool, though—you were cool.

— ✶

The Songbird Station was a podcast, radio-esque show that Sunwoo had discovered over summer break, a few weeks ago. The podcast was hosted by an anonymous host who dubbed herself “DJ Dove.” She definitely didn’t mind talking about a few of her personal life experiences; it was easy to simply bar the names and identities. Sunwoo had binged all two seasons so far of the podcast, happily tuning in as a silent listener and admirer of hers for awhile, and he had always wondered where she went to school or who she was, but it hadn’t invaded his thoughts like this before.

Sunwoo laid in his bed the day after the literature discussion, his hands resting on his stomach and his expression turned up toward the violet-red LED-lit ceiling of his room. His phone sat on the edge of his nightstand as it played a playlist of songs that Dove had recommended to her listeners—or well, he wondered if he could safely assume that what he heard yesterday was correct, and that you were DJ Dove.

It would make sense, he thought. You were a sound and music production major, had great taste in music (from the brief conversations you struck up with him while in class), and you literally said the exact same thing that Dove had said over the podcast. It couldn’t have just been a coincidence. And now that he thought about it, your voice really did sound a lot like DJ Dove’s. There was a sort of friendly warmth to both of your voices, and—and—

Knock, knock— “Aye, Sunwoo! I'm going to Juyeon's place now. Are you sure you don't wanna come with?"

Oh, right. He had nearly forgotten that Eric had planned to head over to their new mutual friend's apartment tonight to watch a sports game. Juyeon was a friend of a friend of a friend—the connections ran long in their friend circle, he supposed. Sunwoo stole a peak at his phone screen for the time and his joints ached at the sight of 8:53 on the face. His face screwed up as he replied to his friend and roommate, “Nah, I think I'm still just gonna chill here tonight.”

He grabbed his phone fully off the nightstand this time and turned onto his side.

“Oh, okay. Don't burn the apartment down and don't steal my ramen!”

Sunwoo squished his face down into his pillow, raising his voice slightly since his words would probably be muffled, "I'm not going to steal your ramen!" This guy.

He heard Eric grumble something under his breath from the other side of the door, followed by the sound of footsteps moving farther away from his room. When he heard the front door close, he let out a breath and turned back to his phone. To his surprise, he had managed to absentmindedly navigate away from the playlist screen and to the Songbird Station homepage, filled with a collection of all of your links. One of these links was for listeners to submit song recommendations or ask questions, and most of the time, they were all anonymous with their own little nicknames.

He had never fully considered doing it… but that didn’t mean he hadn’t ever partially thought about it. He definitely imagined becoming one of Dove’s more frequent anonymous submitters and becoming friends with her—on a level that one could consider oneself friends between two anonymous users, at least.

But up until now, he hadn’t thought that he could do it. Well, because Dove was Dove; he was one of hundreds of listeners.

“But she’s Yn,” he thought aloud to himself, turning back onto his back to speak to the ceiling, as if the layer of plaster above his head could possibly give him a viable answer. “There’s probably a reason she doesn’t use her actual name,” he pondered further, expression contorted into deep contemplation. “This feels wrong!” He groaned.

There was at least one person he could count on to deal with his bullshit.

sunwoo’s phone: yes or no

tree rat: no

“Well, screw you, too,” Sunwoo huffed as he swiped out of his and Changmin’s text chain. Out of all the times Changmin said “no” randomly, it had to be this time.

It didn’t matter much anyway though. Sunwoo went back to the links page and clicked on the anonymous submissions. He was met with a customized greeting page from the hostess herself, as she thanked her listeners and asked what they’d like to contribute to the show.

Sunwoo moved to sit up against his headboard as he racked his brain for something to say. He had tons to say, but the first message had to be perfect, right?

“It’s fine,” he said out loud, thumbs flying over the keyboard to type out the first thing that came to mind. After all, it was completely anonymous, so it wasn’t like she would—or you would—even know it was him.

He probably read over his little paragraph about a hundred times before attempting to figure out an anonymous name to sign off with. He hugged his knee to his chest when he couldn’t come up with something cool, charming, or unique. Maybe he would stay completely unknown for now. Maybe he wouldn’t even have the courage to submit another message after this one anyway!—

"Rhapsody," he said aloud. Rhapsody was a cool word. Rhapsody anon? Was that who he would sign as?

He did the most logical course of action: look up the word. He asked the internet for its most basic definition, then somehow ended up in the rabbit hole of etymology of the word rhapsody. It described one who stitched verses or songs together—something of the sort. It sounded cool, at least.

It would have to do… and even if you—or DJ Dove—thought it was stupid, no one would know it was him.

Before he could psych himself out of it, Sunwoo pushed the submit button and launched his phone away from him onto the bed like it was explosive. There was something thrilling about anonymous submissions, but incredibly anxiety-inducing, as well. He could only hope that you would be pleased to read it.

— ✶

It was Wednesday when the next episode of the podcast dropped, and Sunwoo was swift to don his headphones on his way out the door of the apartment. The walk to campus was a good fifteen or so minutes, which would get him about a quarter of the way through the episode, but usually the line in the campus cafe was long, so he had plenty of time to listen.

“Welcome to Songbird Station! I’m your host, DJ Dove, and today, I went to my Groupon singing lesson and realized that I think my teacher is having an affair with her neighbor…?”

Sunwoo let out a snortish laugh, covering his mouth with his hoodie sleeve in slight embarrassment as he passed by somebody else going in the opposite direction. Usually, there would be anonymous submissions sprinkled throughout the episode, most of them having to be diverted to later episodes because they were song recommendations. Sunwoo wasn’t super optimistic about his chances of being featured in this episode, but a guy could dream, couldn’t he?

The sky was a pleasant shade of crystalline blue, even as the seasons shifted from summer to fall. There was a slight breeze wafting through the air that brought in the telltale autumnal chill.

"...and luckily the rest was history. My voice was completely dead and my throat is still a little sore, haha, so we'll do a couple more anonymous submissions and recommendations today! This is supposedly a radio show-esque podcast, after all. This one's from a new friend—Rhapsody Anon!"

Sunwoo nearly tripped over the flat sidewalk and sent a nervous smile to the other person waiting at the stoplight with him. Did you just say what he thought you said?

There came a soft laugh from you. "Ooh, like Bohemian Rhapsody by Queen? Such a classic, by the way. Rhapsody says: Hi Dove! Hoping you're doing alright and that songwriting is going well. I'm a relatively new listener but a fan from first listen—awh, wait… that's kind of like love at first sight but for the voice version, isn't it?"

He reddened. The crosswalk turned green.

"Anyways, that's really sweet; thanks so much—there's a bit more of the message that I'll post on my story later so we can save time, but Rhapsody, thank you for tuning in and interacting with me. Your message sounded so heartfelt to me? I dunno," you chuckled and he swore he could hear the smile in your voice, "maybe I'm a little biased 'cause I love your song rec, too. Speaking of which, Rhapsody recommends Painkiller by Ruel! An immaculate choice, if I do say so myself…"

Sunwoo couldn't help but smile to himself at your warm reception of his anonymous submission. He wished he could have gotten your full reaction to his entire message, but he understood that you needed to account for all the other things you had planned.

Even so, an acknowledgement from you would have been enough. He hadn't thought it was possible, but he thought he just became even more attached to this DJ Dove persona.

EPISODE TWO: I HATE VALENTINE'S DAY.

three months later.

THE curtains in Sunwoo's room were yanked open, the sound of metal rings against the metal bar scratched at his eardrums and made him grimace. It definitely did not help the pounding in his cranium, and—wait, was he in jeans? There was a disgusting after taste in his mouth, something akin to alcohol, and when he lifted his hand to rub his eyes, he felt dried tear tracks on his skin.

Eric stood at the foot of his bed with a scowl and his arms crossed over his chest. "I'm mad at you."

Sunwoo smooshed his face into his pillow in a sorry attempt to hide his eyes from the blinding overcast sky outside. "What's new?" He babbled incoherently.

It seemed his friend and roommate was not pleased with his answer and moved to tower over Sunwoo right beside him. "You couldn't have waited ten minutes before barging in? I was so close to kissing her!"

"Huh? What the hell are you…" Sunwoo's voice trailed off as the events of last night were slowly coming back to him.

Yesterday was Valentine's Day. Ugh. He remembered making plans to go to some singles party with Changmin and Chanhee, and that Eric was bringing EC!Yn over to woo her or something… yeah, he got all that. So why did Sunwoo drink so much and why couldn't he…

The notification… the tweet…

Oh no.

The emotions from last night came rushing back to him like the tide to shore. Horror contorted his face as his brain raced to string pieces of last night together. He released a groan as he brought both hands up to his face. "Oh my god," he muttered into his palms.

The distinct feeling of devastation and disappointment sank into his gut. No wonder he had thrown all caution to the wind last night and gotten himself drunk off his face.

"How bad?" He asked.

Eric still had his arms crossed. "You cried on EC!Yn like a whale and asked why women were perfect and why you couldn't have this one girl." By the drone of Eric's voice, he hadn't been pleased or amused by last night's events. Whoops.

"I'm—"

"You are going to be forever alone, by the way."

Sunwoo dropped his hands from his face and leveled a scowl up at Eric. Now, that he remembered saying, too. Unfortunately. "Hey! I'm still tender from last night."

Eric's smile was sarcastic and he said nothing as he made his exit from Sunwoo's room and left the hungover man to fend for himself. Left to his own devices, Sunwoo pushed out a harsh exhale as he stared up at the ceiling.

He remembered receiving the notification from the Songbird Station Twitter account and excusing himself to go to the bathroom to hear your voice memo. And when he'd finally found an empty bathroom and played it back, he learned a devastating piece of information.

Guys, I went on a date… updates in the next episode. That was what you had said, essentially—you, Yn Ln, the girl Sunwoo had met in his literature course last quarter and whom he had figured out was the anonymous host of the podcast Songbird Station under the pseudonym DJ Dove.

And he had gotten drunk over the fact that you'd gone out on a date, and said date hadn't been him.

"Dude," he said out loud to himself.

He couldn't believe he had gotten so off his rocker by this news. It wasn't like he knew you or liked you or—well, maybe he had grown an affection for you over the span of time he listened to your podcast and interacted with you via his own pseudonym, Rhapsody Anonymous.

But he was just another fan to you, and you would never know his identity.

A guy could dream though, right?

A thought suddenly occurred to him as he rolled over to go through the copious amounts of notifications on his phone he had. There were lots of messages in his group chat with Chanhee and Changmin that he would deal with later, lots of social media notifications, emails, and…

Wednesday. Today was Wednesday.

Sunwoo cursed. You were definitely uploading the episode today then.

He bit his lip as he sorted through the notifications to find one about the podcast. Sure enough, there it was: I Went On A Date? was the title, and he pretended like that didn't make him want to play Lany's Valentine's Day on loop—

The bedroom door opened and Eric poked his head into the room. "I made hangover soup."

Sunwoo blinked in surprise. "Oh. Thanks, man."

"Yeah, don't mention it," Eric mumbled, shifting on his feet. "Seriously, don't mention it."

— ✶

For the next couple of days, Sunwoo left the notification at the top of his phone, pretending like it wasn’t there. It had worked for about five minutes, but the remainder of time he was stubborn, he allowed his imagination to get the better of him. Although he no longer needed to take a literature course, he found himself deeply considering the vague title you had provided. Well, what could you mean by that question mark at the end? Had it not gone well? There was no way it could have, since your tone didn’t really scream “OH MY GOD I WENT ON A DATE!!!” (not that Sunwoo had imagined what he would have acted like post-date with someone like you or anything…). He didn’t even know who you had gone on a date with, and that made his stomach churn.

The curiosity devoured him alive over the two days he managed to torture himself with his overthinking. No one knew he listened to the Songbird Station podcast, and he planned to keep it that way. It would be the absolute death of him if any of his friends found out.

By Saturday morning, Sunwoo had had enough of his own stubbornness and caved. He donned his headphones, grabbed his bag, and headed out the door to do some work in a cafe located on the Ave. There was one that his friend Jacob had recommended to the group awhile back, and Sunwoo hadn’t looked back since.

As he tuned into the episode, he shoved his hands into the pockets of his hoodie, shivering against the cold, winter winds. February weather was a doozy, and a hot cup of coffee or hot chocolate sounded so very sexy right this moment.

“Welcome to Songbird Station! I’m your host, DJ Dove, and you’re probably wondering what the title of this episode even means, or why I sent that weird, cryptic voice message the other night.”

The traffic light turned green, and Sunwoo began to cross the road, the coffee shop in sight. His hands were beginning to get clammy in his pockets.

“Don’t riot, but friends, it means exactly what it says—” As you exhaled out a breathy kind of laugh, Sunwoo inhaled sharply.

“Helpful,” he muttered under his breath as he pushed into the warmth of the coffee shop. He shook the cold out of his body before hopping into the line to order.

“ —I did actually land myself a date yesterday. Honestly, I’m not really much of a dater; I never really had time with it over the past years because I would, uh… well, I would rather stay in and do music, y’know?”

The corners of Sunwoo’s lips curled up into a smile. Maybe he had been nervous before about this episode’s topic of choice, but he should have had more faith in you. Rather than speak about the date the entire episode, you always managed to worm in a discussion about your passions, and that was the kind of talk that had first gotten Sunwoo hooked. There was something so attractive about hearing or witnessing a person gush about their passions and ambitions—the way their eyes lit up, their posture righted itself, how they smiled so big that one could hear it in their tone of voice.

He was happy that you went out on a date, because you deserved to meet someone who treated you as special as you were. You were a good person, and it wasn’t fair that he was being so salty about it, especially when he was too chicken to—

“Sunwoo?”

His soul practically fell out of his body. “Shit—” He swore, yanking his headphones down with eyes as wide as the earphones. He whirled around to greet you with a flushed face, red like the old Christmas decorations still hanging up from the crown moldings.

You were standing right behind him with a mildly amused look on your face, your lips pressed into a smile and eyes crinkled in absolute delight. You were similarly bundled up like he was to no doubt shield you from the cold on your way here. “Sorry I scared you! I probably should have, like, tapped your shoulder or something, huh?”

Sunwoo let out a nervous laugh and cupped the back of his neck, the skin there warm to the touch. “Oh, uh, no problem at all. I just kinda…”

“Get scared easy?” You offered.

He huffed with a sheepish sort of smile. “No, no that’s not it. I—I just wasn’t expecting you, that’s all.” Inwardly, he winced. The fact that he was listening to your voice in his ears, and you just happened to say his name at the same time and appear in the same exact coffee shop as him. Weren’t there fifteen of these places on the block? There was no way you just happened to choose this one at this moment.

You chuckled, playing along. “Ah, I see, I see. We haven’t seen each other since fall quarter though. How have you been?”

You and Sunwoo inched up with the line, so the two of you now stood side by side. Sunwoo was trying everything he could to calm the racing of his heart. Play it cool, dude. “I’ve been okay…ish,” he grimaced, re-thinking his answer. “You know winter quarter is always the worst.”

“For sure,” you replied. “It’s so cold and dreary—nobody wants to leave their apartments, especially me,” you joked.

Sunwoo was about to chime in on how he could totally relate to that, when you popped the question: “And then there’s Valentine’s Day. Crazy how it never seems to rain on Valentine’s Day, though, so people can go out. Did you do anything for it?”

Sirens commenced their screeching in his head. WEE-WOO-WEE-WOO! Don’t let her know how much of a loser you were! He coughed, reaching up to scratch his head. “Uh, nothing special in particular, if that’s what you mean. A couple of my friends and I just went to this singles party.” Would that give you the wrong idea? Probably not, right? Why was he so bad at this, he thought, wasn’t he supposed to be a communications major?

You inched up in line. “Oh, that’s cool. I think I went to one in freshman year at my old uni,” you said.

Before he could stop himself, he said, “I almost forgot you transferred this year.” He knew that one from the podcast when you talked about the struggles of being a transfer student and having to almost “redo” your entire first year experience, social-wise. But you had also told him that when you and he had worked together in your shared class last quarter; it was just that the two of you didn’t really talk much about your old university much after that.

“It’s okay,” you smiled, nudging his arm with yours as a gesture for him to order first. “Not many people remember.”

Sunwoo wanted to protest, maybe to reassure you that it wasn’t that easy to forget something like that, but he was forced to switch gears and order his hot beverage first before he could say anything else to you. After he said goodbye to five more dollars, he stepped aside and made his way over to the pick-up counter to wait for you and his drink.

When you were done, you sidled up beside him, hands tucked into the folds of your coat.

Come on, say something, his inner voice chided. “So, uh, how was your Valentine’s Day?”

He immediately regretted it. Out of everything he could have asked, he had to go with the one topic he really didn’t want to hear about. However, it had been one of the logical progressions of the conversation, and who knew? Perhaps it wouldn’t lead to him feeling like he’d been shot down with lightning? (Was he being a little dramatic? Yes. Did it matter? Not when no one was going to hear him, no.)

You let out a small laugh and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “It was okay,” you replied.

It was… it was okay? What was he supposed to do with that answer—

“I mean,” you continued with a smile that looked more like a grimace, “it was—fine! It was fine. Uhm…”

Sunwoo’s thoughts came to a slow, teetering stop. Worry began seeping into the cracks of his brain as new scenarios formed. “Hey, if you’re uncomfortable talking about it, then we don’t have to talk about it.” All of the nerves and envy from before was becoming something softer in concern for your response.

“No! No, it’s okay. I promise,” you reassured him. The look you gave him was earnest, and he felt the fist tucked into his pocket gradually relax a bit. “It’s just weird putting it into words, y’know? I kind of chickened out of talking to my friends about it, and even to—” You stopped yourself short, and he could see you backpedaling in your brain. “Anyways, it just felt weird? I think it would have been a really nice night if I actually saw him in that light. But at the same time, I kind of want to try and give it a chance. Does that make sense?”

He nodded, tension falling out of his shoulders. “It does. I mean, sometimes there’s just no spark, y’know?” He added. “I was just worried he did something to make you uncomfortable or something.”

“Oh, no, nothing like that. You don’t have to worry.”

“Okay, that’s good,” he murmured, licking his lips. “I’m just curious—” he piped up, “—and you don’t have to tell me, but who did you go out with?”

One of the baristas from behind the counter called your names, and the two of you both stepped forward. Sunwoo took a long stride to get there before you, and handed you your cup for you.

You murmured a “thanks” to him first before stirring in a packet of sugar. “Liu Yangyang. Do you know him?”

Did he? Yangyang was one of the people Sunwoo recognized from not only around campus, but as a person who made music online, too. Even if Yangyang was in the same year as him, Sunwoo always admired the man’s flow and way with words. It made so much sense that Yangyang would pursue you, someone equally talented and charismatic, especially if the two of you were the same major.

A tightening sensation creeped into Sunwoo’s chest as he marinated on the revelation further. If you couldn’t see someone like Yangyang in a romantic light, then where did that put himself?

As Sunwoo let his intrusive thoughts get the best of him, you finished preparing your coffee.

“I’ve gotta run now,” you told him with a soft-cornered grin. “It was nice seeing you, Sunwoo.”

Sunwoo managed a smile back at you, head bobbing in some semblance of a nod, before you were exiting the shop. He stood there for a moment to gather his wits, his thoughts, and his dignity.

“Did that really just happen?” He muttered to himself. He took his coffee with him to find an empty table and retrieved his study materials from his bag. Technically, he didn’t even have to listen to the rest of the podcast, but… who was he kidding?

EPISODE THREE: HEART TO HEART

“YOU’RE coming with me to the practice rooms, right?” Ji Changmin trailed behind Sunwoo as the two of them shouldered into Sunwoo and Eric's shared apartment with their bags and leftovers from today's lunch. It had been about a week and a half since he had bumped into you at that café and he had been feeling over the interaction since.

Sunwoo popped open the refrigerator while his friend perched on one of the breakfast bar stools, his duffle bag dumped at his feet. "Uh, yeah. 'Course, hyung," he said, shifting some groceries from JC!Yn around to make space for his white plastic container.

A thought occurred to him, and he groaned. "But you're gonna have to go first—without me," he clarified. He grabbed the carton of orange juice out to pour himself a glass, facing his friend's curious look.

Changmin's brows furrowed. "Wait, why not?"

It was a reasonable question, as it went against Sunwoo's normal pattern of behavior. Usually, Sunwoo would tag along with Changmin to the practice rooms at the back of the performing arts building. Changmin was a dance major, and with the highly anticipated winter dance showcase just around the corner, it was important that he got that practice in. Plus, with Eric out of town for an away game, Sunwoo was left alone in the apartment, which wasn't exactly his favorite thing. He would much rather go out and be around other people… unless there was something else occupying him.

Today, that certain occupation came in the form of your first live podcast session, something you were trying out. It was just going to be a live audio stream, so you could stay anonymous with your pseudonym, and answer people's submissions live. You had been advertising it for the past week, having excluded the weekly podcast in order to prepare for today.

Sunwoo was excited as you were and wanted to support you and be one of the people tuning in live. This was important to him, and he had even gone so far as to plan out his day.

"I just have something I need to turn in before the day ends," he said easily, shoulders lifting in a half-hearted shrug. He lifted the glass of orange juice to his mouth for a languid gulp.

Changmin made a teasing noise of disappointment. "Aye, you know if Chanhee were here he'd be on your ass, right?" He chuckled, the dimple of his smile pressing into his cheek.

Sunwoo pouted when he lowered the glass. "If Chanhee or JC!Yn were here, I wouldn't have admitted to procrastination. I have self-preservation skills."

"And you don't think I'd be on your ass?" Changmin gasped dramatically with a hand pressed to his chest.

With tongue in cheek, Sunwoo grinned amusedly. He shook his head, adjusting the hood pulled over him. "Hyung, you can't ding me for procrastination when you procrastinate religiously. Remember that one time you had to beg Professor Ka—"

"Yah! Nobody asked for specifics!"

Sunwoo's chuckle turned into nervous laughter as Changmin reached across the island with a claw-shaped hand. "Ah! No! You stay away—go practice!"

Changmin snickered. "Chicken."

Soon after, Changmin indeed took his leave to head over to the performing arts hall. Sunwoo drained the juice in his cup and refilled it before making a beeline for his bedroom.

The livestream was projected to last for an hour, about the length of a usual episode, but you did say the timing wasn't set in stone. Sunwoo set himself up at his desk, signing into the platform you always used. Over the past couple of months he was Rhapsody, he'd become one of your regulars, suggesting new and old songs from his music library, talking about his day or week or something the last podcast had reminded him of. He liked to think that the two of you were friends—parasocially.

A guy could dream, right?

He was on his phone when the waiting room faded and became a split screen: one half with a sketched sign that read "ON AIR: COMING TO YOU LIVE!" with a little dove in headphones, and the other half was a live chat feed that people who were tuned in could use. There was both a public and private feature, and Sunwoo kept his on the public chat, unafraid of what a bunch of other people behind anonymous names and screens could do to scare him.

"Oh! Woah, I think that worked," came your voice, loud and clear, through his laptop speakers.

He smiled to himself, reaching over to settle his fingers on his keyboard. A tingling feeling bubbled up inside him, starting from his toes and rocketing up through his chest. He could actually talk to you in real time today.

You clapped lightly on the other side, relief pouring through your voice. "Thank god. I'm supposed to be good with some computer programs, but this livestream feature is kind of new. How're we doing, everyone? It seems…" A couple clicks from your end, "... We've got some more people rolling in. I'll give it a couple minutes, but let me know who we've got here today! It's so cool seeing you guys live!"

Sunwoo was swift to type out a greeting message: Dovey hi!! He paired it with a little, hand-waving emoji.

The small gasp of delight from you had him giggling to himself. "Oh my god, Rhapsody! Hi, best friend, welcome in! We might actually be able to hold a conversation for once," you chuckled.

rhapsody anonymous: yeah fs haha

rhapsody anonymous: did u have a good week? it felt weird without an ep from u 🤧

"Oh! Yeah, haha, sorry about that—”

He rushed to type as you continued with answering his question: No no! Don’t worry, I don’t blame you or anything lol it’s just something I look forward to every week.

“...Ah,” you said after skimming over his message. “Understood—and aw, I’m glad it’s something you look forward to every week. That makes me really happy to hear… oh! It looks like the numbers are becoming a little stagnant, so I’m gonna get started. Hi, everyone! Welcome to the live edition of Songbird Station. I’m your host…”

— ✶

An hour later, Sunwoo ended up seated at the kitchen counter, drinking orange juice straight out of the nearly-depleted carton, while the livestream continued on. The whole experience had been one of a kind, and by the way you were able to seamlessly speak and engage with your audience for the entire time made Sunwoo feel warm and fuzzy. He was glad this was working out for you.

There was a gradual lull in conversation, however, and you were just wrapping up your last topic to bring your first livestream to an organic stop.

“...wanna thank you all for being here, of course. 57 people listening to my voice for over an hour is kind of crazy, but this was a lot of fun!...”

Sunwoo was just about to start typing up a message to you when his phone buzzed on the counter beside his laptop. He startled, fumbling with the device and grumbling under his breath until he saw who it was and picked up the call.

“Hyung?” He squeezed the phone between his ear and shoulder, attempting to finish his private message to you. I was wondering if I could…|

Changmin’s voice came out breathy and panting like he had just finished a run-through. “Hey, are you done with your assignment yet?”

I was wondering if I could hang back for…| “Huh?” Why couldn’t he multitask, for god’s sake? I was wondering if I could hang back for a minute? If it’s weird though, then it’s no problem…|

No, that wasn’t weird, right? Totally not. He pressed the 'enter' key, satisfied with the message.

“What were you saying?” Sunwoo asked and picked up the phone with his hand. His eyes flickered back to his laptop screen to find that you had sent him a private message back.

Changmin let out a grumbling sigh. “I was just thinking—”

“Uh oh,” Sunwoo joked.

He could hear his friend’s eye roll from here. “When you get here Kim Sunwoo…”

“Okay, okay, okay!” He chuckled as he read your message and silently punched the air in celebration. “What do you want? I was in the middle of something.”

“Rude! And I was calling you because I was thinking about you,” Changmin huffed. “Anyway, I was just going over some of the movement for Juyeon and my ‘Light a Flame’ duet, right? And I came up with this combo that would be perfect for three people—”

Sunwoo sucked in a breath. “Oh, nonono!”

“But!”

“No!” Sunwoo protested. “Hyung, you know that I don’t… y’know, I can’t dance up there with you and Juyeon hyung! That’s way too much pressure; you’re both so good at dance.” He pressed his finger against the edge of the counter and began mindlessly dragging it along the surface. There had originally been plans of Sunwoo joining Changmin and Juyeon’s dance partnership for this year’s winter showcase performance, but Sunwoo backed out. The winter showcase was far too large of an event for Sunwoo could even fathom participating in, let alone dancing with two of the best dancers he knew. There was just no way.

Changmin sighed from the other end. He’d heard this argument before and he’d argued against this argument plenty of times. “Okay, fine. See you in how long?”

Sunwoo placed his phone onto the counter again so he could tell you that he was still here and hadn’t just left you hanging. “Uh, give me like, thirty minutes.”

“Alright. I better see your ass here in thirty minutes, Sunwoo.”

“Yeah, I know. See ya, hyung.” He hung up then, shoulders sagging slightly from the conversation. It wasn’t like he had to participate in the winter showcase—he was no dance major, nor was he a dance minor. He technically hadn’t even decided on a minor, and had only been focusing on getting this degree finished. Whether or not he had chosen a minor yet was not his parents’ favorite discussion when they visited him, but… it would get done when he had the energy to. He didn’t want to bring up the idea of a dance minor—he saw what it did to Changmin and his parents’ relationship and—well, it was just better this way, for now.

Having finished with his phone call, Sunwoo returned his focus to you, where, god bless, you were still waiting for him in the livestream room.

rhapsody anonymous: omg i’m SO sorry!! >< a friend of mine just called and turns out i am awful at multitasking

“No worries,” you laughed. “I figured that was the case. Everything okay, Rhaps?”

The corners of his mouth curled up at the thoughtful ask. Even when the two of you had been classmates, you were new to the school, but still made him feel like the two of you had known each other for longer than simply a few weeks. It only made sense that you were the host of this podcast, the very thing that had been his source of comfort as of late.

rhapsody anon: yeah nothing really serious lol

rhapsody anon: i just have this friend who’s doing the winter showcase and i was supposed to go to the practice room with him

rhapsody anon: actually, i was going to dance and perform w him too but ig i kind of chickened out

He didn’t know why he was telling you all of this; this wasn’t even what he originally intended to talk to you about.

He heard you make a soft sound of understanding. You shifted in your seat. “I see… the winter showcase is a big event though, as I’ve heard from peers and friends. It's probably really intimidating to even perform in the pre-show, you know? Are you a dance student, by chance?”

rhapsody anon: i’m not, but i’ve taken the intro to hiphop course my freshman year and i usually dance for fun w my friend

rhapsody anon: i think i’ve just always been kind of insecure in my abilities to keep up w him?

“Is he a dance major?”

rhapsody anon: he is

Sunwoo leaned back from the laptop and took his hands off the keyboard. He settled his chin onto his folded arms as he listened to your reply.

“Well, I don’t think you should compare yourself to a dance major, right, Rhaps? I mean, it’s not fair to expect more from yourself when he’s clearly had more experience. And if you enjoy dancing, then I don’t see what the harm in trying to perform or even just being satisfied with private practice sessions is!” You paused for a second to gather your thoughts. “What I’m saying is… is that, I can understand where you might feel insecure, and that’s normal, y’know? And if you’re feeling a little unprepared for this year, there’s always future opportunities.”

Sunwoo peered up at his screen as if he could see you on the other side, speaking to him. He sat up to type out a response. Thanks for hearing me out, it’s nice to feel validated. Sorry this kind of took a downer tone haha it wasn’t my intention, I swear!

You giggled and he swore he was smiling a little too wide now. “No worries, really! I’m glad I could be of help, even if it’s to make sure that you know your feelings are valid. If I’m being honest, one of the few reasons why I even started this podcast thing was to kind of just put my experiences out there in search of validity.” You sighed, “I dunno. It’s a story for another time. I am curious, though, as to why you originally wanted to hang out with me after the others left.”

Oh, right. Sunwoo bit his lip.

rhapsody anonymous: this isn’t really a song rec, but ig it kind of is… i feel like superstar by taylor swift reminds me of u

He held his breath after he pressed the ‘enter’ key.

“Oh…” your voice was soft in surprise, and it made something like giddiness spike in his chest. “That’s really sweet, Rhaps. I… I’m not sure what to say, but thank you. Genuinely.”

rhapsody anonymous: u don’t have to say anything!! really haha ur work and ur words have touched a lot of people

“Even you?”

rhapsody anonymous: esp me

And even after you and he had said goodbye to one another and logged off; even after he was well out of the apartment and on his way to campus, that giddy feeling in his chest still hadn’t left him.

EPISODE FOUR: SHOT THROUGH THE HEART! [AND WE’RE ALL IN PAIN]

DEAD week was not typically something Sunwoo had to worry about, as fortunate as that sounded. There were, obviously, classes that made his stomach queasy and made him feel like the world was crumbling into Hot Cheeto dust, but his classes this quarter had been merciful to say the least. The week before finals week was always something that could be visibly observed on campus: students either manifesting like zombies or zooming around to claim seats in the library; grades rising and falling like the housing market; and snacks and coffee being more commonly consumed than any other moment of the quarter.

It was always a hot pile of shit, no matter the student or major.

“Someone just needs to tell Ouyang to chill!”

“Uh-huh.”

“For sure.”

“—it’s not like we’re the root of all of his problems! I’m just trying to graduate!” Eric halted in the middle of the hallway, causing Sunwoo, whose face was nose-deep in his phone screen, to ram into the baseball player’s back.

“Ow!” He hissed, furiously rubbing the place at his forehead that had collided with the nape of Eric’s neck.

“You’re not paying attention,” said Eric, flatly. He turned to Jacob, who also wasn’t paying attention. “Hyung!”

Jacob’s head lifted from where he was busy smiling down at some orange cat video. “What? Nacho’s learning the periodic table—” He flipped his phone around to show Eric, his face immediately lighting up as he forgot about why he was even mad in the first place.

The three of them were currently in the front half of the performing arts building, heading inwards from the main hall to the backstage area where a couple of their friends were already hanging out. Sunwoo had bumped into Jacob and Eric on his way from one of the campus libraries, and with nothing else better to do (than to study), he tagged along to go find someone to bother. (Jacob and Eric were both STEM majors though, which was weird to Sunwoo since… well, shouldn’t they be bunkered up somewhere trying to survive this quarter’s dead week? Anyways…)

Sunwoo sighed and brushed past his two friends to venture deeper into the building. He could already hear somebody’s music blasting from the sound booth as they rehearsed onstage. Over the past several weeks, everyone had been busy preparing for the winter showcase happening at the end of finals week, right before spring break. Ever since Sunwoo’s talk with you over livestream, he had felt a little better about not joining Changmin and Juyeon on stage this year. Plus, from what he could tell when he watched them practice, they already looked pretty much perfect with just the two of them.

Though, there would always be a part of him that wished he really had the courage to go up there and show the audience what he was made of.

Sunwoo wandered into the main auditorium with his hands tucked into his pockets and the doors closing softly behind him. There was indeed a group practicing their number on the stage at the moment. He could even make out the shapes moving from behind the curtains in the wings as other tech members and dancers rushed to and fro to get to where they needed to. Somewhere in that mass of chaos were his friends.

A familiar voice had him lifting his head toward the sound booth. His eyes widened when he recognized you standing in the booth with Bang Chan, one of the more prominent sound and lighting directors working here at the performing arts center. However, it looked like you were leaving, your hands clumsily wrestling with the zipper on your bag while you continued your conversation with Chan, and while attempting to walk backwards out of the sound booth.

Oh my god, you were going to trip on something if he didn’t help—

Both Sunwoo and Chan pounced toward you as the thought occurred to both of them at the same time.

“Yn, careful!” Sunwoo yelled, as he dove for your phone.

Chan steadied you at the bicep, and you hugged your bag to your chest with a flustered grin. “Oops?”

Chan ruffled your hair as he let you go, nodding his hello to Sunwoo, then ducking back into the booth. You stepped out into the main room and shut the door behind you. “Thanks,” you said to him sheepishly, accepting your phone from him.

The two of you naturally fell into step with one another and Sunwoo let you lead him back out towards the main entrance again. “I didn’t know you worked behind the scenes here,” he told you, cupping the back of his head. If he racked his brain, he couldn’t recall hearing about it from your podcast either. “This is the second time I’ve seen you here,” he chuckled.

You stopped for a minute in the middle of the hallway to get a hold of your things. You had to hike your knee up to properly zip your backpack before hauling it over your shoulder. “Oh, that’s right! Just a couple days ago you were here with your friends, right?”

He gave a bashful sort of grin. He had been here a couple days ago when he came to bother Changmin, and ended up hanging out backstage while Hyunjae’s best friend hosted auditions for her play. It was then that he had seen you hustling about with the Lee Jihoon about lights. He’d been caught so off-guard by seeing you; it was a miracle he managed to even get Changmin to forget about that whole interaction. “Yeah, sorry I was kind of… weird. I didn’t expect you, that's all.”

“Lots of surprise run-ins with us, huh,” you teased, the side of your arm bumping with his as you walked.

Us.

“It’s nice to see you more often though.”

You nodded. “The feeling’s mutual, Sunwoo. Thanks for warning me earlier; I’m usually more careful with my stuff, especially when I’ve got special cargo.” As you said this, you reached back to pat your backpack affectionately.

Sunwoo lifted a brow, opening the door for you as the two of you stepped out into the lobby. “Oh? What kind of special cargo?”

The smile on your face widened. “It’s, uhm, a recording mic, actually! I’ve been coming by to intern around the tech side of things here, and Chan and Jihoon give me some tips about music production, too.” You trailed off, an idea taking hold in your head, and that wide beam from just seconds ago became this shy, little thing. “Hey… would you maybe be up to listening to something of mine? I mean, it’s kind of a weird request, but your music taste from first quarter was top notch—”

“Yes,” Sunwoo said, without even waiting for you to finish your rambling.

You paused, and he rejoiced in the pure delight on your face. “Really? That’s—this is great. Wait, I’m so excited! We’ll need to find a private place to listen, but—”

“Oh my gosh, Yn?”

Coming in from the front lobby doors was none other than Han Jisung, a fellow second-year whom Sunwoo was familiar with. He was bundled in a massive, puffy cream jacket with his head shoved into a beanie, and his nose was reddened from the cold. Jisung tucked the earbuds in his ears away into their case, waddling over to you both with the joy of a baby penguin. “And Sunwoo! Woah, it’s so cool to see you, man. What’s up?”

Sunwoo clasped his hand in his. “S’cool to see you, too, dude. Yn and I were just on our way out.”

Jisung moved over to you and pulled you in for an affectionate side hug. “Oh, well, that’s nice to hear,” he snickered, wagging his eyebrows at you while you sent him a pointed look.

Wonder what that was all about…

“Anyways,” continued Jisung, “I just came by to bother Channie-hyung. Is he in the box?”

You bobbed your head in affirmation. “Yup. There isn’t anyone else with him right now, so I’m sure there’ll be plenty of space for you to bug him.”

“Nice,” he grinned. As he walked away in the direction from which you and Sunwoo came, he sent a wave. “See you both around!”

“Bye!” Both you and Sunwoo called back before resuming your walk out the front entrance.

“So how do you—” The two of you laughed when you both started talking at the same time, saying the same thing. Sunwoo gestured toward you, insisting that you ask the question first. You did: “So how do you know Jisung?”

Sunwoo snorted at the memory. “I, uh, saw him in the hall once and smacked his ass, then asked for his number.”

You had to stop to double over in laughter, clutching your stomach while Sunwoo looked on in flustered amusement. Your face had heated up considerably, and you barely managed to follow him down the steps toward the bus stop. “You what?” You asked, once you could get out anything other than wheezes.

He chuckled, shrugging. “Okay, well, I actually know him from this music summer camp we both went to in high school. I didn’t realize he came to this uni until I saw him last year and… well, made my presence known to him.”

You clapped your hands together and collapsed onto the bus bench. “I was gonna say—that’s one hell of a hello.”

“It’s a true story,” he insisted.

“Oh, I believe you.”

The two of you shared a laugh for a moment and Sunwoo took a seat beside you, his knee bouncing up and down as you waited for the bus to come by. He nudged your shoulder with his. “So what about you then? How do you know Han?”

“Hm? Ah, I just know him ‘cause we share the same major-ish. I’m sound and music production, and he’s just a general music major,” you explained. “We also share a composition class, as well as a writing course. Did you know the guy is a fantastic poet?”

Sunwoo’s eyebrows arched upward. “I would not be surprised; the guy’s an ace.”

“Totally agree.” You fidgeted with your phone between your hands. “He was also one of my first friends here after I transferred. He’s kind of shy, but he’s one of the good eggs you can meet.”

A nod. He glanced over at you, his eyes breathing in the far away look on your face. “Yeah, he is. But hey, at least you got to befriend him then, hm? Maybe some things are just meant to be.”

You met his gaze and Sunwoo felt his heart stutter into a gallop. “Yeah,” you murmured, “I think so, too.”

— ✶

You and Sunwoo ended up in one of the booths of the restaurants on the Avenue. It was a cozy, little hole in the wall with soup that tasted like home and made your belly feel warm and content. You had set up shop at your table, your laptop with the audio file pulled up and your wired earbuds plugged in. You had to power all of your will into not showing Sunwoo how nervous you were for him to listen to this—your fingers shook slightly even as you passed him both of your earbuds.

In an attempt to pass off as cool, calm and totally collected, you brought your glass of water to your mouth to sip on. You'd thought to order food first, then let Sunwoo listen to the file.

"Let me know if you can't hear anything," you blurted out just before he put the buds in.

He paused, then smiled. "I got it," he assured you warmly.

Once the buds were fitted and the song started playing, you could only wait and watch to gauge his reaction.

At first, his eyes widened a smidge. Then he slowly began nodding to the beat, eyes falling closed as he soaked in the electric guitar chords mixed in that Jisung helped you out with. You watched him lean back in his seat… saw the smile bloom on his face, wide like a flower opening its petals to greet the brilliant sun.

And that beautiful smile… oh, he was so pretty when he smiled.

It was a couple minutes later that his eyelids finally fluttered open, and yet that smile on his face remained ingrained there. He passed you your earbuds as you awaited the verdict. "Girl, you've got pipes," he said with emphasis, his face screwed up in an expression one could only describe as appreciative. "Like—oh my god, I want that bridge tattooed on my forehead," he groaned and leaned forward to bury his face in his palms.

Your heart could fly, soar, literally ascend to fucking space! You smiled, big and wide, as you wrapped up the wire chords around three fingers. "I'm glad you liked it."

"Liked it?" He perked up, then melted to the table as he mumbled into his hoodie sleeve, "I could kis…" You didn't catch the end bit of his sentence as his voice dissipated into the fabric of his shirt.

"What'd you say?"

When he lifted his head, his cheekbones had flushed a shade of rose gold. He cupped the back of his neck with a nervous laugh, "Nothing! It was nothing. I just—I just love it, Yn. Really, I mean it. I'm not just saying that because we're friends—"

"Ah, so we're friends?" You jested, even as your heart skipped like a pebble across the surface of a lake.

Sunwoo blinked, lips pursed. "We're not friends?"

"No, I'm only kidding!" You said and leaned your cheek against your fist. "Your reaction was cute though."

You swore something shuddered across his face, but you didn't have much time to analyze it when you felt a presence make himself clear at the head of the table.

Yangyang appeared in a warm-looking jacket and scarf, his eyes flickering curiously between you and Sunwoo. You suddenly felt an anxious spike in your chest at the thought of what this might have looked like to him. That was, until he saw the laptop, of course. You saw the relief in his shoulders, the ease in which he smiled now. "Hey Yn-ie, didn't know you'd be here."

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Sunwoo scratch his jawline, then scoot forward and offer his hand to Yangyang. "Hey, I'm Sunwoo. You're Yangyang, aren't you?"

Yangyang clasped Sunwoo's hand good naturedly with a typical gummy smile. "Yeah, that's me. It's nice to meet you."

"I was just showing him the project," you said next, drawing both of the boys' attention to you.

"Ah," your friend nodded. "How'd you like it, Sunwoo?"

Sunwoo lit up. "It was—incredible. I don't even know how to describe it, y'know? If it was on my Spotify, it'd probably be on my Wrapped."

There went your heart, goodness. You and Sunwoo locked eyes across the table, and you wished you could convey how much his words meant to you by just a look.

"Totally agree," Yangyang nodded. "My Yn-ie's got a gift and she knows how to use it." He gave your head a gentle pat, and heat rose to your cheeks from the bombardment of attention. It hit you subtly, an epiphany—

Yangyang cleared his throat then and returned his hand to his side. "Anyways, I'll leave you two to it. I'll talk to you later?" He asked you as he was already taking a step backward.

—the heat wasn't for him. It simply wasn't.

"Yeah! I'll shoot you a text later," you promised. You realized then that you had barely even spoken to Yangyang since your Valentine's Day date ended several weeks ago. There had just been a lot of mixed feelings churning around in your head that needed time to be sorted out. (And it was currently being resolved.) With a slight inward grimace, you turned your focus back to the guy you'd brought here in the first place.

Sunwoo slid your laptop over to your side of the table. "Soooo… you and Yangyang, huh?" He laughed, and you weren't certain, but it sounded a bit unsteady.

You played with the hem of your sweater sleeve. "I mean, kind of? Not really? We went on that date a while back, if you remember, but that's about it."

He leaned in. "Yeah, I remember."

"Yeah, and we also haven't had time to really properly talk since?" You winced. "I guess it's not really as bad as I make it sound. It's just that, we've pretty much known each other since primary school. He had just moved from Taiwan, and we were pretty good friends. And he would move back and forth between here and this one town in Germany, but we would always—" you made a vague gesture, "—find each other? Is that the word?"

You let out a breathy sort of laugh. "I'm sorry, I dunno why I'm telling you my history with this guy. It's stupid."

Sunwoo frowned and shook his head. "It's not stupid, Yn."

You inhaled, then chewed on your cheek. "It's just that I always feel like people don't really stick around, at least for me. But Yangyang… he's been one of the few constants in my life, and I'm really grateful for that."

"I'm sensing there's a 'but' with this."

You indulged him. "But I'm starting to think that maybe I can't really see him as that kind of constant, if that makes sense." Your brows furrowed in thought. The boat you were on rocked roughly with the waves, the water turbulent and unsteady, as if at any moment it could throw you off. But you were used to the rocking, and you weren't sure why you should be so used to it. Settling for Yangyang even though you were beginning to realize that he probably wasn't The One? That was like staying docked in a home port you'd grown used to when you yearned for the horizon.

You heard Sunwoo crack his knuckles, and perhaps there really was a certain sheen to his eyes then. "I don't want to put words in your mouth," he drawled carefully, "and I can't imagine how exactly you feel and I don't know your whole story. But it has to be hard when it feels like, I don't know, like people are moving on without you." The earnestness in his eyes made his dark brown eyes deeper and richer. "And maybe it's comfortable with Yangyang and you want to try with him because you know that you two will always somehow find each other again."

"You kind of put what I was thinking into coherent sentences there," you mused, the corners of your lips curling upward.

Sunwoo reflected your expression. "That's good to hear, because I was pretty sure I sounded arrogant."

You laughed then, shaking your head. "No, I appreciated that. And you got it right." Breathing a sigh, you saw a waiter coming by to drop off the food the two of you had ordered. "I think it's just taken me some time with myself and with—with other people to make me realize it."

He glanced up with thanks as the waiter passed you your meals, and you swore you saw his hand make a move to reach for yours across the table. But he stopped short, and instead, helped move your hot bowl of soup over to you. "You never know," he said sheepishly, "The One could be right under your nose."

— ✶

eric 🤨: dude where did u go??? cobie hyung and i looked up and u disappeared into thin air

eric 🤨: omg jisung said u went somewhere w a GIRL??? IS THIS THE GIRL U WERE GETTING ALL DRUNK AND SAD ABT 👀

sunwoo’s phone: YAH!!! OH MY GOD STFU

eric 🤨: no.

EPISODE FIVE: LOTS OF THINGS BLOOM IN SPRING

“SO her name is DJ Dove?”

Sunwoo made a face around his toothbrush as he spat the frothy white into the sink bowl. “For the millionth time, yes.” Through the mirror, Sunwoo watched Eric’s face as his roommate perched himself atop the kitchen counter and went quiet, his face pensive. After coming home to Eric’s confrontation, Sunwoo promised to explain it all in the morning to him.

It was unfortunately the morning, meaning Sunwoo had spent the past hour bringing Eric up to speed on his nonexistent love life. Fortunately, it was also a Wednesday morning, which meant you had just posted your newest episode of the podcast, and Sunwoo could force Eric to listen to it with him. A part of him was tense at the thought of no longer “gatekeeping” his little secret that he had kept for the past several months, but this was Eric, one of his best friends. Maybe this would lift a weight off of Sunwoo’s chest by finally telling someone.

“...I’m still in the thrall of dead week,” your voice blasted from the speaker of Sunwoo’s phone at high volume, “and it’s come to my attention that next quarter will probably be a lot for me. I guess this is me forewarning you all that I might be late with some episodes because I’ve got this new internship thing.”

Sunwoo dunked his face into the sink bowl as he splashed water over his lathered foam cleanser. “She’s talking about her internship at the performing arts center.”

“How do you—never mind, forget I asked.”

Sunwoo patted his face dry, then opened the medicine cabinet for all of the skincare products he used to start off the day.

“...It’s been awhile since I’ve recommended something myself, so today, do enjoy ‘gone too long’ by lullaboy with me.” The song began a few seconds after you queued it up, and the apartment was then filled with muted vocals and strings.

Sunwoo straightened. He and Eric went quiet for a while as they both let the song sink in. Sunwoo continued to slather sunscreen on his face and neck, and Eric had started up the stove to make a batch of ramen for the both of them.

A peculiar sensation draped itself over Sunwoo’s shoulders, a blanket of something that wasn’t quite calm and wasn’t quite jittery. He didn’t know how to pinpoint or label the weird tightness in his chest. The song was strangely intimate, as almost all the music Sunwoo listened to was, but when it came from another person, it was always a whole new level of intimate. Whenever someone recommended a song, it was a way to view a piece of them—perhaps not a large piece, but a piece nonetheless. If eyes were the windows to the soul, then music was the viewfinder.

Maybe he missed you. But that didn’t make sense—it… it couldn’t make sense. He saw you yesterday, and he was listening to you now. How could he miss you?

“She has good taste,” Eric murmured as the song faded out.

Sunwoo nodded his head in agreement. “Yeah. She does.”

“...Hopefully when you miss me you’ll play that song,” he heard you say in a lighthearted tone, even though he felt almost like the complete opposite. “On that note, Rhaps sent in a message asking about the dance showcase coming up! ‘Are you planning on going, and if so, any acts you’re looking forward to? Isn’t it crazy that we could be sitting next to each other and never even know?’ —”

Eric perked up, his head peering over his shoulder to look at Sunwoo as he came out of the bathroom to join Eric in the kitchen. “That’s you? Rhaps?”

“Rhapsody Anonymous,” Sunwoo corrected. “And don’t judge me!” He added with a pointed look, finger jabbing in Eric’s direction.

Eric shook his head with a giddy sort of grin. “I didn’t say anything.”

For a moment, the two boys went quiet with only your voice and the sounds of the stove keeping them company.

A thought occurred to Eric though, and he worried his bottom lip between his teeth. “Does it ever feel like lying?” He asked and gestured for Sunwoo to grab a couple of bowls from the cabinet.

Sunwoo walked over with the soup bowls, then leaned his hip against the counter next to Eric. “Does what feel like lying?”

“Hiding that you know it’s her.”

Well… Sunwoo idly scratched his jaw. “I guess I never thought about it like that,” he said. All this time, he’d figured it was probably better that he didn’t bring it up to you. After all, you used a pseudonym for a reason and didn’t show your face. Maybe this was just supposed to be your secret passion project that you used as a safe space. He didn’t want to burst your bubble by confronting you with that information. How would he even go about doing it? Oh hey, by the way, I’ve known that you’re this podcast host DJ Dove for a very long time? That probably had ‘awkward’ written all over it.

Eric passed him a pointed glance. “Something to think about then.”

— ✶

Finals week had come and gone, a hurricane of destruction in its own right. But when the storm passed, it gave way to the beautiful cherry blossoms blooming in the quad. As per university tradition, the quad was filled to the brim with students, staff, and tourists alike gathering to pose in the falling pink petals that marked the coming of Spring Break. This was no different for Sunwoo’s friend group who was dragged out to the event by none other than Choi Chanhee. In an effort to appease his friend in some aspect, Sunwoo had come dressed in something decently presentable: black cargo pants, blue denim jacket, and his face fitted in a pair of dark frames (that were definitely not just frames or missing the lenses…).

He shoved his hands into his pockets after taking a peak at the time on his watch. The group had been here for about ten minutes thus far, and half of them had already split off with their significant others to take their own rounds about the quad. They weren't the only ones—in fact, there were probably as many couples as there were people taking grad photos and cosplay photos.

And wait, someone had come in their wedding dress—nothing spelled out Sunwoo's singleness more potently than a couple getting married.

He took a panoramic glance and accidentally watched another couple go in for a kiss. He looked away with a slight frown, blowing a curl out of his eyes. "I hate this more than Valentine's Day," he grumbled.

From beside him, Kevin Moon sighed as he tested a shot with his camera and had to adjust the settings for the right exposure. "You're telling me." When he raised his camera up again, he immediately had to bring it back down with a deadpan expression, "At least on Valentine's Day, people won't photobomb you."

As the group's self-proclaimed Dad, Lee Sangyeon, summoned the attention of the boys who were present for a partial group photo. Sunwoo smiled for it, then returned to his frown. Chanhee had his camera held up as he attempted to take a selfie shot since he had been staking out this one tree trunk that a group of people had just left. Sunwoo had to admire the way Chanhee wordlessly swooped in like a vulture over a dead carcass.

"Aye, Kim Sunwoo," Chanhee exclaimed and beckoned Sunwoo over with a curl of his two fingers. Chanhee's head scanned the immediate area and his nose wrinkled when he realized he was missing someone. "Where did Changmin go? He was literally right… ah."

Chanhee's voice trailed off and a sly, little grin when he located the man in question. "Look."

Sunwoo followed Chanhee's gaze across the field to where he was sneaking up behind a familiar person. Sunwoo had met this girl twice, once when he and Changmin had gone looking for Jacob and the other when he went with Changmin to go see her for moral support. Both times, strangely, had been at the lab. Huh, did she even go home…?

But then Sunwoo observed the way Changmin and CM!Yn looked at each other. Though Sunwoo had seen Changmin's eyes light up before, this was a different sort of twinkle, something softer. There had always been a cloud hanging over Changmin when it came to this girl, always some kind of bittersweetness that held him back. It made a smile crawl onto his lips at the sight of Changmin so happy.

"Wah," Chanhee murmured in awe. "They really mended their relationship well, don't you think?"

Sunwoo pursed his lips with an indulgent nod. "Yeah, I'd think so."

His friend sighed. "Oh, well. Looks like it's just us two then."

Sunwoo stepped forward and took Chanhee's phone from him, swiftly changing it to the forward facing camera. Chanhee struck a few poses beneath the blush pink trees as he soaked in the golden hour sunlight streaking across the lawn. Eventually, Sunwoo turned the camera back around to take shots of both himself and Chanhee.

He adjusted the phone so that the selfie mode could capture both of them when he spotted Chanhee scuttling back over toward him with a pile of pink petals collected in his palms.

Sunwoo's eyes went wide and he leapt backward away from his grinning friend. "Hyung, come on, let's talk about this."

Chanhee cackled and inched forward still. His hair was the exact same color as the flowers cupped in his palms. "Sunwoo-ah," he sang, "I think your hair needs a bit of color."

"I just did my hair this morning!" He whined and pleaded desperately. The last thing he needed was to be plucking stray petals from his curls later tonight. When Chanhee still wouldn't quit, adrenaline began to pump through Sunwoo's veins in anticipation for what he needed to do next. "Chanhee hyung! We can be civil about this."

"Civility is overrated!"

Just as Chanhee pounced, Sunwoo swerved on the ball of his foot and made a mad dash toward the other side of the quad. Chanhee's giggles filled the late afternoon air like the twinkling of bells, and though it was probably an amusing sight for onlookers, Sunwoo was running for his life.

Sunwoo pumped his legs furiously as he weaved in between people standing and taking their pictures, screaming out apologies for photobombing them as he went. And when he nearly tripped over someone's dog, he managed to lock eyes with yours.

You. Oh my god, you were here.

He had little time to fully comprehend what he was about to do, but he made a beeline for you.

"Sunwoo, hey—oh!"

Sunwoo grabbed your shoulders and careened himself behind you, his face partially hidden behind yours. "I'm sorry, but—" he screeched, "—he's threatening to ruin my hair!"

Chanhee laughed as he stopped in front of you and Sunwoo. His pale cheeks were dusted with the color of the flowers in the air. "Ah, well, hello. This isn't very gentlemanly of you, Sunwoo. Who's this?" He threw Sunwoo a look over your shoulder.

Fuck. He hadn't thought this one through.

Sunwoo laughed sheepishly and let go of your shoulders to clasp the back of his neck. It was only then he realized you were wearing a delicate, pastel sundress with cherry blossoms littered in your own hair. A gentle breeze wafted by and through your skirt and brushed back a few strands of your hair too.

Pretty…

"This is," he stammered, snapping out of his daze, "Yn. Yn-ie, this is one of my close friends, Chanhee."

"It's nice to meet you," Chanhee said with a warm smile and slight bow of his head.

You gave a little wave. "Nice to meet you, too, despite the circumstances."

"I would wave back," Chanhee gestured with his hand of flowers, "but this is a nice pile, don't you think?"

To your credit, you played along. You laughed, "I totally agree. It definitely should not be wasted on giving me a wave. Though, I'm sure there will be plenty of opportunities to get back at Sunwoo." You turned your head and cocked a brow at him, to which he smiled back boyishly.

Chanhee considered you again for a moment. "I like your style. I guess I'll just… leave you to it then," he drawled and sent Sunwoo very pointed glances with his eyes toward you. Something about the way Chanhee's eyes narrowed minutely made Sunwoo want to hide behind you again.

Chanhee whistled a merry tune as he went on his way, leaving you and Sunwoo to your own devices as he probably went to go find his next victim.

"I'm so sorry about that," Sunwoo lamented as soon as Chanhee was out of ear shot. "I did not mean to make you a human shield."

You chuckled. "It's okay, dude, really. Definitely didn't think I'd find anyone I knew in this mess, so it's nice seeing you out here."

Sunwoo gave you yet another once over and felt heat crawl up the column of his neck. "I—you look really pretty," he said, gesturing to your outfit.

"Oh, thank you," you chirped. "You clean up quite well yourself."

The two of you shared a smile then and for a second, Sunwoo's mouth went dry and no words leapt from his tongue. They all remained lodged in his throat where his heartbeat went pitter-patter.

He cleared his throat, breaking eye contact with you for a moment.

You made a vague nod toward one of the open benches lining the perimeter of the quad, an invitation. "Wanna come sit with me?"

"Do I?" Yes. The answer was yes.

When you and Sunwoo were seated side by side, centimeters separating your arms and legs from touching the other, his heart still had not settled. The adrenaline, in fact, also had her to dissipate. With wide eyes, he soaked everything in.

"Did you go to the winter showcase on Friday night?" He blurted, turning to you.

You met his gaze. "I did. It was such a cool experience, especially since it was my first time. Did you?"

He nodded, locking his lips. "I did, yeah," he murmured. "I had a couple friends performing, so we all went to cheer them on. It's always a really great time though; I'm glad you got to go."

"Oh, that's nice. I always find dancers so impressive," you said with a wistful gleam in your eyes. "Do you dance?"

He found himself fidgeting with Chanhee's phone that he still held onto in his lap. "A little," he admitted bashfully. "I took an intro to hip-hop class last year, and I sometimes dance with my friends. Just—not in public," he said.

For a second, something flickered across your face. But he must have been dreaming because it was gone as quickly as it came.

"So music and dance? You're a multi-talented threat, Sunwoo."

"Aw, not really," he giggled. He wanted to hide his burning face in the collar of his jacket, but there was something about you that also made him unafraid to show you this side of him. Actually, you made this side of him come out. He wasn't usually so terribly shy, always tumbling over his words and doing diction cartwheels… communications major, his ass. "What about you? You're literally a musical genius. You should be on my Spotify Wrapped, Yn."

This time, he could relish in making you flustered. "Aye, you can't say that and expect me not to wanna…" You lost your own words, biting your tongue.

He didn't know what got into him, but he leaned forward closer to you. "Expect you not to what?" He asked lowly, teasingly.

Your breath hitched in your throat, and he swore his own rapidly-beating organ was going to come flying out of his chest.

"Expect me not to—steal your glasses!" With a high-pitched squeal, you snatched the lensless frames from right off his nose.

Sunwoo gasped in scandal, diving to grab them back, but you had already stood up from the bench. "Yah! Those were expensive frames!"

Your face lit up as you donned them. "You'll have to take it off my face then!"

"Bet!" And he lurched after you as you took off into the setting sun.

Your voices echoed across the quad: "Jisuuuuuung! Jisung, save me!"

"Jisung can't save you when he's scared of me!"

EPISODE SIX: AND THE MUSES ARE OFF!

"IT'S not a date!"

"It's a date!"

"It's not a date!" Sunwoo stopped abruptly in the middle of his living room where he had been wearing a hole in the wood floors from pacing. He whirled on his sock-clad heels to face his sofa of judges, Changmin and Chanhee. Eric was out with his girlfriend watching the newest action movie that had come out over Spring Break. "She would say if it was a date, right?"

Chanhee smacked his palm against his forehead with a puff of air. Changmin, however, leaned back on the couch with a ponderous look on his face and rubbed his chin with his thumb and forefinger. "She probably would. She seems like she has more balls than you."

"Hey!"

Changmin grinned. "Just saying." He then leaned down to pick up his duffle bag sitting at his feet. "I've gotta run now, but let me know how it goes."

Sunwoo leveled a scowl at him as he passed by to go to the door. "I hope CM!Yn trips you in the practice room."

"Into her arms!" He hollered back, which was swiftly followed by the front door slamming shut.

While Changmin was headed out to meet CM!Yn at the practice room for her first time returning to dance after three years, Sunwoo and Chanhee were left to prepare Sunwoo for today's agenda. Yesterday, you and he had traded numbers, to which you had immediately asked if he'd wanted to hang out with you some more over Spring Break. The answer had been as easy as counting to three.

Now the only problem was to not freak out over it.

"You're picking up lunch, aren't you?" Chanhee asked as he shoved Sunwoo into the bathroom.

Sunwoo nodded shallowly and picked up his round brush and blow-dryer. "Mhm. I'm meeting her at the performing arts building, and we're gonna take the metro up to Lake Anchor. Ever been up there?"

Chanhee fixed the collar of Sunwoo's white button-up, then snatched the brush and blowdryer out of his hands to do it for him. "Nope. Heard it's nice up there though."

"Yeah," Sunwoo muttered, nearly dropping the serum bottle in his hands. "She said her friend Sieun recommended it."

"Ah."

It wouldn't have felt like a date as much if Sunwoo hadn't searched up Lake Anchor when you'd texted him about it last night. The place was gorgeous, a certified calendar-worthy landscape with purple mountain majesties in the back and shores lined with emerald green hills and willow trees. It didn't help that the Reddit pages all deemed it a "couple's picnic spot you can't miss." Oh, he wasn't going to miss it, all right.

Thirty minutes later, he found himself outside the doors to the performing arts center where you said you were currently taking a tech lesson from Bang Chan. He had a paper bag of snacks and sandwiches from the local convenience store in one hand and the other tucked away into his pocket.

He wondered if he could go in and see you, but he'd already texted you he was waiting outside, and you'd replied you were on your way out.

Just as he was about to go sit on one of the benches, one of the doors at the entrance opened. You emerged out into the late spring morning with the breeze in your hair, a tote bag slung over one shoulder, and a ukulele case hanging from the other. You smiled wide at him and waved.

Sunwoo's lips parted into a grin. "Hi. I got us snacks," he said and lifted the brown bag in his hand.

"Sunwoo, you didn't have to," you pursed your lips fondly, adjusting your bag straps.

"I wanted to." The two of you fell into step in the direction of the closest metro station. It would be a short walk from here into the university Avenue, and down a block to the station. Everything was conveniently placed in the name of accessibility. "Plus, I didn't really eat breakfast," he admitted.

"Me neither." You cupped half your face with your palm. "Aish. I always forget I have, like, yogurt in the fridge, y'know?"

Sunwoo chuckled. "Yeah, I get that. My roommate and I always forget that we have groceries in the fridge because we always see the ramen packets on the counter instead. How was the lesson with Chan?"

The two of you stopped at the intersection to wait for the light. You hugged your ukulele to your chest. "It was good! He's always really helpful and knowledgeable—and patient," you mused. "I hope you don't mind me bringing my uke along though. I thought it would be a nice form of entertainment once we got up to the lake."

"I'm not entertaining enough for you," he gasped melodramatically, jutting his bottom lip out in a pout.

You laughed, and the sound made him break his pout and smile. "I thought I would be the entertaining one for once. D'you know how to play?"

The crosswalk sign turned on for you, and you both made your way across.

"I know some guitar," Sunwoo answered, "but just the basics. They teach you a bit at summer music camp." As he walked by your side, he felt his hand brush against the back of yours. "My hyung—Jacob—he plays guitar pretty well. He's good at singing, too, like you."

He caught your smile from the corner of his eye.

"He did it to woo his girlfriend," he jested, sticking his tongue in his cheek when he remembered how JC!Yn brought him and Haknyeon up to speed last quarter about her love life antics.

You chuckled. "That's a shame you know the trick," you said with an impish twinkle in your eyes, "because that was exactly my plan."

Sunwoo came to a screeching halt in the middle of the walkway, and when you realized he was still staring wide-eyed at the sidewalk, you let out a laugh and went back to drag him along to the station.

— ✶

The view was something out of a magazine, the kind that took one's breath away. You and Sunwoo had claimed the shade beneath a willow tree and settled down across from each other with the brown paper bag flattened out to display the feast he had purchased. There were other small groups of people around, as well, all of whom seemed to have the same ideas as you two as they soaked up sun, read books and napped in the shade, and picnicked along the grassy shoreline. There was even a small booth a mile down the bank that rented out swan-shaped paddle boats and canoes for people to take out onto the water.

You and Sunwoo had pretty much demolished all of the goodies he brought with him. The conversation had been flowing, simple and organic, and you felt at peace—that was the best way to describe it. Maybe it was the location, the circumstance, the company, or all three.

You picked up your ukulele from where it laid in its case by your side. "Any suggestions?" You queried, taking the instrument out and checking that it was in tune.

Sunwoo brushed his hands of crumbs and braced his palms on the grass behind him. It was the visual of him in that white shirt, his sleeves rolled up and collarbone exposed, jawline clean and sharp as he gazed out at the view that made your heart race again. "Hmm," he hummed, "what did you first learn on it?"

"I think I taught myself Lemonade by Jeremy Passion," you said to him and scoured your brain for the right chords. You strummed a G-flat minor, and when it sounded about right, you shifted to B, until you managed to jog your memory of all four chords.

He watched you with softened eyes, his knees pulled up to his chest now as he leaned his cheek onto the tops of his knees. "That's a good song," he murmured.

"Do you know the lyrics?"

He chuckled, shaking his head and flicking his wrist. "Oh, no, no. I don't sing."

"Doesn't sound like you can't," you quipped back with a teasing tilt in your smile. You swayed a little as you played the tune over and over again. "A little shy, are we?"

You could see the smile peeking from his lips even when he tried to hide it in his arms. "I don't sing a lot."

"If I sang the first verse, would you join me in the chorus?" You offered as a compromise. You wouldn't push after this if he still refused, but there was a part of you that felt like you needed to hear this beautiful man sing for you.

He balked for a second, toeing at the dirt. Then, "Okay. I'll join in at the chorus."

A smile bloomed on your face. "Excellent."

You were a little shaky going in yourself. Though you had definitely practiced this song more times than you could count, performing it for someone else was always like playing it for the first time. And you wanted Sunwoo to enjoy it, and to be impressed by you. You wanted to do well for him and to be able to encourage him.

As he said he would, you heard him join in at the chorus—softly, at first, until he was the main vocal and you could bolster him with the harmony.

His eyes met yours, all smiles, as the song continued on. The ending verse… dear god, you could fall over from pure giddiness at the way he nailed the runs and you could do a little showing off with your strumming. Shivers, just plain shivers.

"She's exactly what… I need," he crooned, fingers playing absentmindedly with a strand of grass.

You let the vibrations of the strings linger in the spring air for a moment. It was like the two of you were encased in this bubble all by yourselves; and it was beautiful. It was perfect.

"I knew you could sing," you said to him. "I just had a feeling."

He hung his head, but the smile on his face could not be suppressed. "Thanks."

"For what?"

"For encouraging me," he shook his head. "Believing in me."

You pursed your lips together thoughtfully and you wished you could pick his brain without risking total invasion. "Do people not believe in you often?" You asked quietly, shifting to move yourself around the pile of rolled-up trash and to sit next to him.

He followed your lead, scooting himself next to you until you were no longer opposite, but adjacent. "Not people, just me, I think."

"Ah." You could empathize.

He gave a shallow nod. "Do you ever get scared of making a mistake so you don't—I dunno—go for it? And then you end up thinking that maybe not taking that risk was the mistake?"

You set your ukulele down in the case beside you and mirrored his position, arms looped around your legs. "I do. All the time actually, and it's a scary feeling."

"Yeah," he exhaled. "Sometimes I wish I had just gone into music, full-on. I mean, a communication major is useful and all, but there are times when I wonder where I would have been if I had nurtured that passion."

His words resonated within you. There was a reason why you transferred to this university and decided to leave your original plan behind. You had gone into college with an intent to major in Computer Science, but less than a year in, it had become abundantly clear to you how unhappy you were. Leaving wasn't just a choice, it had been a need.

You turned to look at Sunwoo and you felt your chest tug toward him. You bumped his leg with your knee. "You still have time," you said. "It's not too late to still see where that goes."

But you knew the conflict that warred in his head; you knew it all too well because you had experienced it firsthand. It was much more complicated than simply chasing after one's dreams. There was obligations, expectations, fears, and physical obstacles that made the situation more complex than it seemed at first glance. You didn't know his family situation, didn't know the whole story of why he hadn't taken his summer music camp experiences and translated it into his current college career.

You didn't know it all… but you wanted to. You wanted to know everything about him.

"You said you don't have a minor figured out yet, right?" You asked suddenly, an idea coming to you.

He hummed. "Yeah."

"Well, why don't you choose music as your minor?" When he didn't answer right away, you added, "You obviously don't have to decide right this second—it's just something to think about."

(It seemed he had a lot he needed to think about lately.)

Sunwoo rose up and leaned back onto his palms again. When he turned to look at you, a sense of calm had come over him this time. "I really appreciate you."

You broke into a smile. "I appreciate you, too."

"No, really," he laughed, then bit his lip. "I'm sorry for screwing the mood—"

"You're not! Really," you insisted. "I don't mind. I like having meaningful conversations with people who mean a lot to me."

He didn't even have to say anything, because there was this look, one you simply could not ignore. It made your stomach feel like it was swarmed with butterflies and that you were walking on air. It was like watching him smile while listening to the song you wrote, like walking out of the performing arts center to see him waiting for you. He didn't have to say anything because you knew—you had to. There simply could not be any other explanation, right?

EPISODE SEVEN: WHAT IF SOULS FEEL FAMILIAR FOR A REASON?

YOU had been keeping a secret.

"So what you're saying is that you know that he knows, but he doesn't know that you know that he knows?"

You nodded, arms crossed. "Yeah, pretty much."

Jisung made a face and rested his temple against his palm. "My brain hurts."

From where she was perched on a stool, Park Sieun reached over and patted Jisung's nest of hair. "It is a little confusing. Why don't you just confront him about it?"

"I don't know," you huffed and fell back against the wall. The three of you were holed up in one of the private studios on campus. There weren't many buildings opened since it was still Spring Break, but many of the performing arts facilities were. Jisung had offered for you and Sieun to meet him in the room he had snagged and had been currently occupying in order to bust out as much creative energy as possible. (Newsflash, it was not going well, hence, yours and Sieun's invitations.) Studio rooms were pretty much soundproof, so they were good for those in the music programs who wanted a private space to practice or record things.

You had just brought them up to speed on your latest outing with a certain Kim Sunwoo up to Lake Anchor, as Sieun had so graciously suggested to you the other day. After your outing, however, you'd come to one very solid conclusion.

Well, and there was the matter of The Anonymous Situation.

Just this morning, you had opened your inbox to find another submission from one of your regular anonymous listeners whom you affectionately nicknamed Rhaps. Rhapsody Anonymous had begun to pop up in your inbox just last quarter, and it wasn't until recently that you figured out who it was. At first, it seemed completely implausible for Sunwoo to be the face behind the name, because there was no way out of a whole internet of people that he had managed to stumble across your podcast.

To make matters more complex, you had an inkling that he also knew that you were the host of Songbird Station. He had sent you something along the lines of: "Hey Dovey! I stumbled across this song recently that I haven't heard in awhile. It's called Lemonade, and I realize that I've only actually heard the ukulele vers. LOL anyways, I hope you're not too busy this Spring Break and that you've had time to relax. I've always wondered though… have you ever met someone who feels familiar to you? Not like in a 'I've reunited with you after five years' kind of familiar, but like… something more like kindred spirits……"

The whole message had the same amount of sweetness he always used to contact and interact with you, but the recommendation of the song Lemonade simply could not be a mere coincidence. You just couldn't accept that.

You had pondered this for a long time—the possibility of confronting him about his anonymous persona. And of course, there were several things that held you back from doing so. "I mean," you began, pushing off from the wall to slowly pace the little room available, "I don't want to scare him, y'know? Like I'm sure there's a reason why he goes by a pseudonym like I do, and I don't want to burst that bubble.

"Plus," you continued, "what if I'm just thinking about this all wrong? What if I've read the signs completely out of proportion and he's not actually Rhapsody Anonymous? That would just be embarrassing."

You stopped in front of your friends with your hands positioned on your hips and your head quirked to the side in thought.

"Would it really be so bad if you brought it up, like, even subtly?" Sieun asked you, her pink-tinted lips pursed slightly.

Jisung piped up, too, "Yeah, Sunwoo's a pretty cool guy. And based on what I've seen between the two of you and what you've told us, I don't think he would laugh at you or anything."

"I don't think he would laugh at me either," you confessed. "It's just kinda scary."

The two murmured their agreement. Though Sieun was your trio's only extrovert, you actually had no idea how you'd come to be decently close friends with these two. You chalked it up to all frequenting similar social circles. The music program was always a good way to make friends, and you were glad that it had yet to fail you, even in college.

Sieun made a vague gesture with her hand. "I think you should try, though. I'm sure you'll find a way to slide it in," she chuckled.

Jisung snorted. "I have never seen that man so flustered in his life."

"Yeah, he has to be whipped for you, Yn-ie."

A cough from the boy in the room. "Not like you're any more whipped than he is."

"Han Jisung!" You reprimanded, heat swarming to your cheeks.

He broke into a boyish grin, eyes wide and alight like a chipmunk. "What? Don't give me the government name; you know it's true!"

Even Sieun was laughing behind her oh-so delicately placed hand. "He's got a point."

You sighed, wrinkling your nose. "I came for support, not a call out."

"Are those not the same things—AH, I'M SORRY DON'T WHACK ME—!"

— ✶

There was a place on the Avenue with the best lime soda, as Sunwoo had claimed, when the two of you coordinated to get lunch together. Because you had chosen the place of your last hangout, you'd insisted that he chose a place this time. By his texts, he had seemed pleasantly surprised to be hanging out again so soon, and while your nerves were high in anticipation for the coming conversation, you also couldn't wait to spend time with him some more.

You met outside the storefront of a Vietnamese restaurant that you'd only seen in passing, and had yet to try. You glanced up from your phone just as Sunwoo came up from down the road toward you, dressed in jeans and a bomber jacket.

"Hey, sorry to keep you waiting," he said as he swung the door open for you.

You and he ducked inside. "It's no worries," you assured him. "Hope you're not sick of me just yet."

You saw that boyish grin of his as he caught your eyes and signaled the waiter for a table for two. "Never."

When the two of you were seated, your eyes greedily took in the options laid out on the menu. There were just far too many appetizing items—maybe you should have scouted out the menu beforehand.

"Any favorites?" You queried from over the rim of your menu.

Sunwoo was slinging his shoulder bag over his head as you asked this. "Oh, uh, I've been hooked on their shrimp banh xeo ever since my friend Haknyeon introduced me to it. It's like a Vietnamese crepe with stir fried vegetables and a protein. But I think in general, everything is pretty good here."

You hummed. "Mmh, sounds good. And you said the lime soda is really good, too?"

He nodded his head vigorously. "Yes, for sure. That stuff is addicting."

You took his word for it, and soon, the two of you had finished ordering your lunch for the day. A part of you wished you didn't have to disturb the pleasantness of this one-on-one lunch date (was this a date?) with Sunwoo by bringing up the podcast, but what if by clearing the air, it would make your relationship stronger? (Or, it could end in a fiery, hot pile of shit!)

Either way, you would try to get to it as organically as possible.

"So I wanted to talk to you about something." Yes, because this is totally organic, Yn… You grabbed your cup of lime soda and played absentmindedly with the straw.

You gauged his reaction carefully. He perked up. "You—you wanted to talk to me about something?" He parroted, pointing his finger back at himself. "That's not usually good."

"Sorry, no, it's not bad!" You promised. On the way here, you had come up with about a dozen ways to go about this, but at the end of the day, there would only be a yes or no answer. "Do you, by chance, happen to listen to podcasts?"

There was that flicker of recognition over his face, and for a second, he reminded you of something like a puppy with how wide his eyes were. "Uhh," he drawled, scratching his head and feigning nonchalance, "I mean, sometimes. Like casually."

"This might sound weird—"

"Uh-huh."

"—but are you Rhapsody Anonymous?"

If sweat could be animated, that was what you imagined to be dripping down the side of Sunwoo’s face at this moment. He seemed to be figuring out a way to reply. “Would you believe me if I asked you what a Rhapsody Anonymous is?”

“No, not really.”

“What’s a podcast?”

You huffed. “Sunwoo—”

“Okay,” he relented, slumping over slightly. He seemed nervous, in a way, eyes looking anywhere but you, twirling his straw between his thumb and index finger, his foot tapping furiously against the linoleum floor. “I’m sorry! I didn’t really want to bring up the podcast to you because I thought that you enjoyed the anonymity, y’know?” He told you with an apologetic wince. “And I really liked listening to the show, so I thought it wouldn’t hurt to interact with you anonymously, as well, and over time, I thought we’d kinda become friends.”

He peered up at you nervously, and guilt wormed its way into the trenches of your gut. From what it seemed, he must have really thought that you would react negatively to him knowing your podcast-hosting side show.

“We are friends,” you finally said and scooped a lock of hair out of your face. “I’m not like, mad, or anything; it was more of me trying to figure out why you felt so familiar to me. And I’m really honored that you liked my podcast enough to want to interact with me there. It means a lot.”

With your small smile, Sunwoo’s posture flooded with relief. “So you’re not mad that I figured out your identity?”

“Definitely not,” you shook your head. “If anything, I’m relieved. I’ve been wondering about your identity for a while now.”

The corners of Sunwoo’s mouth lifted. “That’s… that’s cool. This is really cool,” he said. He let out a sigh, leaning back to slump in his chair with a dramatic expression of anguish on his face. “You have no idea how much it’s been eating me up inside, Dovey! Like how do you balance your two identities? It takes so much energy for me to make sure I keep them separate.”

“I can tell; you weren’t exactly the most inconspicuous,” you teased.

He sat up. “What do you—”

“Well, you kind of told me things in person that you’ve told to me on anonymous, and vice versa.” You recalled to him the two main instances that gave him away to you. It was amusing to see the way he grew increasingly more flustered as you kept talking about it, but you realized that this was probably incredibly painful for him to hear.

Sunwoo had his head in his hands by the time you were done. “I’m an idiot.”

“You’re not an idiot.”

He shifted slightly so that his cheek rested against one palm. “And to think that I was being all slick and secretive,” he pouted, scrunching up his nose. “You know, I always thought about being friends with you in real life. That one time that I told you about that one Taylor Swift song that reminded me of you?”

“Superstar?”

“Yeah, that’s the one.” He meditated on that thought while sipping his drink. “It just felt right. Like you were far away but also right there in my ear. Does that make sense?”

You knew what the song was about; you could recite the lyrics by heart, and the fact that he associated that song with you… It sent your heart a-flutter. “It does.”

He jolted up so suddenly you nearly fell out of your seat with him. “Not that I’m desperately in love with you or anything,” he added quickly, the words tumbling out of his mouth as fast as he mentally skimmed through the lyrics again and again. His cheeks were tinged with pink, and you were sure that your neck looked as hot as it felt.

You pretended your heart didn’t drop to the pit of your stomach when he said that. You laughed along with him, though you weren’t sure why it sounded like it did. “Oh, right, right. I didn’t think that; don’t worry.” All the butterflies in your stomach drooped.

Sunwoo scrambled to find the right words. “I just mean that I always felt like some average Joe, and you were…” He gestured to you helplessly, “you.”

Your heart couldn’t help but give a sharp pang at that.

“And how could I ever be anything more to you than just another listener in your stats, y’know?”

You never thought that you would have ever given off that kind of vibe toward listeners, or come to mean that much to any members of your audience. It had seemed simply impossible for you to ever become large enough to evoke that kind of feeling in people—a popstar to their fans. You folded your arms over the table and leaned toward him. “Sunwoo, you were never just another listener. You made yourself known to me and you made me feel like I wasn’t alone.”

He slowly met your eyes, and you sat up straighter, reaching toward the paper straw wrapper to fidget with. “I originally started this podcast because I needed a place to talk. After feeling like people were always moving on without me, I was trying to search for validation, and I found that in podcasting. I figured that maybe… if I was feeling these things, then there had to be someone out there who was feeling them, too.

“And the song recommendation and music talk was always a nice bonus,” you added. “I had people send in anonymous submissions, but never as frequently as you did, and it made me feel like I was reaching somebody. Not just a random hit every so often, but somebody.”

Sunwoo’s eyes shone in the artificial lighting inside the restaurant, and outside your little bubble, you barely registered the noises around you. It was just you and Sunwoo in this moment in time and space. He swallowed. “You’re really cool, you know that?”

You grabbed your cup of lime soda and softly knocked it against his. “That’s all you, superstar.”

— ✶

Lunch had progressed much smoother after you had confronted Sunwoo, to say the least. You were convinced, however, that you had to meet this Haknyeon character he kept telling you about. He was the one to recommend the Vietnamese restaurant, and he was going to be your new favorite person. (Sorry, Sunwoo.)

When both you and Sunwoo had finished up with lunch, you didn’t want to cut your time with him short and asked him if he’d ever been up to the Farmer’s Market north of the Ave.

“There’s a Farmer’s Market over there?” His mouth gaped as he let you lead him a couple blocks north.

You grinned, tipping your head up to the sky to soak in the last bits of sunlight before it was about to be blanketed over by gray clouds. “Yeah! It’s really neat. They’ve got one going every week, I think.”

The walk up was an easy one as it was a straight shot from the restaurant to the intersection where white picket fences were set up to barricade the street for vendors to set up in. Pop-up tents of different colors and sizes lined either side of the street as people milled about going from vendor to vendor. This had been one of the few gems you’d found when you transferred here, and though you didn’t often visit, you tried to buy at least a couple things to support the local businesses. The fruit here tasted much better than the ones in-stores, anyway.

You and Sunwoo slipped past the fences and into the throng of people, and you watched his face light up in awe as he took in the sights and smells. There were people selling beaded bracelets and art, farmers tossing blueberries into kids’ mouths… it was a lively slice of community here.

“Wow, this is incredible,” he said, but suddenly stopped short. “Oh my god, they’re selling melon pops, Yn-ie!” He pointed out a stand a little further down the way that he had peered over a few heads for. He grabbed your hand and pulled you along with him. “Come on! I’ll treat you to one.”

It wasn’t like you were going to refuse him.

Within another few minutes, you and Sunwoo had both acquired one melon popsicle each. It was adorable to see him bouncing along on the balls of his feet like a kid on Christmas morning as he lapped up the light green juice dripping down the side of the frozen treat.

“—look how pretty those sunflowers are!” He gasped at one of the stands to your left selling bundles of different flowers.

An idea popped into your head, and you scurried over to the booth and traded a two dollar bill for one of the baby sunflowers. You whirled around to where Sunwoo stood and waited for you. “Stand still,” you said while reaching up to tuck the flower behind his ear.

Before he could comprehend what was happening, you pulled out your phone and snapped a quick picture of him.

Sunwoo’s eyes had gone wide, his cheekbones the same color as the roses in the bundles behind you. “What… just happened,” he asked, blinking, then came over to poke your shoulder to get your attention. He peered over at your phone screen to see that you were setting the photo you took as his new contact photo. He let out a hum, “Wow.”

“It’s cute.” You let him see the picture.

He narrowed his eyes at the screen before finally giving it a nod of approval. “Okay, good enough.”

You scoffed, lightly hitting his arm with the back of your hand. “Good enough? I think it’s perfect.” You finished off the rest of your melon pop and tossed the stick in a nearby trash bin.

(If you’d looked up from your phone at that moment, you would have seen the utter bliss on Sunwoo’s face after hearing you compliment a picture of him and calling it “perfect.” To him, absolutely nothing could ruin this day, this moment, this year for him—!)

One raindrop fell onto your phone screen, followed by another, and another, and ano--

(He should not have spoken so soon.)

“It’s raining,” you observed dumbly, reaching a palm out to feel the pitter-patter of the sky’s tears on your skin. Others around you were beginning to notice, too, either huddling under their nearest tent or the overhangs of establishments lined on the sidewalk.

You figured somebody must have pissed the weather off because the rain only began to drum harder against the world.

"Well, shit," you laughed and patted Sunwoo on the back of his shoulder to move him toward the side of the road. "Let's find shelter!"

The two of you joined the crowd as you scrambled past the tents and up onto the sidewalks. Some people simply went into the shops themselves, but you and Sunwoo took a moment to stare out at the once-clear sky. Strange how springtime weather worked.

Sunwoo finished off his popsicle and found a trash bin to toss the stick into. He ran a hand through his dampened locks, then dragged that same palm down his face. "D'you like a little rain, dove?"

The nickname caught you off-guard for a second, but not as badly as seeing the soft-cornered smile on his face.

You cleared your throat. "I don't mind it. How about you?"

He made a frown at the sky as if he could reprimand nature for crashing the date—wait, this wasn't a date, was it? "It would have been nice if the weather report was accurate for once, but a little walk in the rain never hurt anybody."

You voiced your agreement. The next course of action you both decided on was making the long trek home in the rain together. You tried to stay out of the shower as best as you could, but there definitely weren't enough overhangs to get you home completely dry.

At one of the intersections, Sunwoo looked over at you through his dripping wet bangs. "You don't have a jacket."

On instinct, you glanced down at your bare arms, only clad in a T-shirt. "Oh, I guess I don't," you mused.

"Here—" he shouldered off the black bomber jacket and draped it over your shoulders.

"Sunwoo, I can't—"

"Yes, you can," he laughed and shook his head out. The light turned green to cross, and he wrapped an arm around you to keep you steady along the rain-slicked street.

The jacket and arm around you were both warm, but you had a feeling that even without the jacket, his arm would have been more than enough.

When you'd made it to your apartment complex and bursted into the front lobby, you and Sunwoo practically stood in your own self-made puddles. You took the jacket off from around your shoulders and shook it out; it was a shoddy attempt to get the water out, but at least the material was semi-waterproof on the outside.

"Here you…" Your throat went dry as you made to hand his jacket back to him and zeroed in on the way his wet, white T-shirt stuck flush against his skin. There was no other way to describe it but as see through, and there was no way in hell you were going to be able to erase that defined stomach from your mind. "...Go."

You coughed as you looked away, and he accepted his jacket back with a low "Thanks."

When he zipped his jacket up, you nodded toward the elevator. "Do you wanna come up and dry off before you go out? You can totally borrow my umbrella if you want, too."

He shook his head. "No, it's okay. My apartment's not far, I swear."

"Ah, alright. Get home safe then." You paused, then added, "Text me once you get back?"

Sunwoo flashed you a smile, and man, if you could engrave that smile, the wet hair, into your brain… "Promise. I'll see you soon, superstar."

He reached over and ruffled your hair, then ducked out of your apartment into the rain. Just before he was out of your sight, he turned back and waved at you through the front windows.

You let out an exhale once he had disappeared. A fuzzy feeling lingered in your chest, your smile never leaving your face. You were so far gone.

EPISODE EIGHT: SWERVE LIKE A CHICKEN

ALTHOUGH Spring Break had swept through the university faster than it came, Sunwoo could still say he felt like he was riding on Cloud 9. The beginning of the quarter was easily a more relaxed part of the term, but Spring quarter itself was a whole other nightmare in itself. Everyone around him was beginning to wake up from their break-dazed slumbers to clamber their asses back into uncomfortable lecture chairs and study rooms.

It was the first Tuesday back from Spring Break when he found out you were going to be in a practice room alone for a while, working on a new project. This intel had been courtesy of one Han Jisung, who had been texting Sunwoo off and on about a track he had been mixing with Chan.

han !!: yeah just left cuz my brain was feelin super fried 🤣 dunno how ynies still there

sunwoo's phone: oh fr?? she's still over there?

han !!: yuh bro that's what i just said

han !!: r u gonna do anything abt it 👀😳

sunwoo's phone: i have no clue what ur talking abt

han !!: okay bye chicken

sunwoo's phone: u did not just call me chicken.

han !!: 🐓🐓🐓

Sunwoo walked out of his room and stood in the middle of the apartment, staring blankly at the back of Eric's head. His roommate was seated on the couch setting up a movie, and when he sensed someone was staring at him, he began to say, "Baby!—wait a minute."

Eric made a face. "Never mind, it's just you."

Sunwoo scoffed and flopped onto the opposite end of the couch. "Rude! Before EC!Yn, I used to be your one and only."

"That's actually so incorrect—"

"Do you boys ever not cat-fight?" EC!Yn mused as she came out from the bathroom and found a seat between Eric and Sunwoo. Eric instantly curled an arm around her and pulled her into his side.

Sunwoo considered this with a frown. Why was he so single? "You're lucky I tolerate your boyfriend, EC!Yn," said Sunwoo as he folded his arms over his chest and sunk into the shadows of his hoodie.

"I'm glad you've come to like me more than your own best friend," she drawled in jest. "What's got you in the dumps, my friend?"

Eric perked up, pressing the play button on the TV remote to start the movie. "Oh yeah! You were in such a good mood this morning."

A grumble from the lump of hoodie. "It's nothing."

A moment of silence passed. Then, "He misses Yn."

"I think so, too."

"Do you think if we texted her to text him, he would at least smile?"

"Oh, I think I found her Instagram the other day—"

Sunwoo peered out of his hoodie with narrowed eyes. "I can hear you guys, you know that, right?"

Both Eric and his partner shot him impish grins, delighted that their very obvious conversation brought him out of silence. The thought forced a smile onto Sunwoo's face anyway. Eric's baseball game had been canceled today because the team who they were going up against this week had internal problems (something about an affair between coaches and players—it was complicated). Thus, Eric had decided to fill his afternoon with an impromptu movie session with his girlfriend. Sunwoo was invited by roommate obligation.

There were definitely more productive things that Sunwoo could have been doing (finding a minor, finding a job, finding the answers to his cognitive psych homework, etcetera), but watching… Wait, what were they even watching?

EC!Yn reached over and nudged his shoulder with her knuckles. "Hey, Earth to Kim Sunwoo."

He shook out of his daze. "Huh? Oh, sorry." He sighed, pulling out his phone. "Jisung just told me that Yn's at the practice room working still."

"Still?"

"Yeah," he bobbed his head. "They've been there ever since they finished their composition class this morning."

Eric lowered the volume on the TV. "Dude, you should go keep her company."

Sunwoo's eyes shot open as he began mindlessly scrolling through Instagram. "I don’t wanna bother her; she probably doesn’t wanna be bothered if she’s been working for so long.” The thought had crossed his mind to head over to the practice rooms right now and sit in for a session, but he had shut his own idea down almost immediately. Would you appreciate him going to bug you or would you mind him just going to sit with you and enjoy your presence?

“I was thinking the exact opposite,” said EC!Yn, “I mean, whenever Eric comes over unannounced to come sit with me at the dorm, I appreciate it all the time.”

Eric cooed. “Aw, you do?”

Sunwoo blinked and was suddenly glad he was staring down at his phone and not the couple on the couch next to him. But he glanced up to catch EC!Yn’s eyes. “Do you really think she wouldn’t mind?”

When Eric tucked his face into her neck, she idly scratched his head. “Oh, definitely. I think it’ll be a nice surprise, considering she probably feels the same about you, based on what you’ve already told us.”

“You’re right!” Sunwoo shot up off the couch, but halted. “Wait, she what?”

Eric snorted. “She said that Yn probably feels the same about you, which, if I’m being honest, I can’t believe—”

Sunwoo dashed into his room to grab his wallet and keys. “Nobody asked you!”

— ✶

Coffee. You liked coffee, right?

Sunwoo couldn't quite think straight with the giddy anticipation bubbling in his stomach and up his chest as he balanced twin cups of iced americano in his hands. Taking the bus to the School of Music would have been less effort on his legs, but waiting for it simply did not sit with the amount of energy currently carrying him down the street and up the stairs and across the quad like a madman.

People were probably eyeing him weirdly, but he was trying to come up with things to say to you. Preferably, these things were smooth and not strange fragments that weren't properly strung together. He wanted to look put together, to sound put together.

He was probably going to look frazzled, though, from half-running a mile uphill, but that was okay—he was excited to see you.

The School of Music stood right across from the School of Art building, the twin towers looming above the quad stairs. With school back in session, there were plenty of people milling about the entrance, and somebody graciously opened the door for Sunwoo so he didn't have to awkwardly balance his coffees and risk spilling them to get inside. He hadn't often visited this building, but he had been in here before to visit friends and upperclassmen. Though the architecture was grander, it still had the homey feeling of a high school band room, some place music students could call home.

Sunwoo navigated himself toward the practice rooms in the back hallways, murmuring "excuse me"s and apologies as he sidestepped string bassists and bassoons and snare drums. (He could've sworn there was a whole drum kit in one of these; it was strange seeing someone carrying around a single snare… huh.)

He reached the corridor to turn right into the practice hall when he froze, diving back behind the wall.

"—wait, Yangyang—"

Something in him sunk deep into the pit of his stomach, an anchor to the sea floor. He watched you launch out of your practice room and into Yangyang's arms, both of you hugging each other closely. He had his arms wrapped around you and his cheek against the crown of your head.

Sunwoo couldn't hear what you were saying to each other—if you were saying anything at all.

And you didn't let go. Not yet, at least.

When you did finally let go, the two of you were beaming at each other. It was near impossible to make out what kind of emotion was there from so far away, but Sunwoo couldn't look anymore when Yangyang leaned in towards you—

Sunwoo pressed himself against the wall he was peering around.

Oh.

He struggled to swallow; there was a large lump sitting in his throat that he had to wrestle down.

Disappointment—yeah, that was disappointment.

Before you or Yangyang could come down this way, Sunwoo retraced his steps from where he came until he was back outside. He sucked in a breath, mind abuzz.

He set down the cups of iced coffee, now perspiring, on a ledge nearby, so he could pull out his phone.

It rang twice. "Yo."

"Are you practicing right now?" Sunwoo asked, leaning his body against the railing. His free hand held his face as his brain replayed the events he had just witnessed. Did that mean what he thought he meant? You were totally allowed to see other people—the two of you weren't exclusive—but goddamn, did that hurt to think about.

Was he too late? Had he chickened out so long that you decided to move on, or was he never in the running in the first place?

He heard a bit of shuffling from the other side, then a sigh from Changmin. "Now I'm not. What's up?"

"I'm coming over."

A pause. "...Okay, see you soon."

EPISODE NINE: [YELLS.]

THERE was something different in the air and you could taste it. Not literally, of course, but you figured your paranoia had manifested strong enough within you to be able to sniff these kinds of things out. "These things" referred to the slight difference in the way you interacted with Sunwoo, or rather, how Sunwoo interacted with you.

You turned your phone off again, having checked it for what felt like the fifth time in the past two minutes. Usually, he replied relatively fast, but for the past week or so, he'd been a little more delayed. He didn't text dry, which was a relief, but there was something off about it. You couldn't articulate it too well—it was just a gut feeling.

"Oy, phone away, Yn," Sieun ordered, snapping her fingers and holding her hand out across the table.

You sent her a look, but reluctantly handed your phone over to her. "But—"

"No buts!" She tutted. She hid your phone within the confines of her purse before promptly returning to the warm bowl of biang biang noodles in front of her. "The more you check your phone, the sadder of a sap you look."

"Thanks," you deadpanned, but followed her lead and picked up your chopsticks to eat your food.

The two of you were seated in, arguably, the best Chinese restaurant on the Avenue. It had become a fast favorite of yours when you first transferred, saved for the long days and weeks when you needed something like spice to make you feel anything other than sad. Sieun had suggested coming down here for dinner rather than staying in and eating another round of instant ramen. It was something she knew would cheer you up easily, and so far, it was only half working.

You reached for your water, only to realize it was practically empty.

As if she could read your mind, the waitress taking care of your table appeared at your side and filled your water up for you.

"Oh, thank you!" Your eyes glanced over at her name tag—HN!Yn—and met her kind eyes.

"Of course. Anything else I can get you two?" She asked cheerily, swiftly filling up Sieun's cup, as well, with practiced grace. "Food's good?"

Both you and Sieun nodded your heads vigorously, especially since both of your mouths were now full and you couldn't speak. She seemed to get the idea and hustled over to a nearby table to tend to them. How waiters and waitresses always knew when you had food in your mouth, you could never figure out. It was always absolutely awful timing, but you supposed the skill was akin to Starbucks workers butchering name spellings.

When you finally swallowed your bite, you chased it with a gulp of water. "I don't think I did anything wrong," you said to your friend, pushing around the saucy rice in your bowl with the tips of your chopsticks.

Sieun covered her mouth. "I don't think so either," she replied, eyebrows furrowed. "Maybe he's just busy? It could be that he got a job or something, or school work is piling up."

You frowned. You thought he would have let you know he was going to be a bit busier, but at the same time, he didn't owe you anything. You just worried about him and hoped he wasn't overworking himself. It didn't help that you missed hanging out with him; it didn't feel like it used to between you just last week.

From behind you, you heard the door to the restaurant open and close with a loud smack! The door to the restaurant was awfully loud when it closed, unless it was carefully done. Something about the angle at which it was constructed, or something like that.

Sieun's brows flew up. "Speak of the devil," she muttered with her food pushed into her cheek.

"Hm?" You hummed and twisted around in your seat to see who she was referring to.

Oh. Well, she definitely wasn't wrong, per se.

Coming in through the door himself was Kim Sunwoo, as well as a few of his own friends, you guessed. You recognized one of them as Ji Changmin, one of the dancers from the winter showcase. Besides those two, there were four others, too—three other boys and a girl. You didn't recognize any of them, but you saw the way your waitress greeted them and squeezed one of the boys' hands.

You and Sunwoo made eye contact, and you shot him a small smile, lifting your fingers in a wave.

He seemed surprised to see you, and you didn't fault him for that. His wave was slight and smile shy, but you couldn't figure out why he ducked his head and didn't come by and say hi.

They're being seated for dinner, Yn. It's okay. Chill a little.

You turned back in your seat to face Sieun and your food again.

"Hey, cheer up, girl." Sieun's smile was sympathetic as she caught your attention. You hadn't even noticed how your posture noticeably slumped after that interaction—if one could even call it that. "Don't let this ruin your dinner, okay?"

You sighed out of your nose, testing your chopsticks over the rim of your bowl. "You're right. I don't know, Eun. It feels like we regressed? Is he avoiding me? Am I overthinking this?"

"I'm not sure, hon," she told you. "It'll be okay, though. I promise. Are you ready for the check?"

You nodded, reaching for your napkin to wipe your mouth.

Sieun lifted her hand and caught your waitress's attention, then made a motion for the bill. HN!Yn was quick to bring it over and set the little black tray with the receipt onto the edge of your table. In her hands she held a small device to input your method of payment.

"Are we splitting the bill today, ladies?" She asked you, eyes flickering between you both.

"Yeah, evenly split would be great, please," you told her.

Sieun leaned over to peer at the receipt as you reached into your bag to grab your card. Her face contorted into confusion, and she ran her finger over a line as if reading over it again carefully. "Oh, uhm, excuse me. It says we get a discount—not that I'm complaining! But…"

HN!Yn smiled. "Ah, you're friends with Sunwoo, right? That's what he told me, at least. I always give my partner and his friends my Friends & Family discount, so don't worry about it. I appreciate your integrity though."

You and Sieun exchanged wide-eyed glances, blinking, then turned to peer over at where Sunwoo's friend group sat. One of the boys sitting next to him whacked his arm to get his attention, nodding toward your table.

Sunwoo looked up.

Your head tilted to the side and you mouthed a "thank you?" to him, unsure of why he went out of his way to help you out.

He only nodded before ducking his head again. Huh. You'd have to thank him properly later.

HN!Yn was quick to help you and Sieun box your meals and finish paying. Before long, you tucked your arm around Sieun's to push out into the cool evening—not without glancing back at Sunwoo's table first.

— ✶

"She looks sad. Why is she sad?" Sunwoo sulked, lying atop his folded arms on the table and staring at you through the space between Haknyeon and JC!Yn.

You were the last person he thought he'd see when he and his friends walked into Haknyeon's favorite Chinese restaurant. You and your friend were pretty much wrapping up dinner when they'd come in, and he was quite literally startled by your presence. He'd been walking around on eggshells, he felt, all because of this stupid situation he'd forced himself into.

It was stupid. Yeah… it was stupid.

Changmin delivered a light whack to the back of Sunwoo's head. "You're dumb."

Sunwoo sat up and cupped the back of his head, leveling a glare at his friend. "Hello?"

"He's not exactly wrong," said Chanhee from the other side of him as he texted someone on his phone.

Sunwoo pressed his lips together and looked across the table from him at JC!Yn in a silent cry for help. The woman could only lift her shoulders half-heartedly. That meant that she agreed with them… great.

Eric snapped his wooden chopsticks apart and began using either stick to smooth the other for splinters. "We're saying you're dumb because you're doing this to yourself and to her unnecessarily."

Sunwoo huffed. "That's because you guys weren't there to see it happen! They're totally together—or at least, close." It still felt awful to think about. It felt like there was a hole in his chest left empty after considering the possibility that he was too late. He didn't want to get hurt.

"You can still talk to her like you used to, Sunwoo-ah," Haknyeon chimed in. "Even if they were—and I'm not saying they are—together, there's still a healthy amount of space where you can dwell as her friend."

HN!Yn appeared at the head of the table with a tray of water, and everyone pitched in to pass the cups down. "Thanks, guys," she said, tucking the tray under her arm. "Are you guys ready to order?" The question was directed towards the rest of the table, but Sunwoo saw the way her eyes lingered on Haknyeon and how Haknyeon's smile shifted to something that Sunwoo was sure was only for her.

It made him feel strange again.

The group, as usual, trusted Haknyeon's choices in dishes and let him take the reins in deciding what they ate tonight. Once HN!Yn had headed off into the kitchen to deliver their order, conversation resumed swiftly.

"I think you're just scared, Sunwoo," JC!Yn said to him over the rim of her glass of water.

Murmurs of agreement resounded from all around the table. Sunwoo's jaw fell open. "I—I am not scared. What would I be scared of?"

"The truth! Oooh," Eric pursed his lips and wiggled his fingers in Sunwoo's direction.

Sunwoo promptly smacked Eric's hand away.

"If you weren't scared of the truth," said Haknyeon, as he propped his elbows onto the table, "you would have gone up to her in that hallway."

"Didn't she tell you that she didn't see Yangyang that way anyways?" Chanhee chimed in. He was still going at it texting whoever it was on his phone.

"But she also said she wanted to give it a second chance," Sunwoo corrected.

Changmin scratched behind his ear and grabbed sauce trays from the end of the table to pass down to everyone else. "That was before she started hanging out with you some more. What is your point?"

They all made excellent points, he thought. That afternoon he'd seen you and Yangyang, he'd gone to meet Changmin in one of the dance practice rooms. After that, he'd gone home to yell into his pillow until his throat burned. Eric had muttered something about Sunwoo being dramatic and summoned JC!Yn over to the apartment to deal with him.

Sunwoo had just been bummed. He didn't even know if bummed was a strong enough word.

"I'm just scared of getting hurt, I guess," he finally admitted, meekly.

The table quieted to allow him room to speak his mind, and even Chanhee put his phone away to give him his full attention now. It wasn't often Sunwoo wore his heart on his sleeve like this, and it wasn't easy either. For anyone. Admitting to his fears in the middle of a Chinese restaurant while five of one's friends listened in was intimidating, but it was comforting to know that these friends he kept would find a way to support him. Even if he was being stupid, their tough love was out of desire to look out for him.

When he was done, Changmin clasped a warm hand on his shoulder and his dimple pressed into his cheek. "Sunwoo-yah, I think that you second guess yourself too much and you know that. You're self aware enough to know that you make the mistake of not going for what or who you want."

Sunwoo stared at an impurity in the table. What Changmin was saying hit the nail on the head—it was what happened with the dance showcase, too, and now he was about to let it ruin a friendship he had with a person he cared very much about.

"My advice," Changmin continued, "is to talk to her about what you saw and clarify it. I know it's… I know it's scary thinking you're gonna get hurt again, but I think you'll feel a lot better afterward."

EPISODE TEN: SUPERSTAR, I'M NOT TOO FAR

your phone: hey thanks for the fnf discount last night! sorry i didn't thank u properly before, but yeah, really appreciate it :')

sunshine (sunwoo): it was no problem, dw abt it!

your phone: btw is everything okay? u seem a bit distant lately and i wanted to make sure u were doing alright

sunshine (sunwoo): ah yeah, im sorry :( there's just been some things on my mind

You shot Sunwoo a quick text back to let him know you were here if he wanted anyone to talk to. His text had just come in after you'd sent him a reply in the early evening.

"Yn-ah. Still on your phone, I see?"

You jolted and shoved your device into the pocket of your jeans, smiling sheepishly as Lee Jihoon power-walked into the backstage area with a pen behind his ear and a clipboard in hand. "Hi, Jihoon!" You squeaked.

He lifted his eyebrows at you, motioning for you to come follow him. Since everyone was back from Spring Break, the work for the play being performed was kicked into high gear. Jihoon was a graduate student at the university and a director of the stage here; adding the fact that he majored in the same thing you did also made him one of your favorite mentors ever. The back hallways were bustling with costumes, props and other assorted technicians while most of the actors were either in the main backstage area or onstage proper with the play director, HJ!Yn.

You followed swiftly after him and weaved through the people littered about the corridors. "I finished synching the panel back here with the projector in the box," you told him, "though, it's weird that it was ever undone in the first place." You frowned. There had been a lot of strange things happening in the theater lately.

Jihoon gave you a curt nod and set you up in front of one of the house lights panels located in the hallway leading right out to the audience. He pointed at it with the back of his pen. "Yeah, some funky shit's been happening around here," he sighed. "You were here the other night when the speakers were acting weird, right?"

You nodded and let him guide you through navigating this backup panel. "I was. You and Chan seemed really stressed."

"We were," he said, adjusting his cap. "We really do need some more funding to update our equipment—careful, that knob is really sensitive. Good, nice work."

Once you and Jihoon had successfully finished with this panel, you lingered in the hallway for a moment. Normally, you would switch back and forth between shadowing either Chan or Jihoon, and tonight was with the latter. He was going through a couple forms on his clipboard—he must have been reading through them while working tonight.

"You seem distracted tonight, Yn-ie," he said. "Is everything okay?"

Despite being one of the busiest and hardest workers here, Jihoon was also one of the most observant, still. You leaned against the wall next to him, toeing at the floor. "Boys are stupid, right?"

Without hesitation or looking up from his clipboard, he replied, "As a boy, I can confirm."

That made you sputter out a laugh, and you saw him glance up and flash you a smile. When you couldn't find something else to say, he went forth. "I don't know the whole situation, and you don't have to tell me anything. But we guys are a little—" he made a gesture with his hands and wrinkled his nose, "—blind. You probably know that already, but dudes are dumbasses, and sometimes when feelings get in the way, they want to run for the hills.

"But if you think he's worth it, then reach out and be forward with him. And if he cares about you, he'll reach out and be honest," he finished. He let you settle with that thought, let it marinate in your brain to give you something to think about. (As if you didn't have a lot to think about already.)

You pressed your lips together with a slow nod. "Thanks Jihoon."

"Anytime, Yn-ie." He nodded back toward the direction you both had come from. "Let's go back that way, yeah? We've got some more housekeeping to take care of."

— ✶

Sunwoo was in trouble.

"...I thought I'd recommend a song that's been on my mind. I've actually been listening to quite a few Taylor Swift songs recently, especially since she's re-recording all her albums! So here's 'Superstar' from Fearless, Taylor's Version."

He had put your most recent podcast episode on full volume while he made himself dinner. It had been a long day today, and so his automatic thought was to listen to you. But now that he was getting into the meat of the episode, he was quickly coming to realize how much trouble he was in. You were playing the song, and it was a direct call out to him to wake the fuck up.

As the song faded to a close, your voice came back on.

"Actually, I was recommended the song by someone I know," you said in the mellow tone you'd been in for the entire episode so far. "I guess I'm just confused and I was wondering if they really meant what they said."

Sunwoo nearly dropped the egg in his hand onto the kitchen floor. Guilt swirled around in the bubbles of the soup in the pot and he frowned down at the rich, creamy liquid.

He sighed, tapping the egg against the counter and cracking its innards into the pot. "Of course, I really meant it," he said as if you could hear him. He wished he had the guts to tell you everything that was going on in his head… As his soup boiled away, he leaned against the empty counter to wait, cradling his head in his hands, groaning. "You're being unfair, Sunwoo."

"...This one's from Peony! They say: almost didn't realize Rhaps Anon wasn't in the last episode until the very end when we hadn't gotten a rec from them. Hope they're doing okay!" Ah, so you weren't the only one who noticed his brief absence. Your sigh filled the apartment, though, he heard the way you tried to force some kind of cheeriness into it. "Yeah, I hope they're doing okay too. But Rhaps'll be back! Let's all wish them well. Fighting!—"

Oh, man. Now he felt even worse.

He really needed to talk to you. Oh god, he really needed to talk to you. If not to confess, then to clear the air and assure you that all was okay on his end. He was just being a coward, and he knew that well enough now.

When his dinner had finished, Sunwoo turned the flame off and headed for his phone on the opposite counter. He lowered the volume as he went in and pulled up his text thread with you.

sunwoo's phone: hey,, i know ur probs busy w the play this week, but is there a possibility for me to see you sometime soon? i wanted to talk to u abt something

He gnawed on his bottom lip as he awaited your answer, until he realized you were probably working. That made him drop his phone and return to his dinner—maybe he just needed to not look, so his anxiety wasn't so high—

His phone buzzed and he bolted back over.

superstar 💫: i think i'll prob have some time saturday morning

EPISODE ELEVEN: [SOMEONE'S LOOKING OUT FOR YOU, LOSERS.]

YOU asked Sunwoo if he'd like to tag along with you as you did some grocery shopping before rehearsal on Saturday morning. His answer had been automatic, and you both agreed to meet each other at the bus stop to ride down to the larger supermarket down the hill together. Even as you stood at the corner of your street waiting for him beneath the overhang, you were trying to come up with possible things he was going to say to you. You had figured, when he’d texted you Wednesday night, that perhaps the best way to go about this would be to make this casual. Hence, why you were forcing yourself to go grocery shopping a day earlier than you usually did.

Casual, in this case, called for “you don’t have stare me in the eyes the entire time,” and to be frank, you were a little too nervous for that kind of setting anyway.

You tugged the edges of your cardigan over you as you heard your name being called from the opposing street. Sunwoo was bounding his way over to you with his arm raised in greeting. You returned the gesture with a soft smile. “Hey.”

He stopped by you, shoving his hands into the pockets of his gray jacket. “Hi,” he said, licking his lips. “Thanks for agreeing to meet with me.”

The bus slowed to a halt in front of your stop, and the two of you retrieved your transportation cards to board. “You say that like I wouldn’t have agreed,” you chuckled and tapped your card, Sunwoo following suit.

The two of you managed to find a pair of empty seats near the second half of the vehicle where the exit was for an easy departure when you reached the foot of the hill. But for now, you tucked your bag onto your lap and settled into the window seat, while Sunwoo occupied the one next to you.

You turned your head to gaze out the window and watch the world blur by as you did. The Avenue streets were a tad narrower than most around the university, so the bus traveled as efficiently as it could from stop to stop before turning the block to make its descent. It was technically still morning, and though it was spring, the sky had decided to blanket the sunshine with gray clouds to form an atmosphere that reminded you distinctly of the past winter quarter. Except, instead of thin, empty branches, the streets and walkways were encased in darkening green leaves and falling pink petals, a nod to the short-lived cherry blossom season. From the corner of your eye, you saw Sunwoo’s foot start to tap against the ground like Thumper the Rabbit, and you wondered for the millionth time what was going on in that pretty head of his.

“I don’t really understand,” you found yourself saying—his head swiveled—and you turned to look at him, “did I do something wrong?”

Sunwoo stammered, "What? No, it wasn't you! It wasn't your fault at all—I was just—" he sighed, grimacing to himself. "I was just being stupid. And I know that sounds super vague, but the short answer is that I was being stupid and scared and insecure."

Your brows furrowed and you felt the bus come to a gentle stop at the foot of the hill. "Scared and insecure? What's going on; is everything okay?"

You both got up to make a quick exit off the bus and began making the short walk from the bus station into the outdoor shopping center.

There was a jittery bounce to Sunwoo's steps as well as a tension in his shoulders. "Last week," he began, "Jisung told me that he'd just left you at the practice room and that you were probably going to be there awhile."

You nodded, grabbing a basket at the front of the grocery store. That rang a bell for sure. It had been a very long day in the practice room, so you weren't quite sure what direction this was going in yet.

"Well, I wanted to go surprise you and come hang out with you. You know, like, to keep you company." He started scouring the opposite shelf to you in the dried foods aisle, his eyes nervously darting from the BUY ONE, GET ONE pasta noodles deal signs, to your person. "And when I got there, I saw you and Yangyang."

Me and Yangyang…? Oh, me and Yangyang.

It was like a lightbulb went off in your head, and you stopped pretending to look at the overpriced vermicelli noodles on the shelf behind you.

"And you guys were hugging and close and stuff—and by all means! I—I have no problem with that, of course," he added quickly, "I mean, you guys are really close… friends? And I just saw him lean toward you and left because I… I got the message." The latter portion was delivered in a defeated tone as he looked on toward you helplessly and sorrowfully. It was how Sieun described you Tuesday night when you'd seen Sunwoo at the restaurant: a sad sap.

You both stopped moving down the aisle to face each other. In the white, fluorescent supermarket lights, his hair hung in his eyes like his head in embarrassment. You were going to let him finish.

He cupped the back of his head, suddenly feeling so bare before you despite not being physically naked at all. "I thought some space might distinguish or extinguish my feelings for you," he continued, nose wrinkling and lip curling in a wince. "Clearly it didn't help, and I think overall, I realized I wasn't being fair to you—as a friend. And that I was also being the biggest fucking loser ever."

Wait, you were still reeling from the mentions about feelings—

Before you could even address the aforementioned, you had to make something clear first. You felt the corners of your lips lift. "Sunwoo, me and Yangyang really are just friends." At the confused, puppy-dog look in his eyes, you explained further, "That day, Yangyang came by and I made it clear to him that I just saw him as a friend. I felt really awful for feeling like I'd led him on and was going to lose his friendship."

Sunwoo's mouth opened, then closed, then opened again, and he struggled to come up with the response he wanted. "So… so when he was leaning in toward you…"

"He leaned in and flicked my nose, then almost gave me a nosebleed," you chuckled. You'd given him a very appropriate flick to the forehead after that.

His eyes widened at that. "Well shit. Are you okay?" He asked, and you saw his smile slowly begin to make its appearance, the sun peeking through an overcast sky.

"Yeah, perfectly fine," you dismissed with a flick of your hand. "Especially now. But yeah, we're just friends."

There was a surge of relief in his tense shoulders. "Oh, okay."

He trailed after you as you continued to make your way down this aisle in particular to pick up the things that were on your shopping list.

At one point, he coughed, handing you the jar of red peppers you were reaching for. "So no hard feelings, right? I promise it will be totally back to normal!"

"Normal, as in back to before?"

He nodded eagerly. "Yeah! To be honest, Dovey, I was just kind of scared that I had lost my chance after waiting so long. I don't know. And I realized that I was just scared to face that fact."

You gauged his reaction and your own heart thundered in your chest. "Scared to face the fact that you'd lost your chance with me?"

"Well, yeah. I—" He stopped and froze like a deer in headlights. And in any other circumstance, you would have been laughing, but he seemed so distraught by what he just admitted to that you tried hard to suppress your amusement. Tried. "I just said that aloud, huh."

Nodding, you grinned fondly. "You did."

He smiled, cute and flustered, cheeks tinted pink. "You're always too easy a person to talk to," he muttered.

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"I would've said something sooner…" He began.

Something jumped to attention in your brain. Oh no. "Was I giving you mixed signals?" You pursed your lips like you'd just gotten into something sour. "'Cause I swore I thought my attraction to you was clear. And, like, the thing where I totally began rethinking my thoughts about Yangyang when you came into the picture—"

"Wow, so Changmin was right?" Sunwoo made a face, holding his hand against his forehead. "That's crazy."

"Crazy good or…?"

He chuckled, and you couldn't help but admire the twinkle in his eyes as he did. "Crazy so good."

"I don't think people actually say that."

He whined, "Yah, you can't already be clowning me. Not when I just confessed that I like you."

That made you sober up, but you couldn't say the same for your heart rate. Man, your BPM alone could probably power a bullet train… "I like you, too. I hope that's clear."

There you two stood in the middle of the dried foods aisle with twin smiles glowing on your faces, soft and shared. You didn't know what the BOGO pasta was doing, but it was definitely adding to the atmosphere. You had intended for running errands to distract you from whatever Sunwoo had wanted to talk to you about, but clearly that was not the case—it would have never worked like that. You would be damned to have missed something like this. Not with him.

Perhaps he had made a mistake—he was now apologizing and clarifying and trying. You could hear Jihoon's words of wisdom ring loud and clear in your head. There was something perfectly fine about how this turned out.

"No more mixed signals?"

"No more mixed signals," he agreed.

— ✶

The remainder of your errand run with Sunwoo had gone smoothly, and soon, you were both seated side by side once more on the bus up to the University District. Sunwoo had gotten a couple things for his fridge, too, and so you both sat with your grocery bags by each other and your fingers grazing the other. Ever since you had clarified your position with Sunwoo a little over an hour ago, you had been feeling much lighter, your heart skipping for a different reason. You were back to feeling the giddy excitement you always had around him, and especially since you knew he saw you in exactly the same way.

The two of you shared a laugh as you stepped off the bus and onto your block, grocery bags in hand.

“—I’m being completely serious! Apparently I was just snot-nosed wailing into her shirt about being single and forever alone,” Sunwoo guffawed, grinning wide at you as you both stopped to the side of the walkway. “And Eric was pissed, oh my god.”

“I mean, you just kiss-blocked him; kind of understandable,” you mused.

Sunwoo sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Aye, I know. He’s a good guy though. Total loser, but a good loser. He made me hangover soup the next day.”

You let out a laugh, walking slowly with him down toward the entrance of your apartment complex. "That was sweet of him."

He snorted, "A little out of character, but yeah."

"You know," you piped up, "when I was applying and eventually interviewing for the position with Chan and Jihoon, I had no idea what either of them looked like. So I accidentally—woah, shi—"

Somebody coming down the sidewalk toward you crashed into your shoulder and sent you careening toward the sidewalk. Sunwoo swore as you let out a squeak—his arm looping around your waist and hauling you against him to steady you.

He lifted his head in the direction of the person with a glower on his face. "Hey! Dude, watch where you're going!"

"Thanks," you said sheepishly.

He turned to fix you with a smile, and you saw the moment he realized the position you were both in: you pressed firmly up against the side of his body, his arm wrapped around you, your faces so close to one another… He released his hold on you, neck burning as he cupped the back of it. "Heh, yeah. It's no problem. People should just really watch where they're going."

You coughed and nodded your head. "Yeah, for sure."

The pair of you were now in front of your apartment complex once more, reluctant to say goodbye. You wondered if he would ask to spend more time with you, but you had a feeling that he wouldn't want to intrude on your time any longer. It wasn't like he was intruding to you, but it was just a feeling you had about him. He wanted to respect your time.

And, well, you both had groceries to put away.

"So I'll uh, talk to you soon then?" You asked him, holding your grocery bags in front of you.

He peered at you through his lashes. "Definitely."

"This morning turned out way better than I thought it would, to be honest."

"Yeah no, same here," he echoed. "I'm just glad you actually gave me another chance."

You reached over and gave his shoulder a playful punch. "How could I not? I've always believed in you."

That seemed to ignite something inside of him. He jutted his bottom lip out and whined, "Oh my god, you can't just say that! You're so—wah."

You giggled, watching him squirm like he was being jolted by electricity. "Hey man, sometimes you've gotta be straightforward."

"Yeah, I know." He sobered slightly and took a step forward. Your heart clambered around in your chest and rattled your ribcage. There was this look in his eyes that made you glance at his lips—his perfect, plush, pink lips.

You held still, held your whole fucking breath, as he turned his head and kissed your cheek. It was feather-light, barely there, and yet, all the heat in your body seemed to rush to that single spot in a millisecond.

When he pulled away, his voice was soft. "How's that for straightforward?"

EPISODE TWELVE: ONE LOVE SONG CAN'T CONVEY HOW I FEEL FOR YOU, SO HERE'S TWENTY—

SUNWOO imagined that he looked as cartoonish as any man in love could. There had to be hearts in eyes, hearts around his head, hearts on a glittery pink trail that carried him everywhere he went. He giggled to himself as he fished his house keys from his pocket and unlocked the front door to let himself in.

"Oh my god. We've properly lost him."

With a loud, war-like AHHH!, Sunwoo yelped and nearly dropped his groceries, struggling to hold the bags to his chest as he pressed himself against the back of the front door. His apartment filled with high-pitched cackles of delight.

Though his heart was going through about a million cartwheels a second, he managed to force the fear from his eyes as embarrassment flooded his system. He flared his nostrils, frowning and tipping his head against the door. "I hate you guys!"

"You should hate Eric for giving JC!Yn your apartment key," Changmin wheezed, slapping his hands together and rolling around on the living room carpet as he pointed and laughed at Sunwoo's absolute misery. "You should've seen your face!"

Chanhee was on the couch with his legs curled up into his chest as he had his phone out, recording the entire thing. "This one's going in the drunk Sunwoo folder."

"Yah, I'm not even drunk!"

Chanhee shrugged. "It's become your general meme folder now. We should probably rename it."

Sunwoo whipped his head toward JC!Yn, who was seated on the opposite end of the couch with an amused smile on her face. "Noona! Are you just gonna let them bully me like this?"

Her smile widened. "Sorry, Sunwoo, but we didn't think you would miss us completely when you came in."

He let out a loud groan, fragging himself over to the kitchen so he could set the grocery bags on the counter and begin to unload them. "What're you guys doing here anyways? Isn't it Saturday morning? Where's Kei?" He asked, unloading a carton of juice from the bag and slotting it into the fridge.

Kei was JC!Yn's roommate, and the two girls always went on a grocery shopping date every Saturday morning with Changmin and Chanhee. They often made Changmin drive since he had the biggest car, and grocery shopping was an exclusive event that only the four of them were allowed to partake in. Eric, Sunwoo, and even Jacob had expressed distaste at that elitism. One of these days, they were bound to let someone else join… right?

But regardless, that always meant that Saturday mornings were occupied for them. So why were three-quarters of the group currently invading Sunwoo's apartment?

Changmin sat up from his place on the floor and fixed Sunwoo with a grin that made him nervous. "We dropped her off at their place, and we did go shopping this morning, but you'll never guess the curious thing we witnessed while we were there." His giggles sent a doom-like shiver down Sunwoo's spine.

Then it clicked.

Sunwoo abruptly stopped taking dried noodle packages out of the grocery bag. "You're kidding."

A snort from Chanhee. "Oh, you wish."

Sunwoo bashed his head against his sweater-covered palms. "No."

"Yes!" Changmin shrieked.

"I didn't know you guys went to that supermarket!" Sunwoo wailed, throwing his head back toward the ceiling. "You guys saw us?"

JC!Yn rested her chin against her arm as she leaned over the back of the couch to face him. "We heard you, too. I'm glad you decided to own up to your chicken-ness. See? Wasn't so scary after all."

Well, he couldn't exactly agree with that. But he also couldn't disagree with it. He'd been so scared he was about to lose your friendship then for being so insecure for no reason. A simple clarifying question could have saved the both of you so much strife. But the conversation also reaped rewards: your mutual confessions.

He sulked and didn't say anything.

"It was cute though, Sunwoo-ah," said Chanhee with a teasing lilt to his smile.

"And also," Changmin cut in, "what do you mean 'so Changmin was right? That's crazy?!'"

Sunwoo snorted. "Now that, I have nothing to say to."

"So what's the deal now?" JC!Yn asked. "Are you two dating now or…?"

Oh. Another long pause, then— "Oh my god, you didn't ask her out?"

"Hey! Listen!" Sunwoo yelled in an attempt to defend himself.

"We're listening." Chanhee folded his arms over his chest with a less than impressed look on his face. He scoffed. "I can't believe you pull."

"Shut up!"

"He hasn't even asked her out yet—how can he pull?" Changmin quipped back with frenzied gesticulations.

Sunwoo groaned as he flopped over the counter. He couldn't believe he was having such a good morning, and now he was being berated once more for his stupidity. How could he not ask you out? It was right there! The opportunity had presented itself a multitude of times, and yet, why was he still here, dateless?

Then there came the thought of how to go about this. There was a part of him who thought that just asking you was probably fine. But the other part remembered how much he liked you—so texting was simply not an option. It had to have some pizzazz, a bit of oomph, to it.

"We can see the gears turning in your head, Sunwoo," said JC!Yn. "What's on your mind, bub?"

Sunwoo looked up from where he had smattered himself onto the kitchen counter like a pancake. "I have no rizz."

Chanhee coughed. "Well, that's not news."

Sunwoo sent him a scowl. "How should I ask her out? I kind of want it to be special, you know?"

"Hmm." JC!Yn pursed her lips, tapping her chin in thought. "The other day, I was talking to Sangyeon about music or something or other, and he showed me the playlist he'd made his girlfriend—"

"His fake girlfriend," Changmin corrected with a little smirk.

She rolled his eyes. "I'm pretty sure Lee Sangyeon is not sad enough to make fake playlists for his fake girlfriend." It was a known inside joke amongst the friend group that Sangyeon had a "secret girlfriend" stashed away somewhere. A few of them liked to joke that she either didn't actually exist or that he kept her locked in his laundry machine or something. Mostly, though, they just wanted to know if he actually was single or not. What was the point of keeping her a secret anyway?

The slight change in victim brought Sunwoo's mood up. "What about the playlist, noona?"

She blinked, turning her attention back to her original train of thought. "Oh, right. What if you made her one of those cute, romantic playlists?"

The four of them exchanged glances with one another. It was a silent form of communication, one that had one uniform thought running through the wire.

— ✶

You'd received a text from Sunwoo about thirty minutes ago asking if he could stop by your apartment to drop off something of yours. Apparently, in the madness of the checkout aisle at the grocery store, he had accidentally "stolen" one of your cans of chicken noodle soup.

You hadn't bought chicken noodle soup though.

This was why you now anxiously awaited his arrival for the real reason he wanted to stop by. You had literally just seen him about an hour or two ago, but you'd be lying if you said you were happy at the prospect of seeing him again so soon. Your cheek still seared from his kiss.

As if he could read your thoughts, you heard a loud series of knocks at the door.

"Coming!" You called, hustling over from your living space area and over to the door.

After peeking through the peephole, you definitely saw Sunwoo, but what he was holding was nowhere near the likeness of a can of chicken noodle soup.

In a hurry, you ripped the door open, lips parted at the bundle of bright colored blooms in his hands. Sunflowers and carnations and lilies and roses—

He peered out sheepishly from behind the bouquet with his other hand occupied by his open phone. "Hi," he peeped.

"Hey," you exhaled, a grin fighting its way onto your face.

"If I made you a playlist, would you go out with me?"

You blinked, heartbeat rocketing into high gear. "Sunwoo," you started with a disbelieving laugh, "you don't have to—"

His thumb lowered onto a button on his phone. "Whoopsies, already did it."

Right on cue, you heard your phone buzz from your pocket. Curious, you withdrew it and opened the text message from him with a link to a Spotify playlist entitled: "One love song can't convey how I feel for you, so here's twenty."

You could have melted into a puddle of ooey-gooey goodness. "Sunwoo," you lamented, smiling way too wide now.

He beamed back at you. "What do you say?"

You shook your head, throwing your arms around him as he laughed and hugged you back. "You're so cute. Yes, I'll go out with you."

He gave you a little, warm squeeze. "Oh, thank god. I thought I was gonna die from anticipation."

You laughed and smiled into his shoulder. When you pulled away, your hand gently reached for the side of his face. "What if I kissed you right now?"

His eyes widened a smidge. "What if you wha--"

You cut him off and pressed your lips to his briefly, then pulled back.

"Wait, wait. Come back here," he murmured, chasing after you and crushing his mouth against yours. And it was perfect. Everything was perfect. The feel of his lips, the smell of his cologne, the firmness of his shoulders beneath your grip and the perfect pressure as you both sealed the deal with a kiss.

The two of you pulled away at the same time with labored breaths, foreheads meshed together as you caught your breath.

"You're not gonna turn this into a podcast episode, are you?" He asked, voice low and raspy, yet laced in a playful tonic.

You teased him right back. "As long as it doesn't end poorly."

He chuckled, and you could feel the vibrations of his laugh against your lips. "Then I guess I'll just have to make it the best date ever."

"Don't worry," you said with a cheeky hand on his chest, "I believe in you."

With a laugh, he grazed his lips over yours again. "Thanks, superstar."

a/n: hihi!! thanks so much for reading <3 if you enjoyed, i would deeply appreciate a comment, reblog, or an ask to tell me what u thought about it! much love, onto kevin's !!

permanent taglist: @flwoie @vatterie @seomisaho @hqrana @ja4hyvn @tinkerbell460 @kaaimins @hyunjaespresent-deobi @otterly-fey @zzoguri @floatingpluto @winterchimez @ethereal-engene @gyulfriend @polarisjisung @jaehunnyy @shakalakaboomboo @loveliestfelix @sodafy @zhaixiaowen @leaz-kpop-life @amourdsr @pxppxrminty @kqyutie @sseastar-main @kxthleen14 @fluorescentloves @mosviqu @justalildumpling @jaerisdiction @hibernatinghamster @super-btstrash-posts @jundundun @kflixnet

[kyuteflesh]

captain john price / f!reader

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ｡･ﾟﾟ･*°:⋆ₓₒ ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

uhhh genuinely so down bad for this man (came out of nowhere) and i need him in my life rn so here’s this short lazy excuse of a smut

⚠️: use of ‘daddy’, degradation, unrealistic sex lowk, major writers block, +18

“you’re mine—all mine. try thinking otherwise with this cock stuffed in your stupid little cunt.” price growled as he landed a final, harsh smack on your rear. “come here and help me with my belt like the bitch you are.”

“yes, sir.” tears swelled in your eyes from the stinging sensation left on your ass. you rolled over and started to fumble with his belt buckle.

“atta girl.” he cooed. “i have it from here. you just get your pretty ass in the air.”

you were completely naked, while price was still fully clothed. the only part of his body exposed was his fat, hard cock.

he started to rub the soreness of your cheeks. you could feel his swollen tip rub against your clit, teasing your entrance. without any futher warning, he slowly started to enter you.

“nngh- fuck-! it hurts!” you cried out. it had been one minute too long since he was able to find a moment alone with you.

“quit yer whining, i’m going as slow as i can. seems like your pussy could use this. need to break ye in again.” his thrusts started to quicken. you could feel him hit every spot possible. the mix of pain and pleasure was unbearable.

“john—please! i can’t take it.” you buried your face deeper in the pillow. price started to rub your clit. taking a fistful of hair in the other hand, he forced your head up. “go on. keep screaming you dumb whore. tell them who you belong to.” john snapped, still going at a brutal pace.

“y-you. you, john. my body is yours and only yours!” he only smacked your ass again in return.

you started to feel the knot in your stomach grow tighter and tighter with each thrust. “john, im so close to cumming. please don’t stop!” you exclaimed. he finally let go of your hair, face slamming back into the bed.

john lowered down to your ear. his breathing was quick and heavy. you knew he was close from how much sloppier his strokes got.

“thats it. let it all go. want me to fuck my cum into that tight pussy of yours? wanna cum all over my dick?”

you could only give weak nods in response. there was so much happening to your body you couldn’t even think coherent thoughts.

“really, really wanna cum, daddy.”

the use of that name is what sent him over the edge. you could hear low moans and grunts of ‘fuck’ as he shot his load deep inside of you, burrowing into the crook of your neck. he was weak by this point, practically dry humping you to reach your climax.

it worked for somebody who was as cock hungry as you. finally releasing, you both rolled over. price lazily slung his arm around you and peppered your face with kisses. “i love you so fuckin much, doll.”

[squerlly]

flames of desire chapter 4: I'm creepy?...

Alastor x (f! bunny reader)

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

your POV:

back at the hotel, I went straight to my room, putting all of my clothes that angel bought for me in there drawers and hangers. angel said that there weren't any shoes that work for my paws so he said to try and wear toeless socks....there comfortable but I just have to be carful were I step. walking to the lobby I decided to grab a drink, sitting on the stool "what do you want kid?" "nothing strong" sliding the drink over to me I decide to ask about what happened earlier "hay husk right..." "yeah?" "do you know who valentino is?", setting down the glass he was cleaning he turns "hes an overlord, part of the Vees ...owns a strip club angel works at" well that explains it "what's an overlord?" "you ask to many damn questions kid" "sorry...just asking since I'm still getting used to the permeant damnation thing..." "overlords are powerful demons, ranked by there power over others. humans deal in favors and money, but down here...you deal in souls. and fuckers like radio face abuse that power" radio face? that's new "you mean Alastor? "yeah kid, hes an overlord, haven't you ever seen those posters outside?" now that I think about it, no...I haven't but that would explain his whole dark and twistedness "is that why hes so creepy.." "I'm creepy?...", whipping my head around my heart feels like it just fell out of my ass "oh how you wound me dear, tell me what makes me so creepy hmm..." "well I- no I didn't mean- how long have you been standing there..." "well I heard my name and couldn't help but listen, tell me what is it that has peeked your interest in me?", "w-well husk was telling me about overlords and that you were uhm-...one" "ah yes my dear, husker is correct!, what brought up such a subject?" "oh well... me and angel ran into this Valentino guy and when I asked angel he looked so scared..." "hmm well if he works for valentino, then there's a high chance he made a contract" "contract?" "yes, a contract for his soul~" of course, a contract or a deal for a soul "husk also said something about the Vees who are they?" hearing loud static I look up, Alastors smile was tight and his expression was that of irritation, the static getting louder "oh nobody important..." "oookk..." I'm not gonna pry into that anymore, I like my second life...sorta.

Alastors POV:

so our little bunny got into some trouble with the Vees? and it seems valentino has caught interest in her, I cant have that... "tell me dear what did valentino say to you?" "hmm he asked me if I wanted to work for him, said he could make me rich or something like that" oh Valentino, how does one fine joy in taking advantage of young women, maybe he has an animal fetish or something, for once that makes my skin crawl "and what did you say?" "I told him no naturally, the guy has no boundaries, and from the way he treated angel I don't think I would want to work for somebody like him" hmm smart girl~ "well its good to know your alright!" wouldn't want my toy to be broken before iv played with it first... "i just hope angel is ok" "you need not worry about angel, I'm sure hes doing just fine dear, you shouldn't get involved" especially with the likes of such nasty people like valentino, how dare he attempt to steal my plaything, I guess ill have to show him that I don't like sharing.

your POV:

chatting with Alastor and husk I feel a bit tired, probably had one to many refills of my drink, iv always been a light weight... "its getting a bit late, I think I'm gonna head to bed now" husk takes my half empty glass as I stand from the stool "well goodnight my dear, sweet dreams~..."

I had writers block for like 30min because I just felt like adding a whole extra part for Alastor and it nearly killed me!!! but anyways I love you guys and please enjoy this chapter stay tuned~

-squerlly

@pooplyface1423 @strippezzz

for more stories and more chapters please click this masterlist

[m1d-45]

I don't know when, i don't know how, but SOMEBODY has ruined my day by giving me flashbacks of my most embarrassing moments from years ago.

Tongue frozen on the iron bars, check, had to alert the peeps to get the teach to bring hot water and she kept giggling at me.

The first time i tried proper kissing? Fucken awkward.

Accidentally mixing my coca cola glass with dads wine glass, and spurting it out with ews in a FUCKEN BUFFET?! FULL OF PEOPLE?! WHO TURNED TO LOOK AT ME AS MY FAMILY LAUGHED AT MY MISFORTUNE?!

Getting whacked in the head by a ball during gym class when a classmate threw it? AND they had the AUDACITY TO LAUGH AT ME! (And people wondered why i skipped that class-)

But honestly, i want schadenfreude and a creator x a hot guy (you can choose who, i'll take anyone at this point to ease me) with just these scenarios in mind, if you could.

i have found that even forced exposure can help with younghood embarrassment.

-🥘Stew

tongue tied

a/n: maybe this isnt what you wanted. maybe it is. idk i have writers block like you wouldn't believe man.

word count: ~6.5k

→ warnings: none? mention of alcohol and injuries but nothing awful or severe. just nice :]

→ g/n reader (you/yours)

taglist: @samarill || @thenyxsky || @valeriele3 || @shizunxie || @boba-is-a-soup || @yuus3n || @esthelily || @turningfrogsgay || @cupandtea24 || @genshin-impacts-me

< masterlist >

diluc is a man with many skills.

he’s led the dawn winery for many years and have taken hundreds of shifts at the angel’s share, every item on the menu practically muscle memory by now. he knew the regulars and their typical orders, he knew the quickest way to strip mint stalks of their leaves, how to stack wine barrels most efficiently and how hot he could make his flames without getting burned, practically every skill he could reasonably need mastered when he was young.

…practically was the operative word, of course.

in business, it was practical to learn how to perfectly sign his signature. it was practical to know how to be diplomatic, practical to know how to properly tie a tie or check if a suit was fitted properly, practical to learn all of the skills he’d need to be the head of the dawn winery when he was young, so that by the time it was him sweeping a heavy coat over his shoulders for a meeting, he’d have every ability necessary to tackle whatever faced him.

but of course, his “training” didn’t cover more… personal things. he was too busy learning dining etiquette to know how to make small talk—that didn’t revolve around one party trying to get something from the other, that is. he knew how to set tables and properly pour wine, but his greetings were industry-approved stiff, responses a standard dialogue that he had nearly memorized. everything he said was mapped out in his head far before he’d say it, neatly laid out in his mind as he guided the conversation where he wanted it to go. efficient for formal meetings, but it left him… he didn’t like the word ‘lost,’ but it was the only one he could reasonably apply.

diluc set down the glass he was cleaning, picking up another to keep his hands busy. yes, there was a formal dishwasher hired, but he didn’t like being idle. he didn’t quite know what to do or where to put his hands, feeling a bit exposed without his coat. the bar provided a wide berth between him and any customers, but he couldn’t quite get a handle on the easy banter charles had with the patrons during his shift. it was like he was locked in an odd limbo between work and rest hours; without his gloves, vest, or other protective layers, all shed to prevent them from being stained in the case that something went awry, but still needing to keep face in front of others. he didn’t have his gloves to pull down, no comforting weight of his coat, his vision on a clip on his belt instead of the knot it usually hung from. everything wasn’t quite where it should be, and he was reminded of that every time he reached or twisted in the right way and the small spikes on top of his vision pressed through his shirt and into his side.

he felt… exposed. lost. and he didn’t know what to do about it.

he looked up as the tavern door opened, whatever expression he had before falling away as he was brought out of his thoughts. relax, he tried to tell himself, but it’s hard to believe that when one of the worst reasons for his confusion just walked in.

you.

archons, diluc was awful when it came to interacting with you. his heart beat too quickly and a shockingly large part of his brain thought that this meant he was in some sort of stressful meeting, all of his words coming out flat. while in its intended environment that would keep him from losing his temper or showing any weakness, in here it just made him feel more weak.

your head dipped. “master diluc, captain kaeya.”

and his brother certainly didn’t help the situation.

kaeya had turned when you entered, and greeting you with a sweeping arm and a cheery call of your name. “i didn’t think i’d see you so late; how kind of the heavens to bless me with your presence once again.”

diluc’s jaw tensed, and he traded glasses again. the pile of dirty cups was quickly dwindling, in no small part due to his own thoughts. he tended to be a bit quicker at the rhythmic movements of washing when he was caught up in his own lackluster abilities.

you laughed, taking the seat next to kaeya at the bar. all at once diluc was hyper aware of every action he made, from the change of towels to wipe off the water lingering on the cup to the smallest twitches in his expression or shifts in his weight.

“got caught up in some last-minute stuff, a coworker needed my help. i do hope you weren’t waiting too long?”

kaeya’s eye flashed, and he downed the rest of his drink before launching into a clearly fake story, talking about how actually, in the half hour or so delay in your appearance, the angel’s share was stormed by hundreds of fatui.

as if either of them would let that happen.

you played along, though, asking questions in the right spots and getting him to spin the story further. diluc exchanged his glasses again, doing a double take at the empty rack once he did.

that was far from ideal.

“-right, diluc?”

he looked up in an instant, eyes flicking about as he assessed the situation. clearly, he’d missed some part of the conversation, but what?

you, blessed you, had noticed his confusion, a smile on your face as you rested your hand on your chin, leaning on the bar. “i don’t know, would you really waste a bottle of dandelion wine like that? surely your claymore would do just fine.”

with a sharp swallow and a quick prayer—not that that would do much, knowing the archon he was praying to—diluc took a chance.

“of course i would. one bottle is worth it to defend mondstat, and it’s quite unwieldy to use a claymore in such a confined space.”

he fought a grimace the second the words left his mouth. his tone was too flat, his words uninteresting, certainly less entertaining than whatever fantastical tale kaeya had spun.

you nodded, and he could thankfully see amusement in your eyes. “how noble, master diluc.”

kaeya cut in, picking up his empty cup. “if you can spare a bottle for the fatui, then you can spare a glass for the cavalry captain, can’t you?”

he took the cup, but added it to the dirty rack alongside the one in his hand, taking a new one and wiping it to remove any water despite the fact that he knew there was none. archons, when had he gotten so…

he pushed away that train of thought, pulling out a bottle as he set the fresh glass down. “certainly not. wine is to be drank and paid for, that bottle was… an unfortunate accident.”

“my my, you’re no fun.” diluc poured his glass quickly—”not too much, not too little, okay? a little more, a bit… there, that’s good. well done, son.”—and moved it in front of him, pushing the cork back into the bottle with the heel of his palm. he set it back in its place, and noticed kaeya’s eyes on him as he took a sip.

no, not him, on-

“not worth a bottle, but worth a new glass? perhaps i am a hero after all…”

why was he unsurprised he noticed?

“i don’t want it to stain,” he lied, knowing damn well that stained glasses was something he was more than capable of handling. kaeya hummed, swirling his cup once before you prodded him about his day and he was back to his usual self, talking with significantly less grandeur than his tale from before.

diluc tried to pace himself, being extra meticulous in his cleaning, but there was only so many times he could twist a glass before he had to accept that he was done with it. an odd sort of dread settled over him as he reached for the last cup. today was a slower day, and he normally didn’t run out of cups until everybody was too drunk to notice how awkwardly he stood behind the bar. but kaeya was too smart to get properly drunk, you’d just arrived, and the night was far younger than he’d like.

he was cleaning too quickly again. normally, getting everything he needed to done with fast was a good thing, but now it just left him uneasy. charles didn’t have this problem, and he didn’t even clean glasses during the downtime. no, he struck up conversation with every single person that sat at the bar, no matter how downtrodden or celebratory. he was naturally friendly, always knowing exactly what to say despite the fact that diluc would bet serious mora on the fact that he didn’t have the faintest idea what he’d say until the other person was done. if he thought about it… even kaeya had a script of sorts, a certain way to twist the situation back in his favor, but he managed to talk to people just fine. no, that wasn’t the problem.

the clatter of the cup in his hands on the drying rack pulled him from his mind. he shouldn’t be zoning out so much on the job, but what took his attention first was the fact that he was now seriously out of tasks to complete.

…beautiful.

“diluc? is everything alright?”

it’s your voice, surprisingly, that asks for him, and he fixes his expression in the split second it takes to look at you instead of the glasses. his mind reaches, grabbing the familiar sentence that must have left his lips a thousand times.

“everything is as it should be. why do you ask?”

a defense of his position, dismissing any ideas of weakness, and a prompt as to why that line of thinking was in discussion at all. part of him recoiled at the idea of treating you with the same recited lines he did a business partner, but he genuinely didn’t know what else to say. he was distracted, to come up with another acceptable response would make him hesitate, which would set off yours or kaeya’s alarms- or both, if he was particularly clumsy with his speech.

“did the glasses offend you, or something? you’re glaring.”

and yet, despite his prerecorded reliability, he is at a loss once more. genuine inquiries about his well-being were rare in the spaces he typically interacted in, and it didn’t help that he was still stuck in work mode.

“…they have not,” he decides, picking his language carefully. “i am simply thinking about something else.”

horribly vague, and would almost certainly warrant a follow-up question. before you even opened your mouth, he knew what you’d say.

“what are you thinking about? do you need help?”

the second part was a shock, but he blessedly had an answer for the first. “nothing important. it will be handled in due time.”

kaeya raised a brow, and diluc pointedly ignored his questioning look. it wasn’t often that he resorted to diplomatic language in the presence of civilians, but you… he could never quite think right when you were around. he could only hope you never misinterpreted his odd words as mistrust.

you hummed, changing the subject shortly after with a question about the vineyards, something about a particularly bad season for crops you’d heard from sara. he paused for a moment—an acceptable pause, he told himself, as most people did think before speaking—before settling on giving you an update on the winery as a whole. anybody that listened in would only find what they could learn by asking his workers, and no trade secrets were to be found in the fact that his grapevines were regularly checked.

with the slightest twitch of his hand, he realized he was speaking to you like a businessman again.

kaeya’s cup had emptied at some point, and diluc reached for the bottle of dandelion wine without stopping his sentence, a small nod from kaeya the only confirmation he needed to pull off the cork.

“the staff have been doing well, though this is shaping up to be a rather warm summer.” not that you asked, he notes, internally chiding himself as he pulls over kaeya’s glass. he considers swapping it for a new one to give himself something to do, but decides against it. he rattles off a few details about some dahlias that adelinde is trying to grow, how they keep seeming to wilt. he doesn’t stop talking to pour kaeya’s wine, eyes focused on his task as he continues talking nonsense about flowers. flowers. since when did he talk about the hobbies of his staff when asked about the vineyards?

he twisted the bottle as he pulled away—“this way any wine that drips will land on the back label. you don’t want the front to look messy.”—corking the bottle and forcing himself to finish this childish line of speech.

it wasn’t childish, not if you seemed genuinely interested, but any more and kaeya would have too much to leverage against him later. granted, he likely knew more about diluc than he’d like given how irritatingly good he was at reading people, but that was a problem for another day. for now, he let kaeya grab his cup on his own, wiping his hands of nothing as he waited for your response to what had certainly come off as nervous ramble.

your head tilted. “has she asked flora?”

“assumedly, or she had another worker do so for her. it’s not like her to let something rot like that.”

“that’s good to hear. and you?”

“pardon?” his hands had frozen, towel still in his hands, and he turned your words over in his mind. his reply had been instinctual, mostly to buy him time to think.

“how are you doing? don’t get me wrong, it’s nice to hear the winery is well, but you seem nervous.”

kaeya chuckled into his wine, and diluc’s jaw ticked.

“i am well, my apologies if i have worried you.”

“oh, alright… it can be hard to tell sometimes with you, i wanted to be safe.”

he knows. he’d meant his apology, but any sincerity was likely lost in whatever filter was placed between his mind and his mouth.

the air was awkward, and he didn’t know how to fill it. kaeya was looking at him, clearly expecting him to continue whatever tentative conversation was lingering, but he greatly overestimated diluc’s ability to do so.

he hung the towel back in its place, finally meeting his brother’s eyes. “behave.” they flicked to you, and his words were slower coming out. “make sure he doesn’t steal anything.”

you smiled, swearing on it even as the three of you knew kaeya wouldn’t do such a thing. diluc stepped out from behind the bar, grabbing a large serving tray and walking from table to table, collecting empty glasses.

maybe he was a coward for avoiding conversation- scratch that, he definitely was, but what was he to do about it? talk? that was already established to be off the table, and one could not typically make conversation without talking.

diluc shook off the topic, climbing the stairs to the second floor of the bar. all he could do was hope you didn’t hold it against him, or archons forbid think it were somehow your fault. hopefully you wouldn’t hate him by the time he managed to get his words in line with his thoughts.

diluc stared at the empty page in front of him, twisting the pen in his hand.

another skill he didn’t have. informal letter writing.

letters to merchants, fine, letters to buyers, he had a standard template for. letters to and from employees, informing him of upcoming leave or similar work related matters, all of this he was prepared for.

but this…

he sighed, watching as ink dripped onto the page, setting down his pen.

what did he say? what did he want to say? what was appropriate to say? you were rather close to his heart but how did he come across? would an inquiry about your well being be too forward? was a letter at all too forward? friends- no, you didn’t consider him a friend, right? or did you? how did people act around their friends? how did you act around your friends?

he tugged at his gloves, fiddling with the hem nervously. he’d finished most of his paperwork and had intended to take a break by writing you a letter, but… was it even a good idea? he- oh archons, he didn’t even know your address-

diluc crumpled up the paper in one hand, throwing it in the trash with the beginnings of an embarrassed blush on his face. writing a letter and not even knowing where you lived- he could count the amount of proper conversations he’d had with you that had progressed past basic small talk on one hand, and he wanted to write you a letter?

he covered his face with his hands, resting his elbows on his desk. papers shifted beneath him but he didn’t pay attention, his thoughts in circles.

he wasn’t an idiot. he knew exactly why his heart picked up when you were around, why he had to default to more familiar speech to not make an utter fool of himself. the entire reason he’d tried to write you a letter was because he wanted to clarify his behavior towards you, to hopefully build a prior relationship with you instead of learning about you by proxy from your conversations with kaeya. yet, in his hurry to fix what probably wasn’t even broken to begin with—he knew of his reputation, in reality you probably weren’t at all surprised at his inability to make small talk—he’d forgotten the most important detail.

on one hand, he probably could ask kaeya, or poke around in other ways, but that felt disingenuous. if he was going to try and… for now he’d call it making a friendship with you, then he wanted to do it right. of course, he didn’t know exactly what ‘doing it right’ entailed, but… he supposed he’d just have to guess.

diluc had learned a considerable amount in his childhood, yet none of his lessons taught him how to pursue a partner.

diluc swept his cloak around his shoulders, fastening the clasp with one hand and reaching for his vision with the other. with practiced movements, he undid the knot tying it in place, attaching it to the back of his other hand. he hooked his mask onto his belt and closed the door of his room behind him, walking down the stairs quickly.

“be safe, master diluc.”

“master kaeya has kindly informed us that the knights have a patrol for the whispering woods, so it would be wise not to stray too far.”

diluc paused at the door, mentally rearranging his patrol route with a nod. “thank you adelinde, elzer. pass on my gratitude, please.”

he pulled open the door to the manor, walking up the familiar trails and into wolvendom. his vision lit his path as his eyes adjusted, free hand affixing his mask to his face as he walked. since he couldn’t head as far north as he’d like, he’d settle for a loop around windrise and then one in wolvendom. not ideal, but it would have to do.

windrise was lighter than expected. a budding camp of hilichurls here, an abyss mage to the east (thankfully hydro, he’d been on a bad streak with pyro mages for a few days now) and a few slimes that got a bit too close to the merchant trails for his liking.

speaking of the trails, those were clean too. he snuck around springvale, keeping the hand with his vision on it tucked into his cloak to mask its light. hilichurls didn’t hang around this part of wolvendom, so unless he wanted to go shoving through wolf hook bushes for the chance to knock out a camp or two…

he looked between the two paths back to the winery. he could go through the gorge, or the typical way taken by his suppliers. the former was mostly guaranteed to have at least one or two monsters picking about, but it would be better if he cleared his trade routes…

it didn’t matter, in the end. he stepped out from the shadow of a tree, boot barely making contact with the dirt before he picked up the sound of another’s footsteps. heavy, quick, rapidly coming his way-

he summoned his claymore, turning north toward the sound, seeing a figure stumble from the bushes of wolvendom. they were wrapped in a too-thin jacket considering the weather, arm pressed to their chest. details were lost in the darkness, but he could see their head twist, how it snapped to him.

the figure waved with a shout to get his attention, and his heart dropped.

you. what were you doing up so late?

you jogged up to him, clearly out of breath, and he could see that you were holding an armful of unripe wolfhooks. “do.. do you know the way to springvale?”

by the archons, abyss, and celestia above-

“what business do you have there? it’s late,” he said, keeping his voice low. his hands trembled slightly in his gloves, eyes searching your figure for any injury. you had a nick or two on your arm, thankfully not bleeding, but everything else was obscured by shadows. you had clearly been running for quite a while, judging by how harshly you breathed, were you running from something? had you ran into trouble?

“i gotta get back to the city,” you explained breathlessly. “i kinda got lost in the forest.”

“lost?” his hand tensed around his claymore, the action reminding him it was still there. he dismissed it, crossing his arms to try and stabilize himself.

“long story, not worth telling.” you waved your hand, and he could see how it shook a bit. whether from adrenaline or exhaustion (both?) he knew he couldn’t point you toward mondstat in good faith. what if something happened to you? what if he’d missed a camp and you were attacked? you were weakened, tired, and his mind raced with all the potential injuries you could sustain just trying to go home-

“uh, stranger?” your hand waved again, this time to get his attention. “you with me?”

“the city’s too far. you’re better off seeking shelter at the dawn winery just up the road.” what was he saying? “besides, you could be injured, and not be feeling the pain due to adrenaline. let me walk you there.”

his heart hammered against his ribs, every single way you could reject him and then some swirling in his head. he was a stranger to you, you were clearly scared by something, and he directed you elsewhere out of what, selfishness? he knew that springvale was likely closer, that someone would be up and willing to help, and yet he was asking to walk you to the winery?

“are you sure? you don’t have to.”

“i’d rather not send you off when i’m not certain of your safety.” your eyes widened slightly, surprised at the care in his voice, and he forced his tone to flatten before you recognized him. “besides, the staff are friendly and willing to help. they’ll understand.”

you hesitated for a moment, then nodded, holding your wolfhooks closer. absently, he wondered if he had any at the winery. probably not, but he could likely ask-…

in barbatos’ name, how was he going to explain this to the staff?

“alright. lead the way.”

he turned before his expression could change, keeping his steps a bit slower than usual so you could keep pace easier. he wanted you inside as quickly as possible, obviously, but you had clearly strained yourself earlier. going quicker would only hurt you more, and it wasn’t as if there was any immediate threat. even if there was, he was confident in his ability to keep you safe. the trees lining the path were large, wide enough to protect you if trouble came up and he needed to use his vision.

he set aside that line of thinking, sparing a glance at you. you’d switched which arms held the wolfhooks, and in the more open light, he could see the small pricks on your skin where the points dug in. you winced when the fruit resettled, moving one away from your inner elbow, and he stopped walking.

“give me those. you’re hurting yourself.”

“it’s fine, don’t worry about it. we’re nearly there, right?”

“wolfhooks aren’t clean, you could get an infection. you’re supposed to harvest them with a basket and gloves, not carrying them bare armed.”

“you don’t have the thickest clothes either, what’s to say you won’t get hurt?”

diluc searched the small area of the path you were on, trying to find a compromise. his first instinct was to use his cloak, but his hair was tucked into the hood, and that with his silhouette would certainly give him away. his eyes caught on a tear in your jacket, just below the shoulder, and he held out his arms.

“use your jacket as a sling. it’s already torn from the forest, so it’s not the worst loss.”

firm solution, reasonable and immediate justification. he was doing it again, no matter how well it disguised itself as casual speech.

you gave in, thankfully, and he didn’t let the minor pain from the wolfhook’s points show on his face as you removed your jacket. it was as thin as it looked, and he found himself frowning as he helped you stow the berries inside.

still, it wasn’t his business. maybe if he were your friend he could suggest that you purchase a heavier coat, but… you were getting a new one anyway since this one was ruined, so that seemed like a null point to bring up.

he settled your stuffed jacket into your waiting arms, hands lingering for a moment to ensure your grip was stable. “better?” you nodded, and he began walking again. “good. and don’t forget to mention your wounds to the staff, the last thing you want is an infection from… why did you need wolfhooks?”

“bennett asked me to get some for him and his friend… i think razor is his name? but with bennett’s luck, he didn’t want to risk going in himself, so he asked me to help.”

diluc frowned. “why does he need wolfhooks?”

you shrugged. “he offered some mora in return, but i mostly accepted because i felt bad. his luck seems to ruin everything for him, the least i could to was try.”

“even at the risk of your own health?”

“the things you do for friends, you know how it is.” his hands twitched at his sides, curling into loose fists. did he? “but what about you? why are you out here?”

he thought over his answer carefully, mixing various bits of his typical sentences to craft a half-truth. it was getting easier, he noticed, but put that thought aside just as quickly as it came. “wandering, doing my part to keep the area safe.”

“that’s noble of you.”

it wasn’t. would you believe the same if you knew how selfish he was in his desires? he kept mondstat safe for himself, so that he could rest knowing he’d done what he could—he patrolled not out of some moral righteousness, but because it made him proud to know that he’d chipped in to the city’s safety, that he was handling threats the knights didn’t, that he could keep his staff, his brother, his life, keep you-

“have you considered joining the knights? i’m certain there’s some night patrols, and it would surely be nice to have backup.”

he almost responded, almost said that he was in the knights, at one point, before he remembered where he was. who he was. to tell you that would be too much, too much information and too much for you to identify him with.

when did he become so loose with his words? normally he was so uptight around you… was it the fact that you didn’t know he was him right now? did.. he seriously operate best under anonymity? archons, how weak was that, to only be able to say what he meant when you didn’t know anything? was he that socially inept? so desperate for a proper conversation that he’d nearly slipped a major part of his life to you, just based on an offhand comment? how pathetic was he?

he forcefully shut down that line of thought and grit his teeth, well aware it had been too long since you’d spoken. “i’ve considered it. it’s not for me.”

not an entire lie, at least.

you were silent, and he knew he’d ruined the atmosphere. crystalflies fluttered in the trees, lazily flapping through the air, but he couldn’t appreciate their beauty like he typically could. the walk all the way down to the manor was spent in silence, and aside from a minor stumble you had on a jutting rock, it was as if he was walking back on his own, as he typically would. he even began to reach for the doorknob, then caught himself and used the knocker instead.

it was weird. he knew the door wasn’t locked, yet he waited for footsteps to approach the door, seeing elder’s worried face greet him. “master diluc, are you-?”

elzer’s eyes found yours, a tiny hint of shock crossing his face before he settled it back into the same polite smile he always used when greeting guests.

“ah, my apologies. i wasn’t expecting visitors at such a late hour.”

diluc bowed his head in what he hoped came off as a thankful action. “my apologies for disturbing you.”

he explained the situation as swiftly as possible, elzer urging you towards adelinde to treat your injuries. the medical supplies were just inside, near to the door for the sake of diluc’s own health.

“and what of you, stranger?” elzer asked, a bit louder than necessary. “will you be staying?”

diluc sees you look up, understanding clicking in an instant. “no, i won’t,” he answers, “but i thank you for your hospitality.”

elzer reached for the coatrack, pulling down two, both his and diluc’s, keeping the door propped open and passing him his where you couldn’t see. “then let me walk you to the edge of the vineyards, in exchange for your chivalry.”

“it’s alright, thank you. have a nice night.”

“the same to you, stranger.”

the door closed, and diluc relaxed, clutching his coat close as he turned away from the manor.

that was too close. he shouldn’t have suggested to bring you here in the first place, and thank the gods that elzer was so quick on his feet. he’d completely forgotten that he would have to return to the manor as diluc at one point in his rush to get you here.

he ducked behind a tree at the edge of the winery, exchanging his cloak for his jacket. he folded it neatly, stowing his mask and gloves inside. he didn’t have his usual clothes on, but… he could make do. he’d lied before, he’d lie again… even to you.

his grip around his cloak tightened. especially to you. you had no business in his shady practices, in what he did in the dark. it was impossible to keep you entirely safe and sheltered, nor was that healthy or his place to do, but he could at least keep his darkness from encroaching upon your light.

by the time diluc returned to the manor, you had already been sent on your way to a guest room. blessedly, neither adelinde nor elzer were in the front room to make a remark to him about it, likely busy with other work or asleep themselves. he locked the door and hung up his coat, heading up to his room after a swift double check of the first of those facts.

he went about his night, changing into sleepwear and setting his boots by his bed, his vision on his nightstand. it was admittedly a little more difficult falling asleep than usual—were you comfortable? did you like the guest room?—but he managed, waking up with the sun. his routine was the same, but when he arrived at the bottom of the stairs, he paused, looking up at the guest rooms. it… was strange, to know you were here. he felt like he should be doing something, whether saying goodbye or good morning or-

he looked away and shook his head. or nothing. he wasn’t as close to you as you were to him, how did he keep forgetting that?

“is there a problem, master diluc?”

he turned, seeing adelinde setting down his breakfast on the table. “nothing at all, and thank you for the food. did you sleep well?”

“i was a bit late in going to bed, a strange guest brought us some worry.”

he smiled at the pointedness to her tone, “really? how odd, to have a visitor so late.”

her mouth opens, but another speaks before she does.

“sorry if i caused any trouble.”

he paused. blinked. took a moment to register the fact that he just heard your voice in his home.

then he turned, attempting a smile. “it’s alright. your being here is unexpected, yes, but not unwelcome.”

you had clearly just gotten up, clothes rumpled and pillow creases along your hands. you nod, stepping closer, and he grasps for any viable threads of conversation.

“is the manor to your liking?”

“it’s beautiful.”

pride bloomed in his chest. “i’m happy to hear it. come sit, have some breakfast.” adelinde excused herself with a bow and he moved to pull out a chair for you, praying the action looked as natural as it felt. you accepted with a smile, and he pushes you in with relief in his when he sits. “she should return shortly with your food, apologies for the delay.”

“it’s fine,” you said, looking around the main room. he tries to find something else to talk about, already feeling the awkward silence set in, but fumbles. the last time he had someone at his table was with the traveller for the weinlesefest, and they and paimon mostly carried the conversation along. he only ever heads business discussions, or staff meetings, or interrogations, and this was certainly none of those.

“are you alright?”

he blinked away his frown, realizing too late he’d been glaring at his cup of grape juice. an instinctual response rose to his tongue, but he hesitated. maybe it was the early morning hour, maybe it was the genuine concern on your face, maybe it was the light of dawn streaming in from the windows that fell across you so delicately, as if it knew how beautiful you were.

he discarded that response, but exchanged it for another. “are you? adelinde told me you were injured.”

a lie. he hadn’t spoken with anybody about your injuries. archons, was this worse?

your smile grows. apparently not? “just a few scrapes,” you say, lifting your arm to show where adelinde bandaged you. “wolfhooks are a lot sharper than they look.”

“wolfhooks?”

you waved a hand. “i needed some for bennett, long story. don’t worry, adelinde gave me a basket for them.”

“that’s good to hear.”

and just like that, the topic was exhausted. did he bring up something else? how much was too much? what was even an appropriate topic? what did the average person talk about? not that you were average, he’d never dare-

he’s talked himself into a corner in his own head. how in teyvat did that happen?

“you’re frowning again.”

“my apologies, i’m lost in thought.” he was quiet for a moment, then continued, “a problem i’ve encountered before is more prevalent now.”

…it wasn’t the most eloquent of phrasing, but it should do.

“do you want to talk about it?”

does he? how would he even put this into words that didn’t make him sound… is pathetic the word?

‘i can’t talk right around you because i’m not used to talking with someone that does so in good faith’? yeah, that’s something a well-adjusted adult says.

“i don’t have the words for it,” he decides. “the words…” he takes a quick glance at you to gauge your reaction but regrets it just as fast, whatever he had to say next vanishing into thin air. it’s unfair, really, how pretty you are, his eyes fixed to yours. “t-they-“

adelinde set your plate down in front of you, blessedly saving him from the situation. “thank you for your patience. please let me know if anything is unsatisfactory.”

diluc grabs his cup as you thank her, turning away to hide behind the grape juice. he can’t even really taste it, focused on how clumsily he had spoken. were he anywhere else he’d surely be laughed out of the room, and he’s certain adelinde’s going to tease him for it later as it is.

“diluc?” he looks over at you again, keeping his gaze quick before he fumbles again.

“what is it?”

too harsh, too cruel, he’s being cold to you again-

“are you busy today?”

he thinks over his schedule. no meetings that he can remember, nor any deadlines. he’d prefer to finish up some forms sooner rather than later, but if you need him for something…

“no, i’ve got time. what do you need?”

“would you like to go to good hunter for dinner later today?”

he can only hope you accept his nod as an answer because between the knowing smile on your face and the bright blush on his, there’s no way he’s getting a word out.

[custardcrazy]

sugar, sugar

summary: You’re Ted’s history tutor. After a study session in the library, he offers to buy you a slushie to thank you for your help - things happen from there. (gn!reader) 

wordcount: 2.2k 

A/N: please forgive me for somewhat ridiculous pacing on this one. also, my requests are open for bill and ted!!  (please help i’ve been stuck in writer’s block for god knows how long. also i love them) 

“And who’s the patron saint of France?” You asked, showing the notecard to Ted. 

It was after school on a Friday, so hardly any other students were still in the building. The librarian had vacated her post a good hour ago - you weren’t sure if that was allowed, but she hadn’t returned thus far. The only other people- or, person - in the library was one kid in the corner, poring over a ridiculously thick book.

Ted took a moment, face scrunching up a little as he thought over your question. “Uhh,” he began, “is it Joan of Arc?” His brow furrowed as he absentmindedly brushed some of his hair out of his face. He didn’t sound sure of himself in the slightest. “I dunno, dude. Or is it Napoleon?”

“Joan of Arc,” you corrected gently, giving him an encouraging smile as you showed him the answer. “That’s six in a row, Ted. You’ve really improved!” 

Since you were one of the top students in the honors-level class, Mr. Ryan had basically forced you to help out Ted with his studies. Things had been awkward at first, as you hadn’t thought much of him, having heard less-than-flattering things from your fellow honors students about him and his friend Bill. But Ted, being himself, had quickly endeared himself to you, and you could gladly consider yourself friends with him now. You’d met Bill a few times as well, but since he was being tutored by somebody else, you didn’t get to see him as often as Ted. 

At your compliment, Ted tilted his head downwards, hiding beneath his bangs in a move that could only be described as bashful. “Thanks, dude.” 

Amused, you shuffled through the cards again. “No problem. Just one more to go, don’t space out on me just yet.” 

“ ‘Kay,” he answered meekly, looking as if he was attempting to regain his composure. Though, as he peeked at you, you could still tell that his face was a bit pink. He was pretty much an open book; even if he tried to hide his feelings, anyone with basic knowledge of human emotion could tell what he was thinking. It was kind of refreshing, actually. And also kind of cute. 

“Alright.” You dispayed another card to him. “Who was the creator of the Mongol Empire?” 

This time, Ted brightened up. “Oh! I know this one, it’s easy.” The embarrassed look was gone in an instant, replaced by a grin. “Genghis Khan, right?” 

Flipping the card over, you nodded. “Yeah, that’s it! Nice work.” 

Seemingly happy at his small victory, Ted’s smile persisted. You couldn’t help but return it; his attitude was contagious. Brown eyes met yours, crinkled up at the corners. And abruptly, time seemed to still. 

You were aware that Ted wasn’t exactly ugly, but. Had you actually looked closely before? Not like this. He was kind of -- 

pretty?

Wait, since when had you -- 

“That’s all for today,” you said, after a beat. You focused your attention down at the table, suddenly feeling self-conscious, as if he could read your thoughts. “Like I said -- you’ve improved a lot, Ted. I think you’ll do alright on the final, at least.” Aware of the fact that you were speaking just to hide your own increasing awkwardness, you began to clean up your notes, paper rustling as you did so. 

“You really think so, dude?” Ted beamed, and you could practically hear the smile in his voice, even though you weren’t looking at him anymore. (But you wanted to.) 

“Maybe I won’t flunk after all! That would be totally mortifying, after all the effort you’ve put into helping me out, dude.” He was so genuine, as always, but it somehow felt more special now. Of all times. “Thanks again, dude.” 

“It’s no big deal,” you insisted, tucking your stuff into your bag before closing it. Finally, you glanced at him -- his eyes had been on you the entire time. “You’re not nearly as bad as some of the guys on the football team, y’know. One of my friends got stuck with one of ‘em.” You lowered your voice as if you were telling him a painful secret. “This guy in particular has terrible hygiene.” 

“Bogus.” Ted made a face. “I seriously hope that your friend is okay. That sounds odious, having to deal with unsanitary sports dudes.” 

“Oh, I’ve heard enough to know how it is.” Standing up, you swung your bag over your shoulder, before pushing in your chair. Mostly on reflex. You shivered to remember being yelled at for forgetting to ‘leave everything as you found it’... Maybe it was a good thing that the librarian was conveniently absent. 

Ted did the same, and you walked side-by-side out of the library. 

It was perfect outside, and the parking lot was pretty much empty. You checked your watch - 4:30 PM. Ted stilled next to you, and you looked over, meeting his eyes.

“Well,” you said, somewhat stiffly. “We actually ended a bit earlier than usual. Did you study on your own time?” You didn’t say it out loud, as it would probably come off as rude, but your expectations were pretty low when it came to Ted. He was a hard worker when he wanted to be, sure, but that was hardly ever. Most of his brain was occupied by Led Zeppelin and various other bands. Which was delightful, but not when trying to get him to memorize other things. 

The boy shifted where he stood, looking sheepish. “..Maybe a little,” he answered. “The flashcards you gave me really helped, dude. The little drawings on the back, too. The stuff you said about me being a ‘seeing learner’ was right, I think.” 

Huh. He actually studied? “Oh, I thought so -- wait.” You looked at him quizzically. “ ‘Seeing learner’?” 

“You know, uh.” Ted floundered for a moment. “Like, um, learning stuff faster if I see, like, pictures of them? I think?” 

It took you a second to figure it out, but then it clicked. “Oh. Ted, that’s a ‘visual learner’.” 

“Oh,” he said. “Yeah, that.” 

You couldn’t help but snort, which somehow seemed to bring a smile to his face - the reason why being unknown to you. “Right. Keep it up, then. Like I said, I’m pretty sure you’ll pass the final, as long as you have a general idea of what the historical figures did.” You’d already informed him that basically paraphrasing the textbook would probably work, as long as he loosely stuck to the theme. 

Ted nodded, his shoulders bobbing with the movement. “Stellar.” 

“So, uh, you heading home now?” He asked, shy once more. 

“Probably.” You shrugged. “It’s not like I have anything else to do.” 

“Then,” he said, and you quickly took notice of how he was beginning to rush his words. “Do you wanna -- I mean, if it’s okay with you -- I can buy you, like, a slushie or something? At the Circle K?” You opened your mouth to answer, but he kept talking. “If -- if it’s okay with you, dude. Even if you are acting most indifferent about helping me out, I wanna, like. Thank you properly.” 

... You had to admit, you were kind of touched. 

Also, did your heart just skip a beat? What was going on? 

“Sure, if you’re offering,” you said, mentally patting yourself on the back for how nonchalant you sounded, despite the fact that you were also really confused at the same time. 

“Excellent,” he replied, pretty much instantly perking up. If you had to describe Ted in as few words as possible, you’d probably call him a golden retriever. Was that degrading, though? “Let’s go, then! The walk isn’t far, I go from here to there with Bill all the time.” 

Ted ambled off, and you followed after him. 

-- 

As he’d said, the walk wasn’t long, and before long, you were sitting outside the Circle K, on the curb. Ted had paid for both of your slushies, and though he hadn’t mentioned it, you were flattered that he did, despite the fact that he didn’t exactly have a lot of money to his name. 

The way that he’d frantically rustled through his pockets for a five-dollar bill said it all. 

The plastic of your drink was cool against your hands, and you took a sip from the straw. You’d picked your favorite flavor to be safe, as you hadn’t had a slushie for a decent while - but you still enjoyed it all the same, thankfully. On the other hand, Ted had chosen a mixture of flavors that you still weren’t sure if they were safe to combine. 

“Is that edible?” You asked him, after taking another sip from your drink, and gesturing to his. 

“Sure is, dude,” he proclaimed proudly. “After loads of experimentation, I believe that I have found a magnificent combination of slushie flavors.” He smiled at you brightly. “It took all of last summer! Bill still thinks that it tastes gross, though.” 

“Huh.” You couldn’t even remember what he’d put in it. “Mind if I try, then? To see if Bill’s right.” Also, to sate your own curiosity. You weren’t quite sure if Ted’s slushie was radioactive, but even if it was, there was the chance that it was as good as he said it was. Even if the chance itself was slight. “You can have some of mine, too. Fair trade.” 

He gave you one of his jerky nods, and you exchanged slushies. 

You hesitated a little, before trying his. 

It... 

It wasn’t half-bad, actually. Maybe you could even call it good. 

You turned to face him to say so, about to give the drink back to its rightful owner. But you found him, just. Looking at you, like he had while you were talking back in the school library. He was still holding your slushie up, as if he’d just taken a sip from it. 

“What?” You asked. “Do you really hate that flavor or something?” 

Your voice seemed to snap him out of whatever reverie he had been held in, and he shook his head, dark hair flopping around. “Nah, it’s not that, dude, I just --” A pause, in which you waited for him to continue, now feeling somewhat apprehensive. 

“I just realized, like. Sharing the drinks and all...,” He trailed off, and okay, he was going red, you realized. “Sorry, it’s stupid.” 

“What, are you sick?” You urged, now more worried than anything, moving to give the slushie back to him. “Hey, it’s alright, just --” 

“It’s not that either! Like I said, it’s dumb!” Ted interrupted, and now you were officially confused. It probably showed quite plainly on your face, as he hurriedly focused his eyes on your slushie in his hands. Part of you wanted it back, but now you were mostly just concerned for your friend. 

“What is it, then?” Hoping that you weren’t coming off as harsh, you frowned, lowering your voice a little. “If it’s bothering you like this, then it isn’t stupid, Ted.” You’d finally gotten through to him, and his shoulders sagged. He mumbled a few words that you couldn’t hear. 

“Ted?” You asked, hoping he’d speak up. 

You had to strain a little to hear his next sentence. 

“ ... The whole, um, ‘indirect kiss’ thing,” he muttered. “With sharing straws.”

Wait, what? 

“What do you mean by that?” You pushed, and okay, he was hiding behind his hair again. This was new. You were suddenly aware that your heartrate was increasing. “Is there.. something wrong with that?” 

“ ‘M sorry, dude.” He took a steadying breath. “You’re a very intelligent and  helpful tutor, and you’ve really helped me a lot -- wait, you already know that, I’ve told you that before - But that’s all to say that --” Ted ceased his rambling, eyes snapping up to meet yours. 

“Now that I’ve brought up kissing, dude, I just gotta say that I have been most infatuated with you for the time we’ve known each other.” A beat, in which you merely blinked, stupefied. Ted kept talking. “And I.  I’d, like, really like it if we could actually, like. Kiss. And stuff.” His face was a pretty pink. 

It took a moment for it to sink in. And suddenly, it all clicked. It all made sense now -- how Ted always seemed to become shy when you complimented him. How he always turned his full attention on you when you were talking, even about stuff he found extremely boring. And how when he made you smile, he returned it tenfold. 

Had you really not realized this before? Maybe you were the one who needed tutoring, you thought.

Ted was still looking at you, though, awaiting an answer. He was beginning to shrink in on himself, and you couldn’t have that. Even if his confession was pretty sudden and completely out of nowhere. 

So you delicately placed his beloved drink on the curb next to you. 

Ted’s breath caught in his throat as you moved closer, taking a moment to cup his face, his skin warm against your fingertips. As soon as you made contact, regardless of how soft it was; he folded, maybe a bit literally, eyes automatically fluttering shut as you leaned in. 

At first, he was tentative. Unsure. But after the first kiss, which was rather short and cute, he was much less tense. Your hands carded through his hair, and he pulled you closer.

[dduane]

How do you come up with ideas? Like where do you go for inspiration for things given how annoying writers block can be?

I'd want to separate these out a bit, since they don't seem to me to be the same issue.

First (and simplest): I kinda hate using the term "writers' block", as it tends to mean too many different things to too many people, and it's too easy to be misunderstood. The term gets used for everything from being unable to start writing, to being unable to keep writing, to being unable to finish writing.

When I use it (and of course your mileage may vary), it means "hitting some spot in the writing—usually in the middle, hardly ever in any of the other places—from which you're having trouble moving forward."

After many years' practice, this usually means that I've run into a place in the narrative where the primary character involved in that section has issues going on that haven't been resolved: unanswered questions, uncertainties about what's going to happen next. (And let's be clear, as one writer to another: the uncertainties are yours, not theirs. The character is waiting for you to achieve clarity. You get clear? They get clear.)

When I hit this kind of problem, I set aside time to examine all the main characters' situations and see whether everyone knows where they're headed, or at least what they're headed toward. Normally I find that some one character has questions that haven't been answered, or some necessary conversation (with another character, or fate, or God, or you) that hasn't yet happened. Or hasn't happened to their satisfaction.

I've dealt with this problem in about twenty different ways over four decades, from the cold-blooded-analysis method of taking apart previous chapters or sections of a work, looking at the final end-state chapters or sections, and figuring out what's missing... to the Sherlock-Holmes-in-his-sitting-room method of making your character sit down in the Empty Chair and tell you what their problem is. (Which is also a mode favored by psychiatric professionals the world over, these days. Believe me, I did not give an entire novel that title accidentally.)

So: as far as I can tell, "writer's block" is almost always code for "a missing transaction (or desired transaction) in the narrative that you haven't yet identified and resolved." See above. Or that transaction may be some sort of failed communication between the outer, author-to-real-world world, and the inner, character-in-created-world world. Track it down and resolve it, and everything will be good.

Meanwhile, as for inspiration and finding ideas:

This is... not one of my problems, so I'm probably the wrong person to be asking. ...Going anywhere for inspiration? Why would I do that? It hunts me down in the street. It grabs me from behind when I'm trying to deal with the email. It gets me in a hammerlock when I'm watching somebody else's TV show.

In short: gods help me, I've been a Having An Idea person since before I started to read. I'm the one who, after being read a sleepy-time fairy tale about a prince rescuing a princess, looked at her mom and said, "Why can't it be a prince rescuing a prince?" And you see where that got me: half a million words, and (as we say on AO3) These Two Idiots. (Or: "What if magic came with a user's manual?" ...Oh gods.)

At this end of time, it would be tough for me not to have an idea or three for a novel before I've had my tea.

It goes like this:

(a) Wake up. Reach for iPad.

(b) Read news. Ugh. Naughty, naughty world. (With occasional bright spots.)

(c) ...And then wonder: "How would it be if X [thing that you just read on the news] happened in Y [entirely different universe where conditions (z) pertain]?"

(d) [make up entirely different set of conditions that don't pertain in local or even non-local reality]

...The good thing about this, of course, is that I know that ideas are cheap. Ideas are nothing. They're a dime a dozen. A dime for two or three dozen. In this regard, they observe Sturgeon's Law. (Gods rest his gentle soul.)

And more to the point: ideas are easy. It's execution (especially good, deep-delved, worthwhile execution, over tens or hundreds of thousands of words) that's hard.

Which, ninety-eight times out of a hundred, leads to:

(d) Examine idea, put it in the Scales of How Hot You Are For It, watch how the Scales weigh it and find it wanting: then throw idea out, get the hell up and have some tea.

Or, in those two other cases (twice a year, maybe); when an idea comes along that pulls the Scales down and is heavier than the Feather of Your Current Intent in the other side of the Balance—something that has some weight to it, some bite, one that resists being thrown the hell out:

(d1) Get up, have tea, write a premise filling out the idea to at least a couple of pages' length... and then start working out who the hell to market it to.

...Now this is my personal modus operandi, and I've been enacting it across various media for somewhere between fifty and sixty years and change, and there's no way I'm going to stop now. But I submit to you that it might be possible to train yourself into being this kind of What If? person, by simply spending—oh, a week, even two—asking yourself "What if...?" about everything. Every single thing you see, hear, or come in contact with. Why must this thing/this situation/this world be the way it is? Why can't it be some other way? (And then you start reasoning it out. What other way?...)

Frankly, there's no reason this shouldn't work. In fact, considering the ridiculous malleability of the human mind (and I speak with my psychiatric-nurse hat on, here) it's very likely it would work.

There's only one problem with this concept. I have no idea what to tell you if it works and you then decide you want to turn it off.

Because once you've started training your brain into this mode of questioning everything, looking under all the rocks of so-called Reality for the previously impossible impossibilities... there's no guarantee you'll ever be able to make it stop.

It's heaven for me, no mistake. But for you?

Be careful what you ask for. You might get it.

Anyway: hope this helps! :)

[fairyniceyeah]

10 writing tips 

for new and old writers from somebody who has been writing since she could hold a pen and needs these reminders herself sometimes

(they will have sickfic and K-Pop examples but generally can work for anybody)

Some days will suck! You may have writer’s block or you may not be able to concentrate or for some other reason things don’t work out. Happens to the best of us. Honestly. And it’s okay. One sentence is more than no sentence. And no sentences are okay too. There is no pressure to perform here, the community is happy to wait for you!

2. Stuck with a scene? Go take a walk. Do sports. Sing karaoke to your favorite songs. Dance. Whatever takes your mind of the matter. Inspiration strikes at odd times and maybe you will find yourself back writing in no time. Still stuck? Do you know where you want to end up with the story? Write a flow chart of possible events and then SKIP the beginning/middle/whatever part you are struggling with. You can puzzle it back together later and when you have the ending the scene you hate can be turned into a nice transition to where you actually want to go.

3. Music! Believe me, the music you listen to will influence your mood and the story you write. Personally, I’ll end up with a totally different writing style depending on the kind of music I listen to. That’s why my The Rose fics end up more heavy and dark than other fics. She’s in the Rain and See-Saw have a totally different vibe than ARRIBA or, I don’t know, God of Light Music. It will reflect in the story.

4. Details! Add details. All of them. Tiny things that your character does or thinks about. What they see and hear. Tell us! Don’t be afraid to overindulge us. Paint the scene. Is there a couch? Is it red? Are the blankets comfy or scratchy? There is a totally different feeling to the story depending on what you add. 

Example: 

Jongho hated the long drive, stuck between Yunho and Mingi. 

OR: 

Jongho was stuck in the backseat of the car, much to his annoyance. Yunho and Mingi, tall as they were, both had their freakishly long legs in his footwell which left less space for him. He didn’t blame them but it didn’t help his mood in the slightest. And while he was slowly getting used to regularly indulging in human touch, he didn’t enjoy how their warm upper bodies intruded on him, especially since they all were sweaty from dance practice. And, holy hell, he loved them but they were loud. The maknae just wanted some peace and quiet, listen to some music and get ready to sleep once home. But he had another twenty minutes left where he had to deal with their fake arguing crashing over his head and trying not to elbow them into the side. 

5. Unnecessary details! Also add them! You don’t always have to stay strictly to the red line or go from A to Z. Explore T and E as well (sorry, that joke had to be included). They can talk about other stuff than what the story is about. Add jokes, add other dialogue, add things that might not make the story linear.

If you take my Wooyoung sickfic e.g., the first part is just bickering between MATZ and has nothing to do with the story. But it’s still nice to have and I enjoyed writing it. 

6. Consider the theme of the story. A story of a hungover character can’t be written in the same light-hearted style as a mental health issue story. Take the characters into the setting. In my Hajoon centric series I mostly write very detailed and explain a lot but also there is so much emotion. That wouldn't work for a chase scene or a stupid injury story. These can be and should be fast paced! So think of the emotions you want the reader to feel!

7. Characters! Your story will be different depending on the character you write about. Who are they? 

Are they serious? Write more seriously!  Are they funny and happy-go-lucky? Then the story should be more lighthearted. 

This also goes for the next point, but different characters note different things. 

Are they tall? They will see more than short characters and you can reflect that in writing. But also do they have habits you can include? Disabilities? Fears? 

Minho won’t be the one consoling Felix on top of a tower because he will be scared of the heights.  Wonwoo might not be the person to see everything because of his bad vision and Seungcheol might not be able to sprint 200 meters to help somebody with his knee injury.  Yunho might not be able to see the expression on San’s face when San looks down, but Hongjoong might, since he still looks up to San height-wise.  Hajoon likely won’t be the one to talk to strangers to ask for something, so have Dojoon do the talking.

8. Whose perspective are you writing from? Look at the point above but also consider what they actually can know. 

Woosung won’t be able to tell that Jaehyeong’s pain is getting worse if he isn’t showing obvious signs. 

Here goes the details advice again: Use them to your advantage. 

Yunho can’t know that Seonghwa is feeling dizzy … unless he starts to sway on his feet, holds onto something or says anything about it. So write about that. 

Or if we look at a character getting sick:

If Seungmin is throwing up he can tell the reader that the taste in his mouth is bad and that his throat burns. Hyunjin might see the color or the tears on his face or hear the sounds while Seungmin is oblivious. 

9. Everything seems repetitive and the same? Your words don’t flow?

Honestly, a thesaurus is your best friend. Have one on hand when writing, just google it. Or even better, if possible for you, use a voice activated one: Alexa, give me a synonym for “x”! I get help without even having to turn away from the document. 

If you’re not sure if the synonym still fits into the sentence, put the whole sentence into google translate and translate it to your native language or from English to something else and back to english. If a whole new word comes out or the sentence doesn’t make sense it probably doesn’t work. Or, honestly, ask: There are so many people on here who will help you without a second thought. We all root for you!

Speaking of non-natives (hello 👋🏽): A dictionary on standby also helps. It gives different words and sometimes you just won’t remember or don’t know a word in your goal language. Happens. Again, Alexa works most of the time and gives you different options!

10. Lastly and most important: Hate what you wrote? Stop! You’re doing great. Maybe it won’t fit the story this time but maybe a different story of a different part? Don’t delete it. Move it to the bottom of the document or maybe a whole new document. But don’t delete your precious words.

Ignore the tiny voice in your head that tells you that everything you do sucks and it doesn’t matter what you write. People won’t die if a story is less than 100%. Don’t compare yourself to others! Even if we were given exactly the same detailed prompt we will end up with two totally different stories. And my normal is not your normal. Somebody's writing style may be different than yours but that doesn’t mean yours is bad. Take it one day at a time and remember to love yourself and do what makes you happy!

[goldenempyrean]

Testing Her Theory

〚 Notes - Okay, finally got out of my writers block. Sooo this was written ;) Hopefully should be writing some reqs too soon :) 〛

〚 Summary - Nat’s not feeling great on her shift, but theres no way you’ll let her work for long 〛

〚 Wordcount - 1450 〛

〘 Check Out My Masterlist! 〙

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“Does anyone know what ails our fair Natasha?” Thor asked as he entered the room, greeted by the sight of you and several other avengers playing Mario on the big TV while stuffing your faces with snacks.

The mention of your girlfriend’s name caught your attention, putting down your controller, you looked up and asked, “What do you mean?”

“Well,” Thor began, taking a seat amongst the other Avengers seated on the couch, “She had sneezed several times and to be courteous I said, ‘bless you’ and instead of saying ‘thank you’, Natasha forcefully hurled a tissue box directly at my face.”

The room shared a collection giggle as Thor continued to exaggerate the extent of Natasha’s uncalled for anger, but you couldn’t help but feel an inkling of worry. 

You knew Nat had complained the previous night about not feeling well and you hadn’t seen her since breakfast that morning, even then, she had seemed quieter than usual, more reserved and you couldn’t help but wonder if she still felt ill.

“I think Nat’s catching a bit of a cold.” You admitted once everyone had calmed back down, “She’s probably not feeling well, don’t take it to heart, I’ll go check on her.”

Thor gave you a thumbs up as you passed him your controller, letting him take over for you, “Where is Natasha?” You asked, looking over your shoulder as you stood up to leave.

“She was in Stark’s main lab when I last saw her, sitting where all the main observation screens are.”  Thor replied, as he reached to take a handful of popcorn from the big bowl sat on the coffee table.

“Alright, I’ll go make some tea and see how she is, have fun playing Mario guys.”

“Text us if you need anything.”

“Will do!”

〘✧〙

Tony’s lab was as pristine as it always is. The floor, countertops, and work surfaces gleam with the same clean, sterile sheen that had come to be associated with Stark's aesthetics. Infact the other thing out of place is Natasha herself, she's in one of Stark’s leather chairs, her head resting in her hands as she sat hunched over his main table.

“Somebody told me there's a miserable Avenger who could use a cup of tea,” You smiled, seeing Natasha lift her head out of her hands at the recognisable sound of your voice, “but I couldn’t find one, so you’ll have to do.”

“Very funny.” She spoke sarcastically but still eagerly reached for the steaming cup you held out to her. Her fingers twisting round the handle as she held the cup close to her face, taking deep breaths of the hot steam.

You shrugged, amused with your own humour, “I thought so.”

A light flush ran across the bridge of her nose, and there was an endearing little smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "Thank you" her tone was sincere, a sweet little purr leaving her lips as she turned her attention back to the mug of tea.

“Soo,” You began as you hoisted yourself up to be sitting on the table, “I heard you violently assaulted Thor with a malice weapon earlier.

That earned you a chuckle, as the redhead shook her head at your dramatic exaggeration, “He wouldn’t stop pestering me, so I gave him so light motivation to leave.”

You raised an eyebrow, “Light motivation, hm?”

“Yup.”

“Okay then, whatever you say sweetheart.”

You both sat in silence for several minutes before you noticed that Natasha had begun to slowly massage the corners of her temples as she held her head in her hands again.

You hesitated to question her; you knew Natasha hated admitting to anything that showed she wasn’t a carbon-perfect human being in peak condition, so you dropped your tone, almost whispering the words, “Sweetie, do you want me to get you something for that headache?”

"No, no, I'll be alright." Nat's hand continues its incessant rubbing, massaging the tender flesh at the base of her skull. She can feel it even behind her glassed-over eyes, "Just give me… just a minute."  

A minute passes—ten, even—and the redheaded-Russian's headache shows no sign of ceasing. And the pressure in her head only multiples when she quickly clasps her hoodie sleeve to her face, sneezing down into it.

“Hu’tshhiew! Hhep’tshoo!”

“Bless.” You cooed, as Natasha groaned, letting her head rest on the table. You reached out to rub the tension in her temples and you fingers catch in a tangle of knotted locks and you carefully ran your hand through, untangling it.

Her voice is husky with exhaustion when she mutters a reply. “Your hands feel nice.”

There is something about making Nat feel better that makes you feel warm inside. With a satisfied hum, you slid your hands into her hair to massage her scalp. She made a low sound of approval and sinks into your touch. “That so?”

“Yeah, it feels Hh really- Hh’iiishiew!”

“Aww bless, do you feel worst then last night baby?” You ask as your thumbs go to graze her temples again. Natasha hums agreeably and shifts her position to press into the touch, prompting to you give a sympathetic pout as she sniffles.

“Maybe you should go lay down?” You offered, sliding down from to table to pull her into a tight hug.

“I can't just rest go lay down and rest Y/N.” Natasha huffed as she buried her face in the crook of your neck and the exhaustion behind her eyes was beyond-evident when she pulled away, “what am I meant to do, put up a billboard which says ‘Sorry bad guys please don’t cause trouble today, Natasha Romanoff has a cold and isn’t well enough to kick your asses?’”

“So, you admit you're not well enough to kick ass?” You raised your eyebrow accusingly, pulling out a chair for her to sit on knowing she had just accidentally outed herself. The realisation of what she had just said finally set in and she’d shook her head, knowing there was no point in hiding it anymore.

“I could still pin you in seconds though.” She smirked back at you, as you came behind the chair she was in, reaching down to massage her shoulders.

“Care to demonstrate?” You asked as you gave her the cheesiest of winks, earning yourself a snort of laughter from the redhead.

“Maybe another time,” Natasha smiled, opting to turn around and gently pulling on your sweatshirt so you’d lean down meaning she could plant a gentle kiss on your cheek instead, “wouldn’t want you to catch this.”

You shrugged, you didn’t necessarily want to catch it either, “Worth a try, I guess.” You went to return her gesture but stopped as she turned her head away, yawning widely against her fist.

Her yawn was soon followed by an irritated sounding exhale quickly accompanied by her suddenly ducking her head down into her elbow, “Eiiishiew! Hh’htshoo! Hh..hhii’eshhiew!”

“Bless you sweetie! We should get you back up to our room,” You said, brushing your fingers down her feverish cheeks, “You look like you’re about to doze off at any moment and I'm sure our bed is alot more comfortable to nap in then these chairs.”

“I’d love too.” Natasha admitted, “but I’m on shift right now, it's not that simple.”

You clicked your tongue as you pulled out your phone, typing speedily as you texted someone. And you got your reply speedily too, “Just sorted that.”

Natasha gave you a confused look, “What do you mean?”

“I text Tony,” you explained as you waved your phone, “I just said that something came up and that you need to be covered for this shift. He agreed to take over for us.”

It was hard to miss the small smile which crept across her face as she heard your words. You knew Natasha had a hard time asking for help, so this was your way of letting her know that you were there for her.

“Now, up you get.” You smiled, holding out your hand for her to take as she stood, “we can go up to our room and nap, maybe have a nice hot bath later? I’ll even read to you if it’ll help you feel better.”

Nat smiled too, bringing up your interlocked fingers so she could press a kiss to the back of hand, “You’re seriously the best,” she paused to clear her throat while a slight blush began to spread across her cheeks, “but, y’know… I heard cuddles can cure colds quick.”

You raised an eyebrow, not holding back your smirk, “Is that so?”

“Mhm.”

“Well, I think we should go test that theory.”

〖 Join My Taglist! 〗@sayah13 @mahalkitanova @romanoffskisser @scrambled-brain-eggs @natashamyl0ve @shin-conan-kun @bloomingflowersthings

[typhoons-mess]

On The Edge Sneak Peak

Here is a sneak peak of a story an anon requested. Really excited to show this off soon. This is a Dagur X AFAB Reader

Authors note: Also, if you would like to be tagged in any Dagur content I do please let me know!

[Update 7/14/24: I’m trying to get this done but writers block is kicking and punching me ;;]

It felt good being back to the edge after that strenuous training session, as Hiccup would put it. He’s been focusing more on accuracy to make sure we all can hit Vigo’s ships since the double in the last few days. We can’t afford to fail. Astrid landed next to me and dismounted Stormfly landing her feet on the hard wood beneath us. “Well, that session could have been worse.” She sighed out moving a piece of hair out of her eyes.

Letting out a snort as I patted my dragon. “Yeah. The twins could have accidentally set Snotlout on fire from their terrible aims.” Astrid shoulders shake from her laughing.

We continue our chatter as we head down to the ‘hall’ to have dinner with the others. Taking a seat in between Heather and Snotlout we all dig into our meals as Tuff tells us another one of his jokes. “-But somebody better explain how Yak stew got into my pants!” Hitting his palms on the table as he laughs hysterically. The others around laugh as I cover my mouth to contain my chuckles, even Hiccup joins in.

“Hey! Speaking of soggy pants, you ever wonder what happened to Dagur and his crazy pants?” This makes everyone stop laughing and give a confused but stern look to Hiccup’s inquiry. The though of someone mentioning Dagur makes me choke on my drink, which prompted Heather to look my way.

Back on Berk when we were younger, first time Dagur arrived, me and Hiccup were playing together by the cliff sides. Dagur asked if he could play with us, and of course we both agreed since he was a guest. It was nice to have someone different than Hiccup to play with, even if he was a bit rough. One time we decided to race, by choice of Dagur of course. We would run all over the village with Hiccup being in last and Dagur and I running head-to-head with each other leaving the small boy behind. Turning the bend to go into the forest I remember tripping over a branch and scraping my knee. Looking down at the tore in my pants I can see scratches start to weep some specks of blood out. The strangest thing happened though. It was the first time I ever saw Dagur-well concerned for another living being.

“Look your f-fine! Just stop crying and-just here!” He tore off a piece of his clothing and wrapped it around the small wound as I wiped the tears from my eyes. It seemed hard for him to find the right words to comfort me. Looking up at him he blushed as he held out his hand for me to take, lifting me up off of the foliage. Seeing that I was now ok he stomped away as Hiccup came around the corner, panting as he stopped next to me.

“What-what happed?” He asked out of breath.

“I have no clue.” Puzzled I watched as Dagur stormed off to the great hall.

I whipped my mouth as Ruff slightly turns her head to look at Hiccup. “No not really.”

“What brings Dagur up anyway?” Fishlegs says looking puzzled as he puts down his second piece of Yak.

“Nothing!” Putting up his hands in defense,”-but since were on subject of Dagur now-uh-do you ever wonder why he helped Heather escape form Vigo?” Hiccup questions looking at all of us.

“Probably to make a distraction so he could escape himself.” I chimed in wiping my mouth as Astrid nodded with what I said.

“Maybe. I don’t know-“Heather raises her eyebrow in question, “-but was if it was actually the first step toward a new life.” We all tensed up knowing that this would cause an outburst with Heather.

“Hiccup-“I try to warn him to not bring it but got interrupted with Heather slamming her fist down onto the wood of the table.

 “A new life? Dagur? A dragon doesn’t change its marking Hiccup.” The force from the hit knocking her drink onto her lap and mine. Fishlegs tries to intervene with knowledge of some dragons who can actually change their markings.

“You get the point!” She says looking down at her axe in frustration.

“Well, you are probably right, but look at Stoick! Who would have thought he would have ever learned to ride a dragon. I mean it could be possible that he’s changing.”

“Y/N’s right. Y-You never know, next time we see Dagur- “

“I’ll SPLIT THE FATHER KILLER IN TWO!” Slamming her axe into the table right beside her, splitting into into two.

We all stared in silence for a good minute. Afraid saying anything else might make that axe split one of use into two. “Yep. Ok. I-I think we get your point.” Hiccup says a bit frightened like the rest of us. Noticing the thin tension, she makes her way to the door of the clubhouse. “I better go I have island patrol tonight.”

“Actually! I will take that. I have a way more important mission for you and Snotlout! It’s-uh-one final recon mission to check out our target”

“What are you talking about? We went last time.” Snotlout as confused looking between Heather and Hiccup. “I know, that’s why I’m sending you two again to be one the lookout for any last-minute changes. And you should leave. Tonight.”

“Tonight?!” Shouts Snotlout.

“Jeez Hiccup. Are you trying to get rid of us?”

“Yes-NO no that’s crazy why-why would I- “

Heather chuckles, “I’m kidding Hiccup. Relax. Come on Snotlout sooner we leave, the sooner we get back.”

“Take your time! And by that, I mean be safe!” He sighs looking back to me and Astrid. We both look at each other puzzled as to what was going on in Hiccup’s head.

When we all left to go to our respected huts for the night, me and Astrid headed out together. “Something seemed off didn’t it. ”Astrid looked puzzled as she asked me. “It could he is just nervous about what’s going to happen soon.” I shrug. Looking at me she mimics the same response, “I guess you could be right.” I give her a sympathetic smile and I put my hand on her shoulder. “It’ll be alright Astrid. We just have to trust him.” She looks at me and chuckles. As we near our huts we bid each other goodnight and headed inside. Even though I trust Hiccup something did seem off. He never mentioned Dagur this much before. But that could be thought more tomorrow as I sluggishly made way straight to my comfortable bed.

Tomorrow.

I can ask him questions tomorrow.

[urfavstargirl1]

a recipe for disaster - an e.m. one shot

summary: Shy!academic weapon!reader has a crush on the cute senior, Eddie Munson, in her home ec class. They’ve become friends over the course of the semester, but she wants more. Only problem, he already has a girlfriend. 

Cw: for the sake of the story, Eddie and Chrissy are 17 while the reader is 16 and Eddie graduates on time, angst, yearning, pining, unhappy ending

a/n: I've had the worst writers block, but cooked up something and wanted to gift my lovely fandom baddies a valentines day surprise. may or may not be based on a true story with the same unhappy ending

word count: 4k

“Hey Eddie, can you pass me the sugar?”

“Sure thing, sugar.”

My initial reaction is to furrow my brows and make a face of disgust, glaring at Eddie from the sides of my eyes. And at the same time, my heart rate increases just a little too much while a sense of heat crawls through my veins. 

He stifles a laugh with a tight lipped smile and winks at me. It’s a playful wink. One that diffuses the tension created by the aforementioned pet name. 

“Sorry,” He chuckles and shrugs, “Couldn't help myself.”

I nervously laugh and nod, not sure how else to react. But inside I feel a weird sense of gnawing. 

Even though it was just Eddie being silly, something about him calling me sugar feels… off-putting. 

For one, I’m almost grossed out by how much I liked it. Never would I ever admit to such a thing. But also, it felt weird to hear a guy call me something like that. No one ever calls me things like that. Especially not a boy like Eddie Munson. Or a boy who has somebody else in his life to be calling those names.

I carefully pour out the sugar into the measuring cup and toss it into the bowl. 

Today we’re making sponge cakes. Should be easy enough. 

It’s nice having a class like home ec right before lunch. I always get hungry eyes looking at all of our delectable creations and am rewarded by getting to eat them soon after. 

Today is no different. But what is different, is Eddie’s energy. He’s always playful and teasing like this, but today he’s somehow… a bit more revved up about it. 

“I’m so fucking hungry,” Eddie mutters as he bounces on his tippy toes, “can’t wait to demolish this thing when class is over.”

I smile and exhale through my nose, feeling the same way. 

The word sugar in Eddie’s voice keeps buzzing around my head like a swarm of bees, and I wish for something to distract it. 

And sure enough, Eddie begins to hum the words:

Pictures building in my head

Nothing done and nothing said

Talking to me with your eyes

What they say is no surprise

Things are so much different now

But nothing lasts forever

He bops his head back and forth and taps his fingers along the table. Then he looks at me and smiles, shaking his head to the rhythm as he sings the words:

You, looking at me, looking at you

I wanna talk to you

You, looking at me, looking at you

I look at him and awkwardly smile, intermittently looking between him and the bowl of dry ingredients that is much less uncomfortable to be looking at because it doesn’t have the same big brown eyes that look deep into your soul if you make eye contact long enough.

“Mr. Munson,” the teacher calls out from a few tables behind us, “Let’s keep it down a bit, shall we?”

Eddie looks over his shoulder and gives her a stellar albeit sarcastic grin, “Sure thing Mrs.P!”

He turns back at me and rolls his eyes. I chuckle. 

“Practicing some new band material, are we?”

“Yeah,” Eddie scoffs as he dips his fingers into the sack of flour and quickly flicks it in my face, “Maybe. Do you like it?”

I screw my eyes shut and tense my body up as my hands fly upward, as though that’ll block any of the flour.

“Ugh,” I scoff. “What the hell Eddie? Did you even wash your hands before sticking them into the flour?”

I open my eyes to see him grinning at me. He’s lucky his smile is so damn infectious. 

I smile back, “And no, I don’t like having flour thrown in my face.”

“I was talking about the song,” Eddie says as I grab a bit of flour and flick it at his face, a few particles landing in his hair as the rest float around him. 

It’s kind of fun being cheeky with Eddie like this. He brings out a playful side of me that I often forget exists. 

“There, now we’re even. And yeah the song was good.”

It was good, if metal music is your thing. It was alright if the cutest boy in your class was singing aloud rather obnoxiously. 

I’d confidently fall in the latter group. 

“So Corroded Coffin’s adding new stuff to the set list?” I ask as I read out the next step in the recipe. 

“Maybe you should come and find out for yourself,” Eddie nonchalantly smirks. 

I turn to look at him, and he winks, again. 

What the hell does that mean?

Before I can shyly turn away and avoid his penetrating gaze, he places a hand on my shoulder. 

“Wait,” he says as his hand falls, as though it weighs a ton of bricks, onto my shoulder like this is where it calls home, giving him a much needed break.

Without moving my head, I freeze and look down from his hand on my shoulder up to his face. His eyes don’t meet mine. They're deep in focus looking at something below my own.

“You have some flour on your cheek,” Eddie says in a low, quiet voice as he leans closer. I tense up even more and close my eyes, unsure if I even want to bear witness to what is happening to me.

But then I feel heat in the form of Eddie’s rough hand as it cups the side of my face. His thumb slowly strokes against the now burning skin of the apple of my cheek. I could just melt. 

And then he softly blows a whisper of air onto my cheek and it’s game over.

My eyes shoot open, but just as quickly as it started, Eddie ends it. And soon, I only feel the ghost of his hand lingering against my skin. 

I make the mistake of looking into his eyes and he smiles at me. As if to say, there we go, no longer a smudge on this beautiful oil on canvas.

I clear my throat and turn back to our work station. I attempt to give the recipe a once over, but the words look shaky.

“Hey, um, could you go get some vanilla extract,” I ask. Eddie nods and leaves the table. 

That was a close one.

Eddie gets distracted pretty easily, so I usually end up having to set us on course, or give him things to do, like grab whatever ingredient or go ask another table for their measuring cup. 

But today, it’s because I’m the distracted one. 

I’ll be the first to admit that I make a good effort to resist the charms of Eddie Munson. He’s cute, funny, and an overall fun person to be around. But, that? What the hell was that?

I’m usually good at not being too distracted by him in this class. Even in an elective class like this, I have to take things seriously. Wouldn’t want my gpa to take the fall for it. But today he’s coming in at full force. 

If I didn’t know better, I’d say he was taunting me. But that can’t be, right?

I somehow manage to calm myself down enough by the time Eddie comes back. He sets the small dark bottle on the table. I take it and pour out a teaspoon. 

“Seriously, you should come see us sometime. You could use the study break.”

“What,” I ask. I can’t remember anything that happened before Eddie… touched me.

“Corroded Coffin. You should come check us out. Or check me out,” Eddie cheekily says as he grins and shakes his head from side to side.

“Oh,” I say breathlessly and sigh.

Eddie’s been bugging me for weeks about seeing his band play at some dive bar outside town. I’ve tried telling him that I’m busy, usually with studying, or that my parents would kill me for being out that late on a school night because for some god forsaken reason his band has to perform on Tuesday Nights.

But he won’t seem to take no for an answer. But he should, because I have no reason to be there. 

God knows what spell he’d have on me after I saw him perform. Fingers flying along the guitar. Body moving to the rhythm of the song. Lips so close to the head of the microphone. Sweat gleaming off his skin. 

It would be a disaster. 

But, more importantly, it would be weird if I was there, because she is the one that’s supposed to be there, not me. 

“Maybe next week,” I offer, not even feeling the slightest bit of remorse at the empty promise. Because it’s more than just that. It’s me covering my ass. 

What would it say about me to be going through all the effort for a boy who is only really my friend for one class period a day. For a boy who already has a girlfriend, one that is very much not me. 

I continue to add the rest of the ingredients before I pass the bowl to Eddie to stir. 

I don’t know why, but mixing the ingredients is his favorite part. He genuinely gets a real kick out of it. 

He says he hates measuring the ingredients because he always somehow fucks up and adds too much or too little. But he enjoys mixing them all together. He loves mixing as fast as he can and trying to beat his own personal record of how long it takes to whip the batter. We have a journal with documented scores and everything. 

“How long was that,” he asks me as he shows me the bowl of yellow batter. 

“I counted 15 seconds,” I say. 

Eddie balls his hand into a fist and tucks it to his side, “Yes!”

“Better than last time,” I say encouragingly. 

“Alright, let’s put this bad boy in the oven,” Eddie exclaims. 

Letting the thing we’re making in class bake in the oven is usually the part where Eddie and I really get to talk. 

Some days it’s ranting over what happened in one of our previous classes. Other days it’s learning about each other’s taste in movies and music. Today its–

“So how’re things going with Chrissy?” I blurt out nervously. One of us has to bring her up, right? Like somehow, I need us both to remember, he has a girlfriend. 

He can’t be doing the things he does when he has a girlfriend. And I can’t enjoy those things when they come from a boy who has eyes for someone else.

He gingerly cupped my face and touched my cheek. And maybe it’s because that sort of thing doesn’t happen to me very often, but that’s the sort of thing reserved for boyfriends and girlfriends, right? 

Maybe I’m just reading into it too much, but why did he do that? He really did not have to do that. He could have pointed out where the flour was on my face and I could have taken it myself. But, no. He didn’t.

“They’re good,” Eddie shrugs, as if he couldn’t be bothered to care, “She’s just been bugging about finding a dress for the homecoming dance.”

Oh, yeah. Just like I thought.

“Oh,” I gulp. “Finding the perfect outfit can be tough,” I say, trying to somehow empathize or just respond with something sensible because I don’t know what else to say. 

Or, what I’d really rather say is, “If it were me going to the dance with you, I couldn’t care less what I wear.”

“Yeah, but she gets so worked up about it for no reason. Like really stressed about it. So I just end up telling her, babe you’d look good in a garbage bag. I don’t care what you wear. It’s just a dance.”

Do you hear that? Oh, no? Not to worry, it’s only the ice crystals on my heart crackling.

My brain keeps going in all different directions. It makes a pit stop at the sound of Eddie saying the word “babe” and imagining a brief scenario in which he might call me that. But then it continues traveling into another direction.

“Yeah,” I nod. “I’m sure it just feels like a lot of pressure to wear the right thing, you know? Being a girl and a cheerleader no less.”

“What do you mean?”

I glance at him, and he genuinely looks clueless.

“Um, I mean, it’s just that, as girls we, um, we’re often judged for what we wear. And I think in cheerleader culture or whatever, there’s like a big expectation to basically be a Barbie doll.”

Eddie shakes his head, “Yeah, but I don’t care about any of that stuff.”

I nod, “Yeah, but, I don’t know. Maybe she still does. Old habits die hard, as they say.”

God, I don’t even know why I’m defending this poor girl, but… I don’t know. She seems nice enough. And a weird, almost selfish part of me guesses I kind of want Eddie to be a good boyfriend, even if it’s not to me.

Eddie looks lost in thought as he contemplates my words. I’m starting to feel uneasy, so I try to slightly change the subject.

“So, anyways, do you think you’ll try to match whatever she ends up wearing.”

Eddie shakes his head. 

“Oh, yeah, for sure. I know, it’s corny, but she likes it, so I do too,” Eddie replies as if it’s a given, like anyone would know. 

I nod back and smile. And as he changes the subject, I’m grateful he doesn’t ask me if I’m going to the dance. I can barely stomach hearing about his perfect relationship with the most beautiful girl in school. If I had to tell him I’m not going because no one has asked me yet, I think I’d pass out. 

“What about you? How’s honors math? Anything cool go on in honors gym? What’s your grade in honors lunch again?”

I roll my eyes and fight the smile wanting to form in my lips at hearing his cute laugh. 

I should’ve never told Eddie that all the other classes in my schedule this semester were honors classes. He hasn’t let me live it down since.

“Actually yeah, today in honors gym, they took all the honors students and made us play dodgeball but instead of balls we threw textbooks,” I smile performatively.

Eddie snorts and erupts into a boisterous laugh, “God, I know you’re being sarcastic, but that is so fuckin’ hilarious. I would pay money to see that.”

I roll my eyes and glance at the timer. Still got 15 minutes to burn.

“Bet your little honors boyfriend would too.”

I bite my lip, “Eddie, how many times do I have to tell you, he’s not… my boyfriend. Just a boy who’s a friend.”

At least, that’s all I want him to be, now. After I’ve gotten to know Eddie.

“Does he know that too,” Eddie asks as he theatrically places an elbow on the workstation and rests his chin on his closed fist.

I press my lips together and exhale. “Yes, Eddie, I’m pretty sure he does.”

At the beginning of the semester, there was a boy in a few of my classes that I’d started having a crush on. And after a while, I could have sworn he might have felt the same. There were a lot of moments where it felt like he might be flirting with me. At the time, I was still getting to know Eddie, so when it inevitably came up between us during class, I would ask him for advice about what to do.

But somewhere along the way, I got to know Eddie better and things changed. Soon, I’d forgotten all about the boy in my classes. I had eyes for someone else.

A boy in the grade above me, who was in zero honors classes, but somehow smarter than anyone I knew. A boy who was so messy and ruggedly handsome, but in a refreshing way compared to my clean cut way of life.

Eddie was the only boy who really saw me, as I was. Not just the honors student with good grades and a shoe-in for college. But as a girl who was wise beyond her years and wanted to explore the world, even if she didn’t really understand it. 

And before long, he ended up becoming the only object of my affections. Even if that object was a forbidden fruit, never to be eaten, and only admired from afar. 

As for that other boy, well, it’s safe to say he moved on.

“Ok, just checking,” Eddie replies. 

I nod and look away awkwardly. I bend down to look through the glass door of the oven to check the cake. It’s starting to rise.

I rise and find Eddie looking at me, almost studying me. His gaze is calculated. For a moment, I match his gaze. 

He’s a very expressive guy. If he doesn’t say it with his words, he’ll say it with his face. But right now, his expression is unreadable. His eyes, a dark cloud of mystery.

For a split second, something in his hair catches my eye. I break from his gaze and notice the flakes of flour still caught in his hair.

“Hey, um,” I say pointing to my own hair, “You still have some flour stuck in your hair.”

Eddie tilts his head and looks to the side opposite of where I’m pointing. “Oh, where?”

“Um,” I keep pointing, “Kind of by your cheek.”

Eddie runs a rough hand through his hair, “I don’t see it. There. Did that do it?”

I shake my head. He tries running his fingers again, but he doesn’t get it.

“Here,” I mutter as I hesitantly reach out and gently shake the bits of flour clinging to the curls by his face, “Um, kind of… like that.”

I dust off the remaining bits, gently raking my fingers through the loose ringlets. I can feel Eddie’s piercing gaze, like a laser burning through my skin. I ignore it and softly put the curl back into place, making sure his hair doesn’t look all mussed up.

When I retract my hand, I make the mistake of looking into Eddie’s eyes. He’s already smirking. Smirking like his lips wants to form a shit eating grin but he’s too pleased with himself.

“What?” I innocently ask as I let my hand fall to the wooden surface of the work station. 

I look away, worried my eyes will say something my mouth will never have the courage to say. I’m sure the blazing heat I feel in my face will give it away, but let’s keep up the illusion that it won’t.

“Nothing,” Eddie sighs, “It’s just cute, you know?”

I scrunch my eyebrows, “What is?”

Eddie shrugs and then looks me square in the eye as he says in a seductive voice, “My hair looks sexy like this, doesn’t it?”

Yes.

“What?” I blurt out. I shake my head and scoff, “You’re crazy Munson.”

I look away and pretend to check on the cake again.

“You can pretend all you want,” Eddie replies cheekily, “But your eyes sure didn’t.”

“My eyes? Seriously? You’re seeing things,” I brattily say.

Oh my god. Am I that transparent?

Then, our home-ec teacher makes an announcement and points out the five minutes of class remaining. We all start to clear our workstations and take our assignment out of the oven and let it cool on the cooling rack. 

Lunch can’t come soon enough. I’m feeling a lot like that sponge cake right now and I really just need some space to cool down from this conversation that has me way too heated.

Ding! The school bell rings, signaling the end of class. I end up letting Eddie keep the cake.

Eddie and I usually walk out of class together, today being no different. He’s moved past the whole hair incident, but I haven’t. 

I feel so many things I can’t even begin to understand or explain.

But Eddie goes on about something Hellfire Club related as we walk through the halls. He says something and I don’t understand the reference, but it had the cadence of a joke, so I laugh. 

As we walk to lunch, I see a girl from one of my classes come out of one of the rooms we pass.

Her name is Janet and I’m pretty sure she has band class before lunch. She looks at me and smiles while raising her eyebrows. I stare at her blank-faced as she makes her way down the hall and to the cafeteria like the rest of us.

“Hey princess,” Eddie greets as a cheerful blonde girl magically appears at his other side.

I nearly freeze in my tracks. 

“Hey baby, I missed you!” She says as he leans over to press a chaste kiss to her lips.

I sharply turn my gaze forward. 

I could almost throw up. I’m stunned with how open either of them are to such public displays of affection. I feel like I would be too aware of how many other people are seeing me engage in such a vulnerable act and get self-conscious.

Eddie starts talking to her, and suddenly I feel like a third wheel. Like I don’t need to be here. I’m intruding. 

Eddie continues walking with Chrissy by his side.

I’ve never even properly met the girl. I’ve seen her around, and obviously know who she is because of Eddie. But face to face is new. 

Does she even know I exist? Does Eddie talk about me to her? Probably not, right? That would be crazy.

I speed up my pace and weave through the crowd of students making their way to the lunch room. I continue my pace before turning over my shoulder and seeing them far back in the crowd. 

I’d rather not meet her today. Not like this. Not after what happened in class.

I need to drill it in my head. Eddie has a girlfriend. There’s no way things could happen between us. Even if she wasn’t in the picture, Eddie would be graduating next year while I still have another year to go. It would never work. It’s impossible.

I keep having this internal debate as I wait in the lunch line and eat my food in tense silence as my friends rant about their fourth periods.

By the time I make it to fifth period, I’ve cooled down. I ran through our conversation about a hundred times. But I’m over it now.

“Hey,” Janet greets as she walks over and leans a hand on my desk.

“Hey,” I reply hesitantly. Janet and I are cordial in class, but not exactly someone who sits at my table at lunch.

“Who was that guy you were walking with earlier? He was really cute!”

I open my mouth and for a millisecond, nothing comes out, “What? Oh, him? That’s just a guy from my home-ec class?”

“How come I’ve never seen him before? Is he new?”

I glance around and notice the rest of the desks around me filling as students arrive to class.

“Um, no but he’s a senior.”

“Ooh, an older man,” Janet teasingly coos. I smile, albeit uncomfortably.

“Do you like him?”

Yes.

“What? No! He-He’s not my type, a-and besides, he has a girlfriend.”

“It sure didn’t look that way.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I saw the way he looked at you.”

The way Eddie looked at me.

I’m at a loss for words. What way did Eddie look at me? Why do I even care so much?

“What a shame? You guys would be really cute together.”

What?

[twotangledsisters]

You’re awesome for posting fic updates not only consistently, but daily! Any tips for keeping up with writing?

Thank you so much! I love updates and writing being a part of my routine and I'm glad other people enjoy it too!

And sure, I can think of some tips:

First, there's a mixture of inspiration and forcefulness. I remember when I was really little I read a post somewhere about how if you want to take something seriously, you have to take it seriously on the days when you're inspired and on the days you're not. That changed how I treat art forever!

But years and years later I learnt a more important lesson, to never overlook the power of inspiration.

It's through a mixture of both that I can really keep up with writing. If I only wrote when inspired, sooner or later I'd get a loooong writing block that would leave me simply paralysed. But I'll often do the 'just one chapter' method, and often writing just a few paragraphs will get me back into the flow. But if I'm still very blocked after a chapter, that's fine.

But if I am inspired, I will follow that. Even if it takes my story in weird directions that weren't planned! A good example is that Caine rescuing Cass in the final S1 fic wasn't planned, she wasn't planned to come along in S2 and certainly did not expect her to fall in love... A lot of their scenes came from me writing while inspired.

Now, stuff such as Eugene's near death in S1 finale, the way Koto framed him, the way Cass had to deal with accusations of witchcraft, those stuff were planned way ahead of time!

It's really important to keep that balance, to have plans and also leave room for inspiration to run wild!

An added bonus, if you feel an intense desire to go write a fic that's completely different to the one you're trying to work on, just let inspiration win. I was struggling a bit with the 'Day of Animals' arc in tangled sisters the other day, then I got the urge to do a little Cass oneshot, so I wrote the oneshot in one sitting and have had zero issues writing since.

Sometimes you can unblock writing block with MORE writing! As long as you're letting inspiration guide you.

Second is to take breaks! I update every day but I do not write every day. I write a few times a week and usually have at least one really long session!

One of my currently updating fics 'Always By Your Side' I wrote half of it in like a week, took a few months break, then wrote the rest and started publishing!

Sometimes long breaks can really help. I've taken several long breaks with Tangled Sisters.

Third is stay ahead. With 'Always By Your Side' I have it completely written so I just proof read on the day of upload. Tangled Sisters I keep track of in Notion:

Look how cute my fanfic section is!

I'm usually at least 30 chapters ahead but I did take a writing break recently. Soon as I get the next arc done I expect to be well ahead again.

Fourth, motivation! This one isn't entirely your control, but a huge factor for keeping up is just that I'm super motivated! I can thank the amazing people who comment every day, those who comment occasionally, those who leave kudos or send nice asks like this one!

It does sooo much to make me smile and excited for the stories I'm telling.

And if you look at my fanfic section of notion, I have that little box titled kind words, the content actually changed every time I reload the page, it's linked to a little table where I keep track of all the kind words regarding my fics that I've gotten on Ao3 and tumblr! (I also have several bits of fanart by the amazing @rebecagpfs in that page who I cannot thank enough!!!)

So, although you don't have full control over motivation, having a notebook to collect those kind words can help!

Fifth would be talk to people. Have at least one person who's cool with spoilers cause brainstorming is just easier with somebody else! For me @the-writer1988 has got me through sooo many writer's blocks! Often times I just ramble at her until the problem resolves itself, other times it'd be a more active back and forth. But writing friends supporting each other, always great!

And hey, to anybody who wants to ramble about their fics to me I'm always open! I love hearing about people's fics and am huge on the writer supporting writers sorta mentality!

Sixth is just have fun! If you enjoy what you're writing it's going to be sooo much easier than if you don't.

I do want to point out though, every writer's different! I can sit down and write 10k words in one sitting, but a lot of people can't, just like I need five hour to do a drawing many artists can do in an hour.

Writing is an art and you get faster with experience.

Also, I do daily updates because I adore consistency! Having that routine is amazing for me and I think it's lovely for some readers. But I also accomplish that via very short chapters! Sometimes as short as just 600-700 words. Many authors opt for longer chapters that upload weekly but there still writing the same amount!

So yeah, I do hope this helped!

Thank you so much for the ask :D And if anything didn't make sense, please tell me, it's almost 1am here I just noticed but I really wanted to answer this before bed!